No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(28)

‘Okay, Katie. I won’t argue with you. How much money do you think you’ll need?’

‘That’s the thing. I don’t need anything. We cooked the dinner to celebrate … to tell you …’

‘Tell me what?’

‘Tom Rickard booked the tickets and put money in my bank account. Me and Louis, we’re leaving for New York on Friday. I was afraid to tell you before now. Please don’t stop me.’

A conflict of emotion surged through Lottie. The hairs on her arms tingled, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, a knot tightened in her chest and tears bulged at the rims of her eyes.

‘Say something.’ Katie pleaded, widening her eyes. They were crystal clear now that her days of smoking weed with Jason Rickard were behind her. The only thing lurking there was evidence of sleepless nights.

‘Which Friday?’ Lottie whispered, afraid of the answer.

‘This Friday.’

‘What? But today is Wednesday … You can’t, it’s too soon. I need to organise things …’

‘You don’t have to organise anything. It’s all sorted. I couldn’t tell you before now, because you’d have time to think up ways of stopping me. I really want this, Mam. Please say it’s okay.’

No matter what she said it’d sound wrong, so Lottie kept her mouth shut and nodded. She was suddenly enveloped in a hug. Katie didn’t do hugs too often. But now she did.

‘You are the best mother ever. This is an amazing opportunity for me. And I know Tom will love Louis just as much as you do.’

‘How long will you be away?’ Lottie croaked.

‘Just for a few weeks.’

‘How many is a few?’

‘Three.’

‘Three?’

‘I really want to do this, Mam. For Louis’ sake.’

‘How much money did Tom send you?’ Shit, why had she asked that?

Katie shifted from foot to foot. ‘Five thousand euros. Can you believe it?’

‘What?’ Lottie stared at her daughter. ‘Plus the tickets?’

Katie nodded. ‘Isn’t it great? I’m going into town tomorrow to buy new clothes for myself. I have to look right when I meet him again. It’s so exciting. And I have to pack. You’ll take me to the airport Friday morning, won’t you? Love you, Mam.’ She rushed from the kitchen, leaving dishes and cutlery scattered over the worktops.

Lottie had been on the verge of telling her not to forget how badly Tom had treated his son. But there was no point in dampening the happy smile on Katie’s face. She stood up wearily and started to load the dishwasher.

‘Let me give you a hand.’ Boyd joined her and together they cleared the remnants of the meal.

‘Thanks,’ Lottie said when they were finished. ‘You must be starving. Did you cancel the restaurant? Why don’t you go on your own? I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. Maybe you should—’

Her arms were gripped by his long, smooth fingers and he looked into her eyes. ‘I’m fine. We’ll go out tomorrow night instead. Deal?’

‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea.’

‘Deal?’

‘No deal,’ she said. ‘At least not until this murder is solved.’

‘I can’t win, can I?’ Boyd released her arms and leaned against the table. ‘Do you want to tell me what that was about with Katie?’

‘Not really. It’s enough to know she’s happy. For now.’

‘Are you happy?’

‘As much as I can be. Sit down and I’ll make coffee. Where’d you put the flowers? Thanks, by the way.’

‘I left them in the sitting room.’

‘Did you collect Grace from the station?’ Lottie asked.

‘Yes. She’s ensconced on my sofa with a Chinese takeaway and Netflix.’

‘Sounds like a little bit of heaven.’

‘This here, right at this moment, is a little bit of heaven.’

As he smiled at her, Lottie thought of Katie’s imminent departure. Then she remembered her mother.

‘Shit, Boyd. I’m sorry.’

‘What now?’

‘I’ve to go over to Rose with her dinner. I totally forgot.’

He stood. ‘You’ve a tough time trying to keep everything together.’

‘I just need to stay focused. I’ll try my best to organise things so that we can go out for a meal some night, but …’

‘But you can’t guarantee it?’

‘I can’t, so it’s a maybe for now.’

‘I’ll take a maybe.’ He smiled. ‘Though like I told you before, I won’t hang around forever. You know that?’ He brushed his lips to her cheek.

The door burst open. Chloe came in and opened the fridge. Then banged it shut and left.

‘What was that about?’ Boyd asked.

‘Teenagers,’ Lottie said.





Twenty-Three





‘Hi, darling, you’re late again. Miss the train?’

Ignoring his wife, Cillian O’Donnell hung his black leather jacket on the back of a chair and bent down to whisk his five-year-old daughter, Saoirse, up into his arms.