The Lost Child (Detective Lottie Parker #3)(111)

Tessa is standing there. Oh yes, I know who she is. I see her in the reception when the nurse shoves me through the final door. I hear her lock it behind me.

‘Come with me now and be a good girl,’ Tessa says. ‘I’ve signed all the paperwork. I’ve everything sorted. A nice flat for you in Dublin and a little part-time job.’ She leans towards me and says in a quiet but stern voice, ‘And you are never to talk about this part of your life. Forget all about it. Forget about me. Start anew and things will work out for you.’

I smirk. This causes the half-smile to slither down her face and a frown to furrow her brow. Silly cow. Did she think I was going to thank her? This building didn’t make me a saint. Nothing so miraculous could happen in here. No, I was tainted with madness, and evil streaked a stake through my soul.

I know that she is going to abandon me and hope that I will never find her. But I will. One day. I can wait. I am used to waiting.

Before she pulls away after her whispered threat, I say into her waxy ear, ‘I will never forget you. So don’t imagine that you can ever forget me.’





Two Weeks Later





One Hundred One





25th October 2015





Lottie sat up in bed and thanked Chloe for the tea and toast. She hadn’t the heart to tell the girl she never wanted to touch either again.

‘Louis is being really good,’ Chloe said. ‘You’d think he knows to be quiet when you’re trying to sleep.’

‘He’s a great baby. You are all brilliant children. I’m a lucky mother to have you here with me. Did I tell you I love you?’

Chloe groaned. ‘Only about a million times since you’ve come home. We know you love us. Always knew it. So please, please don’t keep saying it. It gets kind of gross after a while.’

Lottie smiled, reached out and held Chloe’s hand. ‘I’m sorry for—’

‘Enough!’ Chloe said. ‘I want my old Mum back. The cranky, contrary, fussing and rushing one. You know who I’m talking about?’

‘Yes, I do. Okay. Less of the mushy stuff. I promise.’

‘Whatever, but I know the next time any of us comes in here, you’re going to start again.’

Lottie watched her tall, beautiful daughter pick a tendril of blonde hair from her face and head for the door.

Without turning round, Chloe said, ‘Granny is on her way up to see you.’ Then she escaped.

Putting the tray on the locker, Lottie flinched with the pain in her upper back. Almost two weeks she’d been made to stay in the hospital. And now, after three days in bed at home, she was itching to get out and back to work. Another month, the surgeon had said. Well, he doesn’t know me, Lottie mused. But now she had to face Rose Fitzpatrick. That thought was more painful than the wound in her back.

‘How are we today?’ Rose said, dropping about a dozen magazines on the bed. ‘Thought you could do with something to read.’

‘I’ve plenty of reading material,’ Lottie said, tapping the folder on the bed beside her.

‘What’s that then?’ Rose enquired, leaning over to have a look.

‘A story compiled by a journalist.’

‘About your heroics in catching a serial killer?’

‘No.’ Lottie thought the best course of action was to get straight to the point. Though she wished she was standing up so she could look Rose in the eye.

‘Paddy Moroney was the owner of the Midland Tribune,’ Lottie began.

‘The father of that poor murdered journalist and his wife. He’s been dead years. Why would you have his story?’

Pulling herself up in the bed, Lottie went for it.

‘My dad was a fraud. A sergeant on the take. Bad enough I spent my life thinking he’d killed himself, but do you know what’s worse? Knowing he duped the system and conspired to put a young woman called Carrie King into the asylum. Jesus, the girl was just an alcoholic; I don’t think she was ever insane.’

‘That was a long time ago.’ Rose stood awkwardly, pushing her hands into her pockets. She stared at a point above Lottie’s head.

‘Everything was a long time ago with you. I searched for the truth but you thwarted me every step of the way. You thought that if you gave me that box of Dad’s things, I’d stop. But you sent me digging deeper until Cian O’Shea and Bernie Kelly’s horrific actions unexpectedly led me to the truth.’

Lottie watched her mother move from foot to foot. If this were a normal conversation, Rose would sit on the edge of the bed. But she suspected Rose knew exactly where it was leading.

‘There is a lot of unsubstantiated information in Paddy Moroney’s file. Most of it doesn’t matter to me. But some of it does. Some of it I can accept, but the one thing I don’t believe is that my dad fathered Carrie King’s first child. Paddy documents that that child was taken into our home. That can’t be possible. There was only Eddie and me. Isn’t that right?’

Rose bent her head. An imperceptible shake of her short hair. Surely not. Lottie gulped. Her heart pounded. Her wound constricted and suddenly she felt very ill.

‘Mother? What are you not telling me?’

Rose bit her lip and stared at the ceiling before dropping her gaze to Lottie. ‘I told you to leave it be,’ she whispered, and then her voice rose. ‘How many times did I tell you to stop asking questions? But no, you had to prove you could solve the problems of the world while unravelling our family history. This is not a fairy tale, Lottie. There’s no happy ending. Our world has real live people in it, not cartoon characters. The dead are gone. They’re not here to explain their actions. But you cannot leave it alone!’