The Lost Child (Detective Lottie Parker #3)(6)

Lottie put a hand on the woman’s arm, stalling her.

‘You haven’t said near enough. Emma’s grandmother has been murdered, her mother has disappeared and we have no idea where Arthur Russell is. Do you know where Marian might be?’

‘No. Sorry.’

‘I can do with all the help you can give.’

‘I don’t know anything.’ She made to close the door. Lottie thought of blocking it with her foot, but decided she would speak to her tomorrow.

‘You know an awful lot more than you might think. Call in to the station in the morning. I can take a full statement then. Ten suit you?’

‘I’ll have to stay with the girls.’

‘The family liaison officer will be here. Ten a.m. See you then.’





Five





Lottie crept up the stairs and listened. Not a sound. Thank God. She slipped into her room and eased the door shut. Without removing her jacket, she slumped down on the bed and breathed a sigh of exhaustion. After a hurried meeting at the station to set up an incident team, she’d called it a night and Boyd had dropped her home. Everything was in place to resume investigations in the morning, while searches were ongoing through the night to find Marian Russell.

She jerked her eyes open. Her brain wouldn’t ease down. Hopefully the SOCOs would find something for them to go on, but her first priority was locating Marian Russell and her husband. Then she might have a better idea of just what had gone on in that house.

‘Shit,’ she said, jumping up. Her jacket was wringing wet. She tore it off and saw the damp patch on her duvet. ‘This is all I need.’

Scooping up the Argos catalogue from Adam’s side of the bed, Lottie dumped it on the locker. The heavy book gave her the sense of someone in the bed beside her. A feeling that she wasn’t alone. Sometimes it was the little things that helped. She fluffed up the duvet, flipping it over so the wet patch was now at the bottom, on Adam’s side. He wouldn’t mind. He was dead. As she went to replace the catalogue, she paused. Four years was long enough to mourn an empty space. Her breath caught in her throat as she nudged the book under the bed. Four years was a long time in some respects, but the life she’d lived with Adam was still as fresh in her mind as if it were yesterday. A shroud of loneliness settled on her shoulders as she pulled off her damp clothes, dragged an old T-shirt over her head and got into bed.

A cry from the room beside hers told her Katie’s baby was awake.

‘Ah, God, not again,’ Lottie whispered at the ceiling.

Katie’s footsteps reverberated as she walked around her room soothing little Louis. Should she get up to help? No. Katie was adamant she wanted to care for her own baby.

The clock showed 3.45 a.m. Tapping her fingertips against her forehead, Lottie willed sleep into her brain. No use.

She sat up.

Opening the bedside locker, and without turning on the light, she felt for the bottle. A few sips wouldn’t do any harm. Help her sleep, that was all. Medicinal. Yeah.

Two paracetamol for good measure, and a few more slugs, and she was soon fast asleep.



* * *



He watched the tall detective get out of the car and enter her house without switching on any lights. The other detective drove away.

He waited five minutes.

Saw a light go on in an upstairs bedroom and a shadow move around behind the blinds.

He waited a further five minutes, then made a phone call.

Like he had done every night for the last ten months.

When he was satisfied, he switched on the engine and drove away.





The Mid Seventies





The Child





They placed me in here and threw away the key.

The walls speak to me and I have no voice to join in their conversation.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Do you?

The voice in the wall is silent now.

Do you know how long I’ve been here?

Silence.

My little fingers are sore.

I look down at the gown they’ve put on me.

I want my twin.

I want my own clothes.

They were all burned in the fire.

What fire?

The one your mother started, or maybe you did it?

I didn’t do anything.

No one answers me.

Are the voices I hear only in my head?

I begin to cry. Big kids don’t cry.

But I’m just a little kid.

Little kids should be seen and not heard.

I want my mummy…

Or do I?





Day Two





Six





A new day. Same old shit. Lottie’s head ached and her mouth felt like something had slept in it overnight. She spied the empty vodka bottle lying like a discarded doll on the bed beside her.

Dragging her weary limbs into the shower, she avoided looking at her face in the mirror. Confusing the direction of the dial, she felt her body being blasted with freezing water.

‘For feck’s sake!’

She twisted the switch the correct way and stood to one side in the small glass cubicle until she felt warmth come from the stream of water. Stepping under the flow, she closed her eyes and breathed out, blowing a soft spray of water up to her nose. Feeling slightly dizzy, she leaned with the palms of her hands against the slippery tiled wall and allowed the water to hammer her spine.