Boyd rubbed his hand across his nose and mouth. He actually wanted to shake the answers out of the man.
‘Do you like to shoot?’
‘What?’
‘You know. With a gun. Shoot rabbits in the fields. Or ducks out on a lake. Anything like that.’
‘I not shoot. I not go on lake. What you mean?’
Boyd slapped the table. ‘Come on, prick. Tell me. Where did you kill those girls?’
‘I kill no one.’
‘Is there anything you can tell us that would help clear you of involvement in these girls’ deaths?’ Lynch asked.
‘I not kill them. You have nothing. You let me go.’ Petrovci leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and closed his eyes.
He stayed silent for four minutes.
Kicking back his own chair, Boyd jumped up. Lynch cautioned him with a look.
‘I’m going to have a word with Superintendent Corrigan and we’ll see what he wants to do with you. Interview terminated.’
Without waiting for Lynch, Boyd stormed out of the room.
The man packed up his new van. The traffic was beginning to ease. People were getting wise and avoiding the town centre, he thought as he spied the workers making safe a section of road until they returned on Monday. And he would give them something to find.
Driving by the railway station, he glanced over at the car dismantler’s yard. He knew the guards wouldn’t find anything there. The old van was bleached clean except for what he’d left in it, and he congratulated himself on his stroke of genius. Planting the blood and shooting at the wall. He’d fired the gun with a silencer as the night train was exiting the station. The sound had been well muffled. Took them long enough to find the body, though!
He drove within the speed limit. No point in attracting attention. Skirting the town through the industrial estate, he took a left by the greyhound stadium, allowing himself a glance up Windmill Road where DI Parker lived. Interesting woman, with her long legs in tight jeans, and her crazy daughter.
He thrust a hand between his legs to quell the pulsating hardness. Not long now. Though he knew he would have to wait until darkness descended.
He could wait. He was used to waiting.
The prize at the end was worth it.
Sixty-Six
It was eight thirty before Lottie got her house in order and Milot tucked up in bed. Katie cajoled Sean downstairs to watch a particularly gory episode of CSI. When she looked in on them, both were slumped in armchairs. Just as she was about to go upstairs to talk to Chloe, her phone beeped. Boyd.
‘It better be good news,’ she warned.
‘Not a bit. We released Andri Petrovci. Doc said he was fit and I attempted an interview with him.’
‘What’d he say?’
‘Said ju lutem means “please”. No alibi and he refused to say anything further.’
‘Shit.’
‘Corrigan said we had nothing to hold him on, once he gave his statement.’
‘I wonder if we can link him to the DPC in some way. He knows something.’
‘I know something. He’s a fucking killer.’
‘Moving on from Petrovci, did you go over all the evidence again?’
‘With a fine toothpick.’
‘Tooth comb.’
‘Whatever.’
‘You sound like my Chloe.’ Lottie felt a stab to her heart. She needed to get to the bottom of Chloe’s anger and distance. And she needed to comprehend Russell’s insinuations about Adam too.
‘Any sightings of Maeve Phillips or Mimoza?’
‘Not a thing. How did it go with the social worker?’ Boyd asked.
‘I can keep Milot until Monday. Did you talk to Corrigan about Malaga?’
‘Yup.’
‘And?’ If the superintendent had okayed it, could she really go? She had to keep a close eye on Milot. And Chloe, for that matter.
‘I had to use my magnificent charm and flattering vocabulary,’ Boyd said.
‘So he said yes.’
‘Flight’s at six fifteen in the morning. I’ll pick you up at four. And we fly back tomorrow evening.’
Lottie asked, ‘What about Europol?’
‘We’re not interviewing Frank Phillips in an official capacity. The superintendent spoke to someone he knows who knows someone who’s in the know, so we’re good to go.’
Despite everything, Lottie couldn’t help but laugh.
‘Go on, say it,’ Boyd urged.
‘You’re a tonic, do you know that?’
‘So you keep telling me.’
‘See you in the morning. And bring the Petrovci interview transcript. It’ll give me something to read on the plane.’
‘And here was I thinking you’d be snuggling up on my shoulder.’
‘Goodnight, Boyd.’
She ended the call and paced the kitchen. A glass of wine would be good. A vodka maybe? No way. A pill? She rooted around in her bag. Tried the zip pocket. Found half a pill crumbling in the bottom. Rescuing what was left of it, she poured a glass of water from the tap and swallowed.
Sitting in her armchair, she hoped the pill would help ease the memory of Russell making his threats about Adam. His words were ingrained on her consciousness. She knew Russell had been implying her husband had been complicit in human organ harvesting. No way. Adam would never have been involved in something like that. Russell was a liar.
Closing her eyes, she listened for the wind. Nothing. Rain? Birds in the trees? Nothing.
The night was silent.
She fell into an uneasy sleep, disturbed by noisy dreams.
Mimoza had been tied up and a black bin bag drawn over her head. The plastic stuck to the blood oozing from her wounds, but there was a tear in it allowing her to breathe.
Bundled into the boot of a car, she hadn’t the energy or the will to fight back or to try and figure out where she was being taken. She was beyond caring about herself. And such was her physical pain and emotional desolation, she momentarily thought that she didn’t even care about Milot. But that wasn’t true. No matter what they did to her body, she vowed they would not break her spirit. All she could do was hope. If she could survive, she might have a chance of finding Milot. If she was dead, all bets were off.
When the car stopped, she was hauled out of the boot and hoisted over a man’s shoulder. Through her pain she felt herself being carried before being flung down. She hit a wooden structure and it rocked. She heard water splashing and further rocking as he nudged her out of the way and joined her.
She was in a boat.
When she awoke, Maeve knew instantly that she was in a different place. The air was fresh and she could see the dark sky. Dozens of stars twinkling. She was outside, lying on damp grass.
The pain in her side was intense. Her fingers lingered in the feathery softness of the earth and she felt cold. Naked. She tried to raise herself onto her elbows, but she didn’t have the physical energy to move. Pain seared through her body. Her head nestled into a bed of heather. She could smell it. Earthy. She desperately wanted to go home.