Page 45 of Hidden Daughters (Detective Lottie Parker #15)

Lottie lay on the bed beside Boyd. It had been a tiring, odd sort of day. It was too early for bed. She couldn’t sleep. Not when her mind was working overtime.

‘Want to talk?’ She focused on the ceiling, fully aware that he was annoyed. She dreaded the conversation they needed to have.

‘You have to leave this to the locals,’ he said. ‘It’s getting messy.’

‘You mean messy in that Bryan might be involved?’

Boyd leaned up on his elbow. ‘He’s not involved in any murders, even though Mooney brought him in earlier for a statement. But his past might have something to do with what’s going on.’

She felt his eyes on her, but she continued to stare at the ceiling. ‘He brought me out to the old ruin. The place where he lived as a boy. He had a family. A brother. A sister. He said she was put into the laundry. Can you believe the cruelty of that?’

‘Oh God, that sounds horrific. Poor girl.’

Now she turned to him. ‘What’s more awful is that I don’t think he even remembers her name. He never searched for her. He doesn’t know if she’s dead or alive. Just like his girlfriend, Mary Elizabeth. How can someone be so damaged by their past that they bury it for decades?’

‘Pot and kettle come to mind.’

She caught the grin in his words. ‘I searched for my brother. All my life. And I found him.’

‘I apologise.’

She plumped up the pillows and sat up. ‘Are you sure you want your sister marrying someone that cold, that heartless?’

He turned quickly and sat up too. ‘That’s an awful character assassination you’ve just made. I thought you were on his side. Lottie, you know nothing about the man. You only met him a few days ago.’

‘I know, but?—’

‘No buts. Don’t ruin this for Grace.’

‘I’m not going to ruin anything.’ Was she, though? ‘But I do think we should dig into your prospective brother-in-law a bit deeper. Mooney mentioned something, but didn’t expand on it. I wonder?—’

‘Leave it. Stop.’ He blew out his cheeks and she could feel the cold exasperation on his breath. ‘He’s a hard-working man, and he makes Grace happy. Allow him to continue to do so.’

‘But what if he’s involved in all this?’ She wasn’t going to tell Boyd that he’d changed his tune, but that was what it sounded like.

‘Involved in all what? The murder of an unidentified woman in a holiday cottage? Or the murder of an old man who lived in a caravan in the middle of a forest? Or do you mean the disappearance of a mystery woman you claim you found wandering around an old convent?’ His voice rose with each question.

‘Which of those do you think Bryan is involved in?’

Throwing back the covers, she pulled on her jeans and tugged a hoodie over her head. ‘You are impossible when you’re like this,’ she snapped.

‘I reiterate, pot and kettle.’

‘Oh, shut up. I’m going for a walk.’

‘It’s nearly dark out.’

‘I’m a big girl. I’m not afraid of the dark.’

A furious rage bubbled beneath her skin, and she knew the only way to contain it was to escape. Otherwise she might just permanently damage her relationship with Boyd.

She left him sitting on the bed with a what did I do now? look on his face, and went out into the stillness of the night.

Hugging her arms around her body, Lottie walked over to the barn, then back again.

It was dark here at the edge of the world.

Darker than in Ragmullin, where light pollution coloured the sky a shitty yellow.

At her own house, located in the countryside by a lake, the moon often reflected off the water.

Tonight, it wasn’t yet high enough in the sky to sprinkle its magic dust over the land and sea, casting a light to follow. It was too dark. Like her mood.

The Atlantic Ocean, crisp and rowdy in the distance, sounded like the turmoil raging in her chest. Her opinion had changed over the last twenty-four hours.

She wasn’t sure if she trusted Bryan O’Shaughnessy.

She had yet to be convinced about his true intentions, and she sensed that something sinister could be afoot.

God, she sounded like a character out of an Agatha Christie novel.

If only she could enlist the help of a current-day Poirot to do some digging on her behalf.

No way was Boyd going to help her out, and she understood that.

Didn’t she? Not really, if she was being honest. If it was her sister, she’d want to be sure the girl wasn’t making a mistake.

Yes, she was worried for Grace Boyd. The young woman was an open book. Vulnerable, despite her best attempts to prove otherwise. Easy to manipulate. To take advantage of. To lie to. Lottie could not stand by and watch her be deceived.

She moved around the outside of the house. Leaning on a low stone wall, she gazed out into the dark void of unfamiliar land. Pulling out her phone, she made a call. It was answered straight away.

‘Boss?’

‘Kirby, how are you doing?’

‘Up to my lugs. Good to hear from you. Amy spoke with Boyd earlier and he had a chat with Sergio. That lad is a dream of a child. He has helped Amy so much. You should see them every evening sitting at the table doing his homework.’

‘Amy is doing his homework?’

‘Nah,’ he laughed, ‘she’s helping him. He’s a bright spark, that boy.’

‘Not a bit like his dad then.’ She was half joking, half in earnest.

‘Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?’

She didn’t reply to that. ‘Kirby, can I ask you to do something on the quiet for me?’

‘Sure, if I can.’

‘It has to be between us two only.’

‘Of course. Goes without saying.’

‘This man Grace is marrying, Bryan O’Shaughnessy, can you run a background check on him?’

Kirby paused, silent for a moment. ‘Does Boyd know about this?’

‘No. I’m just worried… I don’t want her to make a huge mistake.’

‘Do you think she might be about to?’

‘I’m not sure. Something is off. There’s been a couple of murders here and?—’

‘I get the picture. Don’t worry, I’ll be discreet. I’ll tread with tippy toes.’

She grinned at the image. No way could Kirby do that even if he tried. ‘See what PULSE throws up anyhow. And send me a text when you have it done. I’ll ring you when I can.’

‘All very clandestine.’

‘Clandestine? Jesus, Kirby, you swallow a dictionary?’

He coughed, and she kicked herself. She could almost see his cheeks burning. ‘No, boss. Just listening to a few audiobooks Amy gave me. Anyhow, I better tuck this lad in. I’ll let you know how I get on with PULSE.’

‘Thanks. And remember to tell no one.’

‘Mum’s the word.’ He laughed, then coughed again. She could hear the years of smoking in his lungs.

That sounded more like the Kirby she knew.

She is standing out there by the wall, talking on her phone, when I raise my head from my hiding place in the shadows.

It felt like a good idea to keep an eye on the house.

When this all started, I hadn’t allowed for two detectives to be staying there, but it kind of makes everything a bit more exciting.

The male cop’s not a danger; he’s probably making floral bouquets with his halfwit sister.

I stifle a laugh. No, the real danger lies with the woman.

She’s even wheedled her way into the investigation. Interesting. Dangerous.

Things have gone a little awry. The old man wasn’t part of the plan, but someone warned him, so needs must. Listening to Mickey Fox’s skin sizzle was exhilarating. Even if I couldn’t hang around for long, it was a genius idea. Opportune, too.

For the tall, wild-haired woman, it might be too risky to wait for an opportune moment. I have to plan carefully for her demise if she gets too close to the truth. A bath of boiling water might not be enough to put her down. Poisonous drain cleaner? Perhaps.

It needs to be thought through quickly. Things are taking on a pace that I hadn’t anticipated.

I need to be in control of the narrative.

I thrive on control. Then I think of the other woman.

A witness. She will have to meet the same fate as nosy Mickey, the sly old fox.

I grin at this joke, and the exhilarating mood surfaces again.

Another glance across the field. The woman has finished her call and is heading back inside. No, not now. It’s time to finish one task before beginning another.