‘How did you get your hands on this?’
Darren threw her a sly smile. ‘Now, Amy, you know better than to ask me that.’
She understood. ‘I’m grateful. However you came across it.’
Darren gave her a non-committal shrug. ‘Someone close to her was prepared to talk.’
‘You’re wasted as a PI.’ Amy turned the pages, skim-reading the words. ‘Are you sure I can’t persuade you to come back? We could do with someone like you on our team.’
‘Nah, too many rules and regulations. I was strangled with red tape.’
‘I can sympathise with that.’ Amy pushed the papers back into the file. This was not the moment to read them. She was needed at Clacton. Lillian had taken up enough of her time. She raised her cup to her lips and enjoyed the warm, velvety latte as it slid down her throat. She liked that Darren hadn’t asked her any personal questions. He seemed a quiet soul by nature, despite his occupation.
He gestured towards the file. ‘I take it that’s all you’ll need from me. Looks like Lillian will be off her feet for some time.’
‘Actually, no.’ Amy rested her cup back on her saucer before licking her top lip. ‘I’ve got a bit of an untrustworthy lead for you to follow up on . . .’
‘Untrustworthy leads are my forte.’ Darren grinned. He had a nice smile. A definite advantage, given his occupation. He reminded her of Donovan, except he was more relaxed when it came to work.
‘It’s regarding Sally-Ann’s child. Lillian gave it to me, so I’m not sure what she’s getting out of it.’ Sliding a pen from her jacket pocket, Amy scribbled down what she discovered that morning on the back of a napkin. ‘She has a habit of sending me on wild goose chases, so I’d take it with a pinch of salt.’
‘Goes without saying.’ Darren cast his eyes over the information before pocketing it. He checked his watch. Like her, he was on a schedule, and his time did not come cheap. ‘Anything else before I head off?’
Amy waited as a waitress strode past them, her tray rattling with used coffee cups. ‘There is. And it pains me to ask.’ Amy had questioned herself numerous times about what she was about to say. It was more painful than her clash with Lillian, more worrying than finding Sally-Ann’s child. She couldn’t bring it up with Donovan; at least, not until she knew more. She had promised Donovan she would do things by the book, but Darren was a law unto himself. Perhaps it would come to nothing, but she had to try. ‘I have something . . . delicate to discuss. Can you promise no one will have access to what I’m about to tell you?’
‘I’ve got one assistant. She can be trusted.’
Amy drummed her fingers on the table. To say it aloud would make it real, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that yet.
Darren leaned forward. ‘If it’s bothering you this much, then it’s worth looking into.’
Without another word, Amy dipped her fingers into her handbag and pulled out a list of names. Some had notes to the side, some didn’t.
Darren smoothed down his beard as he read through the list. ‘Riiiiight. Right,’ he murmured, finally meeting her eye. ‘I don’t like uncovering stuff like this. Pisses me off.’
‘But you’ll do it?’
Another reassuring smile. ‘I never say no to work.’
Amy sat staring into the distance long after Darren had left. She inhaled the sweet smell of oven-fresh cinnamon buns, basked in the luxury of a few seconds of alone time. She wondered how they were getting on back at the office. Once, she had trusted each and every member of her team. But it was there, in black and white. Leakages to the press that had spanned back over the last year. Information that only a handful of people would have known. During their last big case, a suspect had informed her of misconduct by one of her officers, claiming the officer had taken him to the shower block and allowed Samuel Black, the Love Heart Killer, to speak to him over a mobile phone. The disclosure had been made to her alone. The custody shower was one of the few places that did not have CCTV. Her informer had not reported the misconduct because he had been too scared. ‘Samuel said he could get to me anywhere. That he had people on the inside,’ the informer had whispered to her. He would not say who. But Amy had her suspicions. She’d had them for some time. Her jaw clenched. How could they work alongside her then go behind her back to intimidate a witness? They didn’t deserve to be in the job, let alone in her team. But she was playing the long game. Solid proof was needed in order to back up any claim. Already, the cogs in her brain were rolling as she worked out a plan. But the sense of betrayal would stay with her for a long time to come.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
MO
As Mo sat in her therapist’s office, it felt as if she was making ground. She tugged at the silver stud in her earlobe. Going over everything helped her to make sense of it all. She could see how she had been used, treated as a commodity. She did not blame Jen. She had become Jen. She knew now that Jen would have started off precisely the same way. It wasn’t just Wes who placed her in the cycle of abuse. It was all the men who came before him. Where did it start, and how did she make it stop? Perhaps it was too
