The Secret Child (DI Amy Winter #2)(67)

‘She was poisoned, yes,’ DI Winter replied.

‘Shit,’ Jodie blurted, softly punching Stuart in the chest. ‘Why did you drink that stuff? You could have been killed. Go to the hospital, get yourself sorted out!’

DI Winter looked from Jodie to Stuart. ‘She’s right. You should check yourself in, to be on the safe side.’

Stuart cupped his clenched fist. ‘I’m not going anywhere until I hear from my boy. He needs his medication. God knows what state he’s in.’ Stuart had already provided officers with details of Toby’s illness. It heightened the urgency and a press appeal was being organised.

Pushing his fingers against his earpiece, DC Moss intently listened to a voice that nobody else could hear. ‘They’ve found the taxi that picked Toby up. The driver was in the boot – alive.’

‘Is he in a fit state to give us a description?’ DI Winter replied.

‘He’s on his way to the hospital, but he’s conscious, so fingers crossed.’

‘Look.’ DI Winter pinned Stuart with a gaze. ‘It’s obvious something happened at the institution. What are you not telling us? What about the drugs?’

‘Drugs?’ Stuart replied, cursing himself as his voice raised an octave. How did she know about that? ‘It was decades ago. I can’t remember what medication they were on.’

‘It was Zitalin,’ DI Winter replied. ‘When was the last time you spoke to Deborah, Dr Curtis and Christina?’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘You can’t remember?’ she repeated. ‘Then why do we have CCTV footage of the four of you at the Shard restaurant just days ago?’

‘Don’t make me talk about it.’ Lowering his head, Stuart locked his fingers behind his neck. He could feel Jodie’s judgement. He could not bear for her to know.

‘I’m sorry, Stuart,’ DI Winter said, her expression taut. ‘But I’m not leaving here until you do.’





CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

The Curtis Institute, February 1985

Luka darted around a corner as he heard the creak of a side door being pushed open. He recognised the voices of Stuart and Christina, their footsteps urgent as they walked in the other direction. Only a few of the strip lights were on, which meant it was after 8 p.m. It was the only way he could differentiate between night and day.

‘We’re in way over our heads.’ Christina’s words were harsh as they echoed along the corridor. ‘I didn’t sign up for this.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ Stuart warned. ‘What’s done is done. Just take the money and go.’

Luka’s heart drummed in his chest like a wind-up toy. Go? That’s why Dr Curtis was pushing him so hard. For the last couple of weeks, things had been building to a climax. The tension was palpable, and everything was spoken in hushed tones. But nobody had mentioned anything to Luka about going home. As for Sam, Deborah must have been telling the truth about his heart condition because Luka had overheard Stuart and Christina whispering that he was gone for good. There were no more sniffles behind closed dormitory doors, no childish voices floating down the hall. All had fallen silent, and the orderlies seemed unable to look Luka in the eye.

He caught a faint whiff of crisp, fresh air as Stuart and Christina slipped through the fire doors. He knew there were steps outside which would lead him into the yard. Had it not been for Mama, he would have run as fast as his legs would take him. Finding Christina’s keys had been like a gift placed under his nose. She had been tormented, not thinking straight, and when the telephone rang she had left them on the counter in the waiting room.

Having unlocked his room door, his plan was clear: get Mama and escape. But he stalled as he entered his mama’s room. In her place was a thin, emaciated version of the woman he used to know.

‘Mama?’ Luka’s chin wobbled as he approached. Her hair was hacked short, and the pungent smell of body odour hung in the air. Was it really her? Like Luka, the flesh had evaporated from her bones, giving her a pained, gaunt look.

Sitting hunched on the bed, Sasha stared into space. A thin line of drool grew stringy and elongated, falling on to her hands, which were folded on her lap. Luka cast an eye over her grey linen dress, which was baggy, misshapen and stained from morsels of food. A tray of curled-up sandwiches and a small carton of milk lay on her dresser. Deborah was right, Mama wasn’t well. But how much of it was of Dr Curtis’s making? How could Deborah leave her like this?

‘Mama.’ He locked his eyes on hers as he sat down on the bed. ‘We need to go. It’s not safe here.’

Slowly, she took in his expression, her brow knitted in confusion. ‘Luka?’ she said eventually, raising a bony finger to touch his cheek.

‘Yes, it’s me. Please, get up. We need to go.’ Rising, he slid an arm around her waist, tugging at her gaunt frame. But his mama did not have the energy to leave. Her mind was vacant. She was somewhere else.

Hot tears rose from behind his lids as Luka’s frustration grew. Should he run away? Find help? He took a moment to collect himself. He knew what he had to do. ‘It’s OK,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek. Her skin was waxy and deathly cold. ‘I’m going to get help. I’ll be back soon.’ He did not see the figure standing in the doorway until it was too late.