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

A sad smile wavered on Molly’s lips as conflicting emotions arose. Matty needed someone to talk to outside his own social circle, but she felt guilty for tricking him. She was happy to oblige, but if he had witnessed a crime, then she needed to get to him. But texting was hardly the quickest way to get Matty to open up. She needed to find a safe space where they could talk without interruption. The toilets were in constant use, and there was too much background noise in the office. She texted with her thumbs. FaceTime? It was a good conversation opener if Matty could spare the time. She had no idea where he was staying, but she might be able to glean some clues, as long as she didn’t give anything away her end.

Now Paddy was at the photocopier, swearing under his breath as he tried to work it out. Anything with a digital interface was bound to bamboozle him.

‘Sarge,’ she said, as she watched him try but fail to print his report. ‘I’ll do all your photocopying for a week if you make sure no one disturbs me for the next five minutes.’ She looked at him imploringly as she pointed towards a room that was little more than a cubbyhole. The windowless room was used for storing box files and had a dank, wet dog smell.

‘What?’ Paddy looked at her, completely mystified.

‘I’m going to FaceTime a possible witness. But he doesn’t know I’m a cop.’ She sighed as she took in Paddy’s confused expression. ‘I’ll explain later. Can you make sure nobody comes in?’

‘Sure enough,’ Paddy said. ‘I’ll stick a sign on it.’

Giving him the thumbs up, Molly grabbed a pack of wipes from her handbag and began to scrub the make-up from her face. Matty’s response had come through. He was happy to FaceTime. She texted a reply: OK, gimme two secs. She wished she hadn’t worn a shirt. It made her look far too official. She spotted Steve’s gym bag. It was never far away. The thought of putting on one of his sweaty T-shirts was enough to make her gag, but needs must . . . Paddy watched with interest as she rifled through Steve’s bag. Thankfully Steve wasn’t there to see her pilfering.

‘That’ll do,’ she said, pulling out a cap and T-shirt. ‘I won’t be long.’

Wiping off the last of her make-up, she strode into the cloakroom and sat on a stack of paper reams. It took her only a second to change into Steve’s T-shirt, grimacing as the scent of Lynx deodorant almost overcame her. Quickly, she messed up her hair before pulling the cap on. Earrings . . . she thought, plucking them out of her ears just as her phone rang. She looked around the space – not perfect, but it would have to do. She took a couple of deep breaths before responding to the video call.

‘Sorry, I was trying to find somewhere we could chat,’ she said, catching her flushed expression as it was reflected back at her on the screen. ‘God, look at the state of me. I’m a mess.’

But Matty’s expression was solemn as he peered into the phone. He was sitting on a grubby leather sofa. Molly guessed that it had once been cream, although it was hard to tell. Wallpaper hung limply from the wall behind him. She tried not to make it obvious that she was staring, but he was doing the same. ‘I’m in the cupboard under the stairs.’ She grinned, looking behind her. Cardboard boxes were piled on shelves, but the camera was tight to her face, so she was not giving too much away.

‘Who are ya, Harry Potter?’

‘Yeah.’ Molly laughed. ‘I got me invite to Hogwarts, but they said there’s no booze, so I told them to fuck off.’ She wondered if Paddy was at the door. Her muscles tensed as she prayed nobody would come bumbling in. ‘What about you?’ she said. ‘You live with your mum?’

Matty responded with a tight shake of the head. ‘Nah, she cut loose years ago. Tina looks after us now.’

‘Cool,’ Molly replied, trying to sound suitably impressed. ‘Are you all right?’ Matty looked as if he was about to cry.

‘It’s April.’ Matty leaned into the phone. ‘Something happened to her last night, but nobody’s telling me nuthin.’

‘Who’s April?’ A flutter of excitement grew as Molly recognised the name.

‘One of my mates.’

‘Is she OK?’

‘No,’ Matty whispered, before turning his head left and right. ‘She’s all fucked up. I think they broke her nose.’ A chill descended over Molly as his words filtered down the line. She shifted position, pins and needles spiking in her legs. She wanted to shout at him to call an ambulance. To tell her where he was.

‘Shit. Has she been dealing?’ Molly whispered, forcing herself to stay calm. ‘There are some dodgy blokes about. I heard another body washed up on the shore.’

Matty’s image shook for a moment as he transferred the phone to his other hand. ‘Dunno.’ He paused, biting down on his thumbnail. ‘She’s scared shitless. She won’t talk to anyone.’

Molly’s spirits plummeted. Was April connected to the body on the shore? She brightened as if a thought had suddenly occurred. ‘There’s a cop shop in town . . . She should report it.’

‘You kidding me?’ Matty’s whisper was sharp. ‘That’s that last place she’ll go!’

‘Chill, will you?’ she said, disgruntled. ‘I’m just trying to help.’ It was frustrating, trying to get to the root of the group’s issues without rushing things. Was this what it had been like for Carla? One step forward and two steps back?

The weight of Matty’s problems were evident on his face. ‘I shouldn’t be talking to you. It’s just . . . sometimes I don’t know what to do.’

A sigh trailed from Molly’s lips as she tried to come up with a solution. ‘What about one of them PCSO wotsits? Dad says they’re as much use as a chocolate fireguard, but they’re always in town