Page 51 of The Guilty Girl

‘Around five o’clock yesterday afternoon. Well, it was five o’clock in Spain, so it must have been four o’clock here. Or maybe six. I can never figure out which way the time difference works. Albert?’

‘It would’ve been four here,’ he said impatiently. His hair, highlighted by the sun, looked like straw and fell in a mess around his face. ‘Why are we even here? I want to see Lucy.’

There was no easy way to do this, there never was, so she just said it. ‘I’m so sorry to be the bearer of tragic news. I’m afraid your daughter Lucy was found dead at your home this morning.’

Albert’s face flashed red-hot with anger. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Mary talked to her yesterday. Lucy is fine. There’s been a horrible mistake.’ Then he stopped and slumped down beside his wife.

‘Unfortunately there’s no mistake.’

He must have caught the sincerity in Lottie’s expression, because his skin blanched, and he fell back into the plush cushions.

‘What do you mean?’ Mary’s voice was brittle. ‘I want to see my daughter.’ She made to stand, but Lottie stayed her with a raised hand in the space between them.

‘This is absolute bullshit,’ Albert said before she could speak, slapping his knees, his pre-eminence resurfacing with a vengeance.

Lottie focused on his wife. ‘Mrs McAllister, can you—’

‘Oh for God’s sake, call me Mary.’

She straightened her back and placed both hands on her knees, leaning forward slightly. ‘I’m truly sorry. This is horrific news and it will take time to process. I apologise for being blunt, but you need to know that your daughter was murdered. Who did it and why is something we don’t know yet, but I need your help to find out. I appreciate it’s heartbreaking, a shock, but time is crucial and I want you both to work with me to find who did this to your beautiful daughter.’ She felt like a bitch talking to grieving parents this way, but sometimes she just couldn’t avoid having to be cruel to be kind.

‘I still don’t understand. Our Lucy? She can’t be dead …’ Mary’s lips trembled like jelly.

‘I think it’s true.’ Albert’s voice was a low whisper and his eyes looked everywhere but at Lottie. His fingers fumbled on his phone, and after a few seconds he turned the screen to his wife so she could look at whatever news app he had tapped. ‘Says here a teenage girl was found dead … at Beaumont Court … Dear God, it’s our address.’

‘It can’t be true. Don’t tell me my little girl is dead, please don’t do that to me.’ Mary slumped, her face crumpled, hands twisting into knots.

‘It says it’s rumoured that the parents left their seventeen-year-old daughter home alone for over three weeks. How the hell did reporters get that information?’ Albert turned a pair of blazing brown eyes on Lottie. She was used to anger before grief.

‘I assure you it did not come from us, but I’ll check it out.’ Her heart bled for them as she thought of how she would feel if anything happened to her own children. ‘I can’t begin to understand what you are going through, but time is so important in murder cases. Please help me.’

‘Lucy is our only child. She can’t be dead. She’s all we’ve got.’ Mary seemed to fold into herself, her tanned complexion several shades paler. It was as if she was shedding her outer skin in shock. Then she glanced up, her eyes suddenly full of hope. ‘How do you know it’s her? We haven’t identified a … b-body. You might have made a mistake. Perhaps it’s not Lucy at all.’

‘There’s no mistake. I’m so sorry.’

‘How … how did she die?’ Albert asked. The fight had left him.

Lottie avoided his question. ‘There will be a post-mortem, but I can arrange for you both to view your daughter’s body.’

‘Was she shot?’ Renewed energy crept back into his voice. ‘Stabbed? Beaten? Jesus, I want to know what happened to our little girl. Tell us. Don’t sugar-coat it.’

Breathe, Lottie warned herself, as she mentally counted in her head to retain her composure. ‘Lucy was the victim of a knife attack. She died from her wounds.’

‘Oh dear God in heaven, my little girl,’ Mary wailed, her hair flying around her like a curly halo.

Albert brought her head to his chest, stroking it as if she were a child.

‘What do you want to know?’ he asked, subdued again.

‘Can you think of any reason why someone would kill your daughter?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘Of course not. She was only seventeen. This is horrific. Our Lucy, she was a good child. Great at school. A dream at home. We never had a minute’s trouble with her, did we, Mary? She was an absolute treasure, loved by us and by her friends. I’ve never once heard a bad word said about my little girl.’

Lottie wondered if maybe his own words were a little too forced.

‘Did she have a boyfriend?’

‘She was dating someone last year. Brad or Bud or something. She broke up with him because she was heading into her final year.’