Page 91 of Hidden Daughters (Detective Lottie Parker #15)

When Bryan returned to the house after his walk through the fields, there was an SUV parked in the yard. Denis Wilson. Good God, he’d forgotten all about Mooney’s warning that the grieving husband might seek him out again.

He ran the last hundred metres and burst into the kitchen. Wilson was sitting in his shirtsleeves, his jacket over the back of the chair, drinking coffee at the table. Grace was peeling potatoes at the sink.

‘We need to talk,’ Wilson said, rising. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’

‘No problem,’ Grace said. ‘Again, I’m sorry for your loss.’

He pointed to Bryan, then the door. ‘Outside.’

Bryan backed out, glad to get the man away from Grace. He didn’t like Wilson, but he felt he had to humour him, despite Mooney’s warnings. They walked towards the barn.

‘We can talk in here if you’d like, though I’ve no idea why you need to speak to me.’ He knew full well that Denis Wilson saw him as a murderer.

‘An apology for hitting me yesterday would be a start,’ Wilson grunted.

Bryan didn’t want to apologise, because he’d meant every bit of the force of his punch, but then the man’s wife was dead. He was bigger than his pride. ‘I apologise. I was out of order.’

‘You were.’ Wilson sniffed and turned up his nose. ‘This place smells rank.’

‘It’s a farmyard barn, it’s supposed to smell.’

He ran a finger under his nose as if that could minimise the odour, then leaned against a stake with chains and nooses. ‘What are these for?’

‘They’re not used any more. It’s just ancient stuff that’s not needed.’ Bryan shifted from foot to foot. Wilson was making him uneasy by not getting to the point of his visit.

‘I think you should confess to the guards,’ Wilson said at last.

‘About old farm equipment?’

‘Don’t be smart. I know your type. You think you’re the salt of the earth. You prance around the village like Farmer Muck when you should be going to church and confessing your sins.’

Bryan thought the councillor was a dab hand at the prancing bit but thought better about mentioning it. ‘We all have sinned.’

‘Maybe, but the thing is, I know your secret.’

‘I don’t have any secrets.’ Bryan bristled, memories flooding his brain. What could Wilson mean? Surely he didn’t know about Mary Elizabeth or his little sister.

‘All those years ago, out in Knockraw and the convent. I know what went on.’

Bryan scratched his head. ‘I really have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘She died in the laundry. Your Mary Elizabeth. Did you know that?’

Bryan felt the blood drain from his brain and felt faint. He staggered and held onto a wooden rail. After a moment, he gathered his wits and righted himself. ‘What?’

‘Ann said she was fiery, not that it did her much good. I’d say she’s in an unmarked grave now. And if you want that secret to remain hidden, I guess you can bypass confessing to a priest and confess to the guards.’

‘Grace knows about my relationship with Mary Elizabeth, so it’s not a secret. Is there something else you’re talking about?’ Bryan shook his head as if the action could imbue him with knowledge of what the councillor was referring to.

‘The sexual assaults. At Knockraw. I can spin it to put you in the frame. If it ever comes out.’

‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’ll tell you this, you’re a twisted bastard.’

‘I’m leaving now, but if you haven’t been arrested and charged by this evening, I’ll be back. And mark my words, Miss Grace Boyd will not be impressed.’