Lottie was talking on her phone. She walked up and down the steps of the Garda Station.
‘I know, Chloe. I’m doing all I can,’ she said, clawing at her hair. Where was her son?
‘But Mother . . . Mam . . . please . . . you need to find him,’ Chloe cried. ‘He’s my only brother.’
‘He’s my only son.’ Lottie choked down her panic. ‘I’ll find him.’
She hung up and rang her mother to go sit with the girls.
She was on the top step when she noticed Tom Rickard leaning against his car.
‘Is your son missing too?’ Rickard walked over and looked up at her.
‘None of your business,’ Lottie replied, turning to go inside.
He grabbed her sleeve, pulling her towards him. ‘Now you know what it feels like.’
Instinctively, Lottie drew out her other arm to hit him. He didn’t flinch but caught her wrist and shoved his face into hers.
‘Find my son,’ he said, and let her go.
‘I’ll find him.’
‘You do that, Inspector.’ He walked away, slowly and deliberately. The wind carried his voice. ‘You do that.’
She watched as he hauled himself into his car. She watched as he drove down the road. She watched until the red tail lights disappeared in the distance.
And a coldness clutched every sinew of her heart, descending over her entire being. She had felt the same chill the morning Adam died, though that morning the sun was reaching high in the sky. Tonight the heavens were black and the ground frozen as another shower of snow fell softly to earth.
‘Inspector?’
Lottie turned on the step to see Patrick O’Malley trudging along the icy footpath.
‘I’ve something to tell you,’ he said.
And he told her what had happened on the night of the Black Moon.
One Hundred Four
After parking his car at the rear of the chapel once again, he let himself in through the side door. He hoped the boys had slept. He had plans for them.
He carried a plastic bag with crisps and soft drinks. Youngsters lived on trash. He beamed his torch along the corridor and shadows jumped back at him. Birds flapped angrily above his head and he longed for the day when this place would be a heap of dusty rubble. He hoped the two boys would sate his appetite. Quickening his step, he relished his rising excitement.
He unlocked the door and entered. The first blow caught him on the side of the head and as he fell, he saw the glint of a knife flash before his face. Then darkness.
‘What do we do now?’ Sean screeched. They dragged the stunned man into the room.
Jason kicked the prone figure in the ribs with his bare foot.
‘Shit. That hurt,’ he said and limped away.
‘Stop freaking out,’ Sean shouted, wondering just what type of a gobshite Katie had got herself involved with. ‘We’ll tie him up.’
He pulled together the ropes that had bound them. As he tugged, he felt a blow to his abdomen and was hurled against the wall. He dropped the knife. Blinking rapidly, he saw the man rise up, swivel and punch Jason under the chin. Jason fell unconscious to the floor.
Sean cowered against the wall as the man hit him in the face, picked up the knife and staggered towards him. He thrust the weapon against Sean’s throat.
‘Smart arses.’ He nicked Sean’s skin with the blade. ‘That’s what you are. Little fucking smart arses.’
The man lowered the knife quickly and sliced it at Sean’s stomach. Then he kicked him hard in the same spot.
Sean roared. Blood seeped through his clothes, down on to his jeans. His fingers found the wound. It wasn’t deep but he felt faint. He heard voices, far away in the distance, and struggled to keep his eyes open. White stars floated in front of him.
‘I think it is time you and your imbecile friend entertained me.’ The man wiped the knife against Sean’s jeans, flicked it closed and secreted it in his pocket. ‘I will be back in a while.’
He stood up, kicked Jason, then left the room, his soft footsteps echoing along the corridor.
Pain inched through Sean’s body. He gagged and blood eased out of the corner of his mouth, the copper taste choking him. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he inched in the dark toward the plastic bag on the floor. He tore at it and pulled out a can. Snapping it open with trembling fingers, he drank, fuelling energy into his throbbing body. He hauled off his hoodie, yelping with each movement, and held it tightly to his wound. It wasn’t as deep as he’d first thought. Attempting to stem the flow of blood, he bunched the makeshift dressing inside his waistband, tying the sleeves around his hips.
He continued to cry. Loud, terrified sobs.
No one was going to find them.
They were going to die.
He collapsed back on to the cold ground.
One Hundred Five
‘Can’t you drive any faster?’ Lottie asked.
Kirby floored the accelerator and skidded. He righted the car and clamped a cigar between his lips.
‘We can’t be sure he’ll be there.’
‘From what O’Malley’s told me, I think Jason’s being kept there and I know who abducted him.’
‘Bit of a leap of the imagination, isn’t it?’
‘If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. Hurry up.’
She was sure she knew who Brian was. He must have been tipped over the edge because of something to do with the development of St Angela’s. And he’d targeted Rickard by taking Jason. She was still trying to figure it out when her phone rang.
‘After a lot of wrangling with the service provider, we’ve triangulated Sean’s phone GPS,’ Lynch said.
‘And?’ Lottie gripped the edge of the seat. Please God, at least let Sean be all right.
‘Well, it’s a wide area. From the hospital to the cemetery and around the back of the town. About four square kilometres.’
‘See if you can get them to pin it down more. Thanks.’ Lottie hung up. ‘He is grounded for life,’ she said, but she couldn’t stop the dread in her voice. Could Brian have taken Sean too?
‘He’s fine. Don’t you be worrying. Probably off having a few cans with his friends,’ Kirby said.
‘He is only thirteen but I’d take that at this moment,’ Lottie said.
‘That GPS area . . .’
‘What, Kirby?’ Lottie twisted to look at him.
‘It includes St Angela’s.’
Lottie opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Had something awful happened to her son?
‘K . . . Kirby . . . faster.’ And she started to cry, uncontrollable sobs breaking from her body. She’d lost Adam, she couldn’t lose her son too.
St Angela’s loomed up through the darkness.
Kirby pulled up beside Lottie’s abandoned car. She quickly studied the black windows, her eyes drawn toward the little chapel, to the side of the main building. She recalled what O’Malley told her about the priest and the children and candles and whips. Dear God.
She blinked. Was that a light flashing in one of the windows? She sat up straight. A flash, then another. Someone walking with a flashlight?
‘Look. Kirby. Up there. Do you see a light?’