No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(13)

‘Lynn O’Donnell. Aged twenty-four or twenty-five at the time. Last seen on the Dublin to Ragmullin train, but she never arrived home. Valentine’s Day 2006. Pull the file if you get time. It’s probably nothing to do with this murder, but no harm in knowing about it. I’m sure the media will pick up on it.’

‘Thanks, sir, I’ll have a look at the file. I do remember it. I was based in Athlone at the time.’ She glanced at him. He was rubbing his eye again. ‘And you mind yourself. I’ll be checking in with you to make sure everything goes well.’

‘No need for that. I’m sure McMahon will keep you busy enough.’

‘I’m dreading his arrival,’ she confessed.

‘Stay out of his way, do a good job and he’ll have no reason to complain. I’m counting on you to keep up the good name of this district.’

‘I’ll do my best, sir.’

‘Good luck. I think you’ll be needing it.’





Eleven





‘Do you remember the disappearance of Lynn O’Donnell?’ Lottie asked Boyd as they arrived at the home of Elizabeth Byrne.

‘Yeah, that rings a bell. A long time ago now, though. Why do you ask?’

‘Corrigan mentioned it. She was last seen on a train from Dublin to Ragmullin. Same as Elizabeth.’

‘Does he think they might be connected?’

‘Not sure. He said to have a look at the cold case file.’

‘A giant stretch of the imagination, if you ask me.’

‘I’ll have a look anyway.’ She rang the doorbell.

Elizabeth Byrne had lived with her mother in a detached red-brick house in the Greenway estate. Anna Byrne led them to the kitchen. ‘I hope you have news of Elizabeth. I just boiled the kettle. Will you join me in a cup of tea? Coffee? Awful cold out there today.’

As Mrs Byrne busied herself with cups and tea bags, Lottie and Boyd sat at the table, an old-fashioned wooden affair with a red oilcloth covering it. The cooker was a cream-coloured Aga, with a saucepan simmering on top. Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall, Lottie noted that it was just over two hours since they’d discovered the body. She shivered, even though the kitchen was warm.

When Mrs Byrne turned around, Lottie noticed the lines of worry furrowed into her brow. Dressed in jeans and a pink jumper over a white cotton shirt, she wore fluffy socks on her feet. Probably belonged to Elizabeth, Lottie thought. Her heart lurched as she thought about delivering the news that would shatter this poor woman’s hope forever.

‘Here, let me give you a hand,’ Boyd said, rising to take a jug from her hand. ‘You sit and I’ll make the tea.’

He knew when to switch on the charm, but Lottie was well aware that he was only putting off the inevitable. Mrs Byrne slumped onto a chair.

‘Do you have any news about Elizabeth?’

‘Mrs Byrne …’ Lottie began.

‘Call me Anna.’

‘I’m so sorry, Anna … I hate to have to tell you like this, but I’m afraid the news I have is not good.’ Shit, this wasn’t the way to tell a mother her daughter was dead.

‘Would you like a biscuit?’ Anna was fussing. ‘Ginger nuts. I have a packet somewhere.’ She jumped up.

Lottie put a hand on the woman’s arm. ‘Anna. I’m sorry.’

Anna gnawed at her lip, eyes bulging with unshed tears. Her hand flew to her mouth as if trying to keep back the words she didn’t want to utter.

‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ Pulling at her sleeve now. Eyes scrunched up, avoiding Lottie’s gaze.

‘I’m terribly sorry.’

‘Tell me.’ The tears now burst forth and spilled down the woman’s cheeks, around her streaming nose and over her lips. ‘Tell me,’ she screamed.

Lottie reached over and put her hand on Anna Byrne’s. ‘I’m afraid we found the body of a female earlier today.’

‘No! I don’t believe you. It’s not my Elizabeth. She’s all I have. Do you understand? It’s not her.’ Hysteria laced the woman’s words.

‘We have reason to believe it is Elizabeth. I’m so sorry.’

Anna’s body rocked with convulsions, and Lottie jumped up and grabbed a glass from a cupboard. She filled it with water from the tap and held it to Anna’s lips.

‘Sip this. It might help.’ She had delivered bad news many times before, but in the face of naked grief, she was at a loss as to the right approach to use, though if anyone should know, she should.

‘Oh God. What happened to her?’ A fragile calm settled in the room as Anna looked straight into Lottie’s eyes.

She held the gaze. ‘All we know at the moment is that the circumstances appear suspicious.’

‘Was she murdered?’

‘We don’t yet know.’

‘How did she die? This girl you found.’

‘I can’t say at the moment. Not until after … after the post-mortem is concluded.’

‘Oh my good God!’ the woman wailed.

‘Can I call someone for you. A friend? Family?’

Anna ignored the question. ‘Where did you find her?’

Lottie glanced to Boyd, begging for help. He shook his head slowly. ‘In the cemetery,’ she said.