Page 37 of Hidden Daughters (Detective Lottie Parker #15)

CONNEMARA

The woman was wearing a blue half-zip fleece top and dirty denim jeans. Ripped black trainers with the laces undone. Long dark hair swept down over the arms that clutched her knees up to her face. Shoulders rocked, then stilled as the sobs diminished.

Lottie waited, unsure whether she should speak now or delay the inevitable. Maybe she could wait a few moments…

‘Who are you?’ she said, confirming her lack of patience.

‘Leave me alone.’

She’d been expecting a teenager, but the voice sounded older. Someone around her own age, perhaps. Or younger? It was hard to know.

‘What were you doing at the caravan?’ she asked, bending down, not wanting to be looming over the woman.

More sobs broke free, and she could see the woman’s hands turning white where they gripped her knees beneath the long hair.

‘What’s your name?’

Silence.

She edged forward. ‘I need to know your name so that we can talk.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘I’m not going anywhere.’

The woman lifted her head, hair still masking most of her features, but Lottie could make out dark-circled eyes; maybe brown irises, though they seemed black from crying.

A hiss issued from pale lips, ‘You really don’t want to be anywhere near me.’

‘Are you going to harm me?’

‘Harm you? No, I won’t. Can’t speak for whoever killed Mickey, though.’

‘Did you hurt him?’

‘Are you for real, woman?’ A high-pitched moan. ‘I tried to warn him. To protect him. But the old fart wouldn’t listen to me. Now he’s dead and they’re after me, and I want you to leave me alone or you’ll be next.’

‘Who is after you?’

‘Go away.’

‘Why are they after you?’

‘Are you deaf, or what?’

‘Did you know the woman who died at the cottage?’

Silence once again. Broken only by sobs. A heart-wrenching sound. Guttural. Those were the only words Lottie could think of to describe the cries. She had no idea if the woman was genuinely broken or just putting on a damn good act.

‘Listen to me,’ she urged. ‘You’re not safe here. If I found you, anyone can. Come with me.’

‘Who are you anyway? A cop?’

‘Kind of, but I’m on holidays, so I can’t arrest you or anything.’ She didn’t say she could phone Mooney and he’d do the deed.

‘Where can you take me that will be safe?’

She hesitated before saying, ‘I’m staying with my…

’ She couldn’t think what to call Bryan or Grace.

‘My sister-in-law. It’s a farm. Not far from here.

I have a car. I think you could do with a cup of tea.

’ Jesus, she was turning into her mother.

Tea to solve the troubles of the world. ‘And some food.’

The woman surprised her by standing up quickly, nodding her head furiously. ‘I’m starving.’

For the first time, Lottie got a good look at her.

Tall and slim. Thin even. Hair unwashed, hands filthy.

And her face, dirty, weary and worn as she looked up from under short lashes to reveal mournful eyes.

It was still difficult to pin an age to her.

Thirties? She should have asked Mooney for a photo of Imelda Conroy, because it was possible that was who this woman was.

Lottie put out her hand and the woman took it, before collapsing into her arms.