The Stolen Girls

by Patricia Gibney

  Lottie debated turning on her heel and getting as far away as possible. Or at least calling for back-up. Common sense disappeared.

  At the door to Block A, Russell stopped and turned. Lottie could see him grinning when he noticed she was following him.

  ‘Mimoza’s in a brothel,’ she blurted, determined to wipe the smile off his face.

  Bingo!

  ‘What are you talking about?’ His face blanched.

  ‘Right here in Ragmullin,’ she said.

  ‘I’d no idea. Is that where she is now? Oh, that poor boy. Surely she hasn’t got him with her?’

  Chewing on the inside of her lip, Lottie wondered if this was some grand act he was putting on for her benefit. She had a feeling he knew exactly what she was talking about.

  ‘Are you providing girls to this brothel?’

  He fiddled with his keys, unable to meet her gaze. ‘Detective Parker, you do not want to go down that road.’

  ‘What road?’ she asked crisply. She had no time for games now.

  He stepped into her personal space. He was so close, she was sure she could smell what he’d had for breakfast.

  ‘I’m calling for back-up,’ she said, tapping her phone. ‘I don’t like your threatening tone.’

  ‘No need. Come in and I’ll see if I can find that file.’ He headed for the door.

  Lottie sighed. At last she was getting somewhere. ‘Okay. You’d better be quick, though.’

  At the bottom of the stairs, he looked back over his shoulder. ‘And I need to discuss your husband’s antics.’

  ‘What the—’

  ‘There is a connection between him and that little whore Mimoza.’ He marched up the stairs.

  Lottie stared up after him. What connection? She looked around her wildly. She should leave. Go back to the station. Get reinforcements, backup. Boyd.

  Not yet.

  She had to know what Russell was talking about.

  FIFTY-NINE

  ‘Ah, Jaysus, not you again. Go away.’

  Boyd lit his cigarette and tried to sidestep Jackie. She followed him round the back of the station.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he said.

  ‘Look, Marcus, I’m putting my life at risk talking to you.’

  He stopped walking. She held onto his arm, her fingers pressing into his skin. Glancing around, he expected to see Rat-Face McNally jumping out at him.

  ‘I’ve already got one black eye. I don’t need a match for it.’

  ‘It’s about Maeve Phillips.’

  That stopped him. Throwing down his cigarette, he grabbed her by the shoulder. ‘What do you know about her?’

  ‘Not much. I meant to say it last night, but… you know. I think I drank too much wine.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Her father asked Jamie to look for her.’

  ‘We know that already.’

  ‘But you don’t know why.’

  ‘Okay. I’m listening.’

  ‘Maeve has been kidnapped.’

  ‘Bollocks, Jackie. Why would I believe you?’

  ‘I swear it’s the truth. It has something to do with Jamie and Maeve’s dad’s… activities, call it what you like. I overheard him on the phone this morning.’

  Boyd thought for a moment.

  ‘Human trafficking? For sex?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You’re telling me someone has taken Maeve to put her into sex work?’

  ‘No, you dumb prick. That’s what Frank Phillips and Jamie are up to. But something has gone wrong with their business recently. I don’t know if it’s money or drugs or women. But they have their knickers in a twist over something to do with all the refugees coming into Europe. And I do know that Frank Phillips is extremely worried about his daughter’s whereabouts. He asked Jamie to try and find out where she is.’

  ‘Why won’t Phillips come here himself?’

  ‘He’d be arrested. Then he’d be no use to Maeve. He can operate better from Spain. Anyway, Jamie was already in the country. On other business.’

  ‘What other business?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Boyd walked around in circles digesting what Jackie had told him. He knew there was a warrant out on Phillips for a post-office robbery in Dublin about ten years ago. That was when he’d fled to Spain.

  ‘So Rat-Face McNally is involved in looking for Maeve Phillips.’

  ‘Don’t call him that.’ She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her bag, lit one for Boyd and one for herself. ‘But I think so. He’s only doing what you’re doing. Going round in circles. You need to speak to Frank.’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing. He absconded years ago; I don’t think he’d come back now.’

  Jackie said, ‘It’s his daughter. Look Marcus, I accept that you and I are finished, but I can try to organise things for you to find the girl. And then maybe you can help me get away from Jamie.’

  Boyd looked at the woman who had once been the love of his life. He had to agree that they were finished for good. But he couldn’t let her swim away with the sharks. Even though she was doing it for selfish reasons, something told him she could be jeopardising her own life by helping him.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she said. ‘Let me help you.’

  ‘Thanks, Jackie.’ Boyd took a long, hard drag on his cigarette. ‘We have a team heading up Maeve’s disappearance. It’s at top priority. So if you can get Frank Phillips to talk to us, it would be a great help. And then you can give us whatever info you have on McNally to get him arrested.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll let you know if I can get Frank to agree to speak with you. Then I’ll see what I can rake up on Jamie.’ She reached up and kissed his cheek.

  Boyd watched her walk away, then raced back inside. He had to tell Lottie about this. Hopefully it would take the scowl off her face. Then he remembered she wasn’t there.

  SIXTY

  The fan was whirring incessantly in Dan Russell’s office.

  ‘Tell me about Adam,’ Lottie said. She remained standing. ‘How did you come to the conclusion that Mimoza is linked to him?’

  Russell eyed her speculatively from behind his desk. ‘Show me the photograph. I know you want me to tell you about it.’

  ‘I want you to tell me what the hell is going on in my town. Murdered girls, missing girls, stolen girls. You have something to do with it all and I want to know what.’

  ‘I have nothing to do with it.’

  She slammed the photograph on to his desk and sat down. ‘I’ve no time for games. That’s Adam, as you well know. You served with him in Kosovo. It was taken there.’

  ‘How do you come to that conclusion?’

  ‘The date in the corner. So don’t lie to me. You were there then. Who are these other people with Adam?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  She studied him closely. He was lying.

  He pushed the photo back toward her. ‘Don’t concern yourself with it.’

  ‘The woman is pregnant,’ she said. ‘That young girl looks pregnant too. And the toddler seems terrified. I want to know more about them.’

  Russell pushed back his chair and stood with a sigh.

  ‘Those were bad times in Kosovo. Despicable times. Atrocities were committed. Genocide… ethnic cleansing took many forms. Not just murder. Systematic rape. I don’t know, but I’d guess that woman was a victim of rape and maybe Adam was helping the family, or…’

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘Or he might have been the perpetrator.’

  Lottie jumped up, knocking over her chair. She stared at him. Was this the lie he’d been threatening to expose? She snatched up the photograph. ‘How dare you!’

  He moved around the desk and stood with his face inches from hers.

  ‘You don’t know what that country was like. I’m warning you, if you keep trying to drag me into your outrageous investigations, I will not hesitate to expose what your precious husband was up to.’

/>   ‘You’re bluffing.’

  ‘Don’t push me. A rumour can gather legs, you know. You find Mimoza and her son, and no one has to know about Adam Parker.’

  ‘You’re a liar and a bastard, Russell. An out-and-out bastard.’

  ‘I’ve been called worse.’

  ‘And why do you want Mimoza found so badly? You wouldn’t even acknowledge her existence a few days ago.’

  He hesitated. ‘My company runs this facility. I can’t be seen to be negligent or I’ll lose the contract.’

  ‘That’s bullshit and you know it.’

  ‘I know my business.’

  ‘Really? You lost a girl and her son.’ Lottie wasn’t buying his excuses. Her brain whirred, trying to find an airtight reason to arrest him. Shit, she should have brought Boyd with her. ‘She has a friend. A small, black girl. I want to speak with her. Now.’

  She watched as Russell’s face paled before he quickly regained his deadpan look.

  ‘I don’t know anything about her,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll find her.’ Lottie thought for a moment. ‘What did Adam do that I’m supposed to be so afraid of?’

  ‘If I tell you now, I think it will complicate matters.’

  Making her decision based on nothing other than rage, Lottie took the envelope out of her bag and waved the canvas badge.

  ‘Mimoza brought me this. I believe it was Adam’s name tag.’

  ‘How? Where? The little bitch.’

  Russell made to grab it, but Lottie stepped back, clutching the badge tightly.

  ‘Little bitch? Come on!’ she said. ‘I’ve two unidentified murder victims. Were they living here with Mimoza and Milot?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  Thinking about the murdered girls, Lottie recalled the articles she’d read online. ‘Organ trafficking was rampant in Kosovo during and after the war. The two victims were missing kidneys. You were in Kosovo. Now you’re here.’ She paused. Her thoughts were beginning to line up cohesively. At last. ‘Shit, Russell. Just what the hell are you mixed up in?’

  ‘You need to find Mimoza’s son. That photo you have of Adam – I think Mimoza is the girl in it.’

  Lottie shook her head in confusion. All reasonable thoughts splintered as Russell pointed to the photograph she held in her hand. She looked down at it. The girl who appeared pregnant had eyes similar to Mimoza; even the older woman had the same eyes.

  She said, ‘But she is aged—’

  ‘I’d say about nineteen now.’

  ‘She couldn’t be this girl. The age is all wrong.’

  ‘Not her,’ Russell said.

  He took the photograph from her. Laid it down on the desk. With his index finger he picked out the little girl sitting on the floor beside the two small boys.

  ‘There. That’s Mimoza. If you find her, I won’t release the information I might have about your husband.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Lottie frowned at the photograph. ‘So this older woman is Mimoza’s mother? Why is my husband in this picture? What happened to this family? And why is Mimoza here in Ragmullin now?’

  ‘What do you think your husband was up to in Kosovo? You need to think long and hard before you start hurling accusations at me about illegal organ harvesting and trafficking.’

  Lottie whipped up the photograph and ran to the door.

  ‘You can threaten me all you like, Russell. I’ll be back with that warrant.’

  SIXTY-ONE

  The sun, burning through what was left of the ozone layer, reddened Lottie’s skin. Ignoring the heat, she strode quickly, phone clasped to her ear, trying to make sense of Boyd’s rambling while internally churning up after her encounter with Russell.

  ‘Slow down, Boyd. Where are you?’

  ‘Waiting for you. Lynch and Kirby went on ahead. Uniforms have the scene cordoned off.’

  ‘What scene?’

  ‘Have you been listening at all? There’s another body.’

  ‘Fuck. Who discovered it this time?’ Lottie ran across the canal footbridge and up over the railway bridge. She could see him up ahead, walking in circles outside the station. She kept running.

  ‘I don’t know yet. Call just came in.’

  Out of breath, she reached him. ‘It has to be Petrovci.’

  She was still talking into her phone. Boyd took it out of her hand, pressed the disconnect button and slid it into her shoulder bag.

  ‘Calm down,’ he said.

  ‘How many times have I been told that in the last few days? Each time it just makes me certifiably insane.’ She kept pace with him as they hurried past the cathedral and down the street. ‘Why are we walking?’

  ‘Town is mental. Roadworks everywhere fucking with the traffic. We’re quicker walking.’ He lit a cigarette.

  ‘I’ll have one,’ Lottie said.

  He handed over his. ‘What had Russell to say for himself?’ He lit another cigarette.

  ‘I’ll tell you later.’

  ‘Tell me now.’

  ‘Later, Boyd. Later.’ She could hardly get her own head around Russell’s revelation, let alone try to explain it to someone else.

  They reached the end of the street and took a left turn towards Chloe’s school. Lottie hoped her daughter was studying hard for her exams. She understood the pressure the girl was under – at least she thought she did – so she didn’t keep on about it. She trusted her. Maybe not as much as she had five months ago, though. Chloe had changed. Another thing to deal with. But first she had a body to see.

  ‘Thank God there are no schoolchildren around. But why are the contractors working up here? Jesus, Boyd, they’re all over the town. I thought we had eyes on all the work sites.’

  Traffic was clogged both ways. Horns blaring. Drivers shouting abuse, with no idea that another poor soul had been taken from their midst. They’d probably still shout even if they knew, she thought.

  As they approached the bridge, uniforms were directing the traffic back down the road. White-and-blue crime-scene tape dangled without a flutter. The air hung in a stagnant state of humidity. She thought she smelled the pungent zing of a storm in the air. Hopefully SOCOs could get the scene examined before the deluge began.

  They dipped their heads under the tape. At the top of the bridge Lottie surveyed the activity below. Beside the old lock gates, officers were erecting a tent against a building.

  ‘Maybe it’s a drowning. Or a suicide?’ She couldn’t see a body.

  ‘I know as much as you do.’

  She reached Kirby first. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘There’s an old pump house over there. The contractors use it for storage. Two of the workers were fixing a lock and one of them noticed the body.’

  Behind Kirby, Lynch was taking notes from a tall man who had his back to Lottie. There was a familiarity about his stance, the way he held his head at an angle. Those broad, hardworking shoulders under his hi-vis vest.

  She didn’t need to see his face to know who had found their third body that week.

  * * *

  As if the gods, or indeed the devil himself, had ordained it, angry clouds blotted out the sun and sharp drops of rain spilled from the sky. No one had a jacket or an umbrella.

  We’re all going to get drenched, and worse still, evidence will be washed away, Lottie thought. She stood transfixed as Lynch grilled Andri Petrovci. This was no coincidence. He had been present at the discovery of their two previous murder victims. And here he was again at the scene of another suspicious death. His colleague had his head sunk into his chest, hands deep in his pockets.

  Lottie needed time to gather her momentum to tackle Petrovci. Joining Boyd and Kirby at the entrance to the hastily erected tent, she asked, ‘What’s the story?’

  Kirby said, ‘Deceased female. Found inside the old pump house. From what we can gather from Jack Dermody, Petrovci’s boss over there, she was lying behind an old excavator. They hauled her outside, thinking she could be revived. But one lo
ok at her in daylight, Dermody said, and he knew she was beyond CPR.’

  ‘Did Petrovci touch her?’

  ‘The two of them carried her outside the door. Said the light wasn’t working inside.’

  ‘Contaminating the body again.’ Lottie shook her head. She moved towards Petrovci but Boyd held her back by the arm, his fingers sliding down her wet skin.

  ‘Let Lynch deal with the two of them for now,’ he said. ‘She’s more than capable.’

  ‘And I’m not?’ She swung around, rainwater flying from her hair.

  ‘I’m not saying that and you know it.’ He lifted up the tent flap. ‘We need to see the body.’

  Lottie relented, and they pulled on gloves and overshoes. Before entering, she looked around the scene, spying Cathal Moroney remonstrating with uniformed officers guarding the site. ‘That’s all I need,’ she muttered, making her way into the interior of the tent.

  * * *

  The body lay at an awkward angle, facing skywards, beside the red-brick wall of the old pump building.

  ‘Recognise her?’ Boyd asked.

  Lottie stared. ‘It’s not Maeve,’ she said.

  ‘It’s not Mimoza either.’

  She inched closer, careful not to disturb anything that might incur the wrath of Jim McGlynn and his crime-scene team, though she supposed it was too late now that Petrovci and company had had their hands all over the victim.

  ‘Why wasn’t she buried like the others?’ she murmured.

  The girl’s eyes were closed and her body looked like a discarded rag doll. ‘Wish I could turn her over to see if she was shot in the back like the others. Look at those marks on her face and neck.’

  ‘Bite marks?’

  ‘Looks like it. The first victim had similar marks, though not as violent-looking. Jane got no DNA from the swabs.’ Lottie crouched down for a closer look. ‘Boyd, I think she could be the girl who was with Mimoza the morning she called to my house.’

  ‘Really? But you didn’t get a close look at her, did you?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I’m just saying she could be the same girl.’

  Boyd said, ‘We don’t know the cause of death yet. Maybe she fell into the canal and then dragged herself into the pump house?’