‘It’s the only lead we have,’ he agreed.
She left them to it, and went to find where Maria Lynch had buried herself.
* * *
‘The lad who translated for me before isn’t in today. Google Translate tells me this note is someone asking for help. It is Kosovar Albanian, though.’ Lynch handed over a printout.
Lottie read: Help me. Find my son. Asylum centre.
‘It has to have been written by Mimoza. She has a son,’ she said.
‘Where did you get this note from?’ Lynch eyed her with a furrowed brow.
Lottie debated bringing her in on Boyd’s role in the whole debacle, but decided the fewer people who knew the better. For now.
‘Doesn’t matter, but it confirms what we already knew. Mimoza and her son were resident with the asylum seekers at the direct provision centre. She came to me originally looking for a missing friend, Kaltrina. I now suspect this Kaltrina is our second unidentified victim though I’ve no idea who the first victim is. Somehow Mimoza ended up in a brothel after escaping from the DPC. Her son was left on my doorstep. Around the same time, the brothel residents shut up shop and disappeared, Mimoza along with them.’
‘People can’t just disappear like that.’
‘But they do. All the time.’
Lynch pored over the file in front of her. She looked utterly exhausted.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lottie said, ‘for working you so hard.’
‘It’s fine. We have to find this killer.’
Checking the time on her phone, Lottie saw she still had a few hours before her meeting with the social worker about Milot.
‘I’m going to see if Dan Russell is at work today. He definitely has some explaining to do.’
‘Want me to come with you?’
‘No. This is something I’m going to handle my own way. There are a few things he needs to clarify for me.’
‘What things?’
‘Things you don’t need to concern yourself with.’ Lottie shoved her phone into her jeans pocket and moved to the door.
‘Inspector?’ Lynch said.
Lottie turned.
‘Be careful.’
Fifty-Seven
Chloe opened the refrigerator, glanced at the empty shelves and closed the door again. ‘We need groceries, Katie, and shut that whingeing child up.’ She filled a glass of water from the tap and stared out at the garden.
‘You know it’s about twenty-five degrees out. Why’re you going around wearing long sleeves?’ Katie asked.
‘Mind your own business.’ Chloe stomped barefoot out the back door.
‘Whatever,’ Katie said, soothing Milot on her knee.
Sitting on a garden chair, Chloe sipped her water and chipped away at the varnish peeling from the table. The smell of barbecued food blew across the fence. Proper families having a proper Saturday, she thought. Her family was anything but proper. A tear escaped and fell unhindered down her face. Surrounded by so many, she had never felt so alone.
A train rumbled slowly along the tracks above as it made its way into the station. Maybe she should buy a one-way ticket out of Ragmullin. Could she leave her stress behind? Dodge her exams and escape her mother? With no more varnish to pick at, she felt her nail move towards the skin of her arm beneath her sleeve. There she found an old scab and worried away at it until dark red blood stained the white cotton. She felt no pain. Just unending numbness.
Looking up at the trees sheltering the garden, she thought she saw something glinting in the sunlight. As if the sun had caught a mirror and reflected a laser back at her. Squinting, her hand shielding her eyes, she spotted it again. Was someone up there among the trees? Watching her? Was it him? She gagged at the memory of when she’d last seen him. She could feel the heat of his tongue in her mouth. Retching, she stood up quickly, dropping the glass. It shattered on the patio, the fragments glittering like icicles in the sun. The tiny shards cut into her bare feet. She skidded across them and fell into the kitchen.
‘Chloe! You’re a fucking asshole. There’s blood everywhere. Mam will have a fit.’
‘Clean it up then if you’re so worried.’
Chloe continued through to the hall and up the stairs, tears and blood flowing with her.
He shoved the binoculars back into their case, zipped it up and scanned his surroundings. She had seen him. Stared right up at him. No, she couldn’t have seen him. But she had looked directly at his position. Then he knew. The sun. It must have reflected off the glass of the binoculars. He should have been more careful. Stupid mistake.
He comforted himself with the thought that she would only have noticed the reflection of light. There was no way she could have seen him. His camouflage clothes against the greenery had done their job. Of course they had.
Hoisting the black leather bag onto his shoulder, he moved back the way he had come that morning. He knew the train times. He remained hidden until the Dublin express exited the station and picked up speed as it headed on its journey. Crossing over the tracks, he walked down the well-worn slope into the rear garden of a deserted boarded-up house. Keeping close to the fence, he removed his hat and tugged off his jacket, and ran his fingers over his sweating head. After putting everything into his bag, he walked out the side gate and on to the footpath. Whistling as he went, he mingled with the Saturday shoppers and smiled as he made his way to the place he now called home.
Maybe he should go to work.
That sounded like a good idea.
Fifty-Eight
‘Inspector Parker. What a pleasant surprise.’ Dan Russell was leaning against his car, parked outside Block A. ‘Why don’t you come up to my office?’ he continued, smirking.
‘I’m fine here.’ Lottie was determined to keep control of the situation. ‘I need to confirm a couple of things with you.’
Russell ceased his smirking. ‘Okay. What is it you want?’ he asked shortly.
‘Mimoza. What have you done with her?’
‘Have you found her yet?’
‘Answer the question.’
‘I told you she was resident here, along with her son. Now they’re gone.’
‘What did you do with them?’ Lottie repeated.
‘Nothing. They were awaiting processing and they just disappeared.’
‘Well I’m processing a warrant to search this building, in particular your office files. I want to know everything there is to know about Mimoza, and believe me, I will find it out.’
He took a step towards her. Lottie held up her hand to stop him. Her handbag slid down her other arm and fell to the ground, spilling its contents, including the photo of Adam she had found in her mother’s attic.
‘What’s that?’ He pointed to the photograph.
‘Nothing.’ She picked it up, shoved it back into her bag along with the rest of her stuff. ‘I need all the information you have on Mimoza. We’ve got a new lead.’
‘What new lead?’
‘I believe the girl is in danger. I want to know where she came from, how she ended up as an asylum seeker. Why her name isn’t on the official database.’