Deep Hurt - Eva Hudson Page 0,82

a repeat of that performance,” Gurley said. “Tell me you have no plans to question Carrie Foster again.”

“Perhaps you should be talking to your colleague about that, rather than me.” Radcliffe marched away.

“What’s going on with you?” Ingrid asked Gurley.

“With me?” He shook his head. “You just don’t know when to stop, do you? When to admit you’re wrong.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me. How can you be so sure Carrie Foster had nothing to do with her daughter’s injuries?”

“You seem to be the only person who isn’t. As far as I can see you’re in a minority of one.”

As they stood in the gleaming, white-walled corridor, the door to the interview room opened and Carrie Foster emerged. She was hanging on to the arm of the family liaison officer for support. She looked from Gurley to Ingrid. “What are you doing here? Was this your idea? I thought you were supposed to be supporting me.”

Gurley reached out a hand to her. Carrie Foster ducked away.

“We are here for you,” he said, his voice gentle.

“You make me sick. All of you.”

The FLO led Mrs Foster away. DS Tyson appeared in the doorway of the interview room. He ignored Ingrid and Gurley and walked away, shaking his head as he went.

“You’ve managed to alienate just about everyone,” Gurley said, contempt in his voice. Then he called after Tyson. “Hey, wait up. I’d like to see the latest intel you have.”

Tyson slowed. “I’m on my way to the incident room now.”

Ingrid was left stranded in the middle of the corridor. She grabbed her phone and called Sol Franklin.

“Hi Ingrid, any developments?” he said as soon as he picked up.

“No. Nothing worth reporting. I’m calling about something else. I want to make a formal request to investigate this case solo. Major Gurley and I have very different, incompatible methods. His attitude is affecting my ability to do my job.”

There was silence for a few moments on the other end of the line.

“Sol?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Major Gurley, as a matter of fact.”

Another pause.

“You did?”

“He contacted the chief earlier today. Major Gurley has requested you’re taken off the case.”

42

Ingrid emerged from Holborn police station in a daze. The rest of her conversation with Sol Franklin had not gone well. She’d let loose a series of grievances about Gurley’s behavior that just made her seem whiny and unprofessional. Sol listened patiently to all of her complaints, finally telling her they’d speak in more detail after he’d tried to smooth things out with the chief. She hoped Sol could work his magic and keep her on the case. She’d come too far now not to see it through to its conclusion.

On the other side of the sidewalk she noticed a small gathering of people. It took her a moment to realize they were reporters. A moment after that a familiar figure stepped out of the crowd.

“Ingrid. I’m so glad I didn’t miss you.” Angela Tate hurried toward her.

Tate was the last person Ingrid wanted to see. She considered making a dash for it. “How did you know I was here?”

“I have my spies at the hospital. They told me Carrie Foster was on the move, accompanied by her FLO and two detectives. It didn’t take a genius to work out she was being brought in for questioning. Has she been arrested?”

“How did your… colleagues find out about it?” Ingrid pointed to the handful of journalists, some of them talking on cell phones, others enjoying a cigarette. She saw Tate’s photographer chatting to a man holding a large microphone covered in a furry windshield.

“News travels fast, unfortunately. I was rather hoping for an exclusive.” She smiled at Ingrid. “Still am, as a matter of fact, with your help.”

“No way.”

“You haven’t answered my question: has Carrie Foster been arrested?”

“I have no intention of speaking to you.”

Ingrid could only suppose Foster had been escorted back to the hospital using an alternate exit. Through the parking lot, most probably. Thank God. At least Tate wouldn’t get the chance to fire questions at her. “How long have you been waiting here?”

“Long enough to get bloody cheesed off. Come on, Ingrid—throw me a crumb.”

“You’re wasting your time. There’s no story for you.”

“Then why are you here? I’m guessing your tall friend is somewhere in the vicinity too.” She peered into the entrance of the police station. “Perhaps he’ll be a bit more talkative.”

“Carrie Foster has not been arrested. That’s all you’re getting from me.”

“Then why bring her to the