No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(65)

‘So I’m under house arrest?’

‘It’s for your own safety,’ Lottie lied.



* * *



Before they got to interview the teenagers, McGlynn sent word for them to come back on site.

‘We found this.’ He pointed downwards while one of his team stood to one side.

Lottie peered at a piece of upturned earth. ‘Someone was digging?’

‘Attempting to.’

‘The intention may have been to bury the body, but with all the frost, the ground was too hard.’

‘So they stripped off the plastic wrapping and left her to the wildlife and the elements.’ McGlynn placed a marker beside the hole. ‘Hoping that if she was ever found, it would be just a bundle of bones.’

‘No sign of a shovel?’

‘No.’

‘Tyre tracks?’

‘None of those either. He probably parked on the road and carried the body over his shoulder. He came in as far as he could before the forest closed over entirely.’

‘Has to be a local.’

‘Why?’

‘To know the area, the lie of the land.’

Boyd said, ‘Or he could be from out of town and uses the caravan park.’

‘The manager needs to be interviewed.’

‘We’re trying to make contact with him.’

‘And get a list of everyone who has used the park in recent months.’

‘You’d have to be mad to live there in this weather,’ Boyd said with a shrug.

As they made their way to the car, Lottie said, ‘Do you think the person who killed Elizabeth is responsible for this?’

‘Hard to know. Wouldn’t you think that if he buried Elizabeth in a grave, he’d do the same with this one?’

‘That’s what I’m thinking. So maybe he tried to dispose of this victim before Elizabeth. And if we agree with Mulligan’s hypothesis that his dog would have found her if she’d been here earlier, the body had to have been dumped this week.’





Fifty-Five





In the incident room, Lottie pinned up another grainy photograph of the body found at the lake, then returned to her own office.

They’d learned nothing new from Shane Timmons or Jen O’Reilly, the two terrified teenagers who had escaped Dublin for a few days to make out in the caravan belonging to Shane’s mother.

‘Okay, so this body cannot be that of Mollie Hunter, who may or may not be missing. She’s aged twenty-five, and it’s likely that the body is that of a woman in her mid thirties. She’s been dead perhaps a week.’ Lottie sat down at her desk. Boyd lounged at the door.

‘I’ll get someone to go through the national missing persons database, because I don’t think anyone local fits that description,’ he said.

‘We might have her DNA later.’

‘In any case, I’ll check with Mollie’s employer and colleagues to see if they have any notion where she might be.’

‘Get Lynch to go through the database.’ Lottie strained her neck to see around Boyd. ‘Where is she?’

‘She called in sick.’

‘Shit. We’re too busy for anyone to be off.’

‘Why don’t you give her a call?’

‘I don’t think so. She might see it as harassment.’

‘Is that ugly word rearing its head again?’

‘You know what happened before, Boyd. I don’t want to go there again.’

Kirby appeared. ‘We found Paddy McWard. Do you want to interview him?’

‘What grounds did you bring him in on?’

‘I didn’t bring him in.’ Kirby flustered around with a file of papers in his hand. ‘He turned up demanding to speak to whoever is in charge. So that’s either you or McMahon. Will I get the super to do it, then?’

Lottie stood up.

‘The less he’s involved in, the better. Which interview room is he in?’



* * *



Paddy McWard was standing against the wall, arms by his sides, suppressed rage filling the air. He was wearing a T-shirt, though it was freezing out, and he had a sleeve of coloured tattoos on one arm and a Celtic cross on the other. His voluminous black hair was neatly combed and his hard-blue eyes held a challenge. Lottie was struck by how handsome he looked despite his simmering temper.

She knew from the file she’d read that he was six foot three, thirty-six years old and had two arrests for disturbing the peace. Neither had resulted in a court appearance but both had been logged on PULSE.

‘Mr McWard. What brings you here?’

‘You do.’

‘What can I do for you?’

‘You can find the bastard who beat the shit out of my wife.’

‘Sit down, please.’ Lottie didn’t like the air of intimidation exuding from him.

‘I want to stand. You sit if you like.’

‘Mr McWard, this is my interview room. I can bring in a couple of uniforms if you wish.’ Lottie smiled sweetly and directed him to the chair on the opposite side of the table.

When he had reluctantly seated himself, she sat down too. He smelled of aftershave and his clothes were fresh. She had dealt with many members of the travelling community during her years in the force, and she knew they were basically good people trying to live their lives the way they wanted and protect their heritage and culture. Like any community, there were always troublemakers, giving everyone a bad name.