Page 168 of Three Widows

‘Isn’t that what you wanted?’ he said, sipping his drink, leaving a red stain on his lips.

‘Yeah. No. I don’t know. Shit, Boyd, I don’t want to ruin Chloe’s life. Rose isn’t easy.’

‘I think Chloe is independent enough to make her own decisions. Like her mother.’ He winked.

‘I kind of backed her into it, didn’t I?’

‘Chloe Parker won’t do anything she doesn’t want to do, so quit fretting. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. You have no control over it.’

‘Thank you, wise old owl.’

‘Less of the old, please.’

She poured more milk into her tea to cool it, and they sat side by side at the table, shoulders touching.

‘I really miss him,’ Boyd said, and bit back a sob.

‘Come here.’ She held his hand in hers. ‘Jackie is a scheming bitch. She uses people. Including your son. If we have to turn the world upside down, we will get him back.’

‘She has more of a right to him than I do.’

‘Not if we use what we know about her. Just keep thinking of the great months you’ve had together and plan for his future with you.’

He gently kissed the top of her head.

‘There are still a few things I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘How did Madelene Bowen come to have access to the old house that Kathleen used to own?’

‘She probably had keys because of their long relationship. Or she took them from Tyler before she killed him.’

‘She hasn’t admitted to doing anything to him. She confessed to the murders and abductions, but is resolute in her denial about his disappearance.’

‘Maybe he really did skip town and is living it up somewhere with a new identity.’

‘Wouldn’t surprise me,’ Lottie said. ‘And why did she move his car to the lock-up?’

‘Once Jennifer’s body was discovered, she wanted us to suspect that Jennifer had killed him, perhaps.’ Boyd drained his glass and reached for the bottle.

‘Maybe.’ But she wasn’t convinced. ‘That file from Madelene’s briefcase has a list of Damien’s clients cross referenced with those Orla Keating did accounts for. I’ll hand it over to CAB to help their investigation into Tyler’s fraudulent dealings.’

‘Orla was more involved than she’d like us to believe,’ Boyd said, and sipped his wine.

‘For sure. Are you staying the night?’

‘Is that an invitation?’

‘Yes, old owl, I would love your company.’

‘Do you just want to talk, Mrs Parker?’

She leaned up and kissed his wine-covered lips. ‘Who said anything about talking?’

EPILOGUE

TWO WEEKS LATER

Jimmy Grennan was so late bringing in the turf from the bog this year, he wasn’t sure it was even worth the hassle. He walked along the muddy trail, dragging the trolley of fertiliser bags behind him as he wended his way towards his plot. He’d had to leave the tractor and trailer up on the lane because the ground was still soft after the storm two weeks ago. He despaired of rescuing any of his turf. Still, he was thankful that the sun was beaming through the clouds today.

‘Goddammit to hell,’ he grumbled as his wellington boot stuck in a bog hole. He dragged his leg out of the murky brown water and promised himself there and then that he’d have a nice creamy pint of Guinness in Cafferty’s later. That thought should keep him going over the next few hours.