Flesh and Blood (A DI Amy Winter Thriller) by Caroline Mitchell (best love novels of all time .TXT) 📗

in the way he acted in her presence. The woman was an enigma, solving case after case. He was in awe of her, and who could blame him? But Carla would prove she was as good as any member of his team. Which was why she was about to blow the lid off something that would spread shockwaves through the community for a long time to come. She had worked in her own time, surveying countless hours of CCTV footage as well as speaking to key witnesses in the case. As expected, they were reluctant to come forward for fear of incriminating themselves. They knew enough about the system to understand they would receive more than a slap on the wrist. Carla had appealed to their better nature. Told them things had to change. She only hoped she hadn’t made everything worse.

The spoon tinkled against the cup as she deposited two sugars for Shaun, and she quickly made the tea before checking her phone. Her stomach felt tied up in knots; there was no way she’d be drinking tea tonight. She stiffened as the text came in. Not the call she had hoped for, but a text was progress. Her contact was finally agreeing to meet. It had taken Carla weeks to gain her trust, and the case was nothing without her compliance. But her secret contact had asked to see her alone. Carla needed to persuade her to provide a video interview. Such a harrowing account would take time to record.

Her thoughts raced at the prospect of what she was about to do. She had kept her investigations low-key, but the closer she got to the truth, the more worried she became. Did she have the guts to follow this up?

A sharp pinch of pain brought her to earth as she bit down on her lip. Picking up the mug, she carried it in to Shaun, who was watching old comedy reruns on the TV.

‘Aren’t you having one?’ he said, taking the tea from her outstretched hand.

‘I can’t,’ she replied, placing one hand on her hip. ‘I’ve got to go to work.’

‘But you were out last night. Tonight’s your evening off,’ he groaned, pressing the mute button on the TV remote. ‘I thought we could . . . you know . . .’

Carla gave him a withering look. ‘There’s this bunch of teenagers I’ve been trying to get close to. The ringleader just texted me. She’s ready to meet.’

‘Not at this hour of the night,’ Shaun said. ‘Not on your own.’ He was sulking now, which was his default reaction when he didn’t get his own way.

Carla didn’t have time to placate him. He hadn’t a clue how important this was.

‘I have backup,’ she lied. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘I’ll keep the bed warm.’ Shaun grinned before dipping his head to gulp a mouthful of tea.

Carla could not leave without checking in on her girls. She peeped through the crack in their shared bedroom, exhaling a shallow breath. A string of fairy lights attached to the wall bathed the room in a soft yellow glow. Her eldest daughter’s hair masked her face as she slept, arms and legs akimbo across her single bed. Carla’s gaze fell on her youngest daughter on the other side of the room. She was snoring softly, her teddy tucked under one arm. Despite being twelve, she was not yet ready to give up her battered old Paddington bear.

Quietly, she closed the blinds. The window she had opened earlier was now firmly shut. She knew the girls were scared that spiders would creep inside. But there were worse things than spiders lurking in the darkness of the seaside resort they called their home. Carla’s heart felt heavy as she backed out of her daughters’ bedroom and slowly closed the door. She checked her watch as she tiptoed downstairs, picking up her car keys from the hook on the wall before slipping through the front door.

Despite the strength of her convictions, a voice in the back of her head whispered caution. This is dangerous territory you’re getting into. These types of criminals have little regard for life. She stared through the breath-fogged windscreen of her car, the engine a low rumble in neutral gear. The clock on the dashboard glowed 11 p.m. She had fifteen minutes to reach their meeting place. But something about this felt wrong. Why meet at this hour, in such an isolated spot? The thought of approaching the pier at night made her shudder. All that deep, dark water underfoot. Spikes of rain tapped a warning on her windshield. She had come out without her coat. But that was the least of her worries now.

Silencing the car engine, she picked up her phone. There was one person whose advice she could trust. She brought up Donovan’s number on her mobile, feeling deflated with each unanswered ring. It was a stupid idea; he probably didn’t even use this number any more—

‘Hi, this is Donovan . . .’ Colour bloomed on Carla’s cheeks at the sound of his deep, velvety tones. ‘Sorry I’m not about,’ the recorded message continued. ‘Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.’

Carla was too tongue-tied to speak. It had thrown her, thinking he had picked up the phone. ‘Hi,’ she said, trying to gather her thoughts. ‘It’s me . . . Carla, from Clacton?’ She inhaled through her nostrils, forcing herself to calm down. ‘I don’t like to bother you, but . . .’ She paused. ‘I could do with your advice.’ The time flashed before her. She had to go. ‘Anyway’ – she emitted an awkward laugh – ‘I’m on my way out right now so I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, maybe? I saw you on the telly tonight, you were great.’ She pursed her lips before she could say any more and ended the call. ‘Idiot,’ she admonished herself as she exhaled a frustrated breath. She would have to sound more professional if she wanted to run the case by him.

Nerves bubbled