Page 43 of Hidden Daughters (Detective Lottie Parker #15)

By the time she was dropped back to Grace and Bryan’s house, Lottie felt the exhaustion of the last few days paralysing her body, chilling her bones. She could sleep for a month. She’d grab an hour, if she was lucky.

No such luck.

‘Where were you?’ Grace said accusingly as she scrubbed a plate in the sink.

‘I had to make a statement at Garda HQ. They impounded my car and I had to wait for a lift.’ Why was she even explaining all this?

‘I had to have my dress fitting alone. You were supposed to help me. I am annoyed with you. I’m disappointed in you.’ The water splashed up on Grace’s apron and onto the floor.

‘All I can do is apologise. I got caught up in the murders and totally forgot.’ She didn’t like to tell Grace that she had no recollection of being asked to go to any dress fitting in the first place. No point in aggravating an already volatile situation.

‘Murders that are none of your business.’ Grace slammed a plate onto the draining board and picked up a tea towel. ‘What has Bryan told you?’

‘Bryan? Told me about what?’

‘I wouldn’t be asking if I knew. It’s something to do with him that I don’t know anything about. I want you to tell me what it is.’

‘It’s not my place to say. You will have to ask him.’

‘Is it a big secret, Lottie? I hate secrets.’

‘I do too. Speak with Bryan.’

The door opened and a breathless Bryan almost fell into the kitchen. ‘Grace…’

‘You better tell me what’s going on,’ she said, wet hands on hips, ‘or I’m walking out of here and there will be no wedding.’

‘I’m sorry, Grace, but I need Lottie to come with me.’

‘Is she more important than me?’ A childlike expression came with the pout.

‘No, but I found blood. Up at the old homestead.’ He turned to Lottie. ‘You need to take a look.’

‘Call Detective Sergeant Mooney in Galway HQ,’ Lottie said. ‘I can’t get involved.’

‘You are already involved.’

‘They’ve taken my car. I’ve been warned off. Honestly, Bryan. Just phone Mooney.’

He took out a piece of blue material from his pocket and showed her. ‘I found this.’

‘Oh shit. You’ve handled it. Your DNA could be on it now. You shouldn’t have touched it. Leave it on the table until I get something to put it into. Any freezer bags?’

‘No,’ Grace said, but she took a roll of cling film from the cupboard under the sink, all business now. ‘Will this do?’

‘Yes. Thanks.’ Lottie quickly wrapped the material in the cling film. ‘Will you phone Mooney, Grace? I’ll go with Bryan to see where this was found.’

‘I’m coming with you,’ Grace said.

‘No, stay here,’ Lottie said, more harshly than she’d intended, but Grace seemed not to notice. Her attention was on her fiancé.

‘You owe me an explanation,’ she told him.

‘I do, but later.’

Lottie could see by his demeanour that he was close to admitting defeat.

‘What was this place?’ Lottie asked as they approached the derelict house.

‘My family home. The place I left when they threw me in Knockraw.’

‘Who lived here?’

‘My mother died after the baby was born. So then it was my father, myself, my brother and sister. And the baby, of course.’

‘Why was the house allowed to decay?’

‘Decay is a strong word.’ He paused. ‘The house I live in now was my grandmother’s.’

‘This is your land. Was it all left to you?’

‘I inherited it, yes. It’s a long story.’ They had reached the ruin. ‘That’s where I found the material. And that’s the board with the blood.’

‘And you took the material and touched the piece of timber?’

‘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.

She said, ‘I’ve only seen the photo you showed me, which is a professional shot, and I don’t know if it’s the same woman.

She was terrified and crying with her hair over her face most of the time.

It’s possible it was her but I wouldn’t swear to it.

’ She shook her head at her own contradictions. ‘I honestly don’t know.’

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took a gulp of tea.

‘About this Assumpta that Mickey Fox mentioned. We found a record of a nun who was at SOF. Assumpta Feeney. She was early twenties back then so must be in her fifties now. She left the order and studied as a nurse before going to Australia. She returned to Ireland a year ago. She’s not at her address in Galway city, and no one has seen her in a week. ’

‘Maybe she’s the woman I found at the convent.’

‘Don’t know, do I? I didn’t see her and I didn’t lose her.’

She bristled, then decided not to let it bother her. If she was in Mooney’s position, she’d be caustic too. ‘Have you any more information on this Assumpta Feeney?’

‘Nothing to interest you, and I shouldn’t be telling you about her anyhow.’

‘But you are. Why?’

‘I got a bollocking from my super. Told me Councillor Wilson is on the phone to him twenty-four/seven demanding this be solved immediately. Talking more shite about the damage it’s doing to tourism in the area. Pfft.’ He blew out his cheeks, cartoon-like, and crumbs lodged in his short beard.

‘You seem to be a one-man band, Sergeant Mooney.’

‘I’ve a full team working round the clock, but the thing is, we aren’t getting anywhere.’

‘Any word on what Mickey Fox was burning in the barrel?’

‘Not yet. It will take time, but we might never know, and anyhow it might have nothing to do with anything.’

‘If I hadn’t left him… if I’d stayed with him, he might be alive now.’

‘You’re lucky you didn’t stay, or I could be investigating your murder too.’

That sentiment sobered her. ‘I need to find that woman?—’

‘Stop right there.’ Mooney wagged a finger at her and she bit down a retort. ‘ You don’t need to do anything. This is my case and you are to stay away from it. I should never have confided in you in the first place.’

‘But you did.’

‘Much to my consternation.’ He picked at his teeth with a fingernail.

He was reminding her more of Kirby with each passing moment.

All he needed was a paunch and a cigar. She realised then that she missed Kirby, missed her team and the buzz of being in the middle of an investigation, rather than being on the outside looking in.

Mooney continued, ‘Where’s this ruin you mentioned? ’

‘I have to tell you something. You’re not going to be happy.’

‘I haven’t been happy since I met you.’

‘Bryan brought this back from there.’ She laid the blue cloth wrapped in cling film on the table. ‘He also says he handled the board with blood on it. You’ll need to swab him for DNA and fingerprints.’

‘Very opportune of him to touch all this. For fuck’s sake. Where is he? Hope you didn’t lose him too.’

‘Don’t even start.’

‘I’m bringing him in for questioning.’

She shook her head slowly in an attempt to distil the swirl of emotions rising in her chest. She didn’t want to get Bryan in trouble, but she had an awful feeling he was landing himself in it head-first. ‘He’s outside waiting for us.’