The Secret Child (DI Amy Winter #2)(5)

‘You’re here, aren’t you?’ the doctor said tersely. ‘Therefore, she has been reported missing.’

‘But not by you,’ Amy replied, still staring at his wife. ‘Which makes me wonder why.’ She watched Mrs Curtis squirm. ‘It could be any number of things. We’ll get to the bottom of it eventually.’

Nicole’s lips parted to speak, but her voice was drowned out by that of her husband.

‘I can assure you we’re not withholding information—’

But Dr Curtis was not the only person who could interrupt. Amy carried on as if he hadn’t said a word. ‘There’s a couple of reasons why parents don’t report their child missing. I’m sorry to say I’ve encountered both.’

‘When you say “sorry” . . .’ Nicole said, her voice faint.

‘Neither ended well,’ Amy replied, without further explanation. ‘Now, you could have been warned not to speak to the police because someone is issuing demands. Or you could be responsible, and trying to cover it up . . .’ She raised a hand, silencing Dr Curtis as he began to protest. ‘Either way, I’m not leaving this room until you tell me what’s going on.’

Beside her, Amy heard Molly swallow, her knees pressed tightly together and her black leather pocket notebook flipped open to take notes. Amy liked Molly. She was as good an investigator as some of the old sweats on her team. But she had a habit of being in awe of those in the public eye, something Amy was keen to eliminate. Celebrities were no less culpable for their crimes than anyone else.

‘We have not laid a finger on our child.’ His face taut, Dr Curtis rose from his chair. ‘Ellen was safely tucked up in bed when we left for a social engagement. The babysitter checked in on her at nine o’clock, and she was fast asleep. She called 999 at ten o’clock when the fire broke out. When she went upstairs to wake Ellen, she was gone.’ He paced the room as he spoke, his words mirroring those in the statement he had given to the police.

‘You’re not answering my question,’ Amy said.

‘That’s because there’s nothing more to say.’ Pausing at the Victorian fireplace, Dr Curtis stared into nothingness.

‘When it comes to the whereabouts of a missing child there is plenty more to say.’ Amy stood, her chin held high. ‘Either tell me now or we’ll discuss it down at the station.’ She turned to Mrs Curtis. With her legs and arms crossed, Nicole appeared to have tied herself up in knots.

‘We haven’t hurt her,’ she blurted out. ‘And we haven’t received a ransom note. At least . . . not yet.’

Amy nodded soberly. At last, she was getting somewhere. She heard Molly click her pen, ready to take notes. ‘Do you know her abductor?’

Dr Curtis scowled at his wife before answering on her behalf. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Would you care to enlighten me?’ Amy said.

‘By doing so, I would be signing Ellen’s death warrant,’ he replied.

Amy sighed. ‘So you pay them off and get Ellen back safely? You think it’s that easy?’

Dr Curtis shook his head. ‘There may not be a ransom note, but involving the police will make things a whole lot worse.’

‘For whom?’ Amy asked. ‘I take it there’s been some kind of contact, otherwise you would have called us straight away.’

Amy narrowed her eyes as she caught Dr Curtis deliver a warning shake of the head to his wife. ‘Believe me when I tell you I only want what’s best for my child. I can’t risk aggravating this person any more than they already are.’

Giving up on Nicole, Amy took a step towards him. ‘You underestimate my team. You’ll have a far better outcome with our support. At least give us enough to make some background checks. You can’t do this on your own.’

‘Tell her,’ Nicole said, clutching her hands to her chest. ‘We know who he is.’

Amy turned to Dr Curtis, but he remained tight-lipped. ‘I could arrest you both for obstruction, then carry on our chat at the police station?’

‘You misunderstand me, Officer.’ Dr Curtis faced her. ‘I can’t tell you who took our daughter, because the man my wife’s referring to is dead.’





CHAPTER FOUR

Deborah McCauley strained to understand the woman on the other end of the phone. Her voice was punctuated by sobs, her breath coming in judders as she shrieked down the line.

‘He’s got her, I know it! He said he’d get his revenge, and he has!’

‘Calm down. Only dogs can hear you at this pitch. Now, take a slow breath . . .’ Deborah tried to calm the fretting mother. ‘And another . . .’ She was used to dealing with hysterical women. During her career as a psychiatrist, she had come across people in all sorts of turmoil, but Nicole Curtis was in a class of her own.

Pouring herself a cup of black filter coffee, Deborah sat at her kitchen breakfast bar and crossed her long, slim legs. Her cane was propped up beside her. It was long and glittery, just like the shoe bobbing from the tip of her foot. She wondered why every phone call from Nicole involved a drama of some kind.

‘It’s Ellen. He’s taken my little girl. And now the police are treating us like criminals. Hu—’ Nicole stuttered, her words tripping over her sobs. ‘Hugh told me not to call but I . . . I don’t know what to do.’