No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(110)

‘It dates back to the famine,’ she said as Boyd joined her.

‘I thought Lynch was our local history fanatic.’

She pointed to a plaque above the black timber door. ‘Says it right there.’ Pushing against the door, she found it was firmly closed. ‘Let’s have a look further back.’

Rusting oil tanks and odds and ends of machinery were lined up against the ancient wall behind which the current nursing home was housed. She continued walking to her right, with Boyd by her side. They turned another corner and stopped. A car was parked haphazardly.

‘Who owns that, then?’ Boyd asked, taking out his phone.

‘My bet is Cillian O’Donnell. Check the registration.’

He was already on the phone as she made her way past the car and behind a mound of rubble to the side of another building.

‘Is that a boiler house?’ she said.

‘I’d say so but look at the chimney.’ He pointed upwards. ‘There must have been an incinerator here.’

To the rear, a door. Lottie nudged it with the knuckles of her good hand and it swung inwards. She raised her eyebrows at Boyd.

‘That’s a stroke of good luck,’ he said.

‘You always can read my mind. Pull on gloves, just in case this leads to anything.’

They moved inside.

‘I think you’re right, Boyd. This was an incinerator. You go that way and I’ll take this side.’

They spent five minutes looking, searching and listening. Nothing.

‘There’s a car out back, so someone must be here,’ Lottie said.

‘Maybe he’s avoiding parking charges at the nursing home. Just dropped the car there and headed off.’

She ignored him and opened the door to the oven-like structure built into a brick chimney breast. Leaned over the edge and peered in.

‘Holy fuck, Boyd. There’s a hatch built into the floor.’





Ninety-Seven





Was that a voice?

Sounded like one. Up high.

He was so busy scalping her bald, he mustn’t have heard it. She was sure someone was there above them. Someone with him? Or help for her? She had to distract him.

‘The bones,’ she said. ‘Where did they come from?’

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘They scare me a little.’

‘I can scare you a whole lot more than bones.’

‘I’m not afraid of you.’ The hope that rescue might be close gave her a smidgen of courage.

He let go of her head and sat back on the floor. She twisted round and faced him.

‘Who do you think I’m going to tell, locked up here?’ she said.

‘You have a smart mouth on you, for a pretty girl.’

‘Oh, don’t bother telling me. I don’t want to know.’

He stared at her, chewing the inside of his cheek. Weighing it up. Was she getting to him? She hoped so.

‘They belong to a baby,’ he said.

‘Whose baby? And who was Lynn that you mentioned?’

‘Now you want to chat. I don’t have time for this.’ He raised the scissors.

‘I’ll tell you where the chain and ring are if you tell me about her.’ Mollie had no idea where she was getting the strength from, but deep down she knew this might be her last chance. If she kept him talking, whoever was up above might hear them.

‘You playing games with me?’

‘No.’

‘My nutjob of a wife does that to me.’

‘I’m sorry about that,’ she lied, trying to be convincing with her sympathy.

‘The bones. That was my sister’s baby. Lynn was pregnant when I took her. Took her away from her loving brother. She always had more time for him. He was always getting me into trouble. Blaming me for things. She was the star of our family show and everyone doted on her, and I was left out. The middle child, that was me. Left behind.’ He set his mouth in a grim line and Mollie saw his fingers whiten as they clenched the scissors.

‘That’s awful,’ she soothed and wondered if she could grab the scissors.

‘Not fair,’ he said. ‘She came home that day, the whore, and announced in front of my excuse for a father and my brother that she was pregnant with a tinker’s child. I knew she was finished then. The golden girl was tarnished and I saw my chance. I took her for myself.’

‘How did you manage that?’ Keep talking, Mollie prayed. Silence from above. Was it a good or a bad sign? As long as she could keep him talking, there was hope.

‘The old man stormed off to the pub, my brother was broken before my eyes, and Mother was due home. I knew I’d be blamed, because, sweetheart, I got blamed for everything. Lynn fled the house, scared shitless. I followed her. Picked her up. Sweet-talked her. Told her a pack of lies and brought her here.’

‘Was this place always here?’

‘This place is a stroke of genius on my part.’

‘You must be very clever.’

‘I think I am actually.’ He smirked. ‘I held her upstairs in the old incinerator room, but over a few weeks I built a false bottom in the chamber with an entrance down here. All this is part of the original boiler house. I helped renovate it one summer. I blocked off the door and put in the hatch and steps. Yes, I am very clever. Anyone who decided to search was never going to find her. And they never did. I finally had something my brother couldn’t have. I had her to myself.’