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‘He is not your concern and I want you to leave this house. You upset everyone.’

‘Please, Grace…’ Boyd said.

Grace ignored Lottie and directed her answer to her brother. ‘He’s outside, Mark. Councillor Wilson called round. I hope they apologise to each other. I can’t bear it when good people don’t get on.’

Lottie wondered where that left her, but she didn’t dwell on it.

‘Whereabouts outside?’ she asked.

‘What did Wilson want?’ Boyd asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Grace said, Lottie wasn’t sure which question she was answering. The distressed young woman continued, ‘I hope Bryan doesn’t hit him again. I don’t like violence.’

‘And Sergio, where is he?’ Lottie asked, and saw a stricken look cross Boyd’s face.

‘He’s in the living room.’

Boyd raced past Lottie to go find his son.

‘I’m sorry for all the upset, Grace,’ Lottie said.

She was met with silence. With no time to mend bridges, she hurried outside, the words of Mooney’s message sparking alarm in every step.

Outside the house, trying to decide where to look first, Lottie breathed in the fresh air, which was tinged with the scent of the sea and a strong farm-related odour. She reread the text from Mooney. As she did so, two men walked out of the barn. Denis Wilson, she presumed, along with Bryan. Thank God. She exhaled a breath of relief and made her way towards them.

‘I’m Detective Inspector Lottie Parker,’ she introduced herself. ‘You must be Denis Wilson. It’s so sad about poor Ann. Please accept my condolences.’

‘Thank you. And you’ll be pleased to know I have the killer right here. I need to call Sergeant Mooney to take him in. This time I’ll make sure he’s charged.’

She noticed blood seeping from beneath Bryan’s greying hair at his temple. He had his head low, his demeanour one of defeat. Wilson was gripping him by the arm.

‘Do you know Bryan O’Shaughnessy well, Denis?’ she asked, winging it.

‘I’m Councillor Wilson to you.’

His arrogance stalled her momentarily, but she was used to that from her superiors, so she infused her tone with steel. ‘Councillor, do you know Bryan well?’

‘Well enough. He murdered my wife and all the others.’

‘The thing I’m grappling with is why? Why would he do that?’

‘Because he’s a bloody psycho, that’s why,’ Wilson said, a smug grin plastered on his face. Delighted with himself. Give me a break, Lottie thought.

‘As far as I’m aware,’ she said, ‘Bryan has nothing to gain by killing those people.’

‘Of course he has. He was in Knockraw as a youngster, and that documentary was going to expose his past crimes.’

‘The crime of stealing a few groceries? I don’t think that holds much fear for him. Definitely not enough to embark on a killing spree of innocent people.’

‘They were not innocent.’ Wilson seemed to realise what he had said, the politician in him catching up with his misspoken words. ‘My Ann was an innocent. I don’t know about the others. But I do know this. Bryan O’Shaughnessy killed them all.’

‘Why are you so adamant that he is the murderer? Are you trying to deflect the investigation away from yourself?’

‘From me? What do you mean? I am an upstanding citizen. I do my utmost for the community, and when I am elected togovernment, this whole area will prosper and flourish. And let me tell you, it will all be down to me.’

‘I suppose as a grieving widower you will appeal to the masses,’ she said as nonchalantly as she could fake. Inside, a hot rage boiled.

‘I am insulted by that statement. I loved my wife.’