She pulls the half-empty bottle of formula from Mia’s mouth and switches the baby to an upright position on her shoulder, rubbing her back with a circular motion.
‘I should go,’ I say. ‘I’ve taken up enough of your time already.’
Angela stands up, still gently rubbing and patting Mia’s back.
‘I’m glad you came, Ellen. I’ll show you out.’
Following her down the second floor staircase, I say, ‘So you kept Mia a secret when she was born?’
‘We knew it would get out eventually, but we wanted to keep her to ourselves for as long as we could. No more intrusion, no media, no speculation about my daughter carrying a murderer’s child. As long as she was secret, she was safe. With us.’
‘But they did find out.’
‘Paperwork was filed from the hospital and somehow the detectives still working on the case became aware of it. Straight away, one of them came to the house, said he wanted to take Mia away with him, put her into care or some such nonsense. Took a DNA swab there and then, said he would fast-track it through their lab.’
‘Detective Inspector Gilbourne?’
‘Not him, the younger one. That detective sergeant.’
I feel a shiver of unease, the small hairs standing up on my arms. ‘Holt. Nathan Holt.’
She nods. ‘He was talking about taking Mia away, putting her into some sort of protection programme. But it was a ridiculous idea. A three-month-old baby, going into hiding with strangers looking after her? We’re her family, her blood, we can protect her better than anyone. We told him no, point-blank. Then he said we could have a twenty-four-hour police presence at the house, as if that wouldn’t attract exactly the sort of attention we didn’t want! Advertising the fact with a police car at the gate, ridiculous. I don’t like him at all. Arrogant sort. You can tell he’s the kind used to getting exactly what he wants. I never wanted them to do the damn DNA test in the first place.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because Mia isours– a part of our family. No one else’s. I wanted to keep it that way. As long as she was anonymous, she was safe. But as soon as you start talking about DNA and paternity, she becomes a target – which is exactly what happened.’
I look over at Mia, drowsing half-asleep against her grandmother’s shoulder ‘You can’t put the genie back in the bottle.’
‘Precisely.’ Angela resumes gently rubbing Mia’s back as we continue down the stairs. ‘And the whole thing with them getting a DNA sample . . . there’s been something off about it right from the beginning. Something strange.’
‘In what sense?’
She is silent for a moment before replying.
‘I don’t know exactly. DS Holt was here again yesterday wanting to see her, wanting to take another swab. Someone rang him as he was leaving and Holt told them he was in central London. Just flat-out lied about where he was, cool as you like, as if he’s got some other agenda, goodness only knows what that might be.’
‘Seriously?’ I think about Holt, aggressive and jumpy the very first time I met him, in a police interview suite. Interviewing Kathryn Clifton’s boyfriend alone. Working behind his DI’s back. ‘DS Holt?’
We reach the bottom of the stairs and she leads me into the big hall, pulling open the front door for me, Mia still propped on her shoulder. The two dogs trot up to her and sit obediently at a single word of command. I take one last look at Mia’s little apple-cheeked face, at her slow-blinking blue eyes, wondering if I will ever see her again.
‘Something’s not right about him,’ Angela says. ‘But Kathryn must have been in touch with him secretly, over those last few days. He must have convinced her of the danger, because she got it into her head that someone was going to take Mia away. On Tuesday morning she came over to babysit and just took her. The two of them were gone before we even realised. That was the last time I saw Kathryn.’
I step out into the darkening afternoon, a cold autumn wind snatching at the hem of my coat. The sun is gone, replaced by a blanket of grey clouds stretching from one side of the sky to the other.
‘Her note said not to trust the police,’ I say. ‘Why do you think she said that?’
‘She trusted Holt at first, but then . . .’ She tails off. ‘By the time she took Mia and ran, she didn’t know who to believe.’
‘And what do you think?’
‘You know the media stories about the Ghost being a scientist or some forensic expert?’
‘Because he doesn’t leave trace evidence behind. No DNA.’
‘That’s it. Seems to me, a police officer would have that expertise too.’
56
