‘Okay, what?’ Lottie said.
‘Jen Driscoll, Mikey’s mum. She lived in London for a few years.’
‘Go on.’
‘She worked at Butler and Associates.’
‘Rory Butler’s business?’
‘His father’s.’
Lottie put out her hand and took the sheet of paper. ‘Good work, Lynch. I’m sorry for snapping.’ Lynch walked out in silence.
Lottie checked her emails. There was one from the state pathologist, Jane Dore. Post-mortem information. She read through it quickly.
‘Boyd?’ she yelled. ‘Where the hell is he when I want him?’
Max wasn’t there. Hope searched the office part of the old unit. No, definitely no sign of him.
‘Mummy, I’m so hungry,’ Lexie complained.
‘Shh. We’re going home in a minute. I’m just looking for my friend.’
She lifted Lexie into her arms, wincing with the stab of pain caused by the weight of the child. She really needed to see a doctor. She was still losing a lot of blood, and the pain shouldn’t be this bad.
Maybe she should go to the guards. Hand herself in. But wasn’t that what she’d done on Monday morning? Why had she done that if she hadn’t committed a crime? Why couldn’t she remember? Was it so horrific that she had blocked it from her consciousness? She wished she knew.
‘Let’s go, hunny bunny.’
She eased Lexie down from her hip. Gripping the child’s hand, she walked around the old tractor tyres and over towards the door. The space in front of her darkened. A shadow? A rattle of iron and the door slid open.
Her breath stuck in her throat and her hand tightened on Lexie’s.
‘Hello, Hope. Do you realise that everyone is looking for you?’
Lottie gathered the team in the incident room. If McMahon wanted a report, she needed to have something concrete for him.
‘We’ve been running rings around ourselves looking at family members, those who were associated with the boys, neighbours and bingo ladies. We need to concentrate on the victims for a few minutes.’
She walked up to the board. Stared at the photos there.
‘First question. Why were these two boys, Mikey Driscoll and Kevin Shanley, targeted? What or who had they in common?’
Kirby said, ‘They were in the same class in school. They played on the same soccer team. Mikey’s mum, Jennifer, worked as an instructor in the same gym as Kevin Shanley’s dad, Victor.’
Lottie said, ‘And Victor admitted that something had gone on between him and Jen, though he did say that it was long over. Jennifer Driscoll needs to be formally interviewed.’
‘Because she had an affair with the other victim’s father?’ Boyd again.
‘That, and she said she was at bingo the night Mikey was murdered, which we now believe to be untrue. And because Lynch has discovered that Jen lived in London twelve years ago.’
‘So?’
Shut up, Boyd, Lottie silently prayed. ‘She worked for Butler and Associates.’
Boyd remained silent. Good.
‘Jen Driscoll has a link to both Victor Shanley and Rory Butler. And she lied about her whereabouts Sunday night. What does that tell us?’
‘I thought we were looking at the victims,’ Boyd said.
‘Will you concentrate on what I’m saying and quit the sniping.’
‘Right. Go ahead, boss,’ he said, and began to roll up his shirtsleeves, slowly and neatly.
‘Jen Driscoll has to be brought in for a formal interview and Rory Butler needs to be interviewed again. On top of what I’ve just said, he also lives a few hundred metres from the site where Kevin’s body was found. Kirby? Are you noting this down?’
‘I am.’
‘Okay. Mikey Driscoll was strangled, which is one of the less messy forms of murder and somewhat personal. And Kevin Shanley was murdered in a similar manner.’
‘What’s the motive?’ Lynch said softly.
‘Good question. And why these two boys? What else have we got, Kirby?’
‘The school,’ Kirby said. ‘The teachers all check out. The only anomaly is Hope Cotter. She worked there as a cleaner but quit six months ago.’
‘She lives in the Munbally estate too. And she’s wanted in connection with the murder of the baby boy found in the canal. Any update on where she might be?’
‘Nothing yet,’ Lynch said.
Lottie turned to look at the crime-scene photos. ‘Why leave the boys’ bodies in these particular locations? The grounds of the football club and the lake shore. Do they mean something to the killer?’
‘They were out in the open,’ Boyd said. ‘The killer wanted them found.’
‘I also believe the killer was sending a message.’
‘To who?’ Kirby said.
‘To whom,’ Boyd corrected.
Lottie glared. ‘We need to figure that out too. Was it a warning to someone else? See what I’ve done to these two boys? If you don’t do what I say, you’ll be next?’ She stood up straight. She had surprised herself with this conjecture.
‘If it was, that means someone else may be in danger,’ Lynch said. She stood up suddenly. ‘Sorry. Baby pushing down on my bladder. Be back in a minute.’
Lottie sat on the edge of the desk nearest the incident boards and waved the email she had printed off. ‘The state pathologist has sent me the results of the toxicology screens. Both boys had diazepam in their systems. High doses, if I’m reading it correctly.’
‘Valium?’ Kirby said.
‘Yup. Used to subdue them, no doubt.’ Lottie wrinkled her nose in distaste.
‘Jesus, they were just children,’ Boyd said.
‘Apparently it was more than enough to put them straight to sleep,’ Lottie said. ‘However, Jane says that on conclusion of her examinations, she can confirm that neither boy was abused immediately before death.’
‘What kind of sicko are we looking for?’ Kirby said.
‘We need to go back to the beginning. Where were they abducted from? Where were they taken to and where were they killed? The state pathologist confirms they were not murdered where they were found, so we need to trace back to last-known sightings. And keep in mind there may be someone else out there who is in danger.’
Kirby said, ‘I read through all the door-to-door reports. Kevin wasn’t seen at all on Monday evening.’
‘He went out earlier that afternoon to play football with his friends, according to his mother,’ Boyd said.
‘Did he, though?’ Lottie said. ‘His home needs a further search by SOCOs. It’s possible he was killed there.’
‘And if Jen Driscoll wasn’t where she said she was …’ Boyd said.
‘Then we need to do the same forensic analysis of Mikey’s home. Get on to Jim McGlynn immediately.’
‘We need a warrant,’ Boyd said.
‘Do you always have to come up with the problems? Prepare the documents and I want them signed by a judge before the day is out.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Do better than your best,’ she said.
‘I’ll get to it then.’ He slapped his chair against the wall.
Lynch returned as Boyd left the incident room.
Lottie turned to her. ‘Keep on with the search for Hope. That’s one case we can more or less wrap up, once we get her into custody.’
Lynch rolled her eyes, but Lottie kept her thoughts to herself. Enough damage done for one day.
Sixty
Gilly had to wait until the team meeting was over and then she sweet-talked Kirby into accompanying her.
‘It will only be a few minutes,’ she said, driving the squad car out of the yard.
‘A few minutes I don’t have. I’m tasked with the boys’ murder investigations. You should see the mountain of paper—’
‘Kirby! I know what’s involved. I only need a witness with me, and I trust you. This could be nothing, but if this Max lad is there and junked up on drugs, I don’t want to f
ace him on my own. Okay?’
She swerved the car around the corner by the greyhound stadium and drove into the industrial estate. Cutting across the roundabout painted on the road, she sped up the narrow laneway and applied the brakes. Dust rose from the gravel forecourt.
‘You were driving so fast you could have used the flashers,’ Kirby said, clutching the dashboard.
Gilly leaned over and pecked him on the cheek, then fetched her cap from the back seat, slapped it on her head, checked the mirror and jumped out.
‘Come on, slowcoach.’ She walked towards the galvanised door.
‘Wait up,’ Kirby said, and huffed up beside her. He checked his weapon was ready and stepped in front of Gilly. She watched as he cocked his ear to the door and carefully slid it to one side.
Sticking his head around it he said, ‘I’m Detective Larry Kirby. Is anyone there?’
Gilly peered in around him. ‘I heard something.’
‘Like what?’
‘It might just be a cat. Come on, I thought you were in a hurry.’
She followed Kirby as he stepped inside. The air was stifling hot. A cone of light fell from a split in the roofing. Dust danced in its glow. Tyres were stacked along the walls and in the middle of the floor space. She thought she saw a flash of colour behind a pile of tractor tyres.
‘Kirby. Over there.’ She started to run. He pulled her back.
‘Wait. Let me take a look first.’
‘You have the gun. Cover me.’ She broke free of his hold and dashed around the tyres. ‘Oh my God. Kirby, quick. Here.’
Curled in a ball on the oily ground lay a child. Her leggings were dirty and her hair was plastered to her head. Gilly couldn’t see any visible wounds.
‘Is she alive?’ Kirby said.
Max had stuck a plaster on Sean’s damaged nose.
‘That should do until you see a doctor,’ he said, and sat down at the table. He took out a pouch of tobacco and began to roll a cigarette. ‘You want one?’
‘Don’t smoke,’ Sean said. ‘Is it just you and Toby? In the family, I mean?’
‘Nah, we have two little sisters. They go to the community crèche. Toby should be here, though. Do you have any idea where he might be?’
‘I don’t know him,’ Sean explained, ‘but I met him yesterday and he seemed very frightened of something.’
‘Yeah, two of his friends were murdered. That kind of thing would strike terror into anyone.’
‘I know. But … Oh, it doesn’t matter.’
‘Tell me,’ Max lit the taper and inhaled. The sweet smell reminded Sean of the weed he’d once tried with Jason, Katie’s boyfriend. That memory conjured up a whole new heartache.
‘Well, he wouldn’t talk. At all. And when Barry said—’
‘Barry Duffy? What the shite was he doing near my brother?’
The vehemence of Max’s tone caused Sean to shrink a little into himself. He really had to get out of here.
‘Come on, young pup of a guard, tell me what that dick was doing.’
‘He was with me, actually. We were just kicking a ball around the field up the back of the estate. When Barry mentioned that Kevin was dead, Toby looked so scared, I thought he was going to be sick.’
‘What else?’
‘My sister, Chloe, works in Fallon’s bar. She said she met this young boy last night who was scared witless. She thought he’d been about to be picked up by someone in a car, and he was terrified. She walked him part of the way home.’
Max inhaled and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Sean knew he had to leave soon. Max was getting high.
‘What’s a nice girl like your sister doing working in Fallon’s?’
‘You know my sister?’ Sean asked, horrified.
‘I know Fallon’s, and take it from me, you don’t want to be hanging around with the likes of Barry Fuckwit Duffy. He’s bad news. Him and his dysfunctional family.’
Sean thought it was more likely that Max and his family were the dysfunctional ones. He said, ‘Can I go now?’
‘I haven’t kidnapped you or anything. Go on. Get out.’
Sean moved to the door. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘What?’
‘Do you know Toby’s username on PlayStation?’
‘I bought him that, you know,’ Max said. ‘Had a bit of extra work at Christmas. Never played it myself. Used to be a bit hooked on the crack. Having a good time, so I thought.’
Sean wondered if Max was referring to crack cocaine. He looked at the scars on his face and decided not to ask.
‘You have no idea what his username is, do you?’ he said again.
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Because I think Toby needs a friend, and if he hasn’t got one in the real world, maybe I can be one in the virtual world.’
‘You’re a nice kid,’ Max said, ‘but you’re still a pig’s son, sniffing into things that don’t concern you.’
Sean put his hand on the door, ready for a quick escape.
‘Wait a minute.’ Max left the spliff in the ashtray and stood up. ‘If you take a look at the PlayStation, would you find this username you’re talking about?’
Sean’s instinct was to get the hell out of this house. But he remembered Toby’s terror-stricken face.
‘Yeah, sure.’
Max pushed out past him. ‘It’s upstairs. In the bedroom.’
Kirby put his hand on Gilly’s shoulder.
‘Is she alive?’ he repeated.
‘I … I’m not sure.’
She held two fingers to the child’s neck, and the little girl’s eyes flashed open.
‘Mummy?’ The voice was faint. Gilly moved slightly to block out the light falling behind her. It was blinding the child.
‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’ She lifted the little girl into her arms.
‘Lexie,’ the child said weakly. ‘I want my mummy.’
‘What’s your mummy’s name?’
‘Hope.’
Gilly looked back at Kirby. ‘This must be Hope Cotter’s daughter.’
‘Does she need a doctor?’ he said.
‘I think she might be dehydrated. I need to take her to the hospital.’
‘She’ll get lost in the system,’ Kirby said, locking his gun into his shoulder holster. ‘We’ll take her to the station. Might be a way to entice her mother out of hiding. First, I want to give this place a quick scout.’
‘We need to get her out of this heat.’
But Kirby was directing his bulky frame towards the portioned area to the rear of the unit. ‘Looks like an old office. And someone’s been using it as a place to kip down. Sleeping bag and cans here.’
Gilly stood up with Lexie in her arms, the child’s head on her shoulder. She could feel the little body trembling.
‘Come back later. Hope isn’t here.’
‘Nor your Max. I wonder if the two of them know each other. Maybe they’re connected in some way.’
Outside in the blazing sunlight, Kirby opened the door for Gilly and she slipped into the back seat.
‘Where is your mummy, darling?’ Gilly asked as Kirby drove them to the station.
Lexie looked at her directly, eyes like saucers. ‘The bad person took her.’
Sixty-One
The room was tiny. Two single beds. An unvarnished hand-made table with nails sticking out held the console. Sean reckoned Toby had to sit on one of the beds to play his games. There was no wardrobe or dresser. Clothes were stacked on a chair in the corner.
A small locker stood between the beds. It was overflowing with plastic bottles, and the floor around one bed was littered with food wrappers. He suspected this was Max’s, while the neat one with the Chelsea duvet cover was Toby’s. He suddenly felt sorry for the way he’d been complaining to his mam about needing to have his own space. God, he didn’t know how lucky he was.
Max picked up a scratched controller from the floor. ‘Here. See if you can find anything.’<
br />
Sean started clicking and the screen filled with a paused game. He recognised it as FIFA 2012. Way out of date. He clicked on Toby’s profile.
‘You find it?’
Glancing over his shoulder, Sean saw that Max was lying on his bed, arms behind his head, eyes shut.
He snapped a photograph of the profile with his phone camera. Then he opened the chat on the PlayStation and photographed the messages without reading them. He clicked back to the game and snoozed the screen. As he turned to leave, Max jumped off the bed and tugged his arm.
‘Let me go,’ Sean said, his whole body still hurting from the fall.
Max’s crooked and broken teeth were up against his face.
‘I’m warning you, don’t get Toby in any trouble.’ He let Sean’s arm fall away. ‘And if you know what’s good for you, run a million miles from Barry Duffy.’
Gilly carried the child to the family room. That was a misnomer. It was just the least intimidating interview room.
Kirby went to phone the duty doctor to have Lexie checked over. They’d already dispatched a squad car to the Cotter address. But Gilly didn’t think Hope would be there. Something had happened in that old depot. Something to terrify a four-year-old girl.
Entering with a small juice carton, Kirby poked the straw into it before crouching down and holding it out for Lexie. Gilly was surprised to see the child reaching for the drink.
‘Doctor is on his way. I’ve sent a team to carry out a full search of the unit and to take away the bedding for analysis purposes,’ he said.
‘Right,’ Gilly said, stroking the child’s hair from her eyes as she drank greedily. ‘Poor thing is parched.’
‘Hungry.’ Two frightened eyes looked up at her.
‘Will you get her something to eat?’
‘Nuggets,’ the little girl said.
‘I’ll send out one of the lads,’ Kirby said. ‘I’d say you’d love a Happy Meal. Would I be right?’
A series of nods provided his answer. He stood up and moved to the door.
Gilly said, ‘Did anyone working near the depot see or hear anything?’
Tell Nobody: Absolutely gripping crime fiction with unputdownable mystery and suspense Page 23