A flicker of guilt crossed the girl’s face. ‘You from round here, then?’ she said, breaking the silence.
‘For a few weeks – worse luck. I’m on a sympathy holiday. My auntie’s offered to put Dad and me up ’cos Mum died a few months ago.’
‘Bad luck.’ A blonde girl with stringy hair reached for a can of cider and took a swig.
‘Shit happens.’ Molly shrugged. It sounded callous, but it wasn’t that long since she’d been a teenager. She knew all about putting on a brave face. She stubbed out her cigarette in the sand. ‘What are you lot up to? You on holiday too?’
‘Kinda,’ the baseball-capped girl said. ‘We ain’t got no oldies to worry about though.’ But she was still watching Molly with suspicion. Her trust was hard to gain.
‘You got a way of earning extra cash?’ Molly said, relieved she had packed some old clothes. Her trainers were worn, her grey sweatshirt an old favourite – something she had brought to wear in her hotel room.
The girl turned to face her, unblinking as she scrutinised Molly’s face. ‘If we do, it has nothing to do with you.’
‘C’mon Tina, she’s only asking,’ the dark-haired boy spoke up.
But his words were cut short as the girl jostled him with her elbow. ‘How many times, brah? Stop using my name!’
Throwing back her head, Molly drank the dregs of the cider and followed it up with a burp. ‘Look, don’t worry about it. I gotta go anyway. Dad will give me grief.’ Molly brushed the sand off her jeans, her mind on the exchange between Tina and the boy. Tina had called him brah, which was slang for someone who wasn’t blood-related but still considered as family. So, she and the boy were close. But why was Tina keeping a low profile?
Molly had so many questions she wanted to ask, but now was not the time. The last thing she needed was to spook her new-found friends. Or should that be friend? The boy was the only person who had any time for her. She groaned at the sight of the damp patch on her jacket as she picked it up from the sand. That would have to go on the radiator tonight. She shook it before slinging it over her shoulder. It was hard to walk away, but best to play it cool. She would see them again soon; she felt sure of it. But there was one more thing she could do.
Digging her phone from her jacket pocket, she drew up her number, which was saved under ‘me’. ‘Sorry, what’s your name?’ She spoke to the boy in a casual tone as if she had simply forgotten it. ‘Gimme your phone.’
‘Matty.’ He grinned, his big brown eyes burning with curiosity as he handed over his phone.
‘Cool. Here’s my number.’ Molly added herself to his contacts. ‘Bell me up if any jobs come in.’ Molly presumed he would know what she meant. It wasn’t uncommon for kids to be used as ‘runners’ to sell drugs. She knew she was getting in deep, but if it came to it, she could make up an excuse about not being able to get out.
She gave one last cursory glance at the bedraggled group before walking away. Christ, she thought, digging her fists into her pockets. In an ideal world, they’d all be tucked up at home, safe, warm and dry. But this was far from an ideal situation and she did not want to contemplate these kids being tangled up in Carla’s murder. Her detective brain told her to call the police station and get a unit here to question them. But then it would be blatantly obvious that she had stitched them up. They knew something, Molly could feel it. And if anyone was going to unlock their secrets, it would be her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘I meant to ask, how did things go with Sally-Ann?’ Donovan turned to face Amy as he switched off the ignition of his car. They were parked on the seafront in Frinton, and it was a beautifully clear night. Amy was comforted by the fact they wouldn’t bump into her team, given they were out drinking in Clacton.
‘Fine, thanks.’ Amy reached to undo her safety belt. ‘She calls you DCI Dreamy.’ A soft smile rose to her face as she recalled the term. But she wasn’t ready to talk about Sally-Ann’s baby. Not tonight.
‘Amy? Are you all right? You’re white as a sheet.’
‘Just cold,’ Amy lied. ‘I’ll be all right once I get inside.’ The truth was, she was nervous. Up until now, their relationship had been clandestine, and this was beginning to feel like a date. Socialising with Donovan’s friends was a big deal.
‘Hmm,’ Donovan said, reading her expression as only he could. ‘They don’t know we’re together, so they won’t give you the third degree. They’re being friendly, that’s all.’
‘I know, it’s just dinner.’ Amy shrugged. But any advance in their relationship made her nervous. She had her career to think of, and things were fine as they were. She grabbed her bag from the footwell, a sense of dread rising in her gut. As far as relationships were concerned, she would always be on the defensive. It had taken her months to trust Adam, her ex-fiancée, and he had jilted her on their wedding day. There was no sense in rushing things now.
Donovan reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. I can say you had to work.’
Amy softened as she picked up on his concern, but it was too late. ‘They’ve seen us now.’ She pulled back her hand. ‘Is that really his house? It’s huge.’
‘Yeah, he’s done well for himself. They’ve got a hot tub out the back too. You could have brought your cossie.’
Amy shuddered at the idea.
Donovan failed to hide his amusement as he opened the car door. ‘Yeah, I thought
