The Secret Child (DI Amy Winter #2)(78)

‘We were all kept apart. The only kid I knew back then was called Sam, who I saw in passing a couple of times. There was a girl too . . . I can’t remember her name. We were numbers as far as Curtis was concerned.’ He met Amy’s gaze. ‘It was Luka, though. He knew things that nobody else could.’

‘And Deborah McCauley? Stuart Coughlan? Christina Watson? You remember them?’

Jamie’s face darkened at the mention of their names. ‘Oh yeah, I remember those fuckers. Deborah wasn’t too bad, but the others . . . they got everything they deserved.’ He blinked, as if remembering his words were being recorded. ‘But, eh . . . he told me three of the drinks were harmless. They had pretty decent odds.’

Inside, Amy glowed at the minor victory. The lab had confirmed for the second time that one of the four phials was poisoned, and Jamie had just confessed to delivering them. She was quick to follow up with another question while he was in a talkative mood. ‘What about the children? Didn’t you think about them?’

‘They were well cared for. The calls were all for effect.’

‘Where are they? What has he done with them?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve not set eyes on them. But Luka swore they wouldn’t come to any harm.’

‘But you can’t say the same for their parents. What happened when you visited Stuart Coughlan?’

‘I gave him the package and drove away. I felt like justice was being done.’

‘Even though his child is in a wheelchair?’

‘That’s hardly my fault.’ He delivered the words with a shrug.

Amy reassessed Jamie’s remorse. The only thing he was sorry about was getting caught. ‘You must know something,’ Amy replied. ‘Toby could die. Is that what you want?’

‘Of course not. But the number I texted Luka on isn’t working anymore.’ He crossed his arms, his chair creaking as he leaned back. ‘My job was to deliver the packages. I was a courier, that’s all. Hell, I don’t even know how Luka’s still alive.’

‘Can you give us a description of him? It will help your case.’

Rubbing his beard, Jamie seemed to consider it. ‘Fortyish, clean-shaven, dark hair, medium build. That’s all I remember. We only met once, and I’d had a bit to drink.’

Amy glanced at her watch. She needed to prepare for what lay ahead. She turned to Molly. ‘We’ll conclude the interview here. Bring him back to his cell and organise a sketch artist. See if he can come up with something better than that.’ At least the interview had gleaned something new. If Jamie was telling the truth, Luka had a ladybird tattoo on his right wrist. As Molly gathered up her paperwork, Amy made a mental note to ensure she questioned him thoroughly about the past.

She faced Jamie. ‘What’s the last thing Luka said to you?’ His pause gave her cause for concern. ‘We’ll be checking your phone, so you may as well cooperate.’

Jamie looked her in the eye, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. ‘He texted it in Russian,’ he said, remorse fading with each word. ‘It’s a proverb. I checked it on Google Translate.’

‘What does it mean?’

‘Soon it will be our turn to triumph.’

A shiver crept down the curve of Amy’s back. Luka’s actions were driven by deep-set convictions. He had no intention of letting the children live.





CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Amy had not yet forgiven her colleagues for their reaction to her handling of the case, but at least they were getting on with what they had to do. It was not as if they had time to dwell on things. Today their floor was crammed with officers from different departments as they worked together to chase up the latest leads. The more Amy thought about it, the more convinced she was that Luka was not working alone. Had the courier helped him stage Ellen’s nightdress in the building site?

On the board in their office was a timeline of the investigation. To the right were images of people of interest. To the left were lists of urgent outstanding tasks. One of them was to contact Luka’s father, Ivan Volkov. Intelligence reports had been returned saying he was still alive. Now all they had to do was track him down. Contact with Ivan might provide further leads. In the corner, Steve swore as the printer jammed for the third time.

‘Here, let me . . .’ Molly said, pulling out the tray and tweaking the paper inside. There was no time for tea rounds today, no banter, no personal phone calls. The air was filled with a sense of urgency as officers chased up every morsel of information that filtered in.

‘If I can have your attention,’ Amy said, aware that the last time she’d said this, she had stormed out. At times like this she needed to keep up morale.

‘I just want to say well done on bringing the courier in so quickly. I know you worked around the clock to make it happen.’ It was true. Officers had sat for hours viewing ANPR and CCTV, collating images until they had finally produced a result. ‘Jamie Richmond is sitting with the sketch artist as we speak. I’m sure it will help officers on the ground to make a positive identification, which is invaluable at a time like this.’ She looked around the room, taking in her colleagues’ faces. It was with some relief that she saw they appeared open to her words. ‘We’re also close to finding Luka’s father. If we can establish phone contact, then we can use that as leverage when our kidnapper calls.’