Page 78 of Hidden Daughters (Detective Lottie Parker #15)

CONNEMARA

As the sun rose on the horizon, Lottie was back standing at the window, a cup of Nespresso in her hand. The spacious room seemed a waste without having Boyd with her. The sea was rough, and the blue skies of the previous few days had been replaced with troubling black clouds.

Imelda’s words swirled around in her head, consuming her.

Mooney had phoned her at a godawful hour that morning to tell her about his chat with Ann Wilson the night before.

She was glad to get his updates and wondered if he did this to keep her from investigating on her own or to get things straight in his mind.

Probably a bit of both, she concluded. Her own mind was full of questions.

Why was Imelda in hiding? Why did she say Assumpta was the key to everything? She must have discovered something crucial while researching her documentary. That had to be it. Then there was the link to Bryan’s DNA. Was Imelda his daughter? It seemed likely and could yet prove to be critical.

Her brain was still racing when her phone rang. Putting down the cup, she checked the screen.

Mooney. She hadn’t expected to hear from him again so soon.

‘There’s been another murder,’ he said without preamble.

‘Imelda?’

‘No, and I’m only telling you because you’ll hear about it. I want you nowhere near this. I need you to know that the shit is properly going to hit the fan today. But I’m warning you. Stay away.’

He hung up.

She tapped into the news app on her phone, fingers trembling at what new horror she would find.

Her breath caught in her throat as she started to read.

Ignoring Mooney’s instruction to stay away, she drove over to the crime scene but could not get close.

An avalanche of media trucks had descended on the small, seemingly select community of houses where the Wilsons lived.

The pack was held back at the end of the road, but she guessed the prominence of Denis Wilson and his radio station, not to mention his role in local politics, had catapulted the murder to the top of the national news.

Mooney must have blacklisted her name, because there was no way anyone was allowing her to get close to the house.

Irritation clawed beneath her skin as the first drops of rain fell on her face.

She craned her neck to see over the shoulders of the reporters in front of her.

No joy. She didn’t see any sign of Mooney either. He was probably inside the house.

She made her way back to her car, digging her nails into the palms of her hands in frustration. She hated this outside-looking-in lark.

As she approached the car, a hand reached out from behind her, tugging her sideways.

‘Hey, what the…?’ She paused when she saw who it was. An ashen, harried face. A tattered and torn blue fleece with the hood up.

‘Imelda?’

‘We need to talk.’

‘You’re right about that,’ Lottie said as the rain came down in earnest. ‘Get in the car.’

‘I’m not going to the garda station with you, if that’s what you’re planning.’

‘Okay. But I’m getting soaked out here and I need you to get in before those reporters recognise you.’

‘How would they?’

‘Your photo has been all over the news and social media. You’re easily recognisable.’ Though Lottie had to admit to herself that the unkempt young woman looked nothing like the photo that had been circulated. ‘You’re a suspect in a series of murders. Don’t you know that?’

‘Of course I do. But you have to believe me, I did not kill anyone.’

How many times had she heard that in her career? Too many to count. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I thought I might have got Ann into trouble. I wanted to apologise to her. I reckoned I’d get her on her own when he left for work, but this circus was in full flight when I arrived. What’s going on?’

‘Get in the car.’ Lottie opened the door and waited.

Imelda furtively scanned the area before complying.

Lottie also looked around to see if anyone had noticed them, but all eyes were on the Wilson house.

She knew she should ring Mooney about Imelda showing up, but he’d told her to stay away.

He was going to be replaced by other detectives soon, so she decided to handle the young woman herself.

Once she’d heard what she had to say, then she would bring her in.

God, it felt good to be in control again.