The Secret Child (DI Amy Winter #2)(9)

She turned the card over in her fingers as she read the message once more.

Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home

Your house is on fire

Your child is gone . . .

Luka

She should have handed it to DI Winter, but instead it had burned a hole in the pocket of her dress. Why hadn’t she listened to Hugh when he told her to throw it away? He would be furious to know she had kept it all this time. The note was a warning of what was to come – payback for the practices at her husband’s institution. He had been drunk when he’d confided in her and now they were too scared to go to the police. Each year after the flowers, everything went quiet and they fooled themselves into believing their tormentor was making empty threats. When had he first planned Ellen’s abduction? How could he hurt an innocent child? An eye for an eye . . . The words filtered into her consciousness, loaded with gloomy foreboding.

It was so hard, not having anyone to talk to. Hugh claimed to love Ellen, but theirs was not a typical father/daughter relationship. Each night he sat in his private office making notes, writing in his journals, updating his peers. Ellen was a test subject, like so many before her. A canary in a gilded cage. Nicole had thought about leaving him, taking Ellen far away and starting again. But with what? As long as she lived with Hugh she was well cared for – both of them were. He had reassured her that Ellen was different and that he had her best interests at heart, but what about now? She should never have put money before her daughter’s freedom . . .

Nicole’s thoughts were stilled by the shrill ring of the doorbell. Could it be? Her heart jerked in her chest. Was it Ellen? Or were the police bringing bad news?

Time seemed to move in slow motion as she answered the front door. The last thing she expected to see was a leather-clad courier on her doorstep, his bulky frame blocking out the light from outside. ‘Yes?’ she said, her eyes wide and unblinking as she waited for him to speak.

His face obscured by the tinted helmet, he silently offered her the parcel in his hands.

Nicole accepted the package, her mouth falling open as she realised this was no ordinary delivery. For one thing, most courier firms used a van, and there was something about the way the man loomed over her that made her uneasy.

He thrust the parcel into her hands before walking away.

‘Do you need me to sign for it?’ Nicole called after him, but he failed to acknowledge her words.

Nicole looked beyond him into the empty courtyard as he stood next to his motorbike. It was a small mercy that the media had not yet found their address, as their appeal had just hit the press. Was Luka watching? Was he Luka?

Nicole’s expression changed. ‘Is this a ransom note?’ she called, feeling suddenly afraid. Surely it wouldn’t be delivered here, in broad daylight? But the courier ignored her question and the roar of his motorbike drowned out her words as he rode away.

Returning to the confines of her home, Nicole tugged at the brown-paper packaging, her hands shaking as a small cardboard box was revealed. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the black envelope resting on top. The same black envelope containing the card signed Luka that she received each year. It was expensive, made of thick, bonded paper.

Slowly opening the envelope, she thought about stories she had read of terrorists who sent explosives in the post. Biting her bottom lip, she slid out the white card within, instantly recognising the childish scrawl of the signature below. Her eyes darting from left to right, she read the words.

There are four phials in this package.

One is poisoned. Three are safe.

Drink one for me to notify police about Ellen’s location.

Risk your life for the one you love – a choice not afforded to me.

Luka

‘I don’t understand,’ she said aloud, her heart beating so hard she could feel it through the thin material of her dress. She closed the door behind her, shutting out the outside world. Luka was alive, she was convinced of it. But what did he mean, a choice not afforded to me?

Nicole explored the box. The contents consisted of four glass phials which glinted in the light. Three contained blue liquid. The fourth was red. Her fingers brushed against the black sponge base that held the phials in place. It was clear that Luka had prepared for this day. Everything about this moment felt too monumental for Nicole to process it on her own. She walked into the living room, her body moving on autopilot. Where was Hugh? She wasn’t used to making decisions for herself. She needed him to . . .

The box vibrated in her hand, making her yelp as it came to life. Steadying herself, Nicole listened to a ringtone coming from within. Cautiously, she worked her fingers into a gap between the sponge and the cardboard and pulled out a black iPhone. It was scuffed from use, and Answer me flashed up on the screen as a request for a FaceTime call came through. A sob clogged Nicole’s throat as she stared in disbelief at the battered phone. Was she about to come face to face with her daughter’s kidnapper? Was Ellen there? She pressed the icon to accept the call.

‘You’ve got one minute.’ A gravelly voice made her jump as the face of a man filled the screen. At least, she thought it was a man. His face was cloaked by a semi-transparent face mask, its painted orange lips and thick black eyebrows giving him a sinister edge.

Nicole stared at him, overcome by emotion as she tried to deal with the situation she found herself in. ‘Who are you? What have you done with Ellen?’ It did not take a genius to work out that this man was involved in her daughter’s kidnapping. Summoning all of her courage, she demanded to speak to Ellen. But the deadness behind his eyes made her words wither in her throat. ‘Please,’ she squeaked. ‘Let me see her?’