Page 120 of The Guilty Girl
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Lottie left her office with the intention of dropping Lucy’s phone upstairs. Lynch was at her desk, hunched over the monitor, tapping a pen on the desk to some silent rhythm.
‘Have the McAllisters kicked you out?’ Lottie asked.
‘It was obvious they didn’t want me there, but at least I got a decent bite to eat before I left.’
‘I want to interview Terry Starr. Can you locate him for me?’
‘I thought he was abroad.’
‘Not any more. He’s back.’
‘I’ll trace his whereabouts and let you know.’
‘How are you getting on with Lucy’s social media accounts?’
‘Painful.’ Lynch rolled her eyes. ‘I’m glad my kids aren’t teenagers yet. I’d go crazy trying to monitor their online footprints.’
‘All ahead of you. I’m bringing Lucy’s phone up to Gary. Some of the photos on it are disturbing.’
‘What type of photos?’
‘Body-shaming at its worst.’
‘I’ll say it again, I dread my kids becoming teenagers.’
‘You’ll be better equipped than most to deal with them by then. As for my lot …’ Lottie shook her head.
‘I’ll swap you mine if you want?’
She smiled, releasing some of the tension seizing her shoulders and knotting up her muscles. ‘No can do. The devil you know and all that.’
‘I wanted to talk to you,’ Lynch said. ‘I found something.’
A surge of hope powered through Lottie as she sat against the edge of the desk.
Lynch scrunched up the side of her mouth, tutting. ‘Might not help much, but it clears up one thing.’ She tapped the keyboard, zooming in on a photograph. ‘Lucy had a fake Instagram account. They call it a Finsta. On her main Instagram account she has a few hundred followers, but on this Finsta she has about a dozen.’
‘That’s a new one on me.’ Lottie wondered if her kids did this sort of thing. Probably. ‘Explain.’
‘These accounts are used mainly by teens and young adults to share their more candid photos with a select few. Take a look at this one.’
In the photograph, Lucy, dressed in white jeans and a black camisole, low at the front and even lower at the sides, seemed to be dancing, one hand raised holding a bottle.
‘A nightclub?’ Lottie wondered.
‘I’ll find out, but look closer.’
Lottie squinted. Lucy was holding her other arm aloft, phone in hand. She thought she saw what had excited Lynch. ‘Zoom in.’
The image pixelated, became fuzzy.
Lynch zoomed back out a little. ‘Do you see it now?’
‘I do. A small tattoo in the exact spot the skin was excised.’ Lottie closed one eye as she tried to decipher the tattoo. ‘Is it a heart?’
‘There’s something written inside, but it’s too blurry.’