The Lost Child (Detective Lottie Parker #3)(59)

‘Okay. What’s your punchline?’

‘Kitty told me the firm were involved with some very contentious cases in the early to mid seventies. There was one in particular that Tessa dealt with. According to Kitty, Tessa had an unhealthy interest in it and wouldn’t let Stan in on any meetings or consultations.’

‘What was the case?’

‘She was very vague. She’s ninety if she’s a day. I pressed her and she said she only recalled that it resulted in a mother apparently trying to burn down her home with two children in it. The mother was sectioned and placed in St Declan’s Asylum. Apparently every file in the office pertaining to that case was stolen in a burglary in 1976. Nothing else was taken. The place wasn’t ransacked. It seemed the burglar knew where to look. Interesting, isn’t it?’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘It points to Tessa, doesn’t it? She handled the case. She knew where all the files were kept. She had to be in on it.’

‘I can’t see how one incident in 1976 has anything to do with Tessa’s murder forty years later.’

Kirby grunted. ‘Well, I thought it was significant.’

‘Were the files ever found?’

‘No.’

‘Who was the woman who tried to kill her children?’

Kirby ran a finger down his notebook. ‘Carrie King.’

‘Okay,’ Lottie said. ‘This could lead us into a rabbit’s warren. We haven’t the manpower, so let’s park it for now and we’ll see what develops.’

‘Right, boss.’ Kirby stood up and with slumped shoulders wheeled his chair back to his own desk.

‘Where’s the transcript of the statement O’Dowd made today?’

Boyd tapped at his computer. ‘Odd.’

‘What’s odd?’ Lottie said. When she was sure none of her colleagues were watching, she snuck a pill from her bag and quickly swallowed it. Keep calm, she commanded herself.

‘There’s nothing on the system relating to it.’ Boyd turned round. ‘Lynch? Did you take O’Dowd’s statement?’

‘No.’

‘Kirby?’

‘Not me. I’ll check with the front desk.’ He lifted his phone. After a moment he said, ‘Desk sergeant has no record of O’Dowd coming in.’

Lottie shoved her chair back and stood.

‘That’s priceless. Just priceless,’ she said. ‘Kirby, how did you find out O’Dowd owned the cottage?’

‘Land registry.’

‘No idea of who rented it then?’

‘Not through any of the estate agents in town. I even broadened my query outside of town.’

‘Back up a bit,’ Lottie said. She moved over and sat on the edge of Kirby’s desk. ‘Have you a copy of the land folio or deeds?’

‘I’ll bring it up.’

Lottie breathed deeply, watching Kirby’s chunky fingers stamp down on the keys. He clicked on a document.

‘Print it.’

‘Done.’

Lottie took the page. ‘Boyd, have a look at this. See who owned the cottage before O’Dowd?’

‘Jesus!’

She picked up her bag and rolled her jacket over her arm. ‘Kirby, process a search warrant for Mick O’Dowd’s farmhouse and lands. Come on, Boyd, we need to speak to O’Dowd again. And this time he will tell me the truth.’





Fifty-Three





The car lurched from side to side as Boyd tried to avoid the water-filled potholes along the gloomy country road. Ebony clouds chased each other across the starless sky. Torrential rain crashed against the windscreen; the wipers couldn’t keep up.

‘Should’ve brought a pair of wellingtons,’ Lottie muttered.

‘Bit of a move up the fashion ladder for you.’ Boyd wrestled with the steering wheel.

‘O’Dowd’s yard will be like a swimming pool.’

‘More like a slurry pit.’

‘Hey, there’s the turn.’

‘Can’t see a thing. Hold on tight.’

Lottie clamped her feet to the floor as Boyd swerved, taking a sharp right. She felt herself being flung sideways. Her seat belt jerked against her shoulder. ‘Take it easy. I know I said to hurry, but I want to get there alive.’

‘Not a light on anywhere,’ Boyd said, screeching the car to a halt in O’Dowd’s yard.

‘The Land Rover’s here. Let’s take a look.’ She zipped up her jacket and exited the car. Boyd switched off the headlights, plunging them into darkness.

‘Can’t you leave them on?’

‘I’ve got flashlights.’

He produced two from the boot. Lottie took one, checked it worked and followed the cone of light up to the front door.

Hammering the knocker on the door, she shone the torch through the glass. It reflected back, blinding her.

‘Thought I saw a ghost.’ She turned to Boyd. He was nowhere in sight. ‘Boyd? Where are you? The dog could be loose. Come back.’ She flashed the light about wildly.

‘He’s not loose.’ The wind carried his voice around the side of the house to Lottie’s ears. ‘He’s injured.’