‘We’ll send you the details of her birth father. He’s prepared to sign over his parental rights to you. Start proceedings, get a good lawyer and get it done. You can’t risk this happening again.’
‘But won’t you be in trouble?’
‘Let me worry about that. Just do as I say. Take what you need and get gone. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Switch off your phone until you get there and then just let me know you’re both safe.’
‘My sister lives?—’
‘I don’t want to know. I need plausible deniability. I need to be telling the truth when I say I don’t know where you are.’
‘I don’t know what to say. How can I ever thank you?’
‘By giving her the life she deserves and ensuring no one can ever take her away again.’
Daniel reached across and clasped her hand. ‘Thank you.’
‘One hour,’ she said, turning away.
Now it was time to face the music.
Seventy-Two
Penn took a sip of coffee before he picked up the phone.
Stacey had called and updated him on Lucinda Butler. She’d asked him to make contact with Lucinda’s stalking victim while she and Bryant got an Uber back to the station.
The constable’s voice had been thick and croaky, and he understood that the boss had collected Ava to take her to the Chances. He just prayed that, with co-operation from Thomas Smith, Daniel would be able to regain custody of his daughter and that she wouldn’t be subjected to those people for long.
For a moment during his conversation with Thomas, Penn had wondered if the man was going to try and hang on to something that had never existed. There had been regret and sadness in his face. He had hesitated for just a moment before agreeing to whatever was best for Ava.
He knew that every one of them had done as much as they could for the little girl. Now they had a killer to catch.
He called the number on the incident report and hoped that the man had not changed it in the years since the court case.
The phone was answered on the second ring. The first thing Penn heard was the background noise. It sounded like a building site.
‘Hello,’ he heard faintly.
‘Is that Kenny Wade?’ Penn shouted.
‘What’s that?’
‘Are you Kenny Wade?’ he repeated.
‘Hang on,’ the man said.
Penn waited as the background noise reduced.
‘Sorry, mate, getting concrete laid. Who are you?’
So it was a building site.
‘Mr Wade, I’m Detective Sergeant Penn from West Mids police. Have you got a minute?’
‘About what?’
The background noise was completely gone now, and he could hear the man clearly.
‘Lucinda But?—’
