No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(20)

‘I will. Her mother must be out of her mind with worry. Why didn’t she tell me Elizabeth was missing when she rang? I’d call over, only she hates the sight of me.’

‘Now might not be a good time,’ Lottie said. Official confirmation or not, she decided to give Carol the bad news. ‘Carol, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I think you need to know that we found a body this morning. We have reason to believe it is that of Elizabeth.’

‘What? What are you saying?’ The girl jumped up, then collapsed back down into the chair. ‘You can’t be serious. Oh God, you are, aren’t you?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I can’t believe this. A body? Was it an accident? Where? How … Oh my God, was she murdered?’

‘We’re not sure what happened yet.’

Carol convulsed into sobs. ‘Oh, poor Lizzie. She never hurt anyone in her life.’ More sobs. ‘Where did you find her?’

‘I can’t reveal too much at the moment. But a body was found in Ragmullin Cemetery. Would Elizabeth have any reason to be there on Monday night?’

Carol looked up with red-rimmed eyes. ‘The graveyard? Lizzie never set foot inside those gates since the day of her father’s funeral. She hates the place.’ She seemed to realise what she’d said and corrected herself. ‘Hated the place.’

‘Okay. We have to leave now, but if you think of anything that might help us, please call me.’

Carol took Lottie’s card. She looked so small and feeble, her pale cheeks now flushed with the exertion of crying. Lottie felt like giving her a hug.

‘Are you off sick today? What’s wrong with you? Nothing contagious, I hope?’ She was trying to make light of the situation, but her words fell flat.

More tears flowed and Carol’s knuckles turned white clutching her dressing gown.

‘Hey, I’m sorry.’ Lottie sat on the arm of the chair.

‘I’m pregnant,’ Carol sniffed. ‘My mum and dad don’t know. I did a test. No one knows.’

‘You need to go back to bed,’ Lottie said, ‘and like I said, call me if you think of anything.’ She squeezed the girl’s shoulder in a motherly gesture.

Terry stuck his head around the door. ‘Can I have my stash back?’

‘Not in your lifetime,’ Boyd said, patting his pocket. ‘You should be glad I’m not taking you to the station. Why don’t you do that study you were talking about before we interrupted you?’

‘What study?’ Carol asked.

‘For my Leaving Cert,’ Terry said, his eyes boring two holes into her.

‘Oh … right,’ Carol said, and turned back to Lottie. ‘I’ll see you out.’

At the front door, Carol said, ‘Don’t mind Terry. He’s a grade A liar. I’m not … just in case you think … oh, you know. I told you the truth about Lizzie. I honestly don’t know what happened to her. I feel awful now.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Lottie said.

She had to find out whose fault it was.



* * *



Upstairs in the bathroom, Carol threw up the little that remained in her stomach. As she gagged and heaved, Terry banged on the door.

‘Have you been smoking my dope? You’ve been in there puking all day.’

‘Fuck off, Terry.’

‘Yeah, well I need to have a piss.’

‘Give me a minute.’

She heard him thumping back down the stairs, banging the wall as he went, and sat back on her haunches. Her best friend Lizzie. Her only friend. Dead. Murdered? She pulled the inspector’s card from her pocket. Should she have told her what Lizzie had said about feeling as though she was being watched by someone on the train last week? Surely that was just Lizzie being Lizzie. Always getting feelings about this and that. But maybe she should have said something.

Putting the card back in her pocket, Carol got up, flushed the toilet and washed her hands. She’d have a think about whether or not to call. First, she needed to put her head on her pillow, and hopefully that would stop the nausea in her stomach.





Fifteen





He walked along O’Connell Street and turned the corner into Talbot Street. Connolly station loomed up in front of him, and as he neared it, he looked up at the black bridge above his head. He felt the vibration of the DART train as it picked up speed heading to Bray, and breathed in deeply, experiencing the sensation of movement. The sensation of the train and its sounds. He closed his eyes, standing there in the middle of the pavement, lost in a world of his youth.

‘You drunk or wha’?’

The man lying in a nearby doorway held out a tattered paper cup. Begging. For drug money? Or a hostel bed for the night? He ignored him and continued towards the station. His mind was filled with expectation for the evening ahead. He was going to do it. Again.

As he waited for the light to turn green to cross the road, he felt a momentary stab of anxiety. Had he been right to leave the woman in the grave? Would her body be discovered? No, surely not. The grave had been open, waiting a burial. And he’d covered her over fully with the clay. He smiled to himself at his ingenuity. Buried in someone else’s grave. He’d have to remember that option as a means of disposing of a body. But that wasn’t about to happen again. She was a loss, a big loss, and now he had to take the other one. She was his last hope. And this time he wouldn’t make the same mistake.