‘Why don’t you come back to my room tonight?’ Amy replied. ‘We’ll sneak you out in the morning. Nobody needs to know.’
‘I’d like that,’ Donovan said, drawing her in for a kiss. This was why he loved her, because she understood how he was feeling at any given time. At that moment, he had never been so grateful for her company.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Tuesday 27 July
Amy blinked as the sun filtered in through the hotel room window. Donovan was up and showered and was now tiptoeing around the room. Their night together had been perfect, and she was pleased that he had confided in her. His loyalty to Carla was admirable, and at least now she knew why he could not bear to look at his commendations. She did not need to pry any further. The truth was clear to see. He did not believe he deserved them. Amy thought differently. What police officer wouldn’t love the gift of hindsight? An extra layer of trust had grown between them, and she smiled as he approached.
‘Don’t kiss me.’ She blocked her mouth with her hand. ‘Morning breath.’
‘Yours or mine?’ He pressed his lips to her forehead, his shoes in his hand. ‘Stay in bed,’ he continued, his voice low. ‘You’re not due in for another hour yet.’
‘Mmm.’ Amy stretched, her muscles stiff. ‘I need to get back to the gym. There’s one around the corner from here . . . Gym Fit. Fancy joining me?’
‘I’ve had enough exercise for today, thanks,’ he laughed, heading towards the door. ‘See you at work.’
‘I didn’t mean now!’ she called after him as he left. Then she winced, remembering where she was. She should keep her voice down. Today was set to be busy, and she didn’t want precious work time being taken up by her colleagues gossiping about their relationship. Her thoughts returned to Carla’s diary.
Who was the ‘April’ she had written about? Were the group on some kind of rotation, moving from one resort to another so they weren’t found out? She trusted Donovan when he said he’d look into it. It was obvious he felt that he owed it to Carla. One last investigation for them to crack. She checked her watch. Six thirty. Enough time to get ready before making an urgent call. Last night Donovan had slept like a baby, but her mind had wandered to the case, as it did every night without fail. Her mental checklist, forever waiting for her attention. That’s when she came up with Mama Danielle. The group could be drug mules, or used to pickpocket and shoplift, but Amy had a disturbing feeling there was more to it than that.
When it came to the world of sex for sale, Mama Danielle was just the person to call. Amy was building up a network of contacts: an underground army of helpers – off-the-grid intelligence sources who were proving to be invaluable. Having showered and dressed, she was ready to make the call. Mama Danielle was a statuesque woman, originating from Philadelphia but living in the UK. She managed some high-class escorts and had good connections in the business. Amy had been lucky enough to build up a rapport with her and sometimes met up for a drink to chew the cud. It was an unusual friendship but one that worked to their mutual benefit. Danielle filled Amy in on any gossip surrounding the world of sex, and Amy provided advice on how to keep her girls safe. Particularly when it came to unsavoury punters. Every little helped, as they say. Which was why she had no qualms in dialling Mama Danielle’s number this morning. It was half seven, early for a phone call, but her hotel room was the only place she could guarantee not to be overheard.
‘Mama Danielle? It’s Amy,’ she said, as the call was picked up. She preferred to drop the ‘Mama’ but was trying to butter her up.
‘Girl, you better have a good excuse for ringing me at this hour,’ Mama Danielle groaned. ‘What time is it?’ A fumbling noise ensued, followed by the sound of something being knocked over.
‘Half seven.’ Amy grinned, unperturbed. ‘Practically afternoon.’
‘Are you ringing to arrange a meetup? Because you could have done that by text.’ She sighed, muttering under her breath. ‘Dammit, where’s my lighter?’
‘Sorry, no. I’m working from Clacton. I need to speak to you before I go in.’ Amy liked Danielle’s forthright personality. She reminded her a little bit of herself.
‘Oh. So, no drinkies today.’ She spoke with a hint of disappointment. ‘Then you want some info – am I right?’
‘Well, I’m not calling to book an escort,’ Amy quipped. She listened to the swish of curtains opening and the rasp of a flint lighter as Danielle had what she called ‘breakfast’ – her first cigarette of the day.
‘What are you after and what’s it worth to me?’ Danielle said, exhaling a puff of air.
‘It’s worth the satisfaction of knowing you’ve helped solve a crime.’ Her phone cradled to her ear; Amy fixed the duvet on her bed. She didn’t want housekeeping thinking she was a slob.
‘Bitch, let me put you straight. Satisfaction doesn’t put food on the table, and it certainly doesn’t pay the bills. Give me cold hard cash any day.’
Amy liked Mama Danielle, but she certainly wasn’t paying her today. As the sound of a hoover whirred in the corridor, Amy picked up last night’s underwear from the floor and slipped it into her suitcase. ‘Let’s see if you can help me first. Know anything about sex rings in seaside resorts? There’s a group of teenagers being bandied from one resort to another. Sounds like they need our help.’
‘If you want me to spill my guts about trafficking, then the price just went up.’
Amy straightened, her interest piqued. ‘Why, is that what’s going on?’ The atmosphere between them took on a serious
