The Lost Child (Detective Lottie Parker #3)(85)

‘Kitty Belfield told us her husband inherited Farranstown House,’ Boyd said.

‘Right. If the Belfields owned the whole lot, what are we talking about in terms of size? Almost a thousand acres? That’s a lot of land for—’

‘A small-town solicitor,’ Boyd said.

‘O’Dowd told Kirby that the family who originally owned the farm left for America forty years ago…’ Lottie stopped mid sentence. ‘That’s around the time all the trouble was going on with Carrie King.’

‘Who’s Carrie King?’ Lynch asked.

‘I don’t rightly know, but I intend to find out,’ Lottie said, shoving back her chair and standing up. ‘Unearth everything you can about that land. Go back as far as possible. I want to know who owned, sold, leased or bequeathed every blade of grass on it.’

‘I think you’re a bit spooked after Kitty Belfield’s tale,’ Boyd said.

‘I am. Will you get me a list of all St Declan’s patients for the last forty-odd years? I want to see what happened to Carrie King.’

‘You’re chasing a shadow,’ he said.

‘That may be so, but I need to catch up with it before someone else ends up dead.’

‘It’s the proverbial wild goose chase,’ Boyd said, lining up his pens on his desk. ‘We have a direct link to a Dublin drug gang and you have me checking out asylum patients who are probably dead by now.’

Lottie whirled round. ‘There is not one shred of evidence pointing to Marian Russell or her daughter having anything to do with drugs.’

‘A hoodie that Emma might have been wearing was found in Lorcan Brady’s house,’ Boyd said. ‘He was shacked up with Jerome Quinn before they were burned. And Marian Russell had her tongue cut out. It all points to criminal involvement in… in something or other.’

‘Boyd, you talk pure shite sometimes. Get me an update on those searches for O’Dowd and Arthur Russell.’ As she grabbed her bag and jacket, she heard Superintendent Corrigan’s footsteps hammering down the corridor. ‘And cover for me. I’m out of here.’

‘Where?’

‘To look at land.’

Running out of the door, she ignored Corrigan’s roar behind her and fled down the stairs and out of the station.





Seventy-Five





On impulse, Lottie found herself driving towards O’Dowd’s farm. She wasn’t about to hang around to get a bollocking from Corrigan. McMahon would’ve painted a dim enough picture without her adding to its bleakness. She needed air and time to clear her head. She grabbed at her bag to search for a pill and immediately thought of Annabelle. After she was finished here, she’d call her to see what she’d been ringing about. She threw the bag back on the seat.

The wind had stolen the crime-scene tape from the gates at the entrance to the farm – it now swung from the bare branches of a tree. She parked up and stepped out carefully, avoiding the mucky puddles. Listening, she found the only sound was the downpour and the wind roaring across the barren fields. The house stood like a lost icon from a museum. Curtains drawn over the grey windows; stonework black from the rain; door tightly closed against the elements and intruders. Too late now.

Walking around the side of the house, she wondered how Emma was related to O’Dowd. It had to be the reason she’d come here. And where the hell was he?

At the rear of the building she looked over at the barns and sheds. The SOCOs had completed their work and departed, leaving a trail of evidence easy for the trained eye to see.

Glancing into the milking shed, she noted the empty stalls, machinery hanging limply. She remembered standing here with O’Dowd as he busied himself with his animals, a raw anger burning beneath the surface of his skin. Why hadn’t she probed deeper? Somehow the O’Dowd she’d met was hard to marry with the younger version she’d learned about earlier. Had his dalliance with Carrie King and her subsequent fate forced him to exile himself to a solitary life with animals?

‘They were taken to the mart.’

Lottie turned round, her heart stopping its beating for a second.

‘What the…?’ She took a step back as the tall figure of McMahon loomed out of the shadows and stood at the open barn doorway. She hadn’t heard his car. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Same thing as you, I imagine,’ he said. ‘Trying to figure out what brought young Emma here.’

‘I thought you were convinced everything was drugs-related?’ She stood her ground.

He stepped closer and leaned one arm on the railing. ‘That’s my theory, but the only thing not fitting in nice and neat is Emma.’

‘Thing? You’re a cold-hearted bastard.’

‘You know what I mean.’

She moved closer to him, deciding to fight this out. ‘If Emma was in a relationship with Lorcan Brady, which I must say I doubt, then there’s your link.’

‘That may be so, but I just don’t buy it.’

‘Me neither,’ Lottie conceded.

‘Will we have a look through the house?’ he said. ‘This place gives me the heebie-jeebies.’

Lottie caught him eyeing the slatted floor. ‘Not a farm boy, then?’

‘City slicker, that’s me.’ He smiled.