Buried Angels

by Patricia Gibney

  ‘What did you do then?’ Lottie had read the report and knew it was Gavin who’d puked.

  ‘It looked like a headless zombie. We ran back to the bridge and I called 999. That’s it. We waited for the guards and then we were brought to the station until our mothers came for us and we gave our statements.’

  Lottie could see that Tamara had paled beneath her bronzer.

  ‘Why are you making him relive it like this?’ Tamara said.

  ‘I’m okay.’ Gavin shrugged off her hand.

  ‘Do you and Jack fly the drone every morning?’ Lottie repeated her earlier question.

  ‘Most.’

  ‘And evenings?’

  ‘Not really. Sometimes we do.’

  ‘Did you notice anyone else around this morning, or yesterday maybe?’ Lottie said. ‘Do you think you might have disturbed anyone?’

  The boy blanched. ‘You mean we might have seen the killer? Or ended up dead?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m trying to establish a timeline of the events of this morning and the days leading up to it.’

  ‘I saw no one. Unless there’s anything else on Jedi’s camera. You have it. Check it out.’

  ‘We will,’ Kirby said.

  ‘This is a quiet area,’ Tamara said. ‘You wouldn’t think it, but most people here work in Dublin. Gone early in the morning, home late, and in all night. Very quiet.’

  ‘This is my number,’ Lottie said, passing the woman her card. ‘If Gavin remembers anything at all, please call me.’

  ‘Sure thing.’ Tamara clutched the card with her long red talons.

  Gavin said, ‘Is Jack okay?’

  ‘Like you, he’s still in shock,’ Lottie said.

  Tamara followed them to the door. ‘I’m sorry. For earlier. Being a bitch and all. I am very protective of Gavin. His father died when he was a baby. Heart attack. I am all he’s got.’

  ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Lottie said, knowing just how hard it was to bring up children single-handedly.

  ‘Keep an eye on him,’ Kirby said.

  ‘Do you think he’s in danger? Because of what he found?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Lottie said, ‘but there’s no harm in being more vigilant than normal. And ring me if you notice anything unusual, or if he remembers anything else.’

  ‘I will. And that stuff in there …’ Tamara nodded to the sitting room, ‘it’s all gifted. Just in case you think I stole it.’

  ‘Of course,’ Kirby said, and Lottie shoved him ahead of her out of the door.

  Seventeen

  Back at the station, Lottie had no time to get stuck into her paperwork. Jane Dore rang to say she’d completed her preliminary examination of the torso. Lottie fetched her car and flew along the motorway to Tullamore Hospital, where the mortuary was located.

  She parked up in the last empty space she could find and immediately thought of Boyd. This hospital was where he spent several hours a week for his treatment. She locked the car, her heart aching. She wasn’t sure if she believed in a God any more, but she silently prayed that he would let Boyd get better. Her prayers had gone unanswered with Adam.

  ‘You owe me one,’ she whispered to the sky.

  The morgue was at the end of a winding corridor, the odour stronger the further she walked. She thought she’d be used to the smell by now, but it clawed at the back of her throat, and she fetched a mouth mask from the supply cabinet. The Dead House mortuary was aptly named, even though it had been modernised ten years ago.

  Lottie stood with Jane in her office as the state pathologist perused her notes.

  ‘The torso on the tracks is definitely female.’

  ‘I gathered that,’ Lottie said impatiently.

  ‘I’m doing you a favour here,’ Jane said. ‘No need to be cranky.’

  ‘Sorry.’ There was no point in having the pathologist on the wrong side of the fence. ‘It’s just that it’s getting late and I’ve to keep on top of Sean’s homework. He has exams and I’m certain he’s way behind on his schoolwork.’ She was rambling on because she didn’t want to think about the butchered girl lying on a table in the cutting room.

  ‘How is Sean?’ Jane said.

  ‘He has his dark moods, but he’s doing well considering all that’s happened over the last few years.’

  ‘And Detective Sergeant Boyd? Is his treatment working?’

  ‘I hope so. He wants an overnight cure, but you and I know that won’t happen. He’s so impatient, it’s annoying.’

  Jane smiled.

  ‘What?’ Lottie raised an eyebrow quizzically.

  ‘You and Boyd,’ Jane said. ‘You’re so alike. When are you giving me an excuse to buy a hat?’

  ‘I can’t imagine you in a hat other than the hood of a forensic suit.’

  ‘Then you don’t know me at all,’ Jane said, studying her notes.

  ‘We really need to make time for that coffee, don’t we?’

  ‘Yes, but another few years waiting for coffee is okay by me.’

  Sighing, Lottie thought how she had no real friends any more. Between trying to keep tabs on her children and staying up to date with her work schedule, she never seemed to have time for anyone else. Other than Boyd, that was. Or did she delegate Boyd further down her list of priorities too? Now was not the time to consider the implications of that scenario.

  ‘How about Saturday?’ she said, hoping Jane would say no.

  ‘I can’t do Saturday. I have a date.’

  ‘The same guy?’

  ‘Have you ever known me to date the same guy twice?’

  Lottie wasn’t sure how to answer. Truthfully, she knew little about the pathologist’s private life.

  ‘Let’s get on with the report, shall we?’ Jane said.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘As I was saying, the victim is a girl. I’d estimate she was aged between seven and twelve.’

  Lottie felt her stomach somersault. She couldn’t bear to think of a child being mutilated in such a barbaric way. ‘Oh, the poor little angel. This is terrible.’

  ‘The torso was almost defrosted by the time it arrived here, thanks to the unusually hot weather. I’ve sent samples to the lab.’

  ‘How did she die?’ Lottie wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. She could feel the blood draining from her face.

  ‘It’s tough. Kids always are,’ Jane said. ‘Try to detach yourself.’

  ‘Not possible.’ Lottie gulped, her voice unsteady. ‘Someone killed this little girl, cut her up and dumped her body. Part of her body.’

  ‘The other body parts are being sent to me, so I’ll know more when I get them. You still don’t have her head, but the damage to the bones in the neck leads me to believe she was strangled and then decapitated.’

  ‘You can tell that, even though the head was sawn off?’

  ‘It wasn’t sawn off, but yes, I can. There’s enough of the hyoid bone present to prove she was strangled.’

  ‘If it wasn’t sawn off, then how?’

  ‘A single chop with an axe or a similar type of blade.’

  Lottie felt her stomach churn. ‘Tell me she was dead at the time, right?’

  Jane nodded without answering.

  ‘How long has she been dead?’

  ‘The short answer is, I don’t know.’ Jane consulted her notes. ‘It’s only preliminary at the moment. I have a multitude of tests to run yet, so don’t push too hard or I might give you a wrong diagnosis.’

  ‘You can’t diagnose a dead person.’

  Jane laughed. ‘You are awake.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Lottie knew the pathologist had caught her yawning. ‘Long, hard weekend.’

  ‘Boyd must be better.’ Jane winked.

  ‘His mother died. I was over in the west for the funeral. Got back late last night.’ She’d talk about anything to keep from thinking of the dead child.

  ‘Give my condolences to Boyd. I didn’t know.’

  ‘It’s okay. She died suddenly. Heart att
ack. It leaves Boyd in a predicament over his sister, though.’

  ‘Why so? She’s in her early thirties, isn’t she?’

  ‘She is, but it’s a long story. I’ll tell you over that coffee,’ Lottie said, wondering if they would ever get to make the time. ‘Can you tell me anything else about the body?’

  ‘I’ve sent the stomach contents for analysis. There wasn’t much. The body was dismembered soon after she was murdered and frozen straight away. There’s a skein of skin missing from her lower back. It’s more than likely still in the freezer where she was kept.’

  ‘Why? I don’t follow.’

  ‘You own a freezer, yes?’

  Lottie nodded.

  ‘If you put raw meat in to freeze and leave it there for months, or even years, it will adhere to the surface of the freezer. When you try to extract it, part of the outer layer may be left behind.’

  ‘Do you think she was frozen for years?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jane picked up a small plastic bag from a tray and handed it over.

  ‘What’s this?’ Lottie turned the bag over in her hand. Inside was a strip of paper with illegible ink marks.

  ‘The sort of dated tag that’s stuck on a plastic freezer box or bag. I figure the body was in the bottom of the freezer and containers were placed on top of it. They were probably never moved until the body was extracted. It may give you an idea of how long she’s been in a particular freezer, but she could also have been moved to a different one. It’s a long shot.’

  Lottie agreed with Jane’s logic. ‘I can’t decipher it.’

  ‘I put it under the microscope. It’s written in black ink, probably a ballpoint pen. I’ll have it analysed, though I can’t guarantee anything.’

  ‘Will that tell us a date?’

  ‘No, but I could read the date under the microscope.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The twelfth of June 1997.’

  ‘Jesus, she’s been dead for twenty years if that’s the case.’

  Jane shook her head. ‘All it tells you is that something was placed in a freezer with that date attached. And the body was put in the freezer either before or after it.’

  ‘Where did you find the label?’

  ‘Just above her buttocks.’

  Lottie stared hard at the piece of paper. ‘It’s possible it has nothing to do with the time of the child’s death.’

  ‘It is, but so far it’s all you’ve got. I did get some fibres that I’ve sent to the lab. Could be clothing she was wearing at the time of her murder.’

  ‘Or they could be from her killer.’

  ‘Or they could be carpet fibres. Let’s not speculate at the moment. I’ve taken a swab for DNA comparisons also. And an interesting thing …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There were some flecks of paint on the torso and some on the railway sleepers. McGlynn did a good job.’

  ‘Really?’ Lottie was curious. ‘Why are flecks of paint relevant to a body that might have been frozen twenty years ago? They must have come from something on the tracks.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Jane said. ‘They’re tiny blue flecks. Three in total. One on the body, two on the sleeper.’

  Lottie bit the inside of her mouth, thinking. ‘Any idea what it could be?’

  ‘No. All sent for analysis in any case. Okay?’

  ‘Sure. Let me know as soon as you have results.’

  Watching the pathologist scroll through her report, Lottie was thankful for McGlynn’s meticulousness and Jane’s professionalism. She didn’t know how she would cope if she had to dissect a child’s body. That made her think of what type of person could kill and dismember a child. Too awful to dwell on. She handed back the evidence and turned to leave.

  ‘If we had the head, it would help identification,’ Jane said. ‘And there’s one other thing …’

  Pausing at the door, Lottie hoped the pathologist had good news.

  ‘You’re not going to like this.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The hand you brought in … it doesn’t belong to the torso. It’s that of an adult male.’

  Eighteen

  Following the altercation with the cat and a visit to the A&E, Faye had to go home and lie down. Her hand and face were throbbing, and the pain was even worse after she’d showered and carefully bathed her wounds. Jeff was standing in the bedroom doorway watching her.

  ‘I don’t understand why you left it there like that,’ she said as she plumped up the pillows on the bed in their one-room flat.

  ‘You were freaking out. I had to leave it somewhere while I decided what to do with it. It just feels weird, finding it in my aunt’s house.’ He sat on the bed.

  ‘You told me you’d dumped it. I thought you meant in a bin.’

  ‘What else was I supposed to say? Jesus, Faye. I wish you’d never found it.’

  ‘Me too. But if it’s real, who is it? And why was it there?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s fake, maybe it’s not, but it’s too scary to think about.’ He paused. ‘How are you feeling?’ He raised her hand to his lips, but she snatched it away quickly.

  ‘I’m fine. The injection was the worst thing.’

  When he eventually stopped fussing, Faye said, ‘Honestly, tell me why you think a skull was left behind the wall in your aunt’s house.’

  ‘Please, Faye. Stop talking about it.’ He got up from the bed. ‘I’ve had a rough day and you’ve had a horrific one. Just drink your tea and have a nap.’

  ‘I think we should tell the guards.’

  ‘No. We can’t be wasting their time.’ He turned towards the door.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I have to do a run for my boss. Up to Dublin and back. To make up the time I lost this morning. I should be home by midnight.’

  ‘I don’t want to stay here alone. That cat scared the shit out of me.’

  ‘Thought the skull scared you more?’

  ‘Yeah, but you told me not to talk about that.’

  ‘Look, hun, I have to work. Try to have a good long nap. Okay?’ He smiled, leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. She made to draw him down to her, but he was out the door before she could wrap her arms around him.

  The tea was insipid. She wouldn’t mind a proper drink, but he hadn’t offered her one, and anyway, she was pregnant. At the thought of her baby, she cradled her tummy with her uninjured hand and tried to think happy thoughts. Like painting the nursery yellow because they didn’t know if they were having a boy or a girl.

  Now, though, the thought of that room being decorated for their new baby was tainted by the image imprinted in her mind of the mad cat jumping out and attacking her. She didn’t think she could ever erase that. As if in protest, her cheek stung and her hand throbbed. She had to do something. And this was one time where she was going to defy Jeff.

  Picking up her phone, she googled the number for Ragmullin garda station. Before she made the call, she scrolled through Twitter for the latest news. What she saw caused her to bolt out of the bed. She pulled on a light cotton dress, the nearest thing to hand, dragged a long cardigan over it and shoved her feet into a pair of trainers. She checked the phone again. The news of the discovery of a torso was everywhere. How had she missed it? Her stomach churned and her baby fluttered against the wall of her womb.

  A headless torso had been found on the railway tracks.

  She’d found a skull.

  The threads began to stitch together.

  She picked up her bag, dropped her phone inside and left without ringing or texting Jeff. He was not going to like it, but she had to tell the police.

  Nineteen

  On the way back from the morgue, Lottie called Boyd.

  ‘I’m heading to Ragmullin later on,’ he said flatly.

  She thought of how the trauma of his mother’s death on top of his treatment must be affecting him.

  ‘I just wanted to hear your voice,’ she said.

  ‘Y
ou sound upset. What’s happened? Are the kids okay? Little Louis flying around dragging everything out of cupboards?’

  She could hear the whine of an engine in the background and wasn’t sure if it was her own car or if Boyd was driving too. She could hardly see out through the windscreen, her tears blinding her.

  ‘Mine are fine. It’s a little girl, Boyd.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The new investigation.’

  ‘Oh shit.’ His voice stalled before he said, ‘Are you talking about a murder or an assault?’

  ‘A frozen body. Dismembered. Found in the canal this morning. No, that’s not right. The torso was found on the railway tracks, and a leg in the canal. We have divers looking for the rest of the body. She was so small. What type of monster does that to a defenceless little girl?’

  ‘Monster is the right word. Have you checked the missing persons database?’

  She sniffed and wiped her nose with her sleeve while indicating for the slip road to take her off the motorway. ‘Jane thinks the body had been frozen for some time.’

  ‘I thought Jane dealt in facts, not hypotheses.’

  Lottie smiled. Trust Boyd to bring her back to reality. There was no point in getting upset. Emotion could only hinder her investigation. ‘She found a tag, a label, attached to the skin. It was dated June 1997.’

  ‘Oh,’ Boyd said. Lottie knew he understood the enormity of her task. He continued, ‘Sounds like a historical case. You’ll have some job going back over old files.’

  ‘It might be on PULSE. The historic files were transferred to the database, I think.’

  ‘You should also check local and national newspaper reports for that year; you might strike lucky, and it could be quicker. Yeah, try the local papers if PULSE turns up nothing.’

  ‘Thanks, Boyd. I knew you could help.’

  ‘I’ll get back to Ragmullin tonight. Mind yourself. See you shortly,’ he said.

  Lottie was composed by the time she reached the station, though her heart was still thumping loudly, and she knew that if anyone looked crooked at her she’d either chew their ear off or burst into tears.