Deep Hurt - Eva Hudson Page 0,67
something herbal in her hand. It smelled as if the clerk had gathered up a few blades of grass from Grosvenor Square and poured boiling water over them.
“When did that arrive?” Ingrid nodded toward the parcel, a hand shoved into each armpit. She circled the desk, not wanting to get anywhere near the package. Certainly not intending to touch it.
“It’s OK—security have scanned it,” Jennifer told her. “It won’t puff white powder into your face when you open it. Or explode. Did you see it’s from Minnesota?”
Ingrid didn’t need to check the ‘from’ address—she knew exactly who had sent it and what was inside. Which was why she was so reluctant to touch it and why she had such a sick feeling in her stomach. Jennifer continued to look at her expectantly.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” she said, her eyes wide in anticipation.
“Nah, I know what it is.”
Jennifer nodded excitedly.
“Just a pair of shoes I asked my mom to pick up for me.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“I didn’t mean to pry… I just thought…”
“It’s OK, Jennifer. No problem.” Ingrid took a deep breath and, using just thumb and index finger, transferred the box from the desk to a drawer beneath it. No wonder Svetlana hadn’t sent her the photographs she’d asked for. Not with this ticking time bomb about to arrive any minute. What did she hope it would achieve?
Aware Jennifer’s gaze was still trained on her, Ingrid concentrated on keeping the expression on her face as neutral as possible. She’d deal with Svetlana’s surprise package when she got home. She grabbed a clean shirt from the bottom drawer under her desk and hurried to the ladies’ restroom to change into it, all the time trying to keep thoughts of Svetlana’s parcel from her mind. Then she retrieved her cell from her pocket, found DCI Radcliffe’s number and hit the call option. As she wasn’t sure about the theory she’d come up with on the long train journey back to London, she wanted to speak to the detective in private—and the ladies’ restroom was as good a place as any. Radcliffe picked up after several rings.
“You’ve got a bloody cheek calling me,” he said before Ingrid got a chance to say hello. “Why is it I find out Foster’s called the base from one of Gurley’s men hours after the event? What happened to the timely exchange of information?”
Ingrid silently cursed Gurley. He could have at least warned her one of his team would be speaking to Radcliffe. If she hadn’t needed a favor from the chief inspector she would have been tempted to find an excuse to hang up on him. Instead she’d need to beg for forgiveness. “I guess I got a little too involved on the ground to consider the bigger picture. I’m sorry. I assumed Major Gurley would inform you about the situation sooner. It was just a case of miscommunication.” The words sounded pathetic enough to her. She could imagine the look of contempt on Radcliffe’s face. “There is a bright side,” she added.
“Really?”
“Kyle Foster’s request for a safe passage for Tommy back to the US at least means the boy is still alive.”
“But we don’t know that for sure. Without concrete proof I can’t tell Mrs Foster.”
“What do you make of Kyle Foster’s request?”
Radcliffe didn’t answer right away. Ingrid couldn’t judge if it was because he was carefully considering her question or was too mad at her to respond. “The man is deluded if he thinks anyone will agree to something like that,” he finally said.
“But when he calls back, we should at least play along.”
“When he calls back I want to be part of the conversation. Do you understand?”
“Of course. Timely exchange of information. I won’t let you down again, chief inspector.”
“Make sure you don’t.”
Ingrid pulled the phone away from her face and puffed out a breath. Why did working with local law enforcement always have to be this hard? It was just the same Stateside. She put the phone back to her ear and did her best to stay calm.
“Why are you calling, anyway? Do you have another update for me?”
“I need a favor.” She paused a beat and braced herself for his response.
“Of course you bloody well do. I should have guessed.”
“Please—just hear me out. I’ve been working on a theory.” Ingrid hesitated. She hadn’t said it out loud to anyone yet, and she wasn’t sure just how screwy the idea would sound.
“Spit it out, for God’s sake—I don’t have all day.”
“I’ve