Final Betrayal

by Patricia Gibney

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To face Lottie Parker. And I’m warning you, you’d better tell her what you know.’

  * * *

  Lottie walked to the incident room and, ignoring the bowed heads of the detectives and uniformed officers working hard on the murder investigations, studied the board.

  Before and after photographs of the four victims. Killed in twos. She felt her heart sink deep down in her chest, and blood pounded a sinister beat behind her eyes. The photos blurred. Had the person who’d ended the lives of these young women so violently now got their hands on her daughters? That thought made her sway, and she leaned back against the desk. Surely not. No, she was certain that Bernie Kelly had taken them, and that she wasn’t the killer they were looking for.

  Kelly could not be responsible for those murders because she had been behind locked doors when the first two girls were killed. So which was worse? The idea that the unknown murderer could have her girls or that Bernie Kelly had them? She knew what Kelly was capable of. Hadn’t she murdered indiscriminately to a point where she’d drowned her daughter’s best friend in a barrel of water? A girl who’d turned out to be Bernie’s own niece.

  Lottie sighed deeply and tried to figure out which way to turn next while she waited for McKeown to trace their phones.

  Boyd. She needed his wisdom and clear thinking. She turned to leave the room.

  ‘Lottie, I came as soon as I heard.’ Boyd grabbed her by the arm and steered her out to the corridor.

  ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes,’ she tried to joke, but sobs lodged in her throat and she gulped them down. She leaned against the wall while he tipped up her chin. ‘How did you hear?’

  ‘Kirby swung by the hospital and brought me here. I tried to call you,’ he said. ‘Why have you got your phone switched off?’

  ‘Don’t talk to me about phones. Mine is lost and I got one from the stores that I can’t figure out how to work.’ She paused. ‘You shouldn’t be out of hospital.’

  ‘Don’t, Lottie.’ He held up a bandaged hand. ‘I’m a little bruised, and very sore, but nothing life-threatening. Tell me about Katie and Chloe.’

  She bit her lip. Emotion welled up and she was afraid that if she spoke she would break down. And she had no time for that.

  ‘Go on,’ he said gently.

  She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, unable to utter a word. She felt his arms go around her shoulders and he pulled her into his chest.

  ‘Oh Boyd.’

  ‘Shh. It’s delayed shock. You’ve been through a traumatic experience. Your girls are missing. Cry if you need to.’

  ‘I think Bernie Kelly might have taken them.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Both their phones are off. McKeown is trying to get a trace on them.’ She told Boyd what she knew so far.

  ‘Perhaps they’re still down at the courthouse?’

  ‘Kirby said it’s all sealed off and onlookers have been moved on. Bernie Kelly visited my mother the other night and made a threat to harm my children. That’s why I’ve had a squad car parked outside and a taxi taking Sean and Chloe to school.’

  ‘But you said a coin fell out of Louis’ pocket. That’s not Kelly’s calling card. That’s … you know … from our current murder sites.’

  ‘I don’t know what to think.’

  ‘We’ll put our heads together and come up with a plan.’

  ‘You need to rest.’

  ‘Like hell I do. We have to find your girls.’

  She linked his arm and went back into the incident room. She felt that if anyone could find her daughters, it was Boyd.

  Moments later, Acting Superintendent McMahon burst through the door.

  ‘I thought you two were under medical observation,’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’

  He looked more dishevelled than Lottie had ever seen him, and stress lines inked their way around his eyes like dinosaurs’ feet.

  ‘We are perfectly able to work,’ she said, though her voice was a low whisper.

  ‘Right then. This major emergency just got worse. Apparently there are gas lines at risk, though it should be sorted in the next few hours, and we still haven’t recovered all the bodies. I have a list of the dead identified on site, and their families need to be informed. I also want to know who is still missing and presumed dead at this stage. The chief fire officer is in charge of an incident centre at the council offices and I’m his second in command, along with the county manager. We’re still awaiting the lifting equipment from Dublin so we can see what’s beneath the crane and discover why and how this accident happened.’

  Lottie stared at her boss. She could do with a quarter of his adrenaline at this moment.

  ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘we have another situation.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘There’s still a murderer on the loose. Four young women and we haven’t a single clue.’

  Boyd said, ‘We’ve been working flat out on it. Conor Dowling is our number one suspect, but he may have been killed in the accident.’

  ‘His name is not on the list of dead,’ McMahon said.

  ‘That’s not the situation I’m referring to,’ Lottie said. Exhaustion seeped into her bones, exacerbating the aches, but she remained standing. She had to fight to find her daughters.

  ‘What then? Spit it out.’

  She knew he was going to give her short shrift. ‘I have reason to believe that my daughters, Katie and Chloe, have been abducted.’ Her heart began to palpitate at an alarming rate and she took a couple of slow, deep breaths.

  ‘Explain,’ he said, but he’d already turned his back.

  ‘Sir, they went into town to look for me. They suspected I was caught up in the incident but they didn’t know I was all right because my phone was buried. They met someone there who said she would bring them to me.’

  ‘Parker, I am dealing with at least ten dead people, an unknown number missing, and a possible gas leak with potential to blow this town to kingdom come, and you come in here telling me you can’t find your daughters. Get real. They’ve gone shopping. Went for a drink. Probably smoking dope somewhere. They have been known to do that, am I right?’

  You’re a prick, Lottie thought, but she said, ‘I need to find them. I can’t concentrate on anything else at the moment.’

  ‘Inspector, I am ordering you to get your act together. First, get some sleep. You look like something a cat would find in a bin. Be back here tomorrow morning, and I want the killer of those four young women in a cell.’

  You’re just like a broken record, she thought.

  ‘You’re like a broken record,’ Boyd said. Despite her pain, Lottie smiled. Their synchronicity was astounding at times. ‘We need to take Inspector Parker seriously when she says her girls are missing. We have reason to believe that Bernie Kelly may have abducted them.’

  ‘The same Kelly woman who is related to you, Parker. This is family stuff. I don’t intend to waste garda resources on it. There’s a country-wide alert for Kelly. She will be found. And, may I add, you still have a lot of explaining to do on that score.’

  ‘That rest you mentioned,’ Lottie said. ‘I’m going to take it now.’

  McMahon stared at her with his jaw hanging open. She turned and left. Boyd followed.

  In her office, she bumped into McKeown.

  ‘Any news on the phones?’

  ‘Nothing. The last triangulation I can get – off the record, only because I know someone working with the network provider – puts them in the vicinity of Gaol Street, where the accident happened.’

  ‘And nothing further?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Okay. What do we do next?’

  Boyd said, ‘From what we’ve learned about Bernie Kelly, she will want you to know she has the girls. She will make contact.’

  ‘So you think we should sit and wait?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

&n
bsp; ‘But if she tries to ring me, I’ve no phone. Unless …’

  ‘What?’ Boyd and McKeown spoke together.

  ‘My mother. She visited her already. She may try to do so again.’

  Kirby walked into the office. ‘You’re forgetting one thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It may not be Kelly who has the girls.’

  Behind him, Leo Belfield trailed in, his head low, his demeanour that of a condemned man.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Lottie said.

  Leo shrugged his arms out of his coat. ‘Gee, but it’s hot in here.’ He slumped into the nearest chair. ‘If it is Bernie, I think she’s just trying to get your attention.’

  ‘She certainly has it now, so where is she?’

  Boyd said, ‘You need to find your phone.’

  ‘Or you can have your number directed to the new phone,’ Kirby said. ‘McKeown can do that.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Lottie said. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Why hadn’t she thought of a lot of things.

  She turned her attention to Belfield. ‘Has she made contact with you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And you’ve seen no sign of her anywhere?’

  ‘No.’

  Lottie paced up and down the office, the motion making her head feel worse. ‘She’s out there with no mode of transport, no money and—’

  ‘She might have money.’

  Stopping in front of Belfield, Lottie stared down at the top of his head. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘My wallet. All my cash was taken. The cards are still in it, but no—’

  ‘And you never thought to tell me that nugget of information before now?’

  ‘You never asked.’

  ‘Jesus.’ Lottie pulled on the ends of her hair. ‘And you’re an NYPD captain? God give me strength.’

  Belfield just shrugged and kept his head down.

  ‘Your number has been redirected to the new phone,’ McKeown said.

  Lottie pulled the phone from her pocket to make sure it had battery charge. It seemed okay. What to do now? Wait? She couldn’t do that.

  ‘Boyd, do you still have your phone?’

  He tapped his trouser pocket. ‘Yes, though the screen is smashed.’

  ‘You have Cynthia Rhodes’ mobile number?’

  He squinted between the cracks and brought up his contacts. ‘Yeah. Why?’

  ‘Phone her. See if she knows anything.’

  ‘What would she know?’

  ‘She’s a journalist.’

  Boyd hit a number and moved to his desk. Lottie didn’t listen in. She concentrated on Belfield.

  ‘Leo, she must have said something to you.’

  ‘She only wanted to see the old family house. I’m sorry, Lottie. I can’t help you.’

  Boyd held up a hand as he ended his call. ‘Cynthia says she’ll try to put something on the nine o’clock news bulletin, but she can’t guarantee it.’

  ‘McMahon will blow a gasket,’ Kirby said.

  ‘Fuck him,’ Lottie said.

  *

  I took them. I was minding my own business watching the mayhem from the street across the road from the courthouse accident and saw an opportunity. The garda detail outside the Parker residence had been reassigned. The girls were more than anxious to come and see if their mother was okay. Telling them not to make a fuss and to think of their brother and the baby was a master stroke. Maybe Lottie has died in the accident. I hope not. I want her to suffer the loss of her two girls. I want to see her pain when she finds her dear daughters with their throats slit. That will teach her.

  At least the banging has stopped. I hope they’re asleep. There is no way out of that room and no one to hear them. I have to leave them for a little while. But I will be back, and then I can put the rest of my plan into motion. Then everyone will see why they should have noticed me. I am not invisible.

  Fifty

  Lottie sat up all night waiting. But no news came through on the whereabouts of Katie and Chloe, or Bernie Kelly. Louis was restless, missing his mother. Sean locked himself in his room and she hadn’t the energy to argue with him. Rose eventually dozed on Katie’s bed, keeping one eye on the baby.

  In the kitchen, Boyd made fresh coffee. They said nothing. There was nothing to say. Cynthia had succeeded in getting a thirty-second segment aired on the news last night. It played on a loop on the national news app.

  Lottie had rung every one of the girls’ friends from Sean’s phone until it ran out of credit and she had to buy more online. It was as if her daughters had vanished into the proverbial thin air. Her heart was breaking into tiny pieces and she had no idea how to stop it disintegrating. Before Adam died she’d made him a promise that she would safeguard their children. And what had she done since? Constantly put them in harm’s way. All because of her damn job and her complex heritage. She tightened her hands into fists and scrunched them into her eyes.

  Boyd placed two steaming mugs of coffee on the table and spooned in a copious amount of sugar. ‘Drink up. You need to sustain your energy. At least until Katie and Chloe are home.’

  ‘And when will that be, Boyd?’ She ran her fingers over the coarse wool of Chloe’s school sweater. Lifted it to her nose and inhaled her daughter’s scent.

  He didn’t answer. Just sat there in silence, his bruised and cut face mirroring her own. When he put his arms around her, she rested her head on his shoulder, letting him soothe her with soft words. The beat of his heart was the only comfort she could endure.

  The first rays of light broke through the dawn and the magpies fluttered their wings in the trees and cawed louder than the crows. Lottie stood, folded away Chloe’s sweater, poured the cold coffee down the sink and went to wake her mother.

  * * *

  Kirby arrived at work early on Friday morning. Since Gilly’s death, his sleep pattern was just one long night of wakefulness. He’d found his last clean shirt and bagged everything from the floor, with the intention of dropping it into the launderette later in the day.

  He and Sam McKeown walked from the station to the accident area to witness the rescue work. Once there, it was clear that it was now a recovery mission. The lifting equipment had arrived on site and already the main stem of the fallen crane had been lifted onto the back of a trailer.

  ‘Tragic,’ McKeown said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

  Kirby turned up the collar of his jacket and zipped it to his neck. The air was cold and sharp. Inky clouds masked the sky. The site was already a mud bath; they could do without more rain.

  Dipping awkwardly under the cordon tape, he grunted when McKeown easily swung his leg over it. Gilly had been telling him to lose weight, but he’d ignored her and she’d never seriously pressed him. But now he thought maybe he should take her ghost whispers to heart and do something about it.

  Approaching Chief Fire Officer Cox, Kirby said, ‘Any more bodies recovered?’

  The man tipped his hard hat. ‘Two. ID’d informally as Cyril Gill and Bob Cleary. We’re just about ready to remove that section of crane and see if anyone else was caught under it.’

  ‘Anything we can do?’ McKeown said.

  ‘Stay out of my way, if you don’t mind,’ Cox said. ‘And you’re not allowed on site without the correct safety gear.’

  Kirby had spied a man in a hi-vis jacket working feverishly to one side of the courthouse, lifting and hauling bricks. He donned the hard hat handed to him by a fire officer and walked towards him.

  ‘How’s it going?’

  The man lifted his head. He was panting with the exertion of his work. ‘Slowly. There’s a network of tunnels below here and I think someone might be buried.’

  ‘Why don’t you get some help?’

  Standing upright, the man glared at Kirby. His face was framed by a swathe of black curls peeking out from the confines of his hard hat. ‘My workmates are dead, or haven’t you noticed that a big fucking crane collapsed on top of the site?’


  ‘Why don’t you wait until the recovery moves to this side?’ Kirby offered.

  ‘Would you ever piss off?’ The man shook his head and bent down to continue his labour.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Kirby said.

  ‘Who wants to know?’ The man kept working, his gloved hands tugging and pulling pieces of timber from the pile.

  ‘Detective Larry Kirby.’

  He stalled his work, poised like a statue. Hands outstretched, back humped. Then slowly he stood upright and turned. His face was smeared with dirt, his eyes like dark bullets that could pierce metal.

  ‘So you’re the guy who’s been sniffing around my ex.’

  Kirby leaned his head to one side, studying the man. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Now you’re going to tell me you don’t know her.’

  Looking around for support, he saw McKeown still chatting with the chief fire officer. ‘Know who?’

  The man sneered. ‘She’s a bit of all right, isn’t she?’

  Kirby stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Tony Keegan. Megan Price is my ex-wife.’

  Kirby took a step backwards. He felt the need to get away from Keegan. Something about his eyes.

  ‘There’s nothing going on, if you must know.’ Why was he trying to explain?

  ‘You’re welcome to her,’ Keegan said. ‘Keeps her off my back. Can I carry on doing what I was at before you interrupted me?’

  ‘Sure.’ Kirby watched the man return to his work. ‘Who do you think might be buried down there?’

  ‘My friend.’

  ‘Who might that be?’

  Keegan kept working. ‘Does the name Conor Dowling ring any bells?’

  It sure did. ‘Why do you think he’s under there?’

  ‘Because I can’t find him anywhere else. His mother was on to me this morning. Frantic. No one to make her breakfast. Stupid wagon. How did she manage for the last ten years?’

  How indeed? Kirby made his way back over the rubble towards McKeown.

  As they walked up the street, McKeown said, ‘If Dowling is buried under that lot, what will it mean for the murder investigations?’