Page 93 of The Guilty Girl
‘Me too. Rose would do anything for you without complaint. But I have to take the brunt of her sharp tongue and bow to her demands.’
‘Give her a chance.’
‘I’m just tired.’
‘Sergio wanted a siesta when we came back this afternoon and I swear I slept for two hours.’
‘You’re settling into fatherhood despite yourself, Boyd.’
‘Don’t know about that. I miss you, and in a few more days I’ll be home.’
‘Looking forward to it.’
‘I’ll ask around tomorrow about Terry Starr and the McAllisters.’
‘Really appreciate that.’ She finished her tea. ‘Jake Flood, the boy we found dead this evening, trained for a local boxing club. Ask Terry about that if you conveniently bump into him.’
‘I will. Had this Jake any connection to Lucy McAllister?’
‘He was dealing at her party and I’d love to get hold of his supplier.’ She rinsed her mug, holding the phone between chin and shoulder. ‘We have a suspect, Hannah Byrne, with blood under her nails, but there’s also a cryptic email on Lucy’s laptop. Seems she was secretly planning a few days away last weekend. I still have to get to the bottom of that.’
‘You will.’
‘First I’d better try to get some sleep, despite the couch cramping my style. Keep in touch.’
‘Goodnight, Lottie. Love you and miss you.’ He blew a kiss down the phone and she felt her cheeks heat up.
She paused, listened to him breathing softly. Eventually she said, ‘Miss you too.’
After the call ended, she stared into her empty mug. Why hadn’t she told him about Sean?
In the sitting room, the wind continued to moan deep into the night. When Lottie eventually fell asleep, she dreamed of a boy bleeding, screaming and drowning in thick green water.
The boy in her dream wasn’t Jake, though.
It was Sean.
44
SUNDAY
Lottie’s eyes felt as if they were weighed down with two bags of coal. She pulled out the chair and sat heavily at her desk. Garda Thornton put his head around the door.
‘Car belonging to Liz Flood has been found.’
‘Where?’ Lottie stifled a yawn. It was a while since she’d worked on a Sunday and subconsciously her brain was telling her she should be off.
‘On the waste ground near the fire station. That’s the good news.’ Thornton paused, hand on door as if ready to escape once he’d delivered the bad news.
Lottie steadied herself. ‘Hit me with it.’
‘It’s burned to a crisp.’
Thornton hadn’t been wrong, Lottie thought as she approached the burned-out remains of the Fiat Punto. By the time the fire brigade had been alerted earlier that morning, it was too late to salvage anything worthwhile that might reasonably be used as evidence. SOCOs might find a clue, though. No harm in hoping.
With Kirby trailing behind her, she walked slowly around the blackened steel trying to avoid inhaling the fumes.
‘I doubt even our best forensic expert will get anything from that ash pile.’ He caught up with her, zipping his jacket against the morning drizzle.