The Lost Child (Detective Lottie Parker #3)(97)

‘This might all have to do with land ownership, not drugs.’

‘Money,’ Lynch said, ‘the root of all evil.’

‘We need to run this by the boss,’ Kirby said. ‘They’re taking their time getting back.’

‘Who’s taking their time?’ McMahon asked, entering the office with a swish of his shoulders.

‘Shit,’ Lynch said.





Eighty-Six





Dressed in a white forensic suit, Cian O’Shea cut a morose figure in his sterile cell. Lottie left him to ponder the walls and walked up towards the office with Boyd.

‘Bastard, saying nothing until he gets his solicitor.’ Boyd thumped his hand against the wall with every step he took ascending the stairs.

‘We can nail him for the Moroney murders once SOCOs lift something from the washed clothes.’

‘If what Annabelle said about the blood is correct, then they will.’

‘And his DNA should be in Moroney’s house. But why did he do it?’ Lottie headed for the car pool yard. ‘I’d kill for a cigarette. We deserve a break.’

Huddled in the rear doorway, Boyd lit the cigarettes.

Lottie dragged heartily and stared up at the misty sky. ‘Will it ever end?’

‘The rain?’

‘Boyd, will you give me a hug. Just a quick one. In the face of all this insanity, I want to feel a little bit human.’ She turned to him, and he dipped his head and kissed her cheek before wrapping his arms about her.

‘You are the most human person I know,’ he said into her hair.

‘The world is so full of monsters, I fear for my family. I panic when I think of what we’ll find next.’ She drew away from his embrace, took another drag of her cigarette and stubbed it out. ‘And then I wonder if my father had any involvement with Carrie King’s incarceration in St Declan’s.’

‘What difference does it make?’

‘Maybe he was a monster too.’ She glanced up at the clouds as they burst with a thunderous downpour. ‘If he was into something illegal, maybe he didn’t like what he had become.’

‘You think that’s why he killed himself?’

‘If he did in fact kill himself.’

Boyd threw down his cigarette. ‘You may never know, and you have enough to concern yourself with right now.’ He gave her one final squeeze. ‘Let’s go back inside before we drown.’

‘We’ll get nowhere until O’Shea’s solicitor arrives. But first I want to speak with Natasha Kelly. Will you be a star and pull the car up to the door?’



* * *



They passed Marian Russell’s house on the way. It stood ghostlike; a spectre in the rain.

‘Where can Arthur Russell be hiding out?’ Lottie asked.

‘We’ve interviewed all his known friends. Searched everywhere. He hasn’t left the country. We’ll find him.’

‘I don’t think he killed his own daughter. When we spoke with him, he seemed to genuinely love her.’

‘You never know what can drive people to murder. Look at Cian O’Shea,’ Boyd said.

‘What was his motive for killing the Moroneys? That’s what I’d like to know.’

‘We don’t know that he killed anyone.’

‘Not yet.’

‘Do you think he murdered the others too?’

‘I don’t know, Boyd. I honestly don’t know what to think. But we really need to find Mick O’Dowd as well as Arthur.’

He parked outside the Kellys’. ‘No car.’

‘They might be at the shops,’ Lottie said. The house looked as empty as Marian Russell’s. She rang the bell, hammered on the door until her knuckles turned red.

‘No one home,’ Boyd said.

‘Check the rear.’ Lottie took off at a run and Boyd followed.

‘Definitely no one here,’ she said after a minute. ‘I thought they’d decided to stay. So where are they? I need to find out why Emma phoned Natasha.’

‘Calm down. They’ll be back.’

‘I’ve a bad feeling about this.’

‘You’ve a bad feeling about everything.’

‘Check their car registration number and radio traffic to watch for them. Shit, there isn’t even a neighbour to ask when they were last seen.’

‘Will you quit panicking? They’re not gone far.’

‘And how do you deduce that?’

‘Oh for Christ’s sake.’

Lottie watched as Boyd stomped back to the car. He leaned in and grabbed the radio. Looking around the house once again, she noted the lie of the land and wondered if Kirby had received any additional information about the land. Next on her list.

From the car, Boyd shouted, ‘McGlynn wants us at O’Shea’s house.’





Eighty-Seven





‘We’ve sent the clothes for analysis,’ McGlynn said, leading the way up the stairs.

‘They were washed. Will you get anything from them?’ Lottie asked.

‘Fingers crossed we will.’

‘I didn’t know you were the superstitious type.’