Page 8 of The Altar Girls

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Someone sensitive, I mean. Someone with more compassion and tact. And we have to break the news to this little one’s parents. After that, I’ll see what I want to do.’

Before Lottie and Kirby could leave the cathedral grounds, they had to make their way through the throng of people who had gathered at the outer cordon in the snow. Among them she spied Sinead Healy, midlands correspondent for national television. She was without a camera or a media entourage. Good.

‘Detective Inspector, can you confirm that the body of a child has been found?’

‘No comment at this time.’ Lottie tightened her hood around her face and ducked her head to get through.

‘From what I heard, it’s rumoured to be Willow Devine.’

How the hell did that rumour start? Lottie wondered. ‘A press conference will be held in the morning,’ she said brusquely. ‘Until then, I can’t comment any further.’

8

The lights at Carberry Grove housing estate were dull and yellow, turning the snow a pissy ochre. It was easy to see it was a downtrodden area. Lottie had been to some deplorable houses in her time, but she had yet to come across one that looked like a drug den on the outside while being perfectly fine on the inside. Neat and tidy. Floor scrubbed. Lemon-fresh. Counters washed down. The baby bathed and hair combed, still damp. A small wooden crib sat on the windowsill, plastic figures inside with an empty manger. No baby Jesus yet. There was no other evidence of the Christmas season around the kitchen.

The dead girl’s mother sat at the table, having brought them inside. She didn’t seem worried or upset, just tired.

‘Mrs Kiernan, you keep your home lovely.’ Small talk.

‘The name is Ruth, and I know it’s like a dump outside, but I do my best with what I have.’

Ruth cradled the little boy in her arms. She was thin-framed, and wore her black hair, feathered with grey at the temples, in a long plait caught in the belt of her jeans at her waist. Lottie figured she was in her early thirties, but her skin was like drying cement, and the indented lines circling her eyes betrayed a hard life to date.

‘Is your husband around?’ she asked.

Something dark crossed the deep blue eyes. ‘Not unless he’s been released from prison.’

‘Oh.’ Lottie kicked herself for not having carried out a background check on the family, but things moved fast when a body was found. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not. Isaac is where he belongs. You sin, you pay the price.’

Odd sentiment from the man’s wife, but she would find out about Isaac Kiernan when she got back to the office.

‘Have you news of him?’ Ruth said. ‘Because if he’s been released, don’t tell him where I live. We moved here after his sentence, and I never want to set eyes on that deviant ever again.’

No love lost there. ‘Is there someone I can contact to come and stay with you? I’m not here about your husband, I’m here about your daughter, Naomi.’

‘Naomi? Why? Has she done something? She’s only eight, though she can look like a teenager when she’s being cheeky.’ Ruth gave a wry laugh. ‘Let me tell you, my daughter is as good as gold. I promise, whatever you think she did, it’s not true.’

This would have to be handled with care. Lottie took a breath and exhaled. ‘Ruth, I’m afraid I have some terrible news. There’s no easy way to say this, but the body of a little girl was found this evening. I have reason to believe it is Naomi.’

The woman seemed unfazed. ‘It can’t be her. I saw her this morning. She went to serve eight o’clock Mass. She’s an altar girl. Then she had school. She must have gone to a friend’s house afterwards and then on to her choir practice.’ A glance at the phone charging on the table, a tap on the cracked screen and the time appeared in giant-sized numbers. ‘Oh no, is that the time? Dear Lord above, she should be home by now.’

Lottie noted the tactics Ruth was using to divert from facing the awful truth. ‘Did Naomi leave the house alone this morning?’ She decided to hold back the information that school had been cancelled, and wondered why Ruth hadn’t mentioned it, though it was evident the woman was in a state of disbelief.

‘I’ve two other children, and the car is hit and miss at the best of times, and have you seen the state of the weather out there? So yes, she went alone. She usually walks to school straight from the cathedral.’ A mask fell from the strained face, replaced by an unreadable expression. Fear, or anger? ‘But she should have been home ages ago. She must have gone to a friend’s house. She’s okay, isn’t she?’ The child in Ruth’s arms squealed as his mother squeezed too tightly. ‘Tell me she’s okay!’

‘I’m so sorry, Ruth. You have to believe me, we did find Naomi’s body. I’m truly sorry, but—’

‘No, no, no. Stop! Get out. Now.’ Ruth jumped up, realisation dawning, her head turning left, then right, numerous times, the child in her arms crying uncontrollably.

Lottie heard another sound, a high-pitched keening, coming from under the table. She leaned down to see a little girl of about four, dressed in tattered cotton pyjamas, curled up on the floor, her arms tight around her knees, her eyes clamped shut.

‘Bethany! Stop it. Go to your room. Now!’

The child scurried out on all fours and leapt into the hall before thundering up the narrow, creaking stairs.

At last the baby’s screeches eased and Ruth stopped twirling, her voice losing the hysteria of a moment ago. ‘Tell me. What happened? Where is she?’