Page 137 of The Guilty Girl

‘Too late,’ he said. ‘You need to be checked by a medic. You might have concussion and you’ll need stitches.’

‘Not happy with the superhero antics, now you’re a doctor too?’ She wondered from where he’d suddenly acquired his assertiveness. She liked the nervy Lei better.

The ambulance was followed in by two squad cars.

Shit, he’d called out the cavalry.

65

Cormac O’Flaherty was still stewing, or maybe by now he was simmering. Let him, Lottie thought as she felt the growing bump on her head. His father had been contacted and was organising a solicitor. She really needed to spur on the interviews. Hannah Byrne was waiting too. God, she couldn’t even form a cohesive thought; how would she be able to conduct critical interviews? She tapped her keyboard, the sound echoing in her head.

She’d escaped from the medics with five Steri-Strips knitting her head wound, which stubbornly refused to cease bleeding. She’d been told to attend A&E if she felt worse later on. Not a chance in hell. The mention of A&E led her to think of Rose, and she was about to phone Chloe for an update when Garda Lei appeared.

‘That young lad Oscar is in the interview room. You got a right bump, didn’t you?’

‘Just find his parents for me.’

Two more of the gang members had been rounded up. All pleading innocence. The little bastards. Hearsay wasn’t evidence, so they’d had to be released. But she still had the tight-lipped Oscar. She needed leverage to get him to open his mouth, but was unable to think straight with pain pounding a sharp beat in her head.

She headed down to the interview room, still wary of bumping into Superintendent Farrell. At this stage their avoidance appeared to be mutual.

‘Where’s my McDonald’s?’ The sullen boy glared at her, his expression twisting his youthful features into an ugly scowl. Where were the kids who feared and respected authority?

‘That was before you tried to decapitate me with a bicycle chain.’

‘You got in my way.’

‘If you hit me with the same chain you used on Jake Flood, we’ll match it forensically. Big trouble for you.’

‘It’s not the same one,’ he mumbled.

She kept her surprise nailed down tight and went on the offensive. ‘Why did you kill Jake?’

‘What? Are you high, missus?’

‘Did he steal from you?’

No reply.

‘Talk to me.’

A wheeze of his breath into the silence.

‘If you didn’t do it, who did?’

Still nothing.

‘Did you witness Jake being killed?’

Leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling now. He wasn’t talking. This was useless.

‘Why did you attack Sharon?’

He moved so quickly the chair tottered forward. ‘I never touched her.’

‘You must have, because she has a very nasty injury. She’s been brought to the hospital. She might die.’ God, Lottie hated herself at times, but needs must.

‘I didn’t touch her, I swear.’ Fear replaced his earlier cockiness.