Page 14 of The Guilty Girl

There was no other word to describe the image of the body, blood-soaked clothing ripped, skin torn and bloody, eyelids half open with the horror of it all. And a gaping wound to the neck. Around the victim, the bed, floor and walls all had heavy blood spatter. SOCOs would map the trajectory. The girl’s arms were spread out wide and her feet crossed. The image nudged something in Lottie’s brain. Was that a pose sometimes used by serial killers? Surely not that!

‘The poor girl,’ she said. ‘It’s an awful waste of a young life.’

‘Do you know who she is?’ Gráinne asked.

‘Lucy McAllister. Aged seventeen, almost eighteen.’ Her words caught in her throat.

Gráinne pointed to the neck wound.

‘I estimate this to be the fatal strike. There are many others, mainly superficial but deep enough for blood loss. A steak knife is missing from a knife block downstairs. It could have been the weapon used. The pathologist will be able to tell you more.’ Gráinne’s silvery blue eyes were clouded today. It was clear she was affected by the murder of one so young. They all were.

‘There’s a lot of blood spatter downstairs,’ Lottie said, struggling to control her emotions. ‘Why would that be?’

‘I can’t answer that yet.’

‘Could the assailant have been wounded?’

‘Possibly. Once the blood is analysed, we will know more.’

‘Any sign of sexual assault?’ Lottie tried to get her head around the trauma the victim had endured.

Gráinne shrugged noncommittally. ‘No visible evidence, but it’s possible. Post-mortem should tell you. I hear the state pathologist is in Dublin.’

‘Yeah, she’s preparing for a court case. I hope she can get here.’

She looked up as Kirby bustled in, breathless, his belly straining inside the protective suit. Beads of sweat and damp curls lined his brow, his hood hiding most of his bushy hair.

‘Has anyone managed to contact the victim’s family?’ Lottie asked.

‘Parents were in Spain,’ he said. ‘They happen to be on their way home. Flight has just departed. Due to touch down in Dublin in three hours. They own an apartment in Malaga. Funny, but if they were still there, we could’ve asked Boyd to inform them.’

‘It’s far from funny.’ Lottie felt her heart rate spike at the mention of Boyd. She missed having him around, especially when faced with a serious investigation.

‘Make sure we have someone to meet them at the airport,’ she said, ‘to escort them home.’

‘What do we tell them?’

She thought for a minute. ‘That there was a break-in at their home. Nothing else, for now. And keep the media away from here. We don’t want the family finding out about this online when they switch their phones back on.’

‘Right so.’ Kirby turned and rushed off, panting loudly.

‘Gráinne, I don’t suppose you have any idea of time of death?’

‘The pathologist will have to determine that. But I’d guess she’s been dead no more than five, maybe six hours.’

‘Thanks. I’ll let you continue.’

Lottie stepped out of the room, the stench of death clogging her nostrils through her mask. Downstairs, she spoke to Lynch. ‘Has the victim’s phone been located?’

‘Not yet. SOCOs are going over the place inch by inch, in a grid. But we have a laptop. It could belong to the victim.’

‘Good. When you get back to the station, start interrogating Lucy’s social media. See if you can find anything on the laptop. Then send it to Gary in technical. Plus, we need to track down everyone who was at the party last night.’

‘It might have been a girls’ night in that went haywire.’

Lottie swallowed hard, smelling death everywhere.

‘It was a party. Sean was here and I picked him up shortly after midnight. The music was full on, so we are looking at some time after that. Listen, Maria, it’s imperative we talk to all the young people who were here and anyone who might have been working at the party. Find out the names of Lucy’s friends. Liaise with McKeown and get everyone interviewed as soon as possible. Find out what time the pizzas were delivered and talk to whoever dropped them here.’