Deep Hurt - Eva Hudson Page 0,78

away.

As she watched him walk up Euston Road she saw a steady stream of slow moving pedestrians making their way to the entrance of the hospital. Some of them were in wheelchairs, some using strollers, crutches, a lot of them frail, most of them old.

Then she remembered something. Maybe Radcliffe would dismiss it as irrelevant just as soon as she told him, but she couldn’t not mention it. It could make a sliver of difference—and right now she was dealing in tiny increments. She ran after him.

“Hey, chief inspector!”

He didn’t hear her, just carried on marching. Or maybe he did and was ignoring her. She picked up her pace and reached him in a matter of seconds. “Please, DCI Radcliffe. There’s something else.”

He stopped dead and turned to her, a scowl on his face. “Something else you neglected to mention previously?”

“I pretty much dismissed it before, but now maybe it makes more sense.”

“Be quick. I really don’t want to waste any more of my day.”

She snatched a breath and launched into her unprepared speech. “There was a witness at the Fosters’ hotel, an American woman. She saw Kyle Foster return to his room when she was on her way down to breakfast on the morning of… the incident.”

“The attempted murder, you mean.”

“She said she distinctly remembered Foster was carrying a large McDonald’s bag.”

“I do hope this is leading somewhere.”

“According to Carrie Foster, Kyle grabbed Molly from her arms and shook her, violently, flung her onto the bed and stormed out of the room.”

“Yes?”

“He was mad. Out of control. He ran. Maybe she thought he wouldn’t come back. But he did. Not only that, he came back with breakfast for the whole family?”

“According to this witness.”

“Why should we doubt it? She was very clear. She said Foster smiled at her as he passed. Does that describe a man who practically shook his baby daughter to death only fifteen minutes earlier?”

“I’ve seen all the evidence collected from the scene. There was no McDonald’s bag.”

“OK, I don’t know what happened to the bag. But I’m sure there must be some CCTV footage from inside the restaurant showing Foster buying breakfast, if you doubt the witness’ account.”

“You know I can actually hear the faint sound of rustling, you’re clutching at straws so desperately.”

“I’m just saying Carrie Foster could have hurt Molly while Kyle was out fetching breakfast. She had the opportunity.”

The DCI didn’t respond.

“Come on—we have this, the hidden booze, the illegally prescribed pills, the small bruises. Doesn’t it all add up?”

Radcliffe closed his eyes and shook his head. “Dear God, you just don’t give up, do you?”

“Is there any other way to be?”

“All right. But I’m doing the questioning. I’ll try to arrange for an interview with Mrs Foster some time later today.”

“Can I observe?”

“I don’t want you in the room with me.”

“From another room, then.”

“We’d need to conduct the interview at the police station for that to be possible.”

“Surely you’d want to do that anyway—to record the interview?”

“She won’t be answering questions under caution. Let’s be quite clear about this—I am not arresting her.”

“No—of course not.”

At last. Ingrid felt she was beginning to get somewhere.

40

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jack Gurley towered over Ingrid, she felt his hot breath on her face. His cheeks were scarlet with rage.

Two seconds earlier he’d burst into the observation room next to interview room five in Holborn police station, slamming the door behind him. The uniformed officer assigned to sit with them jumped up from his seat and forced himself between Gurley and Ingrid.

“Take it easy!” he said and raised his hands to Gurley’s chest, taking care to leave a good two inches of air between his palms and the angry MP’s shirt.

The door opened and another uniformed officer hurried into the room. She had an embarrassed expression on her face, clearly she’d just had the door slammed on her by Gurley.

“Thank you, constable,” Ingrid said. “But I think I can manage the situation myself.”

“How is it I find out about this interview from your clerk at the embassy?”

“I thought your priority was seeing Kyle Foster behind bars, I didn’t imagine you’d be interested in anything more his wife had to say.”

“Where’s Radcliffe?” he yelled at the male PC standing just inches away from him. “I have to get this thing stopped.”

“No way,” Ingrid said. “DCI Radcliffe agrees there are enough anomalies in the case to make another interview necessary. With respect, major, the decision to interview Carrie Foster again wasn’t yours to