‘We thought he was saying Quinnie,’ Boyd said, grabbing his jacket.
McMahon said, ‘No, he definitely said Bernie. She was behind it. He can’t talk much, but I’m sure that’s what he said. Where are you going?’
Boyd stopped at the door, turned back. ‘I don’t know.’ Flopping down in the nearest chair, he said, ‘We need to think. Where could Lottie be?’
Kirby said, ‘If this has to do with revenge over land or inheritance, it might link back to the Belfields. I think Lottie could be at Farranstown House.’
‘I think you’re right,’ Boyd said. ‘Come on, let’s get moving.’
‘Hold on a minute,’ McMahon said. ‘Why would Bernie go there, and why would she take DI Parker?’
‘We have no other bright ideas, have we?’ Boyd looked around at the faces of Kirby, Lynch and McMahon. Corrigan was standing at the door.
‘Well what are you waiting for, DS Boyd,’ the superintendent said. ‘Get out there and bring back your boss. In one piece. Right?’
‘Feckin’ right, sir.’
* * *
Keep her talking. I must keep her talking, Lottie thought. And even though the woman was brandishing a knife, its blade sharp and glittering, she felt no fear. A gentle calmness settled in her heart. She felt as if her soul was suspended above her, guiding her body. She could do this.
‘Do you blame O’Dowd for what happened to Carrie?’ she said.
‘Don’t make me puke. That pig only wanted what he could get for nothing. Abused my mother over and over again. He, and too many others, destroyed her.’
‘I heard she did that all by herself.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Drugs and drink. You must know she was self-destructive. O’Dowd and the other men facilitated her to do whatever she wanted to do.’
Was she justifying what she suspected were her own father’s actions? No. She had no proof he had had anything to do with Carrie King. Except, perhaps, being complicit with Tessa in having Carrie admitted to the asylum. The Moroney file might hold the answers.
Bernie said, ‘O’Dowd took advantage of an already damaged mentally ill woman. Tessa and Kitty, they committed the mortal sin. Punishable by death.’
‘So why kill O’Dowd if Tessa and Kitty were to blame?’
‘He got in the way.’
‘We thought he’d escaped on his quad. Where is that?’
‘Natasha drove it across the fields. It’s in the bottom of Lough Cullion.’
‘She was with you when you killed Emma?’ Dear God, what kind of monster was this woman?
‘You hardly think I hauled an unconscious teenager into that barrel all by myself? My daughter is my right hand. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?’
Lottie looked up as Natasha appeared on the top step.
‘Yes, Mum.’
Shaking her head, Lottie couldn’t fathom how Bernie’s insanity had wormed its way into her daughter.
‘And you contracted Cian O’Shea into your plans. How’d you manage that?’
‘Who? I don’t know anyone by that name.’
‘He… I thought he… Did you kill the Moroneys?’
‘No. And I didn’t contract anyone to do it either. But I’m glad to have the file.’
‘I don’t understand…’
Bernie stopped pacing and tapped the knife on the edge of the washer. ‘Have I missed something? You think I killed Moroney? Perhaps if I had known about the file I would have, but someone got to him first.’
The tapping ceased. Lottie held her breath. Was it time? She couldn’t make a sound. The can might scrape on the stone floor. How could she work this?
‘How come you were following me?’ she asked.
‘You called the other day when we were planning on leaving. Got me wondering if you were on my trail, though now I see I was wrong there. You really had no idea, did you?’
‘I had my suspicions.’
‘No you did not. You came snooping again yesterday and I decided to follow you, just out of curiosity. Little did I think I would come up with a surprise prize.’ She laughed loudly. ‘Oh, I think I just made a joke there.’
‘Mum?’ Natasha’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs. She flicked a switch to her left and the cellar filled with light.
The girl took one careful step forward. Another step.
‘I think we’re done here,’ she said.
A third step.
Four more to go, Lottie thought. Enough time to grab the can from behind her back and aim?
‘What are you talking about?’ Bernie said.
A fourth step.
‘I’m tired, Mum. Enough.’
A fifth step.
‘Go back, Natasha. You don’t need to see this.’ Bernie turned towards her daughter.
A sixth step.
‘You’re right. I don’t want to see anything you do any more.’
Bottom step. Lottie’s hand tightened on the can. Rising to her knees, she flung it with full force at Bernie. Too low. Caught her on the leg.
‘You bitch,’ Bernie yelled, springing forward, the knife tight in her hand.
Lottie held on to the hose, and as Bernie reached her, she whipped it across the woman’s ankles, trying to topple her. No effect. With a shriek, Bernie lunged, thrusting the knife downwards. Lottie ducked, threw her body sideways. Too late.
A scream pierced the damp air. Had it come from her own throat? She wasn’t sure, but the pain searing through her upper back caused her heart to palpitate in rapid uncontrollable beats. Blood rushed from her brain; gushed from her body. She heard her heartbeat slowing. Stars twinkled in the dark. Red, white… No, not yet, she thought. I have to see my children. I have to tell them I love them. I love them… love…
Falling prostrate on the stone floor, she glimpsed Natasha jumping on Bernie’s shoulders. She had picked up the can that Lottie had thrown, and now she brought it down on the back of her mother’s head.
The cellar was filled with screams.
Sirens in the distance.
Car doors slamming. Footsteps running. Shouts.
Boyd?
I’m dying, she thought. You’re all too late. Too late, Boyd…
The world dimmed and went dark.
Ninety-Seven
Boyd crashed through the door and flew down the stairs with Kirby and Lynch behind him. He made straight for Lottie, with just a sideways glance at Natasha Kelly sitting on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, her mother lying at her feet.
‘Lottie?’ he whispered, turning her over on her side. He lowered his ear to her mouth. A faint breath. ‘Thank God.’
Tearing off his shirt, he used it to stem the flow of blood. Then he held her in his arms and waited for the paramedics to arrive. He watched Lynch handcuff Natasha and Kirby check Bernie for a pulse. The woman’s eyes snapped open. Kirby jumped back for an instant before he dragged her hands behind her back and handcuffed her.
‘She’s under the stairs,’ Natasha cried. ‘I think she’s still alive.’
‘Shut your mouth,’ Bernie groaned.
‘Who?’ Kirby asked.
‘Kitty,’ Natasha said. ‘Mum told me to shove her in there and lock the door. She stuffed seeds into her mouth. She wanted her to suffocate.’
Kirby started up the narrow staircase, but stood aside to allow two paramedics to descend.
‘They’re here now,’ Boyd whispered in Lottie’s ear. ‘You’re going to be fine.’ He thought he heard her murmur as he reluctantly allowed the paramedics to take over. He looked on helplessly as one of them applied an oxygen mask and another checked Lottie’s vital signs.
‘Is she going to be okay?’ he asked, rubbing his hands vigorously together, oblivious to Lottie’s blood staining them.
‘Appears to be substantial blood loss,’ one said. ‘Heart rate is slow. BP too low. We need to get her out of here now.’
‘What are you waiting for?’ Boyd shouted. Lottie couldn’t die. He needed her. Her kids needed her. He ran to help with a gurney.
Within a few minutes they had Lottie strapped on, a drip inserted and a monitor attached. Then they were gone.
Boyd looked around, biting his lip, trying to still his racing heart. Let her survive.
He helped Lynch bring the two women up the steps.
‘I need a doctor,’ Bernie said.