‘Your mum would have been proud of you,’ Amy replied.
‘She’d tell me I’ve pulled a right little cracker and I should be grateful for what I have.’ He paused to check his watch. ‘I reckon we can get you on the next train to Liverpool Street.’
‘But I can’t. The investigation . . .’
‘Is under control,’ Donovan interrupted. ‘Every box has been ticked twice over. April’s details have been put on the system and uniform are out looking out for her. George’s autopsy is in the morning. There’s nothing more we can do tonight.’
Sighing, Amy agreed, although begrudgingly. Sometimes you had to fight a battle more than once to win it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Wednesday morning 28 July
As she sat next to Lillian’s hospital bed, Amy felt a sense of impending doom. A serial killer was on the loose and she was stuck here, next to Lillian. George Shaw’s death changed everything. This time, there was no clear pattern. No two-week window. Who knew when another body would turn up – or where?
‘Do you think she can hear us?’ Sally-Ann’s voice broke into Amy’s thoughts. Her sister was perched on the edge of her chair on the other side of Lillian’s bed. Her knees were pressed tightly together, her hands clasped on her lap. Lillian had yet to emerge from her post-operative haze, and for that, Amy was grateful.
‘I dealt with a victim once,’ Amy said. ‘She was in an induced coma after a car crash. Turned out she could hear everything being said.’
‘I take it she recovered.’ Sally-Ann smiled at her sister, accustomed to work anecdotes.
‘Enough to tell us who had fiddled with the brakes of her car. Her brother and sister-in-law were arguing about it in her room.’ Amy stole a glance at Lillian. This figure of evil could not hurt her any more. Perhaps it was a defence mechanism, but she’d noticed Sally-Ann’s gaze had been firmly on Amy since they entered the room late last night. The hours had ticked by quietly, shattered only by the clink of crockery on trolleys when the breakfast rounds were made. When in her mother’s company, Sally-Ann had a demeanour that Amy had come to recognise. Like a dog who had been beaten by its owner but was still desperate for their love. While Amy had hired a private detective to watch Lillian, Sally-Ann had forked out for private healthcare insurance, which had gained her mother her own room. Given Lillian’s reputation, it was just as well.
‘Blimey! Nice family,’ Sally-Ann said.
‘No worse than ours,’ Amy retorted. It was a relief that Mandy had left to take care of her brood. There was only so much scowling Amy could take. Instead of being grateful that Darren had called for an ambulance, her sister was peeved Amy had hired him in the first place.
Amy’s attention wandered to Lillian. Her breathing was soft but steady, and the surgeon said her operation to repair the tear in her bowel had been a success. She would remain scarred from her many stab wounds, but was fortunate none of them had hit the mark. They should have aimed for the heart, Amy thought. That’s if she has one. She imagined the organ, black and shrivelled in Lillian’s chest. She closed her eyes in an effort to dispel the thought. Being in her mother’s presence took her to places she did not wish to frequent. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing here,’ she said, as the realisation hit her.
‘You’re here for me,’ Sally-Ann said. ‘And I’m grateful for it.’
Amy watched Sally-Ann’s gaze creep to her mother. Lillian was lying motionless. Her bedsheets were crisp linen, her hands either side of her body, still as the grave. ‘It’s strange to see her so silent, isn’t it?’ Lillian’s face was rested. Her eyes closed; her features slack. ‘She almost looks peaceful.’ Amy watched her with morbid curiosity. Were her dreams filled with the screams of those she had terrorised? Your father liked to push the boundaries, her mother’s voice whispered in Amy’s mind. ‘I wonder what the nurses think of her being here?’
‘They just get on with it,’ Sally-Ann said with authority. ‘Nurses aren’t here to judge her, just to keep her clean, warm and dry.’ Sally-Ann worked for a private hospital, but today she had been granted leave.
‘And don’t forget the drugs.’ Amy smiled. ‘She’s probably high as a kite.’ She paused as a dark thought slipped in. ‘At least while she’s like this, she’s not hurting anyone. It would be better all round if she . . .’
‘Don’t.’ Sally-Ann raised a hand. ‘Don’t say it.’
‘Why not? We both know it’s true. The world would be a better place without her. The relatives of her victims would get some comfort, and at least she couldn’t hurt anyone else.’
‘You really think she’d want to?’
Amy had little doubt there. ‘It’s a compulsion. She should never have been freed.’
Silence fell. Sally-Ann’s assisting with Lillian’s appeal was a bone of contention that would take time to resolve.
‘She wants a Catholic funeral when she goes,’ Sally Ann said. ‘Mandy told me. She’s got her funeral plan all worked out.’
Her words brought an eruption of laughter. ‘Her, in a church!’ Amy replied. ‘She’d burst into flames!’ She reined in her laughter as she caught the expression on her sister’s face. In the corridor, voices came and went as staff carried on with their day. The sound reminded Amy that she should be back at work. ‘Why did you ask me to come? And don’t say it’s to help find your son.’
Sally-Ann threw her sister a knowing look. ‘There’s a wing of our hospital used solely for therapy. Sometimes I hear clients talking in the
