She went to the door and shouted for someone to fetch Boyd and bring water. She sat back down, checked the recorder and waited while Annabelle stared at an invisible spot on the wall.
‘You wanted me?’ Boyd entered the room carrying a pitcher of water and a couple of paper cups. ‘Annabelle! What happened to you?’
Lottie brought him up to date. ‘Are you okay to continue, Annabelle?’
Annabelle drained her cup of water and Boyd refilled it. She sipped, then bit her lip before continuing.
‘Cian came into the kitchen literally drenched from the rain and I could see blood on his hands. I think he’d tried to wash it off, but I’m a doctor, I know blood streaks when I see them. I must’ve been standing with my mouth open, because before I knew it, he’d thumped me in the stomach. When I fell to the ground, he held me down with his foot. I thought he was going to kick my head in, but he changed his mind, hauled me up and grabbed me by the throat. I could smell it on him then. The blood. I could smell it on his skin.’
‘What happened then?’ Lottie asked, keeping her voice low and calm though she wanted to shake the story out of Annabelle.
‘He snarled, like a dog. Told me to keep my mouth shut and then he wouldn’t have to kill me too.’
‘Kill you too? Who did he kill?’
‘I don’t know, but then I heard on the car radio about a suspected murder out in Gaddstown and I had to come here. Am I married to a murderer?’
Lottie eyed Boyd. He looked as incredulous as she felt. ‘Tell me what happened after he told you to say nothing.’
‘He stripped off his clothes and put on a wash, then walked naked up to his study. Not caring if the twins saw him. No matter how he is with me, he usually remains visibly calm to others. Now he’s gone mad. Insane? I don’t know, but he seriously frightened me. What has he done, Lottie?’
‘I intend to find out,’ Lottie said. ‘Where is he now?’
‘At home.’
‘Where are the twins?’
‘At a friend’s house. I waited until they were up and had had their breakfast. Stuck a smile on my face and dropped them off. I couldn’t face going into the surgery, so I drove out to the lake and sat in my car for a few hours deciding what to do. And now I’m here.’
‘Annabelle, we are going to pick Cian up and bring him in for questioning. You have to sign your statement. Then I think you should collect the kids and book into a hotel for tonight.’
‘Why can’t I go home once you get Cian?’
‘We need to interview him and see if we can get evidence to link him to a crime. You will be safer away from home until we have a clearer picture of what we’re dealing with. Do I have permission to enter your house?’
Unhooking a key from her key ring, Annabelle handed it over. ‘You’ll need the alarm code too.’ She called it out and Boyd wrote it down.
‘It’s all my fault,’ she cried. ‘If I had remained faithful, this would never have happened.’
‘Don’t blame yourself. None of us knows what drives someone to alter their behaviour. And Cian is responsible for his.’
Eighty-Four
Once Annabelle had left, Lottie and Boyd returned to the incident room. No sign of McMahon.
Kirby said, ‘We got updated data from Emma’s phone. She made one call after she went missing.’
‘Just the one? To who?’
‘Whom,’ Boyd said.
‘Not now, Boyd. Who did she call?’
‘Natasha Kelly.’
‘Oh. I thought maybe it was someone we could pin her murder on. Looking for moral support, I suppose. Girl talk. When did she make the call?’
‘12.05 p.m. Lasted four minutes and three seconds.’
‘And no other calls? None to her father?’
‘Nope. That’s it. As we couldn’t track the phone before, I reckon she had taken the battery out.’
‘Figures, seeing as we found the SIM card and battery separate from the phone, in the kitchen.’ She thought for a moment. ‘What was so important that Natasha was the only person Emma felt safe enough to contact? We need to interview Natasha Kelly. Have you Emma’s phone data for the night of Tessa Ball’s murder?’
Kirby flicked through the pages. ‘Nothing until the 999 call. Jaysus, I thought youngsters were always on their phones.’
‘They very seldom ring or text any more,’ Lottie said, thinking of her own children. ‘Facebook, Snapchat and WhatsApp. Check out her social media accounts. See if that turns up anything.’
‘Right, boss,’ Kirby said, scratching his head.
Maria Lynch piped up. ‘I checked her Facebook already. Nothing unusual. She had no Twitter account.’
‘Did you check out Natasha’s accounts?’
‘No, but I will.’
Lottie said, ‘We have a development that might answer a few questions about Cathal and Lauren Moroney’s deaths.’
‘At last. Answers.’ Superintendent Corrigan marched in. ‘I’m sick of the media calling us headless chickens. These murders are like an aggressive cancer, spreading too fast. We need to halt it. And I mean today.’
He was gone almost as soon as he had arrived.
‘You heard the man,’ Lottie said. ‘And if Tessa’s murder had to do with land, figure out how much she was worth and who would benefit by wiping out her entire family.’
‘Besides, O’Dowd, Arthur Russell is the last man standing,’ Lynch said.
‘Well find them. Boyd, you come with me.’
‘Do we need backup?’
‘Let’s see who or what we’re dealing with first. Okay?’
Boyd shook his head. ‘Cian O’Shea. Who would believe it?’
Lottie said, ‘Not many, I’m sure. Let’s get to his house before he gets to a solicitor.’
* * *
The house looked grimmer today than Lottie remembered. She got out the key ready to put it in the door.
‘The alarm code. Do you have it ready?’ she asked.
‘In my head,’ Boyd said.
‘Annabelle wasn’t sure it would be activated, but if the keypad is beeping, it’s on.’
Lottie stuck the key in the door and turned it. They stepped onto the black and white diamond-shaped tiles and listened. No beep from the alarm. Not a sound. She crept into the kitchen, looked around quickly. No one. At the door to the utility room, she paused. No sound from the washing machine. She peered in. The door of the machine hung open. Empty.
‘Where did he put the clothes?’ she whispered.
Boyd was looking out at the back garden. ‘There’s a car in the garage. He must be here.’
As she turned to leave, Lottie spied a laundry basket on top of a counter. With protective gloves on her hands, she picked through the clothes. A man’s outer jacket, sweater, shirt, trousers and underwear. ‘Where did he leave his shoes? We’ll need to bag this lot once we’ve found him.’
Back in the hall, she wondered if maybe they should get a warrant. No. It’d be fine. At the top of the stairs, she saw the door with the keypad. Open. She raised an eyebrow at Boyd, questioning. But then she realised that Cian would have no need to lock his study during the day while his family was out.
With a nod of her head, she indicated for Boyd to follow her.
At the door, she kept her hand on her gun, unsure of how this was going to develop. With the tip of her boot, she edged the door inwards.
‘He’s not here,’ Boyd said, stating, as he usually did, the obvious.
‘All this equipment. It’s like something out of a Hollywood studio.’
‘You’re trespassing on my property.’
Lottie swung round, crashing into Boyd.
Standing on the landing, naked, was Cian O’Shea. And he looked feral.
‘Ah, the very man we’re looking for,’ Lottie said, winging it.
‘Get out of my house. Now.’
Visually assessing him, Lottie couldn’t see any obvious wounds on his body. She concentrated on the knife in his hand.
‘I think you should put down that weapon and get dressed, then we can have a chat.’
‘I said, get out!’
He moved into the study. Lottie stood unmoving. His eyes were predatory. Was this the same man who had been married to her friend for twenty years? She didn’t recognise him. His mouth drooped and his hair was wild.