He reached out but withdrew his hand. Found he didn’t have the courage. He turned and saw Flynn lying on the table. An involuntary groan escaped his lips.
Bradshaw grabbed his arm and steadied him. ‘I’ll open it, Poe.’
She was trembling as well, her eyes wide and scared. She’d do it. He knew she would. Just so he wouldn’t have to, Bradshaw would confirm what they both knew.
She was so much stronger than he was.
He shook his head. Knew he couldn’t let that happen. Bradshaw was one of life’s innocents. True evil had never really touched her. If he allowed her to open that bin the world wouldn’t be as nice a place tomorrow.
And if Flynn were ever to get over this she’d need Bradshaw’s uncomplicated view of the world. That couldn’t happen if she looked in that bin.
He took a deep breath, reached down and lifted the lid.
Poe frowned. The bin was full of bloody tissues and cotton wool and swabs. He reached inside and moved things around until he was sure.
There was no sign of Flynn’s baby.
Chapter 82
‘Wake up!’ Poe said, slapping the Curator’s head.
Nothing.
His face was grey and clammy, his breathing rapid and shallow. Poe opened his eyelids and saw his dilated pupils. He was in shock. Probably needed urgent medical attention.
He didn’t care; he needed answers.
Bradshaw was still in the treatment room. She wouldn’t leave Flynn’s side now. That suited Poe given what he was about to do.
He tapped the bone sticking out of the Curator’s elbow with the tip of his finger.
His eyes fluttered open. He moaned.
‘Do you believe me when I say I’ll do what it takes?’ Poe said calmly.
‘I do,’ he grunted.
‘Where’s the baby?’
He told him.
Ten minutes later and Poe was quivering with barely suppressed rage. His face was grimmer than a carved mask.
‘Who hired you?’ he said. His voice was low and ominous.
‘I don’t know. Anonymous.’
‘What did they pay you to do?’
He shook his head.
‘You’re going to tell me. It’s up to you how much pain you want to endure before you do.’
Poe tapped the protruding bone again. A bit harder this time.
‘If I have to, I’ll pull this out of your fucking arm.’
The Curator said nothing.