No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(103)

She shuffled her hands up the sleeves of her mother’s coat for warmth and bit her lip as the mourners passed by, arms linked, heads bowed. She felt awkward in Rose’s boots, trousers and shirt. All too big, hanging off her body, but beggars can’t be choosers, Rose had said. Gilly had come over with stuff she thought might fit Chloe and said she’d bring her to town later to buy clothes for Sean. A squad car with two officers was parked outside Rose’s house with orders to keep watch.

Father Joe stopped when he saw her. His face wore a tormented expression, like the look you’d see imprinted on the faces of people who’d suffered tragedy in their lives. That look. Lottie knew exactly what Father Joe Burke had suffered. The loss of a mother he never knew. A mother whom he’d been taken from against her will. And then her murder. Too much suffering for one man.

‘Hello again,’ she said.

He smiled, and she noticed that single act could still light up his face, though now it was full of sadness. The blonde hair that used to fall into his once-mischievous blue eyes was gone, replaced by a tightly shorn head. Was it a form of self-flagellation? Was he divesting himself of who he thought he was? She knew that feeling well.

He moved into her space, placed a hand lightly on her elbow, and she bit harder into her lip.

‘You got my text,’ he stated. ‘Are you okay? The children?’

She shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’

‘You need to talk to someone, Lottie. Will you come up to the house for a chat?’

‘I’ve things to sort,’ she said, feeling foolish for having come.

‘Let’s walk then.’

She felt his arm link hers and allowed herself to be led.

Halfway down the hill, she felt dizzy and they sat on a steel bench.

‘It’s all a bit mad,’ she said, watching Bernard Fahy filling in Mrs Green’s grave.

‘Isn’t it always?’

She laughed sadly. ‘You’ll be having a few more funerals in the coming days. I was with Queenie McWard just before she died.’

‘Very sad.’

The sun glinted off the copper roof of the old nursing home nestled behind the new building. ‘Do you ever visit the residents in the home?’

‘Sometimes. But I only came back just before Christmas.’

‘Thought you were gone for good.’

‘I had a change of heart. This is where I belong.’

‘I thought I did too. Belonged. Now I’m not so sure.’

‘You’re in shock, Lottie. It was an awful thing to happen.’

‘The fire?’

‘Yes. Are there other things?’

‘Plenty. I think I’ll be suspended from my job. One daughter hates me; the other’s flown to New York to stay with her son’s grandfather for a while. Sean is Sean, and my mother … That’s a story for another day.’

‘What about Boyd?’

‘What about him?’ And as she said the words, Lottie felt a longing in her heart. She wanted to speak with him. Knowing Boyd, he was giving her space. ‘I like Boyd.’

‘I think you need a comforting arm around you. And not just a priestly one.’

‘You are so good, Joe. I’m sorry for all the things that happened to you.’

‘Not your fault. I’m working my way through the pain.’

‘So am I. But now I might have no job.’ She found herself explaining to him how her investigations had led to her being in danger of suspension.

‘I’ve been following the news. Do you think the current cases are linked to Lynn O’Donnell?’

‘I’m beginning to think so.’

‘I was thinking that maybe Mollie Hunter is being held where Lynn was held for ten years,’ he said.

‘It’s possible. But we have no clue where that might be.’

‘Go back to when it all started. Today, ten years ago.’

Lottie shivered as a bird flapped its wings above her head to the sound of a train slowing down on the tracks as it headed for the station. ‘You always were good at detective work.’

He smiled.

The train blasted its horn and disappeared from view.





Ninety





After she left Father Joe at the cemetery, Lottie went into town and grabbed a coffee, then walked slowly up Main Street, ignoring the shop windows full of red hearts. She found herself at the train station without really knowing that was where she’d been headed.

She doubted Jimmy Maguire would be around on Sunday morning, and it was half an hour since she’d heard the Sligo train. But as she stood in the portico, just outside the ticket office, she saw his capped head approaching.

‘The lovely Detective Inspector Parker.’

‘I wanted to have a word with you.’

He directed her towards the ticket office. ‘There’s a vending machine inside if you’d like a hot drink.’

‘No thanks. I’ve just had a coffee.’

She sat on the wooden bench outside the door and felt the cold wind whistle around her ears. She nestled her chin into the wool of her mother’s coat as he joined her.

‘What did you want to ask me? I can’t remember anything else about those two lassies. Terrible. One murdered and the other missing. Shocking business.’