The Secret Child (DI Amy Winter #2)(81)

Amy glanced around the tube carriage and took a vacant seat. Next to her, a silver-haired woman murmured under her breath about her daughter, fretting over her choice of men. But she was easily in her sixties. Was that what it was like when you had kids? How was Stuart coping, knowing his child’s life was in someone else’s hands? It was a terrifying prospect that such a helpless child was so heavily reliant on Amy and her team. Her thoughts raked over the embers of Luka’s call. What did he mean about being in the driver’s seat? Was he talking about Toby? Perhaps he was in a car, or on a fairground ride? What sort of situation involved a race against time?

She reached St Paul’s Cathedral, the January winds chilling her face as she scanned the street for signs. Fifteen minutes had passed. How much time did she have left? In a way, this was easier than before, as she didn’t have to continually update base. This operation had trebled in size since it began, and there were a lot more officers on the ground.

Her phone rang. It was Luka. ‘I see you made it. Nice suit, by the way. Very sharp. I prefer it to that flowery blouse you had on the other day.’

Amy’s eyes narrowed. Luka was here, in the crowd. But where were the children?

‘St Paul’s Cathedral is the last place I visited as Luka. Everything changed after that.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’ Amy said, changing tack. ‘Throwing another pity party for one?’

‘Who are you to judge me, with your past?’ Luka snapped. ‘We’re all entitled to start again. You joined the police to run away from what your parents did.’

But this time Luka’s words were failing to hit their mark. ‘There’s a paperwork trail of my reinvention,’ Amy said. ‘My time in social care. Adoption records. What happened to you? Where have you been hiding all these years?’ Amy danced around the subject of his mother, hoping he would let something slip.

Luka exhaled an exasperated sigh. ‘It’s too late to explain now. Putting things right is the only way to leave Luka behind.’

‘Kidnapping vulnerable children is hardly putting things right.’

‘I’m giving them up – it’s down to you to get there on time.’

‘How am I meant to do that? I need an address.’ She held her breath as he considered her words.

‘OK, I’ll tell you where they are. One last journey. Who knows, if you find them, maybe it will undo some of the harm printed about you in the papers.’

Amy’s pulse quickened. Had she made a breakthrough? Dare she hope he was going to help her find the children in time?





CHAPTER SIXTY

The Curtis Institute, February 1985

Standing in Sasha’s doorway, Deborah watched the scene unfold. It was bad enough that Luka had escaped from his room. The last thing she had wanted was for him to find his mother in such a state. The woman was suffering a mental breakdown. It happened sometimes with people when they were left too long with their thoughts. Deborah had not told Luka that his mother had sneaked a pair of scissors into her room and had used them to hack off her hair. And now he was here, as white as chalk as he took the scene in. No wonder he thought Sasha was being mistreated – but, in truth, she had done it to herself. They’d had no choice but to sedate her as they worked out their next steps. Besides, as Dr Curtis had said, Sasha knew far too much for her own good.

‘Let me go!’ Luka squealed, trying to dodge Deborah in the doorway. But Deborah had not come this far for things to end like this.

‘Hey, what are you doing?’ she said, wrestling him into her arms. ‘Luka, wait. I’m not the enemy here.’

‘Let me go!’ Luka cried for a second time, squirming in her grasp.

Sasha craned her head in their direction and Deborah caught the spark of defiance still lurking behind her eyes. Somewhere within her drug-induced state, Sasha was screaming to get out.

‘Luka, calm down,’ Deborah said firmly. ‘You’re upsetting your mother. You know she’s not well.’

‘That’s your fault,’ Luka huffed, breaking free of Deborah’s grip. ‘You did this to her!’ From the corridor, Stuart and Christina approached.

‘I take it these are yours?’ Deborah said, extracting the bunch of keys from the door and waving them under Christina’s nose.

Extending her palm, Christina took them into her possession. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I only put them down for a minute.’ She glared at Luka with ill-concealed contempt. ‘Do you want me to take him back to his room?’

‘I’ll take care of it,’ Deborah said, rubbing the little boy’s back as he calmed down. ‘You should have finished your shift hours ago.’

Christina flushed, exchanging a glance with Stuart. ‘I . . . I stayed on to look for my keys.’

‘C’mon,’ Deborah said to Luka. He gave his mama one last wistful glance before being led away.

‘Where are you taking him?’ Christina said, as Deborah led him towards the fire doors.

‘Outside, to my car. Don’t worry, we won’t be long.’

‘But you can’t . . . he’s my responsibility.’

‘Like your keys were your responsibility?’ Deborah placed one hand on her hip. ‘Would you like me to call Dr Curtis? See what he thinks of all this?’ She was met with silence. ‘I didn’t think so.’