Flesh and Blood (A DI Amy Winter Thriller) Caroline Mitchell (free ebooks romance novels txt) 📖

There was a reason Sharon had stayed in Clacton. She had planned to finish the next sex offender off. Amy had carried out background checks on many of the people involved, but Sharon’s history had really hit home. She was a medical professional, no stranger to administering drugs. Then her car number plate had pinged ANPR in each of the seaside resorts, and Amy had enough suspicion to bring her in.

‘Ask yourselves, why?’ Amy had told her team when this had all begun. ‘Why did it start with Chesney?’ And now she had her answer.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

From the monitor room, Amy listened in on Sharon’s confession. Sharon had put up no barriers since arriving in custody, and Steve Moss was doing a stellar job of interviewing her. If anything, Sharon seemed relieved to be getting things off her chest.

‘It wouldn’t surprise me if she has PTSD,’ Donovan said, joining Amy in the dimly lit room. When Sharon was booked into custody, her hotel room was searched. Syringes were found, along with enough poison to take down several more men. It was the shrubs in their garden that had caught Amy’s eye. Facebook pictures of a happy family living amongst plants with toxins so powerful they could kill. Beautiful but deadly, Sharon’s oleanders could debilitate a grown man without the toxin even showing up in his blood – unless you were looking for it. The symptoms of drowsiness, slowed heart rate and sudden weakness had given Sharon the edge. Upon the advice of her solicitor she gave a full confession. It was a prima facie case – open and shut.

‘She’s the first murderer that I’ve actually felt sorry for,’ Amy said. She had stretched the truth about Tina being responsible, but it was the push Sharon needed to confess. She committed her crimes to protect these girls, not to incriminate them. It was better for her if she handed herself in, which Amy had facilitated. Admitting her guilt could shave years off her sentence, and her history would be considered. But Sharon’s children would be grown by the time she was released, and regardless of the consequences, she had murdered four men. She knew the most effective way to kill, and was strong enough in stature to carry the murders out.

Had she had assistance? Amy wasn’t sure. She tuned back into the interview as Steve asked the question.

‘Nobody helped me,’ Sharon said, her arms folded over her chest. ‘Chesney was sloppy. He didn’t cover his tracks. But I did. I followed the bastards, getting to them before the kids arrived.’ She paused for breath. ‘Except for the one who got away. I thought I left him for dead.’

She was talking about Mr McCafferty, who had been taken to hospital when he’d come to on the shore.

‘So the kids had no involvement?’ Steve asked, his colleague taking notes. Each offence would be discussed at great length later on. But then there was April, who had argued with George Shaw on the night of his murder. Had she seen Sharon at work?

Spittle flew from Sharon’s mouth as she jabbed a finger in Steve’s direction. ‘Don’t you dare pin any of this on them. It was me. All me.’ For a second, Amy saw a flash of temper. A hatred that had lain dormant for years. Perhaps sending a male interviewer hadn’t been a good idea. But Steve was calm and methodical in his approach. Right now, he was the best officer for the job.

‘She must have taken Chesney’s mobile after she killed him,’ Amy said, remembering retrieving it as it fell from Sharon’s bed. By then, she had guessed as much. She turned towards Donovan. He was looking at her with something akin to amusement on his face. ‘What?’ She touched her mouth. ‘Have I got something on my teeth?’

‘How do you do it?’ He gestured with his hands. ‘How do you . . . I mean, all the leads pointed to it being those kids. Yet you went after Sharon. How did you know?’

Amy smiled, surprised by the question. It seemed perfectly obvious to her. ‘Remember when she asked you to find out if her husband was having an affair? Didn’t you think that was weird at the time? I mean, he died so unexpectedly. Her life had been turned upside down.’

‘I suppose . . .’ Donovan folded his arms.

‘Then she kept ringing the station, asking for updates. You know what they say about people who take too much interest in the case.’

‘But I didn’t see it that way.’ Donovan sounded exasperated now. ‘I had a completely different perspective.’

Amy shrugged. ‘It gave me enough justification to carry out some intelligence checks. Social care unearthed her backstory, then it made sense. She was trying to tell us about those girls all along.’ She glanced at the interview on her monitor; it appeared to be taking its course. ‘Then her licence plate flashed up in each of the locations . . . and of course, she was still in Clacton, which suggested unfinished work . . .’ Amy reeled off the list of leads which had brought her to the conclusion that Sharon was their suspect. She had kept the information close to her chest, for Sharon’s own safety if nothing else.

Donovan’s frown grew as he absorbed her explanation. ‘But you knew, deep down, before any of that. I remember you saying it to the team. “Start at the beginning,” you said. Intuitively, you knew, long before logic caught up.’

Amy snorted, waving the sentiment away. ‘It was teamwork, pure and simple. Hundreds of man hours narrowing it down to one viable suspect.’

‘You’re amazing, you know that?’ Donovan’s sudden laughter filled the air.

‘Don’t you start.’ Amy smiled. ‘And you’ve got more instinct than you give yourself credit for. Remember when you got Carla’s diary? You shoved it into your pocket when Bicks came into the room. Most people would have shared it. But you didn’t. You need to trust your instincts more often.