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

paused, staring at the screen. It was Darren, the private investigator. Her finger hovered over the answer button. Today, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear what he was about to say. The appearance of George Shaw’s body had thrown her. She couldn’t deal with any more bad news. Sighing, she answered the call. Perhaps Darren had some good news.

Steeling herself, she said hello.

‘Are you free to talk?’ Darren said. It was the prerequisite for every conversation, a throwback to his time in the police: respect for the fact that Amy could be in the middle of something that demanded every fibre of her attention. His voice carried a tone of urgency, and Amy’s stomach tightened as she told him to go ahead.

‘It’s Lillian. She’s in hospital.’ There were voices in the background, the sounds of fast footsteps and the swish of double doors.

‘Are you there now?’ Amy said. ‘What happened?’ She swallowed, her throat dry. It had to be serious if he was calling from the hospital. He would never blow his cover otherwise.

‘I was tailing her on her way back from the off-licence, and she was jumped on by a couple of lads. She’s been stabbed, Amy. You need to get yourself down here.’

Stabbed? Her legs weak, Amy plopped into her chair. Her feelings towards Lillian had ranged from hatred to indifference. So why did she feel as if she’d been punched in the gut?

‘Winter? Are you there?’

‘Yes.’ Amy drew in a breath. ‘Sorry, I . . . I felt something was wrong before you called.’ She shook her head as the words left her mouth. What a stupid thing to say. As if she had any connection with that woman. She quickly followed it up with, ‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine. They scarpered when they saw me. They meant business, though. They must have been watching her routine. There were two of them, stocky, early twenties, puffer jackets and baseball caps. I’m waiting to speak to the police. I’ll do everything I can. The thing is . . .’ A pause. ‘It’s not looking good. She lost a lot of blood. It’s touch and go.’

‘I’ll ring Sally-Ann, let her know,’ Amy said, envisioning the scene. ‘Thank God you weren’t hurt.’

‘Mandy’s on her way. Lillian wasn’t far from the flats when it happened. Someone must have told her.’

Various scenarios ran through Amy’s mind. What if Darren hadn’t been there to save Lillian? What then?

‘Listen, I’ve got to go,’ Darren said.

He reeled off the name of the hospital and the ward where Lillian was being treated. Lillian had always felt like this indestructible creature destined to live forever. The fact that she could die . . . Should she feel happy, relieved? All she felt was numb. ‘Thanks,’ she said to Darren before he hung up. But the phone call had barely ended before her phone rang again. This time it was Sally-Ann. Her voice was high-pitched and panicked as she relayed that Lillian was in hospital.

‘A bystander called the ambulance . . .’

‘I know,’ Amy interrupted.

‘Oh. That was quick. Did the police tell you?’

‘No, the man who helped her was a private detective. I hired him to keep an eye on her.’

‘You hired him . . . to keep an eye on Lillian?’ Sally-Ann sounded stunned. ‘Why?’

Amy’s lips thinned. She would have thought that was obvious. ‘Be glad I did, or she’d still be bleeding out. He said she’s in a bad way.’

‘They told Mandy she’s getting blood transfusions.’

The thought made Amy’s stomach churn. If the donors knew . . . People donated to help others. It was doubtful anyone would want their blood running through Lillian’s veins.

‘When are you getting here?’ Sally-Ann said.

‘I’m not.’

‘Why not? We’re all going to be there. Damien is on his way.’

Amy contained a shudder. As if she would want anything to do with Damien. Her biological brother gave her the creeps. Sure, she had welcomed Mandy and Sally-Ann, but Damien was dark. If she was honest with herself, he scared her a little bit. There was something about the way he looked at her. It was a look that made her uneasy in her skin.

The memory of that scowl was enough to make up her mind. She owed Lillian nothing. ‘I don’t want anything to do with that woman, as you know only too well. If she dies, it’s no skin off my nose. The world will be a better place without her.’

There was a pause as Sally-Ann’s breath ruffled the line. ‘Still, you should be here.’

‘The women she killed should be here too. Sorry. Look after yourself.’ Amy ended the call, putting her phone on silent. She didn’t have the energy to get into an argument. It would be best for everyone if Lillian died.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

A twilight run on the seafront had acted as a valve for Donovan’s growing frustrations. At least the scene had been released, the body stored in the morgue and the area combed for clues. The lack of evidence was frustrating, the only clue a graffiti tag on a fence in Martello Bay, just metres from where George Shaw’s body had been found. He knew Amy had been annoyed with him because he had taken her out to dinner on the night that Shaw died. But what else would she have been doing, apart from sitting in a hotel room? He would never fully understand Amy, but he did want what was best for her.

To that end, he couldn’t help feeling her refusal to visit her mother was something that could backfire on her later on. There had been no update from her sister. Lillian’s attack had not yet made the news, and soon the press would be rehashing Lillian’s gruesome backstory all over again. Just when she’s putting her life together, he thought, towel-drying his hair.

A soft knock signalled a visitor. He tightened his towelling robe before opening the door. It was Amy, and he welcomed her inside.

‘Sorry I had a go at you,’ she said, her grey eyes filled with regret. ‘I couldn’t believe we were out