Flesh and Blood (A DI Amy Winter Thriller)

by Caroline Mitchell

  People found comfort in different ways, and Donovan would not judge. She spoke from a place of frustration, but tears had been shed. Becoming a single mother overnight had to be a daunting prospect. ‘How are the kids dealing with his death?’

  ‘They’re confused, upset. They’re only three and four. Besides,’ Sharon said, ‘Mum’s moving in until I get back on my feet.’

  Donovan was glad that Sharon had someone to turn to. Her story would be checked out, but it seemed believable. She had little to gain from Chesney’s death. They lived in rented accommodation and Sharon was the primary breadwinner.

  ‘The thing is,’ Sharon said, ‘I think he was keeping secrets. Whatever it was, I want to know the truth.’

  ‘He had cannabis in his system,’ Donovan replied. ‘Did he owe anyone money?’

  ‘He smoked the odd bit of weed, but I wouldn’t allow it in the house. He didn’t owe anyone money as far as I know.’

  Donovan narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure Sharon out. ‘Look, help me make sense of this. You’ve come in to tell me your relationship had soured. Are you sure that’s all? Chesney didn’t do anything to hurt you or the kids?’

  ‘Honestly, he didn’t.’ Sharon’s eyes widened. ‘I’m a nurse. I’ve bandaged up plenty of battered women. I’d never let that happen to me. Check my medical records if you like. Chesney never hurt us, and I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. All we had was indifference. When I look at my girls . . . they’re my world. But Chesney . . . well, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was seeing someone on the side.’

  Donovan nodded. This was the real reason she had come to see them. ‘So you want us to find out for you? What makes you think he was unfaithful?’

  ‘Just a feeling,’ Sharon replied. ‘He was always disappearing, very secretive over his phone. His moods were funny. Once, I found two hundred quid in his jacket pocket, but the next day it was gone. He certainly wasn’t spending it on me.’

  Donovan cast an eye over to the clock on the wall. It was time to wrap things up. ‘It’s not our job to investigate Chesney’s infidelities, but if it’s relevant to the investigation we’ll let you know. We’ll need a further statement.’ Donovan preferred Sharon’s words to go down on paper in case it was needed later. ‘One detailing your relationship.’

  ‘Thanks. And sorry. I didn’t mean to offload like that.’ Sharon gazed at Donovan in earnest. ‘I need to know what happened to my husband that night.’

  ‘We’ve got our best people on it. Hopefully we’ll have some answers soon.’ Donovan straightened in his chair as their meeting came to an end. At least now he had a better insight into Chesney’s character. But where had he been going on the night of his murder? And had someone cut his life short?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  MO

  ‘Is it OK if I take off my boots?’ Mo undid the laces of the Converse trainers, which she had bought second-hand in a charity shop. ‘They’re chafing my heels.’ She winced, rubbing the tender skin on the back of her foot.

  ‘Whatever makes you comfortable.’ The therapist crossed her legs and lifted her writing pad from the table. Mo eyed her up and down, taking in her expensive-looking silk blouse teamed with a long flowing black skirt and kitten heels. Her eyes flicked to the Dolce & Gabbana watch on her wrist, then to her newly styled French plait. The office had been given a tidy-up too, with a fresh lick of paint on the walls and some new prints since her last visit. Someone’s doing well, Mo thought, but it left a sour taste. She was all for people bettering themselves, but it was her guess that Ms Harkness hadn’t suffered a day of hardship in her life. She caught Mo staring, but Mo’s gaze did not flinch.

  ‘We made some good progress during our last session.’ Ms Harkness cleared her throat. ‘I’d like to jump straight back in.’

  Mo had given a lot of thought to today’s session. They had a lot of ground to cover and time was limited. ‘I want you to hypnotise me like you did before.’ Her pulse quickened at the thought of going back there, but it needed to be done.

  ‘Are you sure?’ The therapist stared over her glasses. ‘Do you feel it’s beneficial?’

  ‘It’s what I want.’ Mo lifted her legs on to the sofa. Her socks were clean but odd, one striped, one dotted. She’d been so distracted when she dressed this morning that she hadn’t noticed. She clasped her fingers over her stomach and closed her eyes. Revisiting the past was harder than recalling it, but she needed to go there. Perhaps she deserved the pain: a reminder of why she’d inflicted so much of it upon others. As the therapist counted backwards, Mo’s shoulders dropped, and she relaxed into the chair. Her breathing became slow and steady. Her hands fell open. It felt like she was sinking into the sofa as she mentally counted down. Then she was there, in the park, exactly where she left off.

  ‘It’s nippy.’ She rubbed her arms when asked about her surroundings. ‘I’m wearing a denim jacket, but I’ve only got a belly top on underneath. It makes me feel grown-up. Wishing I wore my jumper now though.’ She could feel the bite of November air, hear the swish of leafless tree branches overhead. An empty crisp packet swirled around her feet, and someone had graffitied a penis on the park bench.

  ‘Are you on your own?’ The therapist’s voice seeped through. It was neither kind nor judgemental. More of an ‘ask Alexa’ artificial intelligence voice.

  ‘I’m with Jen,’ Mo replied. ‘We’re walking towards a group of lads. They’re drinking plastic bottles of cider and smoking. One of them is pointing at me, and I feel my cheeks burn. “Hey, Jen!” the stockiest of the three is calling out. “Who have you got there?”’ Mo could hear the sneer in his voice as if she were really there. She had thought of this moment many times over the years, dreamt about it, even. But nothing produced the mental clarity of hypnotism. ‘They’re not boys,’ she continued. ‘They’re men. A lot older than the ones we’ve been hanging out with up until now. They’re wearing tracksuits and puffer jackets. They must be in their late twenties, maybe thirties. I wonder if any of them know my stepdad.’

  Mo’s feet felt like lead as she followed Jen across the playground. She was dwarfed by all of them and waited for them to tell her it was past her bedtime. But they didn’t. ‘Jen’s walking up to them, bold as brass,’ she carried on. ‘The shortest of the three men has put his hand around her shoulder. He’s pale, with greasy skin. I don’t know where to look. He’s kissing her hard, but his eyes are on me.’ Mo began to hug herself. ‘I don’t fit in.’ She was standing in awkward silence, feeling the heat of their gaze.

  ‘What’s happening now?’ Ms Harkness’s voice imposed on the moment, reminding Mo to share.

  ‘Jen’s introducing us. The short, chubby guy who kissed her is called Jezza. His tracksuit bottoms are hanging loosely around his waist. He’s grubby, and I don’t trust him, but he’s smiling at me, so I smile back.’ Mo suppressed a shudder. ‘The guy next to him has crooked teeth and is looking me up and down. His blue eyes are piercing, but too close together and he’s picking at a spot on his chin.’

  ‘This is Alan,’ Jen said, and Mo felt herself stiffen as he gave her hand a watery shake.

  ‘Any friend of Jen’s is a friend of mine,’ he said, offering Mo a cigarette. She shook her head as she waved it away.

  ‘I should be getting home,’ Mo said aloud to her therapist. Immersed in her subconscious, she felt small and vulnerable. She watched Alan whisper something to Jezza, and the two men laughed. ‘The third man has told Alan to leave me alone,’ Mo continued. ‘His voice is kind, but he’s looking at me in the same way as his friends. He’s cleaner than the other two, and he must have been good-looking once.’ Mo paused for breath as further details were revealed. She remembered his hollowed, sunken expression that could only be a side effect of drug use. ‘He’s wearing jeans and grubby trainers, and there’s a plastic Tesco bag next to him on the bench.’ Mo peered into the bag, and he followed her gaze. ‘He’s asking if I fancy a drink. He’s got alcopops.’ But darkness was clos
ing in, and if Mo’s mum noticed she was gone, there would be hell to pay. She exchanged a pleading glance with Jen as her internal alarm bells rang.

  But instead of taking her home, Jen gave her an elbow to the ribs.

  ‘“Go on,” Jen’s whispering in my ear. “Wes has money, he’ll treat you to all sorts of stuff.” Now Alan’s checking his phone. “Right,” he’s saying. “I’m off. Laters.” I’m watching him saunter down the path which leads to the housing estate off the playground. I turn back, and it’s just me and Wes. Jen and Jezza have disappeared behind the bushes that surround the playground.’ Mo flinched as Wes placed his coat on her shoulders. ‘I like Wes, because he’s kind to me. He’s telling me to wear warmer clothes the next time I come out, but that he can see why I’d want to show my body off because I’m gorgeous.’ Mo laughed, because gorgeous was not a word that had ever been used to describe her. She felt a warm sensation in her stomach as Wes touched her face.

  ‘What’s happening now?’

  The therapist’s voice made Mo stiffen. So lost in the moment, she had forgotten she was in the background, listening and waiting. ‘Wes is asking me what I’m laughing at. He’s resting his arm on my shoulder long after he’s put his coat there. ‘“I’m not gorgeous,” I’m telling him, and I can barely meet his eye.

  ‘“And that’s what makes you even more beautiful,” he replies, except he says “bootiful” and the smile hangs on his face a little longer than it should. I’m pushing my concerns away as he asks me what age I am. “Fifteen,” I lie, knowing I look nothing of the sort. He hands me a cigarette and a drink. It tastes more potent than a normal alcopop.’

  Mo wiped her mouth as the scene replayed. The feeling of Wes’s puffer jacket on her skin as they chat about this and that. The bitter taste of the alcopop, which makes her feel light-headed and sick. The rumble of her stomach as she hasn’t eaten all day. ‘I tell him about my brother, Jacob, and he asks about my mum and dad. Jen has come back. She’s zipping up her jacket and her skin is flushed pink. But she’s on her own and tells me that Jezza has gone home. I throw my empty bottle in a bin and hear Jen and Wes mumble something, but I can’t make out the words. Wes is smiling, and my heart flips as I realise he is watching my every move. I start to shrug off his coat, but Wes tells me to keep it, tugging it across my chest. He’s looking down on me now and his eyes are on fire. “I’m going to take care of you,” he’s saying. “Is that OK with you?”’ Mo’s breath quickens as she describes the scene.

  ‘I blink, amazed. No fella has ever offered to do that before. I manage to nod, and my legs turn to jelly as he pulls me towards him and kisses me on the mouth. His skin is rough, and I feel his tongue jab my lips as I keep them tightly closed. We pull away, and my mouth is sore from my teeth bashing against them. It is my first kiss. Wes seems amused as he releases me. “See you soon, gorgeous,” he murmurs into my ear. He smells of stale cigarettes and booze, but I don’t mind. As we leave the park, Jen gives me what she calls “sisterly advice”.’

  Mo could feel the scrunch of stones underfoot as they walked down the gravel path. ‘I know Wes of old. He’s a good bloke, and he’ll look after you. If you’re with him, you’re safe.’ Safe. It sounded like the most beautiful word in the world. ‘Clothes, booze, presents. You name it, Wes will get it for you. If you want to be his girl.’

  ‘What’s happening now?’ Ms Harkness’s voice invades the scene.

  ‘Jen’s asked if I will be Wes’s girlfriend, but I’m thinking I must have crossed wires. Wes is at least ten years older than me. “He likes you,” Jen is saying. “He thinks you’re hot.” But her words sound like they’re meant for someone else. I imagine him taking care of me, buying me nice things. “Can he do something about Lizzie?” I ask. It’s the first time I’ve mentioned her name. I hadn’t wanted to admit that I was being bullied before. “She’s been a right cow to me in school,” I’m saying. I would have dropped it, but I knew Lizzie was gearing up for more. The thoughts of her embarrassing me in front of so many people set my nerves on edge. I didn’t think there was anything I could do about it – until now.’

  Mo took a deep breath as a timer went off from what felt like very far away. Their session had ended, and now her therapist was bringing her back. Mo blinked her kohl-lined eyes, feeling as if she had come to the surface for air.

  ‘How do you feel?’ Ms Harkness asked, checking her watch.

  Mo stretched her legs before planting her feet on the floor. ‘Happy I could see so much. Angry I allowed myself to be taken in.’

  ‘You were just a child,’ her therapist said, launching into a spiel about the effects of grooming. Mo did not want to listen. She had heard it all before. All the session had done was strengthen her resolve. She had been meek and subservient in her childhood. But tread on a worm and it will turn.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Chemtrails streaked the red night sky as the sun began its descent in Clacton. Amy bowed her head to check her iPhone. She had been gone just twenty minutes. There were no messages from Donovan, no texts from Paddy asking for her advice. She was blessed to have a lot more freedom than other people of her rank. Superintendent Jones had given her a long lead when it came to her time in Clacton, and she promised him regular reports. She felt a little bit of admiration there. He treated her as you would a creative person, putting special measures in place to allow for her ‘special insights’. But she would not ‘take the piss’, as Paddy so eloquently put it. Sally-Ann’s visit was unscheduled, but still, she found it hard to tear herself away. She should have been talking to Chesney’s wife, but a quick text to Donovan had reassured her that everything was in hand. He was another person who went above and beyond his remit to look after her. She worked many extra unpaid hours, but it wasn’t about the money. A sense of duty had followed her throughout her career. It was why she’d found it hard to switch off.

  ‘The lights are on, but it looks like nobody’s at home,’ Sally-Ann mused. They must have walked a good mile from the station and were now heading back. The sky was clear of clouds, the backdrop a chatter of tired families heading home amidst the inhalation and exhalation of the tide.

  ‘Sorry,’ Amy replied. ‘It’s been a long day.’

  ‘And you’ve got DCI Dreamy to be getting back to.’ Sally-Ann winked. ‘Can’t say I blame you.’

  ‘Work. I was thinking of work!’ Amy replied, refusing to be drawn in.

  But Sally-Ann was on a roll. ‘And aren’t you lucky, getting paid to look at him all day? I’d give you a run for your money if I didn’t have my Paddy to come home to. I’ll be keeping him occupied tonight if you need to sneak into Donovan’s room.’

  ‘La la la . . . not listening!’ Amy put her hands over her ears. Paddy was like a brother to her, and she didn’t want to imagine him having his way with Sally-Ann, who was the closest thing she’d had to a mother in her early years. She smiled at her sister, linking arms once more. ‘If it weren’t for Donovan, I wouldn’t be here. I should be back at work.’

  ‘I know.’ Sally-Ann patted her hand. ‘And I don’t want to waste your time. But sometimes . . . if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.’

  ‘I feel that way about work. I don’t know what I’d do without my job.’ Amy glanced at her sister. ‘But you’ve been through more than me. I don’t suppose I’ll ever know how much.’

  Silence fell between them as Sally-Ann seemed to gather her thoughts. ‘I’m moving forward. One step at a time. But there’s just one thing . . .’

  ‘The baby,’ Amy answered.

  Sally-Ann responded with a nod.

  ‘Did Lillian know about your pregnancy? From what I can remember, it came as a shock.’ Amy slowed her pace as they walked. She didn’t want to reach the station until she had answers. It had been hard to get Sally-Ann to open up about it – until now.

  ‘Mum knew I was pregnant, but she kept it to herself. She’d planned to take me away around the time I was due. But the baby arrived three weeks early and scupper
ed her plans. Lillian cornered me one night, asking me over and over if he was the dad. The look on her face . . . it was murderous. It wasn’t parental concern, it was jealousy.’

  Amy’s stomach churned as she entertained the thought. ‘And was he?’ Her answer had implications for Mandy and perhaps her biological brother, Damien, too.

  Sally-Ann responded with a firm shake of the head. ‘He wasn’t, I swear. It was some lad I met in the park. He was nice to me, paid me attention. I thought it was normal. It only happened the once.’

  ‘But once was all it took,’ Amy replied. She wasn’t sure if Sally-Ann was telling the truth, but she accepted her version of events. Whoever it was, she clearly did not want to give up a name. ‘God, you were just a kid, in your pigtails and dresses. It beggars belief to think you were almost killed by your own dad.’

  Sally-Ann’s face was stony. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if Mum put Jack up to getting rid of me. My body changed after I had the baby, and I don’t think she believed me when I said he wasn’t the father.’

  ‘Yet you defended her in the courtroom.’ Amy failed to hide the cynicism in her voice.

  ‘I’d stand up and defend the devil if it meant I got to meet my child.’

  ‘You basically did.’ Another silence fell. Amy knew Sally-Ann must have suffered after the loss of her tiny newborn child. ‘Sorry. I’m trying to understand. It’s just . . . Well, it’s hard, you know?’

  ‘I know,’ Sally-Ann said in a quiet voice. They walked past the pier, which was now illuminated. Soon they would reach the road which led to Clacton police station.

  Sally-Ann took a deep breath before recalling past events. ‘After I gave birth, Mum brought the baby to a family in London. She had lots of contacts in the underworld, people who traded in stuff on the black market too. At first, I thought she sold the baby on to some kind of sex ring, but she’s sworn that wasn’t the case.’