Page 121 of The Altar Girls

‘I thought you said Ruth did.’

‘I don’t know, do I? I’m only saying what I think. And that reporter was outside the house too. She’s a bit freaky.’

Martina tried hard not to roll her eyes. Did this guy see himself as perfect and above everyone else?

‘What reporter?’

‘Sinead Healy. She goes off to work and leaves her daughter with a friend.’

‘Nothing wrong with that. People have to work.’ She thought of how Sinead had had a car accident and was now in hospital. Was it even an accident?

‘My mother never left me with anyone. Stayed at home and cared for her family. She was a proper mother.’

Bradley was freaking her out. She had to say something.

‘Does Ruth Kiernan work outside the home?’

‘No, but—’

‘No buts,’ she interrupted. ‘You can’t judge all women by your skewed perceptions of what is right and wrong.’

‘Women who abuse their children either physically or by abandonment don’t deserve to have children.’

Julian Bradley had a heinous glint in his eye, and it chilled her to her very bones. Then her anger surfaced.

‘Jesus Christ, that’s the most uncharitable statement I’ve ever heard outside of Twitter trolls. Do you really believe what you just said?’

‘I’m generalising. I apologise.’

His nose seemed longer and his eyes sharper as he studied her. Martina was afraid to move in case she threw her drink over him. She noticed her glass was empty, so he was safe for now.

‘Another?’ he asked. ‘One for the road?’

‘I’ve to work in the morning. Sorry.’

‘Never asked what you do.’

‘No, you didn’t.’

She slipped off the stool, picked her jacket up off the floor where it had fallen and shrugged her arms into the sleeves. She threw a tenner on the counter. No way was she letting that chauvinistic bigot get away with having paid for her drink.

She bustled her way through the crowd in the hotel foyer and had just reached the main door when she heard the bar door swish behind her. She turned. Julian Bradley stood there staring.

‘You’re her, aren’t you?’ His mouth gaped open. ‘The stupid cop who let Bethany go missing.’ With two steps he was beside her. ‘We need to talk.’

Before Martina had time to react, he had grabbed her arm, walked her back through the milling people and bundled her into the lift.

74

Every step on the narrow stairs creaked as Lei made his way up. Four doors off a small square landing. All closed. He had been part of the team who’d searched the house after Willow was reported missing, so he knew his way around. Two doors had ceramic name plates: Willow and Harper. He put his ear to Harper’s door. Her cries were rhythmic. Was she crying in her sleep? Should he leave her alone?

Concern overrode hesitancy and he depressed the handle and looked around the door.

A chilly air greeted him. The room was lit by a small lava lamp on a white nightstand. The narrow bed was a bundle of sheets, one thin blanket, no duvet. No pillow. The little girl was curled in a ball, her hands over her ears, her eyes scrunched shut. Should he soothe her with words? Cover her? Or should he shut the door and go back downstairs and wait for her mother? Undecided, he hovered.

After a few moments, Harper released her ears and her body visibly relaxed. Without opening her eyes, she put out her hand and dragged the blanket up over herself. Her breathing eased to a steady rhythm.

He exhaled in relief and stepped back onto the landing. As he shut the door, he noticed a key in the lock. It hadn’t registered with him initially, and it hadn’t been there when the house had been searched. Perhaps Harper sleepwalked, he thought, and her mother locked it when she went to bed.