The Lost Child (Detective Lottie Parker #3)(102)

‘There now, ugly face. You’ll be nice and clean after a few cycles.’

I close the door. Press the button. Turn the dial. And she’s off.

Sitting down amongst the soiled sheets, I cross my legs yoga style and watch.

Big Chief Sitting Bull.

Yeah!

I hear someone laughing.

Oh, it’s only me.

I keep on laughing until the machine stops.

There’s something quite soothing about watching someone die.





Day Seven





Ninety-Two





Boyd’s mobile chirped as he got out of the shower.

‘Hi, Chloe. What’s up?’

‘Is Mam with you?’

‘With me? What gave you that idea?’ He reached for a towel.

‘She never came home last night.’

‘She did. I dropped her off. It was late. After twelve thirty. She should be there. Have another look.’ He dried himself vigorously, the phone clamped between chin and shoulder.

‘What sort of a dope do you take me for? I’ve checked. Not a sign of her anywhere.’

‘Calm down, Chloe. Don’t be worrying. I’ll call round to yours on my way into work. Give me ten, fifteen minutes. Okay?’

‘Hurry up.’

Boyd quit the call and dressed in his grey suit, white shirt and blue tie. He ran a hand through his hair, grabbed a jacket and ran to his car.

‘Where are you, Lottie?’ he said through clenched teeth.



* * *



Chloe opened the door, with Katie and Sean standing behind her.

‘You’re sure she didn’t come inside last night?’ Boyd walked into the kitchen behind Chloe. When the girl glared, he held up his hands. ‘Okay. Okay.’

‘I thought I heard her at the door about twenty minutes after I rang her. But it must’ve been the wind, because no one came in. After a few minutes, I even went outside to look. No one around the place. Just rain and wind.’

Boyd walked back to the door. Checked the lock. No key. Searched around the step. Nothing. Where did she go after he dropped her? The memory of her lips on his suddenly erupted and he knew immediately that something had happened to her. She’d been anxious to get home and read the file they’d taken from Moroney’s. But she’d wanted to see her children even more. He phoned Kirby.

‘Any sign of the boss this morning?’ he asked.

‘Nope.’ Dropping his voice to a whisper, Kirby said, ‘McMahon and Corrigan are having a big conflab about something or other. We haven’t been invited to the party because—’

‘Wait. Listen. The boss never arrived home last night.’ He explained where they’d been. ‘Will you send a couple of uniforms over to watch her family. Just in case.’

‘Sure thing. On it straight—’

Boyd hung up and called Superintendent Corrigan to inform him of Lottie’s disappearance before returning to the kitchen. Sean, Chloe and Katie, holding baby Louis, were sitting in silence at the table. They had heard every word he’d said on the phone.

‘Is Mam going to be okay?’ Sean asked.

Boyd stared at the tall young teenager, the spitting image of his dead dad, and felt his heart lurch in his chest.

‘I hope so.’

But he wasn’t sure. He tried to line up his thoughts. O’Shea was in a cell at the station, ruling him out of the equation. They still had no information on the whereabouts of O’Dowd or Russell. Could one of them have approached Lottie last night? Would she have left voluntarily with one or the other? Probably. If she thought it would lead to solving the murders. Why hadn’t she called him? He flexed his fingers, beginning to fear for Lottie’s safety. Shit, he feared for her, full stop.

‘Once gardaí arrive to watch you, I’m off out to look for your mother. Don’t be worrying. Okay?’

‘It’s not okay,’ Chloe said. ‘Go and look for her now. We don’t need you babysitting us. I’ll phone Granny again. She’ll be over in two minutes. Go and do your bloody job.’

Boyd couldn’t help the half-smile that broke out on his face. Chloe was so like her mother it was uncanny. He couldn’t help but notice her scratching at the skin of her arm with her fingernail. Fresh pink lines of trouble.

Hearing a car pull up outside, he rushed out. Garda Gilly O’Donoghue jumped out of the squad car.

‘Go on,’ she said, taking over.

Boyd leapt into his own car. Before turning the key in the ignition, he thought for a moment. He had dropped Lottie at her door. She never made it inside. What had occurred? Had she been abducted? Or had she noticed someone acting suspiciously and taken off after them?

He got out of the car and searched again around the front step and the pathway. If anything had happened here, the rain had washed everything away. Walking across the small overgrown lawn, he noticed indents filled with water. His feet squelched in the grass. He hunkered down. Checked with his finger. Footprints.

Following their trail, he found they stopped at the wall. Out on the pavement he glanced up and down, and over the neighbour’s wall. A dark bundle caught his eye. Rushing over, he picked up what he knew to be Lottie’s black puffa jacket and her handbag. With them in either hand, he ran around the side of the house and into a garden. Here he could see distinct footprints leading up to the embankment to the railway tracks. At least two sets.