No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(79)

She took the list back from McMahon and called out the fourteen names. Other runners shuffled out of the way as they made their way forward.

‘I only count twelve,’ Boyd said.

‘Let’s get started,’ McMahon said, commandeering a table and chairs.

A blast of cold air spread through the high-ceilinged area as the door opened to let the rest of the runners escape.

It didn’t take long to interview the twelve. Elizabeth was known by several of them to say hello to, but no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary or anyone acting suspiciously around her. The same was true of Mollie. Lottie looked down at the two names remaining on the list, then glanced up at Boyd.

‘See the two who haven’t turned up this morning?’

He nodded. ‘Do you think they’re related to …?’

‘I’m sure of it.’ She gathered her interview notes and looked around for McMahon. ‘Where’s the super?’

‘Gone to have a snoop around the big house.’

‘We haven’t time for this.’

‘We better go find him.’

‘Or maybe abandon him to his fate.’

‘Now, Lottie, you can’t be like that.’

She hauled on her jacket and shoved the papers into her bag. ‘I can, but I don’t feel like facing the consequences of his temper.’

Reaching the door, she heard her name being called. Carol came out from behind the desk.

‘I was wondering if you found anything helpful? You know, from your interviews.’

‘There are two people on the list who don’t seem to be here today. Maybe you know them.’

‘Who?’ Carol wrapped her hands tight around her midriff as if fighting off a bitter wind.

‘Cillian and Finn O’Donnell,’ Lottie said.

The colour drained from the pregnant girl’s face. Boyd reached out a hand to steady her.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

She shook her head and turned away. Lottie followed.

‘Hey, what’s up? Do you know them? They’re related to the girl who went missing ten years ago, aren’t they?’

Carol stopped and turned slowly. Her face was wet with tears, her lips pursed tightly. As if she couldn’t trust herself to speak, she nodded, then held her hand to her mouth and ran towards the toilets.

‘Being pregnant must be a bitch,’ Boyd said.

‘And what would you know about it?’ Lottie stepped outside, letting the door slide back in his face. She didn’t want to be around Boyd today. The tenderness of his caresses was too fresh and too raw, and too wrong.



* * *



David McMahon parked in front of the apartment he’d been lucky enough to rent short-term at a knockdown price. On the outskirts of Ragmullin, it was surrounded by trees. Secluded. Anonymous. Great.

He smiled when he saw the car pull in behind him. Stepping out, he leaned back and waited for the occupant to join him.

‘Cynthia. What a pleasant surprise.’

‘You’re such a liar, McMahon.’

‘Have you any news for me?’

‘I was about to ask you that.’ She tried a coy look but he wasn’t buying it. He knew what she was like.

‘You want to know about the fire?’ he said.

‘And anything else you can fill me in on.’ She took out a pack of mints and offered him one. He shook his head and waited. ‘Look, David, I’m digging as much and as quickly as I can. But so far no one will say anything about her.’

‘Try Detective Maria Lynch. I get the feeling they’re not the best of friends.’

‘Right. The fire? Tell me.’

‘Not much to tell. Two dead. Mother and her baby. House gutted. All the signs of an arson attack. Have you got anything juicy for me to sink my teeth into?’

‘Nothing so far. I told you I’m doing a piece on the missing O’Donnell girl.’

‘So you did. An appeal for information?’

‘More like a biopic of the effects on Lynn’s family. I get the feeling her disappearance ripped them apart.’

‘And you intend to rip them wider still?’

‘No. This is a human interest piece.’ She smiled slyly. ‘I’m not all bad, you know.’

‘Oh, I think you are.’

He pushed himself away from his BMW, wetted a finger and rubbed away a piece of dirt from the door. Then he walked towards his apartment. Lottie Parker had made a fool of him last October. He was still smarting from the rebuff he’d suffered and he wanted revenge. He wanted her face in a mire, with his shoe on the back of her neck, holding her down.

‘Hey, David?’ Cynthia called. ‘I need something soon. I’m back in Dublin on Monday.’

‘Quid pro quo.’

‘Not asking me in for a coffee?’ she said.

‘I’ve already had some.’

He disappeared into the apartment wondering if Cynthia Rhodes was worth his trouble.





Sixty-Nine





On Lottie’s return from Rochfort Gardens, she found Jane Dore seated in her office.

‘Jane! Why are you here?’

‘I’ve just left the scene of that awful fire.’