The Secret Child (DI Amy Winter #2)(59)

He thought about what kind of karma the doctor deserved. Papa said such things came when they least expected it, although not always straight away. He remembered more of his father’s words: Your strength is in your silence. Right now, he needed all the strength he could find.





CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Amy’s footsteps stalled at the traffic lights at the front of the police station. She should have returned through the private car park, away from prying eyes. All too late, she realised the group of people on the footpath outside the station had gathered for her. Peering closer, she recognised a few faces. Her heart faltered. They were relations of the young girls who had fallen victim to her biological parents.

‘There she is!’ a woman with a high-pitched Essex accent screamed as she approached. ‘The Beast of Brentwood’s daughter!’

Amy’s blood chilled as she became the main attraction. News got around fast. She hurried towards the entrance as the news cameras swivelled in her direction, journalists’ questions ringing in her ears.

‘’Ere, why is she allowed to be a copper?’ a thickset man shouted for the camera’s attention. ‘My taxes pay her wages, that family should be locked away!’ By the look of him, it had been a long time since he’d possessed a job, never mind paid taxes, but Amy let it go. She glanced at a uniformed officer who had come outside to tell the crowd to disperse. New in service, he had come to her department for advice more than once. To her horror, he seemed too embarrassed to meet her gaze. ‘C’mon, folks,’ he said half-heartedly. ‘Let her through.’

Amy could have crossed the road, carried on through the back entrance without a word. But skulking away was an admittance of defeat in her eyes. She was not responsible for Lillian and Jack’s gruesome misdeeds. She had done nothing wrong. But her gut still churned at the prospect of everyone knowing who she was. Her eyes flicked to the top windows of the building as she pushed her way through the crowd. Several faces peered down at her, but none of her colleagues seemed in a hurry to get involved.

‘DI Winter, what have you to say about this morning’s news story?’ A reedy-looking journalist pushed through the bodies, inserting a microphone under her nose. ‘Are you Jack and Lillian Grimes’s daughter? How long have you known?’

‘No comment,’ Amy said, as people and cameras surrounded her. She couldn’t turn back now, even if she wanted to.

A woman’s voice rose from behind. ‘DI Winter, how does the Metropolitan Police feel about having the daughter of Britain’s worst serial killers heading up one of their teams?’

‘I . . .’ Amy said, her words catching in her throat as the enormity of it all hit home. Normally, she would shake off any ugly encounters, but today she felt rooted to the spot. Is that how people saw her? Guilty by association? A sudden jolt made her gasp as something hard hit the back of her jacket. What the hell? She looked over her shoulder to see a man a few feet away holding a tray of eggs. With his ginger beard and steely gaze, he looked familiar. He was the brother of one of Lillian’s victims. Amy had visited them when their loved one’s body had finally been discovered, decades after her death. The family had every right to be angry. Had they known who she was, they would never have allowed her inside their home. They must see her now as hypocritical, telling them how sorry she was, while at the same time knowing the girl had been raped and murdered under her roof.

Another thought lingered as she answered ‘No comment’ to the barrage of questions being thrown at her. How had so many people known to gather here at this time? And for the press to be involved too? The whole thing smelled of a set-up.

‘Everybody get back!’ a strong male voice barked, causing the crowds to part. ‘NOW.’

Amy felt a surge of relief as she recognised Donovan’s voice. His arm clamped around her shoulders, he whisked her inside the station, her feet barely touching the ground.

Being rescued was a novel experience, and she was glad to get inside in one piece. Pressing her tag against a door sensor, Amy led Donovan into a private office used for printing out reports.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked, his face creased with concern. The room was empty, apart from a police community support officer who was on her way out.

‘I’m fine,’ she lied. Shrugging off her jacket, Amy groaned as she caught sight of an egg splattered on the back. ‘Ah, no. This is one of my best suits.’ She knew she should thank Donovan, but it seemed like an admission of weakness. She prided herself on being self-sufficient – and, given the recent news, she knew she would be going it alone from now on.

‘There you are.’ His face flushed, Paddy burst through the office door, a wad of paperwork in his hand. ‘I heard there was a ruckus. Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ Amy snapped. ‘Honestly, there’s no need to fuss.’

‘Where was her backup? Anything could have happened.’ Donovan shook his head in disgust. ‘There were enough of you watching upstairs.’

‘Not me, mate,’ Paddy replied, his features grim. ‘I came as soon as I heard.’

‘It all happened so quickly,’ Amy said, trying to regain her composure, even though she was shaking inside. She gave Paddy a taut smile. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute. Best you get back to the team.’

Frowning, Paddy glanced at the paperwork he was holding, as if just realising it was there. ‘As long as you’re all right.’