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Imelda screamed again.

Lottie fell to the floor, Robert on top of her. She had to get the knife out of his hand. He held fast, too strong for her, twisting around and thumping her head down on the hard boards.

Her world converged in a sea of fog.

Then total darkness.

A massive headache pounded in her skull when she came round. Imelda handed her a damp cloth to hold to the bump on the back of her head.

‘What happened?’ Lottie asked, then it came back to her. ‘Where is Hayes?’

Imelda was now holding the knife and Hayes was sitting on the armchair, his head in his hands.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.’

‘Prick,’ Imelda said.

‘Was I out for long?’ Lottie asked, dragging herself upright.

‘A minute, maybe less. Thirty seconds. You’ll have a whopper of a headache, but I doubt there’ll be any permanent damage. Hard to kill a bad thing, eh?’ Imelda laughed, then her expression turned dark as she studied Robert. ‘I should just stick this in you and be done with your vileness.’

‘How many times do I have to tell you?’ he said. ‘I did not kill anyone.’

‘You are a liar.’ Imelda wasn’t for changing her opinion, Lottie concluded.

‘Imelda,’ she said, gingerly touching the back of her head for damage. It was tender and sore. No blood came away on her fingers. A good sign, at least. ‘I heard a phone ring somewhere, before this all kicked off. Where’s my handbag?’

‘It wasn’t your phone. You left that in the car. It was Ann’s.’ Imelda took it out of her jeans back pocket. Waved it in front of Hayes. ‘And I got your confession recorded in full, arsehole.’

‘I did not confess to anything. What are you even talking about?’

‘Shut up while I think what to do next.’

Lottie’s eyes were unfocused, looking from one to the other. ‘Imelda, Ann is dead, so who was calling her phone?’

‘Unknown number. I hadn’t time to answer it seeing as I was helping to keep you from being stabbed by this prick and?—’

A loud knock on the door cut off Imelda’s words.

‘Open it,’ Lottie said.

‘I have to watch him. You open it.’

Lottie stood, then bent over in pain. Robert must have landed a punch to her stomach at some point. She reached the door and unlocked it.

Mooney, followed by Boyd, entered the cramped space.

The Galway detective looked shell-shocked. ‘Holy Mother of God, what’s going on here?’

‘That’s Imelda Conroy, and he’s Robert Hayes,’ Lottie said. She eyed Boyd, who quickly looked away. She yearned for him to hold her, to ease her pain. But he was standing close to Mooney, avoiding making any eye contact with her. So that’s the way it’s to be, she thought sadly.

‘I’ve his confession recorded.’ Imelda handed Mooney the phone. He also took the knife from her and slipped both into evidence bags he’d extracted from his jacket inside pocket. It reminded Lottie of Kirby, and she wanted to cry.

‘I did not kill them. You’ve got it so wrong.’ Robert Hayes had at last removed his hands from his face, and Lottie noticed the tear tracks down his cheeks. She found it difficult to figure out if he was telling the truth or was just in denial.

‘Are you okay?’ Mooney asked her.

‘I’ll be fine.’