Flesh and Blood (A DI Amy Winter Thriller) by Caroline Mitchell (simple ebook reader .TXT) 📕

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 scuppered 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.’

‘Like her promises are worth anything,’ Amy snorted.

‘I know. But I want to believe her. She said he went to a wealthy couple, a doctor and his wife. They passed the baby off as their own. That’s all I know about them.’

‘What, you don’t have a name?’

‘Mum didn’t deal with them directly, there was a go-between.’

‘Then you’ll never find him. Not if that’s all you’ve got.’ Amy bit her lip. She didn’t mean to sound so dismissive, but this story might not come with a happy ending and Sally-Ann had been through enough.

‘Mum didn’t know the family, but she said her contacts did. She got back in touch with them. They said his surname is Swanson and they lived somewhere in Clacton.’

They strode past Clacton theatre, towards the hospital.

Amy had spent many hours musing on theories of nature versus nurture. She had been adopted herself, after all. But she was brought up by a police officer, and all she had ever wanted was to emulate him. Could the same be said for Sally-Ann’s son?

‘He could be in prison.’ Sally-Ann’s thoughts were obviously in the same vein. ‘Or he could be a chief constable for all I know. Anything is possible.’

Amy doubted that very much. ‘Have you asked yourself how these contacts of Lillian’s know so much about your son? These are bad people. Traffickers. They should have sold that baby and moved on. Unless . . .’ Amy hesitated. Sally-Ann nodded in encouragement for her to go on. ‘Unless they mixed in the same circles. The adoptive parents could have been criminals too.’

‘It’s possible, I suppose,’ Sally-Ann replied.

‘Are you sure you want to know?’ Amy raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘I won’t sugar-coat it. Remember, I’m a cop.’ If Amy found any wrongdoing, nephew or not, she would uncover it.

‘As is Paddy.’ Sally-Ann turned to face her sister. The police station was in view and their walk had come to an end. ‘I’ve done a lot of soul-searching. Spent half my life trying to forget the past. But it keeps tugging, and I can’t stop it.’ She gazed across the street, before looking left and right. ‘When you said you were coming to Clacton . . . I couldn’t let it go. He’s grown up here. He’s walked these paths. To think that he could pass me on the street, and I wouldn’t even know.’ She looked pleadingly at her sister. ‘Please, Amy. If there’s anything you can do, I’d appreciate it. And I know you’re still angry with me for testifying in Lillian’s favour. But . . .’ She began dry washing her hands, a habit born from stress.

‘What?’ Amy said, sensing Sally-Ann’s walls rising fast.

‘When we were kids, in that basement together, hiding from Jack. There was a split second when he found me when I knew that if I told him you were watching, he’d stop. You were always his favourite. But he was so angry that night, I couldn’t risk him hurting you too.’

Amy’s throat tightened at the memory. ‘So, you took the brunt and almost lost your