No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(44)

‘You really need stitches,’ Lottie said, noticing fresh blood bubbling through Bridie’s hair.

‘I’ll be grand. I’ve got plasters somewhere.’

‘Can I call someone to come and sit with you?’

‘I’m well able to look after myself, thank you very much.’

The irony was lost on Bridie, and Lottie felt a wave of sympathy for the young woman settle in her chest. She took out one of her own cards.

‘This is my number. Call me if you remember anything else. Even the smallest detail might be important.’

Bridie took the card. ‘I’m warning you lot here and now, my Paddy won’t let this pass without blood being spilled. Mark my words.’



* * *



After directing the SOCOs into Bridie’s house, Lottie instructed Kirby to send the two vans of gardaí who had arrived while they’d been inside back to the station.

‘Did you call the riot squad too?’ she said drily.

‘No, but something like this has the potential to explode.’

‘Let’s hope not. No need to attract extra attention to Bridie. Locate Paddy McWard and find out where he’s been and what he’s been up to. Okay?’

‘Will do.’

She noticed the houses and caravans all had cameras attached to their outside walls. ‘And see if the residents will give you access to their CCTV tapes. There are more cameras here than in all of Ragmullin.’

‘Probably just dummies,’ Kirby offered.

‘Check them out. And it’s very quiet around here. Have you scared everyone away?’

‘Not my fault.’ Kirby slapped a chunky cigar into his mouth without lighting it.

Lowering her voice, Lottie said, ‘What’s up with Lynch?’

Kirby glanced over her shoulder. Lottie turned, following his gaze. Lynch was walking in small, slow circles with her phone tight to her ear.

‘Trouble at home, I think. She hasn’t said anything to me, but she’s calling her husband every time I turn my back.’

Lottie waited for Boyd to unlock the car. She listened as a train shunted along the tracks on the embankment beyond the cemetery.

‘I’m thinking this was probably the work of Elizabeth’s killer. Trying to warn Bridie against talking to us,’ she said, sitting into the car.

‘But she’d already spoken with you,’ Boyd said.

‘Maybe she saw or heard something else. Something she hasn’t told us.’

‘I think it’s more likely to be related to her own community.’

‘We’ll see. What do you know about Lynch’s husband?’

‘Not a lot, why?’ he said, turning out onto the main road.

‘Just fishing.’ Lottie tugged the sleeves of her T-shirt down over her cold hands.

‘New hobby?’

‘Drive the bloody car.’

‘Where to?’

‘Wherever we can find Carol O’Grady.’





Thirty-Five





Nothing was going right for Donal O’Donnell. Not today. Not any day. He had waited fifteen minutes before moving, after Keelan had almost broken his doorbell with her insistent finger.

Shuffling across his kitchen floor, he wished for a day when he could walk around without feeling the emptiness inside of him. He glanced at the radio and considered switching it on. He opened the refrigerator instead. He’d need to go out soon. The milk was two days past its best-before date, and there wasn’t anything other than cereal to eat. Perhaps he should have asked Keelan to shop for a few groceries. But then he’d be admitting defeat. And Donal O’Donnell would never give in.

He found the box of matches and lit the candle in front of the photograph. Lynn’s smiling face caused him to pause. Reaching out a finger, he traced the flow of her dark hair and the stud in her ear. He wondered at the light in her eyes. How could someone so young, so full of life, so beautiful just evaporate into thin air?

‘My pet,’ he said.

A cold finger of terror slid down his spine, knocking on each vertebra on its journey. Donal whipped around. No one. No one but himself. Only his shadow inhabited this house now.

He turned back to the photo.

‘You broke your mother’s heart. You broke this family.’ He had no idea if he was talking to Lynn or to himself. He’d never felt more confined by the weight of his own skin. Never more fearful for his remaining family. Because he knew the evil had returned. Tearing at his hair, he screamed at the walls, ‘Leave me be. Leave me be.’

A quiet stillness settled on the kitchen. To dispel it, he turned on the radio and listened to the news. There was never any mention of his Lynn. Not like when she first went missing. When evil had gripped his heart in its claws.

It was true, he thought, as he poured sour milk onto his cornflakes, the nefarious spirits had returned. And this time he felt powerless to fight them.





Thirty-Six





The Jealous Wall, situated on two hundred acres at Rochfort Gardens, loomed up from the dip in the valley. It was fragmented and falling down. Open spaces marked where windows had never rested, and arches jutted out haphazardly. It had been constructed to resemble the wall of a ruined medieval abbey. With jealousy at its heart.