‘Stitches? What happened to her?’
‘She said she cut her hand on a broken bottle when she put some rubbish in the bin.’ But the look he gave her relayed that he didn’t believe that any more than Amy did. ‘She’ll be back as soon as she can.’
The hospital was just a few minutes’ walk away. ‘Cover for me, will you?’ Amy grabbed her blazer from the back of her chair. ‘I won’t be long.’
She found Molly sitting in casualty, a wad of bandages wrapped around her hand. The room was uncomfortably warm, with people sitting in gloomy silence as they waited to be seen.
‘They’ve dressed it until I can get stitches,’ Molly explained as Amy questioned her.
‘What happened?’ Amy was grateful to find an empty seat beside her. A sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead, and she took off her jacket and folded it on her lap. ‘And I don’t mean that cock and bull story you gave to Paddy. Were you out meeting those kids again?’
‘Not really . . . well, not intentionally, anyway. Tina came to me. And this . . .’ She looked at her hand. ‘It was an accident. I’m not making an official complaint.’ She rested her hand on her lap, wincing as she laid it down. ‘Tina said Matty’s missing. She was hanging around outside, waiting for me to come out. I don’t know who blew my cover, but she was too scared to go inside.’
‘So, she stabbed you?’ Amy said, trying to make sense of Molly’s account.
‘No, no. Not at all,’ Molly said, nursing her hand. Spots of blood bloomed through her bandages, and there were blotches of red on her shirt. ‘She had a penknife. I tried to grab it off her so I could get a print. I cut my hand on the blade.’
‘Mmm,’ Amy said, unconvinced. ‘So, what’s this about Matty?’
‘He’s from Tower Hamlets. I have a name and date of birth. With that, and his photo, we should be able to track him down.’
‘That’s good,’ Amy said, ‘but you need to be careful – the DCI is up in arms as it is. God knows what he’s going to say when he hears about this.’ She sighed. At this rate, it would not be her officers under threat of being replaced, it would be her.
‘Matty’s next in line to be pimped out, isn’t he?’
‘It’s possible,’ Amy said. ‘Although more likely to be one of the girls. I’ve got to get back. I’ll update social care. But, Molly, if you keep taking chances, you’ll end up with a verbal warning. Is that what you want?’
‘Sorry . . .’ Molly said, crestfallen. ‘Of course not.’
Amy watched her face crumble. ‘What’s wrong? It’s not like you to get this emotionally involved.’ Two nurses walked past them, deep in chatter as they discussed a patient’s needs.
Taking a tissue from her pocket, Molly dabbed at the corner of her eyes. ‘I don’t know . . .’ She took another breath. Swallowed back her tears. ‘It’s Matty. He’s got to me. I can’t help but feel for him.’
It was only now that Amy noticed the resemblance in their names. Molly and Matty. The combination sounded like something out of a children’s book. But this was far from a fairy tale and a happy ending seemed unlikely. ‘Do you resonate with him? Is that what this is about? Is there something from your childhood which has struck a chord?’
But Molly sat, gulping back her tears and not saying a word.
‘Your mother rang, by the way . . . Sounds like she’s keeping track of you.’ Molly’s lack of holidays, her sheltered upbringing. Amy would not have been surprised to learn that her childhood was far from idyllic. Molly’s father might have been a police officer, but still, she knew better than anyone that sometimes the worst of horrors were hidden behind very regular-looking doors.
Molly blinked away her tears. ‘Did she?’ she sniffled. ‘Sorry. And as for Matty . . . it’s just one of those cases. Some get to you, and some don’t. I liked Matty . . . God, do you hear me, talking about him in the past tense?’ Molly heaved a weary sigh. ‘Someone’s got him and it’s all my fault.’
‘In what way?’ Amy said.
But Molly was tightly grasping her tissue, her head bowed.
‘Molly?’ Amy said gently.
Another sigh. She seemed to be having trouble catching her breath. ‘It’s my fault for speaking to him,’ she said at last. ‘He was taken because he spoke to the police.’
‘And you’re sure that’s all it is? I mean, we all care about our victims when we’re handling cases like these, but I’ve never seen you moved to tears.’
‘That’s all.’ Molly stared at her hands. ‘He’s had a rough life, and I thought I could help him, but now I’ve gone and made it worse.’
Amy did her best to comfort her, but as Molly left to get stitches, she wondered if there was more to it than she was letting on.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
MO
‘Are you happy we’ve covered everything?’ Ms Harkness watched Mo intently as she unlaced her trainers and rubbed her feet. Mo knew her socks smelt, but her feet were sweaty from walking and she couldn’t wait to get them off. She watched her therapist’s nose wrinkle before she got up and forced the window open a crack. So, it could open. It just needed some extra effort, a bit like her.
Mo’s lips broke into an unaccustomed smile. ‘I needed to figure it out, and I did.’ Initially, her therapy sessions had been less about understanding herself and more about committing the words to paper. She needed an official record of the betrayals she had suffered. Once, she would not have cared. But lately, she itched to be understood. Leaning over, she took a sip from the plastic cup of water Ms Harkness had left on the table.
‘Would you like to continue where we left off?’ Ms Harkness looked a little frayed around the edges.
Mo nodded, regarding her therapist with curiosity. She
