Page 165 of The Altar Girls

She ended the call when they’d finished their chat. Talking to Boyd had filled her with confidence for the first time that week.

The air was still cold, but not as freezing as earlier in the week. A thaw had set in.

Standing on the station steps, Lottie looked over at the twin spires of the cathedral dominating the Ragmullin skyline. She shivered as a drop of water from the rooftop gutter landed on top of her head. All around her was the tinkling sound of ice melting in the rising sun. Maybe the thaw was a sign that all would be revealed to her and she could get justice for two innocent children. The cathedral bells rang out suddenly, and she pressed her hand to her heart. She inhaled a deep breath of the fresh air before going inside, buoyed up.

On her desk, there was a printout of an email from Grainne Nixon. The workshop search had yielded evidence.

‘Yes!’ she said, before becoming subdued. Truth was, there was nothing to be excited about. Nothing changed the fact that two little girls were dead.

She headed for the interview room.

She sat back and watched as Zara was brought in. The night in a holding cell had roughed her up but not broken her, if her demeanour was anything to go by. She marched in, shoulders straight, her hair as ferocious as the glint in her eye. She was followed by a tall, meek-looking solicitor, who sat down before his client did. He had the air of a man who wished he was anywhere but where he found himself.

Quietly Lottie laid two photos on the table. She pointed to the first one. ‘This is a photograph showing two scorched buckles. And this one shows two zippers. Burned.’

‘So what?’ Zara said.

‘They were found in a kiln in a workshop.’ Lottie kept the location vague. ‘Care to comment?’

‘You had no right to search my workshop.’

‘I never said they were in your workshop,’ she said triumphantly. ‘However, we had a warrant and I can confirm that’s where we found this evidence.’

‘Evidence of what?’ Zara said. Her solicitor put his hand on her arm and made to whisper in her ear. She shook him off and slapped the table. ‘You can’t just accuse me of a crime I didn’t commit.’

‘Zara, in your bathroom, SOCOs found blood spatter. Microscopic, but it was there. It’s being analysed and I’m sure it will yield results. And then there was the tool you used to hit Father Maguire. We have forensically analysed the hammer…’ She left that there, hoping the woman would bite. She did.

‘He was provoking me and I just reached for it. I should have thrown it out after…’

Lottie opened her file as if she had a sheet of evidence confirming what was on the hammer.

‘When should you have thrown it out?’

‘After… Oh no, you can’t make me. Where is my daughter?’

‘The daughter you drugged yesterday?’ She paused, and added, ‘Or the daughter you murdered along with Naomi Kiernan? We found blood trace on the hammer you used on Father Maguire, even though it had been bleached. Naomi’s blood.’

In that instant, Zara’s shoulders slumped and she buried her face in her hands. ‘It was an accident.’

‘Tell me,’ Lottie said.

Her blood fizzed in her veins, raising goosebumps on her skin. She was about to get the confession she needed. She knitted her fingers into each other so that she wouldn’t cover her ears. She really did not want to hear the sordid story of the events of last Monday morning. But she knew she would hear it many, many times until a conviction was handed down.

98

THE PREVIOUS MONDAY MORNING

The two girls were frozen solid when they arrived at her door, having trekked from town through the snow along by the canal. The only way she could think of warming them up quickly was to run a bath and let their body temperatures rise in the hot water. But Willow was hyper and Zara could not deal with that today. She had work to do. Bills to be paid. Rent, too. And that priest wouldn’t even help her. Bloody hell.

She grabbed a blister pack from the cupboard and broke a pill in half, shoving the other half into her pocket. After filling a glass with water, she cajoled a reluctant Willow to swallow the drug. It would soon calm her down.

‘Bath time, both of you. Upstairs and strip off. Once you’re warm, Naomi, I’ll bring you home.’

She ran the water into the bath and told Willow to get in first. Her daughter was still hyperactive, dancing around the bathroom butt-naked, chanting at the cowering Naomi.

‘Get into the bloody bath before you freeze to death.’ Zara lifted the child and tried to shove her in.

Willow screamed. ‘I want to go outside and make snow angels. Naomi wants to do it too, don’t you, Naomi?’