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‘Aye. For my sins.’

‘Stay here.’

She made her way through the ruin. Sheep dirt underfoot and weeds to her knees. The smell of the sea was never far away. She wondered what had happened to the rest of Bryan’s family. She returned to him.

‘There’s nothing and no one here.’

‘I told you that.’

‘But why would she come here?’

‘Who? The person whose blood that is?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Is that where the board was when you arrived?’

‘Aye. I lifted it up to inspect it before I put it back down.’

‘Forensics will have to examine it.’ She peered skywards through the roofless space. ‘I hope it doesn’t rain.’

‘Clouds are gathering at sea. Might only be sea fog. Shouldn’t be much rain in any case.’

‘A little is enough to wash away evidence,’ she mused. She hadn’t noticed any more blood. ‘Someone had to be following her.’

‘Who are you talking about?’

She realised Bryan had been out working all day and might not know about the woman she’d found at the convent. And subsequently lost, according to Mooney’s take on things. He could explain it when he arrived.

‘You mentioned you had a sister. Is she still alive?’

Bryan bowed his head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘How can you not know? She was your sister.’

‘After my mother died, I heard that my father put her in the convent, the laundry. I never saw her again, so I’m not sure if that’s even true.’

‘Jesus, Bryan. Did you look for her?’

He shook his head. ‘Life was complicated back then. I was more concerned with my own survival than worrying about my scut of a sister. As I said, I fled to the US when I got out of the industrial school.’ Large tears pooled in the crevices around his eyes. ‘I was selfish. Maybe I still am. Selfish for not seeking out my family and my girlfriend. For not sharing my past with Grace.’

‘What age would your sister be now?’

‘I can’t think straight.’ Bryan shook his head wearily and wiped his tears. He turned away and walked back across the fields.

Lottie wondered what it was that he was afraid to share with her. Why all the secrets?

She snapped photos with her phone and gazed around at the stone ruin again. She wondered if she should bring the plank of wood with her but decided to leave it. The scene had already been disturbed enough.

As she followed Bryan’s footsteps, she felt the leaden weight of his ancestors, his family, his siblings resting on her shoulders.

Mooney came as soon as he could. Grace reluctantly made him tea, sporting a scowl. He accepted the drink along with a thick slice of home-made brown bread slathered with country butter.

‘Haven’t eaten a thing all day,’ he said.

Lottie realised she hadn’t eaten much either. ‘Any update on the identity of the dead woman at the holiday cottage?’

‘No one has been reported missing.’ His mouth was full, melted butter at the corners of his lips, in his beard. ‘Do you really think the woman you lost from your car could have been Imelda Conroy?’

He was never going to let her forget it.