The Lost Child (Detective Lottie Parker #3)(55)

‘Maybe it belongs to his mother or sister, or a friend. Jesus, Lottie, I don’t know.’ Boyd swept his hand through his hair. ‘Come on. We have to get out of here.’

‘I’m not going without the bike.’

Boyd scanned the interior of the barn with his phone light. ‘See those cameras, up there? They’re CCTV. O’Dowd is recording us.’

‘What? Why have cameras in a barn?’

‘To protect his tractor? I don’t know, but I do know I don’t like this.’

The flashlight dimmed. Lottie waited a moment for her eyes to refocus with the narrow strip of daylight coming from the doorway.

‘We can’t just leave the bicycle here. It’s evidence,’ she said.

‘From an illegal search. Use your head. We have to go back to the station and process a warrant.’

‘On what grounds? We can’t say we know it’s here.’ Boyd got the light working again. He bent down and inspected the tyres. ‘All pumped up. Plenty of mud and dung caked dry on them. It wasn’t ridden today.’

‘If Emma had it, why did she come here? And where is she?’

A terrifying thought struck Lottie as starkly as the bird that flew from the roof and clipped her hair.

She screamed. ‘I hate birds. Let’s get outside.’

Boyd didn’t argue and she followed him out. Clouds were scudding like missiles across the sky and a drizzle of rain had resumed. She looked up at the farmhouse windows.

‘She could be inside. Held against her will.’

‘If – and it’s a big if – she came here on that bike, it looks like she came voluntarily.’

‘Yes, but she could have ridden into the arms of a madman. Or maybe he picked her up on the road.’

Boyd sighed. ‘I think your mind is warped to expect the worst in every situation.’

‘Grim reapers. That’s what McGlynn called us. Maybe we are.’

She headed for the other shed. Inside, both sides were lined with cattle, chewing on meal and hay. She moved down the aisle and glanced at the slatted floor, where dung and urine seeped. She looked up. ‘More cameras.’

‘He’s protecting an expensive herd. That’s all. Nothing sinister.’

With a disgruntled sigh, Lottie left the shed and marched over to the back door of the house. She banged loudly.

‘Emma? Emma Russell, are you in there? I just want to be sure you’re okay and then I’ll go away.’

Pressing her ear to the wood, she listened. ‘Nothing. We’ll try the front door again.’

Boyd beat her to it. Hammered as hard as he could. Banged the knocker. Shook the handle. Still no answer. The howl of the dog barking catapulted him away from the door.

‘Mason,’ Lottie said.

‘Look, there’s no one else here. And don’t go telling me she’s tied up or murdered. We do our job. We’ll process a warrant and go find O’Dowd.’

Lottie turned at the sound of a vehicle approaching along the road. ‘I think he’s found us.’ Leaning against the front door, she folded her arms, and waited for O’Dowd to park at the side of the house.

‘What are you two doing here?’ O’Dowd jumped out of the vehicle almost as soon as it stopped, leaving the door open in his haste. ‘Get off my property. I’ve had enough of your crowd.’ He raised his fist and shook it, pushing his face into Lottie’s.

‘Hey, just a minute…’ Boyd said, straightening his shoulders.

‘No, let him finish,’ Lottie said. ‘I want to hear what he has to say.’

‘I don’t have to say anything to you. Clear off, ye pair of bollockses.’

‘Have a nice lunch in town?’ she goaded, spying the remnants of gravy caked dry at the corners of his mouth.

O’Dowd took a step back and appeared to mentally calm himself.

‘What do you want?’ he asked after a moment.

A blast of wind swept around the side of the house, stealing his words.

‘We need a formal statement on the events surrounding the fire at the cottage,’ Lottie said.

‘Where do you think I’ve been half the day?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘In town, at your station, waiting for someone to listen to me.’

‘And did they?’

‘What?’

‘Listen to you?’

‘Done and dusted. Now if you’d be so kind as to leave…’

Lottie forced a smile. ‘Kind? Mmm. I’m really not that type of person.’

‘I’ll call the—’ O’Dowd stopped mid sentence.

‘Guards?’ Lottie smirked. ‘Oh, how fortunate. We’re already here.’

‘You think you’re a smart bitch, don’t you? Like that father of yours. Remember where it got him?’

Though she worked hard not to lose it, the smile died on Lottie’s face.

‘Mr O’Dowd, my colleague DS Boyd and I would like to have a civil conversation with you. Won’t you ask us in?’ She wished she could mention the bicycle in the shed.

O’Dowd leaned in towards her. She plastered a stoical expression on her face. Boyd hovered behind, ready to intervene.

Spittle settled around O’Dowd’s teeth as he drew his lips back in a snarl. ‘You have no right to be on my property.’ His voice a threatening growl.