The Lost Child (Detective Lottie Parker #3)(35)

Lottie set off up the road to prepare Emma for the visit to her mother. First, though, the girl had a few questions to answer.



* * *



At Bernie Kelly’s gate, she met Detective Maria Lynch.

‘You took your time,’ Lottie said.

‘I’d things to sort out regarding the cottage fire. I’m sure Garda O’Donoghue won’t mind. I’ll take over now.’

‘I relieved her.’ Lottie held up the gym bag. ‘I just ran down to get fresh clothes for Emma. I’m bringing her to visit her mother.’

‘Are you sure that’s wise?’

‘Why not? She wants to see her. I can’t deny her that. But now that you’re here, you can take her.’

Bernie Kelly opened the door.

‘Takes two of you now, does it?’ she said, folding her arms.

Lottie walked past her into the house.

‘I’ll give this to Emma.’ The sitting room was empty. ‘Upstairs, is she?’

Bernie looked from Lottie to Lynch. ‘I thought you took her home to fetch clean clothes. Didn’t you?’

‘No.’ Lottie glanced into the kitchen. Natasha was sitting at the table, munching on burnt toast. ‘Lynch, check upstairs.’

Lynch ran up the stairs. She shouted back down, ‘No one here.’

‘Where is she?’ Lottie asked frantically.

Bernie shrugged her shoulders. ‘When I came in here, both of you were gone. I assumed she went with you.’

‘Where would she go?’ Lottie tried to stem the panic gathering in the pit of her stomach.

‘Maybe she went on ahead to the hospital,’ Bernie said.

‘Has she got her phone?’ Lottie tapped in Emma’s number. ‘Nothing. It must be switched off.’ She swung round to Lynch. ‘Did she pass you on the road?’

‘Not that I noticed.’

Rushing back into the kitchen, Lottie towered over Natasha. ‘Where is Emma?’

‘Hey, wait a minute, Inspector.’ Bernie Kelly grabbed Lottie by the arm. ‘No need to go accusing my daughter of anything.’

‘Natasha.’ Lottie ignored Bernie and leaned down to the wild-haired teenager. Looked her in the eye. ‘Where would she go? Has she other friends she hangs out with?’

Natasha shook her head. ‘Don’t know,’ she mumbled.

Lottie looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. Think.

‘Lynch, go to the hospital. See if she’s there.’

As Lynch left, Lottie rang Boyd. Emma hadn’t appeared there either.

She turned back to Natasha. ‘I know you know where she is, so you’d better tell me, young lady.’

Natasha glanced at her mother. ‘She took my bike,’ she said.

Bernie’s face was red. ‘Natasha, I told you to—’

‘Tell me!’ Lottie shouted.

The teenager melted into her chair. With toast crumbs stuck to her lipgloss she said, ‘She might be with her boyfriend.’





Thirty-One





Lottie collected Boyd from Marian Russell’s house. So far nothing had been found buried beneath the timber in the shed. But the plants in the fuel tank had been taken away for testing.

‘She has a boyfriend?’ Boyd clipped in his seat belt as Lottie took off down the road, wipers swishing trying to keep up with the rain.

‘Natasha admitted it. Lorcan Brady. We need to check him out.’

‘We should have found out about this boyfriend earlier.’

‘Boyd. Don’t.’

‘Shouldn’t he be at school at this hour of the day?’

‘He’s twenty-one. Unemployed, according to Natasha. We’ll run his name through PULSE database later.’

‘Did you get his phone number?’

‘Said she didn’t have it.’

‘Isn’t this a bit far for Emma to walk?’ Boyd said, following the road with his eyes.

Taking a turn at the hospital, Lottie headed along the cemetery road. ‘She took Natasha’s bike.’

‘All the same…’

‘She might have arranged to meet him somewhere and he picked her up,’ she said. ‘Wonder if he has a car?’

Three minutes later, Lottie pulled into the drive of a two-storey house. It looked uncared for, she thought, if not abandoned.

She stepped out on mud flowing towards the road. A lazy-looking collie dog lay on the front doorstep. It didn’t move. A red 2010 Honda Civic was parked at the side of the house.

‘If that car was any lower to the ground, you’d have to tow it.’ She noted the registration number to check later. ‘Souped-up exhaust pipe too.’

‘You’d hear it before you see it,’ Boyd said.

Lottie knocked on the door. No bell. No answer, either. They walked to the rear of the house. The dog followed silently.

The yard was piled high with black rubbish bags. Some bitten through by the dog or maybe vermin; tea bags and bits of vegetable peelings were scattered around. Picking her steps carefully, Lottie peered through the window.

‘No one home?’ Boyd said.

‘Curtains are drawn. It looks deserted.’ She hammered on the door. Waited. No one appeared.