The Lost Child (Detective Lottie Parker #3)(94)
Annabelle raised a bandaged hand and pushed back a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the lobe of which was covered in dried blood. With her other hand she traced a line around her neck and her trembling fingers drew down the roll of her black polo-neck sweater.
‘Jesus Christ.’ Lottie stared at the marks circling her throat. ‘What happened?’
‘Have you to switch on that recorder before I say anything?’
‘If you’re making a formal complaint, I’ll get someone to sit in with us and I can record the conversation.’ Lottie sat rigid, unsure whether to wrap her arms around her friend or to call an ambulance.
‘No, I don’t want anyone else. I’ll tell you first. Then you can decide what you want to do.’
‘Maybe I’ll record it to be on the safe side. It might not stand up in court, but if you don’t want another witness, that is your choice.’
Flicking the switches, Lottie formally identified herself and got Annabelle to say her name for the tape. She really should be upstairs dealing with the Moroney killings. But her friend looked too distraught for this to be anything other than serious.
‘Now, Annabelle, tell me what happened to you. How you come to have those injuries.’
‘I’m not sure, Lottie. It’s kind of personal, but at the same time, I’m so afraid.’
‘You’ve presented with visible injuries to your hand, neck and ear. They will have to be photographed. Who assaulted you?’
Annabelle whispered something.
Lottie said, ‘I’m sorry, but you need to speak up for the tape.’ Had she just accused her husband of assault? Oh God, she needed Boyd to sit in.
‘My husband, Cian O’Shea.’ Annabelle’s voice was stronger now. ‘But that’s not the reason I’m here.’
‘If that bastard did that, he must be charged.’
‘Hear me out. Then I’ll decide what I want to do.’
Gripping her friend’s hand, Lottie looked into her eyes and felt the reflection of intense sadness. She knew Annabelle was a master of her own circumstances, but not even one of her affairs warranted the abuse she must be suffering. And what could be more important than reporting her husband for assault? ‘Go ahead.’
She waited as Annabelle swallowed, blinked back tears and pulled her hand away.
‘I know you thought Cian was a good man. A quiet guy. Waiting patiently by while I partied and shagged my way though life. Maybe that was true, but once he found out about my affair with Tom Rickard, something shifted dramatically inside him. It was like that affair snapped his heart in two.’ She paused, swallowed, took a deep breath, exhaled and continued. ‘I could handle the taunts. The dagger stares. The name-calling. I could handle all that… I thought. I wanted to leave many times, but the twins… You see, he would never let them go with me. He repeated that so often, Lottie, I feared he meant more than just not letting them leave. Do you follow me?’
Lottie thought for a moment. This didn’t sound like the Cian she thought she knew. But she had felt something was wrong when she visited the other day.
‘I do follow you. But even if Cian did those horrible things to you, I don’t think he would harm his own children.’
Annabelle laughed, and Lottie flinched at the manic sound. It was like the wail of an injured animal.
‘He would, you know. If he can rape me in our own kitchen, with the twins not far away, he can do anything he damn well pleases. But Lottie—’
‘Rape? Jesus, Annabelle! I’m getting Boyd. This has to be formal.’
‘Hear me out first. I think Cian is involved in something very dark. Dangerous. He spends hours locked away in his study, and I mean locked. He put a code device on the door to stop me entering and snooping. But I did go in. He left it open on purpose, to test me. I was suspicious before… but now… now I’m sure.’
‘Sure of what?’
‘He’s doing something dreadful. He disappears from the house every night and doesn’t come back until morning. I don’t know where he goes, but last night I heard him leave around four a.m. He came home as I was leaving for work. He was… Oh Lottie. He was covered in blood.’
‘What!’
‘Blood.’ Annabelle paused. ‘Can I have a drink of water?’
‘Sure, and I’m getting Boyd. Wait here a minute.’
She went to the door and shouted for someone to fetch Boyd and bring water. She sat back down, checked the recorder and waited while Annabelle stared at an invisible spot on the wall.
‘You wanted me?’ Boyd entered the room carrying a pitcher of water and a couple of paper cups. ‘Annabelle! What happened to you?’
Lottie brought him up to date. ‘Are you okay to continue, Annabelle?’
Annabelle drained her cup of water and Boyd refilled it. She sipped, then bit her lip before continuing.
‘Cian came into the kitchen literally drenched from the rain and I could see blood on his hands. I think he’d tried to wash it off, but I’m a doctor, I know blood streaks when I see them. I must’ve been standing with my mouth open, because before I knew it, he’d thumped me in the stomach. When I fell to the ground, he held me down with his foot. I thought he was going to kick my head in, but he changed his mind, hauled me up and grabbed me by the throat. I could smell it on him then. The blood. I could smell it on his skin.’