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‘In our business, we don’t make promises we can’t keep. You should know that. I want to see her.’

‘I don’t want you scaring her off.’

‘At the very least, she’s a witness.’ He moved towards the door. Stood into Lottie’s space. ‘At worst, she’s a cold-blooded murderer.’

34

Mooney went outside and Lottie caught Boyd shaking his head.

‘What?’ she said.

‘What’s what?’ He folded his arms.

‘You. Standing there as if you don’t care about anything.’

‘Maybe I might care if I knew what the hell was going on.’ He sighed, unfolded his arms, dragged a chair out from the table and sat. ‘Doyoucare enough to explain?’

‘I will explain, but not until Mooney’s gone. I’ll bring the woman in here. Will you ask Bryan and Grace if she can stay the night? I’ve a feeling it might be Imelda Conroy.’

‘Don’t, Lottie. Don’t get involved. You’ll ruin everything for Grace.’

Before she could reply, the door opened and Mooney loped in. ‘Are you having me on?’

‘Huh?’ Confusion knitted her brow, and she could feel a permanent furrow taking root there.

‘There’s no one in the car. Did she even exist in the first place?’

Her heart dipped in her chest. She ran out past Mooney.

He was right. The car was empty.

She was surrounded by vast fields cut by stone walls, the seashore at the edge of the horizon. No houses as far as the eye could see. Sheep grazed nonchalantly, and she realised the bleakness of this existence. Barren landscape, sheep and the roar of the ocean. Though human life was close, you couldn’t see it, feel it or hear it. She’d lose her mind. Like she’d lost the woman.

The barn loomed to the side of the yard. Maybe she had taken refuge in there. Lottie raced over and pulled back the door. It shifted noisily on its rusted wheels.

She yelled, ‘Come out…’ She didn’t even know the woman’s name. ‘We have to talk.’

Rustling came from the hay. Not loud enough for an adult. Probably rats. She shivered violently. Her phobia froze her blood, and she turned tail and ran. Mooney could look in there; no way in hell would she venture any further inside.

As she returned to the farmhouse, she saw Mooney and Boyd standing in the yard.

‘I’m taking your car for a forensic examination,’ Mooney said. ‘We might get her fingerprints or DNA from it. Maybe link them to the kettle in the cottage or to something on Fox’s body or in his caravan.’

‘I need my car.’

‘I’m sure you can use your brother-in-law’s.’

‘He’s not my brother-in-law,’ she said, sounding pettish, and this made her cringe. She’d have to use Boyd’s car, because no way did she want to be isolated in this desolate place. Not with a murderer stalking around the vicinity.

‘He’s not mine yet either,’ Boyd said. ‘Might never be, by the look on Grace’s face.’

Lottie turned to see Boyd’s sister getting out of a car, slamming the door and waving off the driver.

‘Thanks a bunch, Lottie,’ she said, marching in by the three of them. She banged the door behind her.

‘I’ll talk to her,’ Lottie said, making to follow.

‘You’ll be coming with me.’ Mooney grabbed her by the elbow, but dropped his hand when her eyes bored into his. ‘You have to make a statement,’ he added. ‘I need a description of this mystery woman.’