Deep Hurt - Eva Hudson Page 0,27

corner to Eversholt Street, hailed a cab and headed north,” Jennifer said. “They got out a little ways from the station. Then they went into the laundromat.”

“Then there’s quite a gap between the laundromat and the next sighting,” Ingrid said. “It’s what… maybe three miles between King’s Cross and Westminster?”

The clerk nodded. “A little less, maybe.”

“And we don’t know how they traveled there. On foot, public transport…”

“He wouldn’t risk that, not with Tommy’s lip bleeding. Safer to get another cab,” Jennifer said.

“But we don’t have another sighting from a taxi driver.” Gurley had started pacing up and down.

“After the aquarium, Foster took Tommy to the hospital, so we have to assume his injury was getting worse by then. And Tommy must have sustained the injury some time between getting leaving the hotel and arriving at the laundromat.”

Gurley stopped suddenly. “What the hell happened to him?”

“Maybe Foster got angry and lashed out?” Jennifer said.

“Or maybe Tommy had an accident,” Ingrid suggested, not wanting to dwell on the worst case scenario. “And there haven’t been any reliable sightings after Tommy got his lip stitched up at the hospital?”

“None yet,” Jennifer said.

“Unless it was Foster in Molly’s room earlier.” Gurley started pacing again. He interlaced his long fingers on the top of his head, flattening the blond buzz cut and somehow making himself look ten years younger.

“It couldn’t have been Foster at the hospital,” the clerk said, still staring blank-eyed at the map. “That man was alone. If it were Foster, where was Tommy all the time he was there?” Jennifer looked up at Ingrid expectantly, as if she might actually be able to answer that question.

“I guess there are three possible explanations,” Ingrid said, “Kyle is alive and Tommy’s dead…” She sensed Jennifer stiffen. “…They’re both alive and Kyle’s found some place safe to stash Tommy…”

Jennifer exhaled.

“Or they’re both dead,” Gurley said, helpfully providing scenario number three.

Jennifer swallowed hard. “I really don’t want to believe that.”

“I know this is difficult. Anything involving kids always is.” Ingrid had had more than enough experience in her years at the VCAC. “We need you to hang on in there.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that my baby brother is only ten years old,” Jennifer said, her voice shaky. “Mom calls him her little miracle.” She sniffed. “Dad calls him his gigantic mistake—but I know he’s only kidding. If anything happened to him I don’t know what I’d do. Carrie Foster must be going through hell.” She sniffed, her eyes had started watering.

“Hey, Jennifer, we’re relying on you to be strong for us,” Gurley said. “The best way you can help Tommy is by being right where you are and working your butt off.” He pulled a folded handkerchief from the back pocket of his pants and handed it to her. “Can you do that for us?”

Jennifer dabbed her nose and nodded rapidly. “Of course I can.”

Ingrid caught Gurley’s eye and mouthed ‘thank you’ at him. Maybe the gruff MP wasn’t quite as insensitive as she’d thought. “OK,” she said, and clapped her hands together. “Let’s assume for the sake of argument that both father and son are still alive. If that’s the case, Kyle would need to find some place safe for Tommy. So maybe he’s taken a cheap rental somewhere, or a room in a budget hotel. Somewhere he could pay with cash without raising suspicion.” She turned back to Jennifer. “Do we know how much cash he has on him?”

“Whatever he had in his wallet plus £500 he withdrew from the ATM at Barclays Bank on Russell Square, near the hotel.”

“No other traceable activity?”

“No cell phone use, no credit cards. His bank account has now been frozen.”

Ingrid looked at another map showing London and its surrounding counties. “Can we even assume he’d stay in the capital? Surely there’s too much police activity for him not to leave? Is he familiar with any other location in the UK?”

“As far as we know, he’s never been out of Suffolk before,” Gurley said. “The only area of the country he really knows is within a forty mile radius of the base.”

“I thought we might be needing this.” Jennifer unfolded another unwieldy map. This one displayed the whole of England and Wales.

Ingrid studied the distance between central London and mid Suffolk, the location of RAF Freckenham. She was so used to checking dinky little local maps on her GPS app, it was good to get a sense of perspective and distance. Judging by the scale, the Air Force base