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‘Those bodies have nothing to do with your transplant.’
‘Sure,’ Caitlin said. ‘So why did the cops come round?’
Ly
The photograph of the girl’s face burned into her brain. Burned into the backs of her eyelids, so that even when she blinked she could still see her.
It wasn’t possible. No one would do that. No one would kill a child for – for money – for another child – for – for…?
For Caitlin?
Would they?
How she wished Malcolm was here at this moment. She needed someone to share this with, to talk this through with. Terror was coming at her from every direction.
Twenty-three years in prison.
You need to be aware quite how seriously the police and the judiciary view this activity.
She had not thought about it. Beating the system, yes, using an organ from an accident victim, that was all. There was nothing wrong with that, surely to God?
Killing a child.
Killing that girl.
The money was gone. Half of it. Would she ever get it back? Shit, she didn’t want it back. She wanted a damn liver.
The policeman had to be lying.
There was one quick way to find out. She picked up her mobile phone, opened the address book, then scrolled to Marlene Hartma
She was about to press the dial button when she stopped.
Realizing.
Realizing just how dumb that would be. If the organ broker knew that the police were on to her, she would probably abort the operation and flee. Ly
Barring a miracle, she was certain that if Caitlin went back into the Royal she would not come out again. There was no way she could let this all fall apart now.
‘Hello? Hello? Hello, Mother? Mum? Anyone home?’
Ly
‘I asked you, why did the cops come round?’
Then, to Ly
For an instant, her daughter looked at her in total confusion.
‘Darling? Angel? Are you OK?’
Caitlin’s eyes seemed unfocused. Looking as if she were surprised by what had happened, she whispered, ‘Yes.’ Her skin seemed even more yellow than last night. Whispering again, so that Ly
‘I don’t know.’
‘Are they going to bust us?’
Ly
Caitlin’s voice gained a little strength. ‘They seemed pretty desperate, you know? That’s a desperate thing, right? To lay that photo of the child on us. Unless it’s true, of course.’
She stared hard at her mother, her eyes suddenly focusing sharply again.
‘They’re probably under pressure about those bodies. Maybe they are getting desperate for a result. They’ll try anything, resort to anything.’
‘Yeah, well, we’re pretty desperate too.’
Despite all she was feeling, Ly
‘God, I love you, my darling. So much. So much. You are everything to me. You’re the reason I get up in the morning. You’re the reason I get through work. You’re my life. Do you know that?’
‘You should get out more.’
Ly
‘Yeah.’ Caitlin was gri
Ly
‘You know why I’m so possessive?’
‘Because I’m beautiful, smart, intelligent and would have the world at my feet if it wasn’t for one small problem, right? God gave me a liver from the wrong box.’
Ly
Caitlin hugged her back, with all her feeble strength. ‘Yeah, OK, I believe you.’
Then suddenly Caitlin turned away, making a retching sound. Breaking free of her mother’s arms, she stumbled over to the sink. Ly
Then Caitlin threw up violently.
To her utter horror, Ly
As she cradled her heaving, choking daughter, she knew then, in that moment, that she did not care about anything else. Did not care if Detective Superintendent Grace was telling the truth. Did not care if that girl he had brought the photograph of had to die. Did not care who had to die. If she needed to, she would kill them herself, with her own bare hands, to save the life of her child.
109
Simona sat on a chair in a small, windowless room, crying and drinking a glass of Coca-Cola. The room reminded her of the prison cell she had spent a night in when she and Romeo had been arrested a couple of years ago for stealing from a shop. The same smell of disinfectant. There was nothing in here except cupboards full of medical supplies. She was so hungry her stomach was aching.
‘I want Gogu,’ she sniffled.
The big Romanian nurse, who had gripped Simona’s arm so hard it was now bruised and hurting, stood with her arms folded in front of the door, watching her drink.
‘I dropped him outside.’
‘I’ll fetch it later,’ the nurse replied.
Simona felt a little better about that and nodded appreciatively. She stared at her glass, then back at the woman.
‘Please may I have something to eat?’ she asked for the third time in the quarter of an hour or so that she had been here. ‘Anything?’
‘Drink,’ the woman commanded.
Obediently, Simona drank some more. Maybe when she had finished this second glass, then she would get something to eat, and the woman would get Gogu for her.
‘What kind of work will I be doing here?’ she asked.
The nurse frowned. ‘Work? What kind of work?’
Simona smiled dreamily. ‘I would like to do bar work!’ she said. ‘I would like to learn to make drinks. You know, fancy drinks. What do they call them? Cocktails! I think that would be nice work, to make drinks and talk with people. I would think they have a nice bar here in this hotel, don’t they?’ Seeing the continued frown, she added hastily, ‘But of course I don’t mind what work. Anything. I could clean. I’m happy to clean. I’m just happy to be here. I will be even happier when Romeo comes! Do you think that might be soon?’
‘Drink,’ the woman replied.
Simona drained the glass. Then she sat in silence, while the woman continued to stand, with her arms folded, like a sentry.
After a few more minutes, Simona began to feel sleepy. She had a sudden wave of giddiness, then lost focus on the woman. Lost focus on the walls, on the cupboards. They were sliding past in front of her eyes, faster, then faster.
The nurse stood impassively, watching as Simona’s eyes closed and she fell sideways on to the floor and lay still, breathing hard.
She then hoisted the girl over her shoulder, carried her out a short distance along the corridor into the small pre-op room and laid her on the steel trolley. Then she removed all her clothes, checking greedily that Simona had no valuables on her. Sometimes, street vermin like this girl secreted stolen valuables in their bodies, hoping to get cash for them in England.