Mother Love by Maureen Carter

his back. ‘She’s downstairs.’
    â€˜So? I told you on the phone she was coming in.’ For the press briefing. Sarah had asked someone to organize transport, assigned Shona Bruce to babysit until she could take over.
    â€˜The woman’s in bits.’ His audition for The Lion King was making Sarah light-headed. But his description of Elizabeth didn’t fit her recollection.
    â€˜I don’t see why, Chief?’
    â€˜Get an eye test then. Showing her Olivia in that state was a bad call.’
    â€˜Hold on a minute.’ He’d delegated the decision and was now querying her judgement. Talk about having it both ways.
    â€˜No, Quinn. You hold on.’ He leaned forward, hands on desk. ‘You took a gamble and it didn’t pay off. Last thing we need is Elizabeth Kent collapsing, especially in front of those jackals.’
    She narrowed her eyes. The woman couldn’t have been here that long. So when did Dr Baker have time to make a diagnosis? ‘Have you spoken to her?’ Nothing. ‘Have you even seen her?’
    He shrugged. ‘I heard it on the grapevine.’
    â€˜Whose?’ Shona? Harries? The police driver?
    â€˜Beside the point.’ He shuffled off the desk, walked towards the window.
    Bollocks was it. Checking her watch. ‘I’ll have a quick word now.’ Her assessment of the woman couldn’t be that wrong. So was someone trying to drop her in it with Baker? That one went on the back burner.
    â€˜I think it’s best we drive her home. Wait ’til—’
    â€˜Come on, Chief. She’s a strong, intelligent woman and she agreed to go along with the appeal. All she need do is read a statement. End of. No follow-up questions, no interviews.’ Was he wavering? ‘It’s important, Chief. This way we get control. We might even get a result. Christ, you were the one pushing for an early news conference.’
    He stopped window gazing, spun round and snapped, ‘You were the one who wanted to hang fire.’
    She’d feared going public would push the perp over the edge. Greater fear now was not acting quickly enough. She sensed time was running out. Standing, she held his gaze. ‘Yeah. Well, I don’t pretend to know all the answers. Maybe I got that wrong, as well.’
    â€˜Bullshit. The Mighty Quinn? Cocking up?’ What was the matter with the guy? His cage had been seriously rattled. ‘Tell me this, Inspector: don’t you ever have self-doubt?’
    Only all the time . ‘What the hell’s . . .?’
    â€˜Go easy on her, Quinn.’ He raised a hand. ‘Three strikes and all that.’
    She imagined the bat.
    Still perched on the sill, Baker ran both hands through his hair then clasped them at the back of his neck. Maybe he’d been too hard on Quinn. Caroline King certainly hadn’t pulled any velvet-gloved punches. The reporter’s call had come out of the blue and though wise to the reporter’s wiles, Baker couldn’t ignore some of her points. Scratching an armpit, he wandered back to the desk, then riffled files and loose papers until he found the notes he’d jotted during the conversation. A word off the record, she’d said, but knowing Lois she’d recorded every one. Recalling edited highlights, he could hear those honeyed tones now.
    Elizabeth Kent would rather die than tell anyone about her breakdown, Mr Baker, but I know her better than my own mother and she’s on a knife edge. Any additional stress and . . . well, who knows where it could lead.
    He’d countered with: That’s not what I hear from my investigating officer, Ms King.
    A resigned sigh, then: I’ve tried telling DI Quinn . She never listens to anyone . Must be great when you know all the answers . But subjecting Elizabeth to the full glare of a media scrum . . . is madness. Sorry I can’t hide my feelings , Detective Chief Superintendent