‘Have you any idea where she might be?’ Lottie pulled out a chair and sat beside Katie, taking the girl’s hand in her own. It was clammy with sweat.
‘You know Chloe doesn’t talk to me, Mam. She just yells most of the time.’
Lottie noticed the exhaustion in her daughter’s eyes. ‘Katie, I’m sorry, for landing Milot on you and—’
‘Don’t be sorry for me,’ Katie interrupted. ‘I loved looking after the little fellow. Sean’s even taken to him. He’s been good therapy for us. Helped us to forget about ourselves for a while. Oh Mam, where is he? Surely Chloe wouldn’t harm him?’
‘Chloe’s a good girl. She thinks she’s protecting him. I need to figure out where she’s gone.’
‘Mrs Parker.’ Carter spoke. ‘Before she went upstairs, Chloe said something about Twitter.’
Kate stood up and grabbed Lottie’s arm. ‘I forgot about that. Her phone pinged and I asked her what it was and she said it was some Twitter notification.’
‘Do you have Twitter?’ Lottie asked.
Katie opened the app. ‘What am I looking for?’
‘See if there’s anything from @Lipjan or @ADAM99. Check under #cutforlife.’
Katie tapped a few times. ‘Nothing today. What’s this about?’
‘I don’t know. Can you see Chloe’s account?’
‘She hasn’t posted anything.’
Lottie paced, twisting her hands through her hair. She couldn’t think straight. She stopped in front of Garda O’Donoghue.
‘Head back to the station with Carter and trace the number of whoever was contacting him.’ She hurriedly scribbled on a page of O’Donoghue’s notebook. ‘This is Chloe’s phone number. I want a transcript of all activity on it, and on Twitter, Facebook and whatever else she might have been on.’
She rushed O’Donoghue and Carter out the door.
‘Cup of tea,’ Boyd said, placing two steaming cups on the table.
‘I don’t want fucking tea,’ Lottie said. She heard O’Donoghue talking in the hall before Superintendent Corrigan marched in through the open door.
‘What’s this I hear about a boy who shouldn’t have been in your house disappearing from it? For feck’s sake.’
‘Oh, shit,’ Lottie said.
‘Would you like a cup of tea, sir?’ Boyd asked.
The man left Fatjon to clean up the mess.
In the downstairs bathroom, he took off his shirt and turned on the hot tap. There was no soap. He took a complimentary hotel bar from his pocket, unwrapped it and lathered up under the flowing water. He scrubbed his hands up to his elbows for two minutes before drying them with paper from a roll sitting on top of the toilet. Checking his shirt for blood, he noticed a couple of splashes. He turned it inside out and left it flapping open over his white vest, then strode out without turning off the tap. Glancing at his phone, he noted there was still no message from the social worker, Carter. Just as well he had taken extra precautions in case the young shit baulked at the task he’d been set.
Moving out through the main gate, he smiled to himself. The sun was beginning to dip. An impressionistic sky of purple and orange tinged the horizon, but the heat of the day still hung in the air. At the canal he noticed an evening fog misting over the green water.
He’d have to hurry and get his van. Night would fall in a few hours and then he could start on the beginning of the end.
Seventy-Eight
When Boyd had left to take Katie to her granny’s house, Lottie went to the cupboard and counted the mugs while Corrigan proceeded to give her an earful.
‘I told you. Didn’t I tell you to put that boy in care? And what do you do? Whatever you feckin’ want as usual. A loose cannon. That’s what you are. I despair over you.’ He paused for breath. ‘Any word on your daughter?’
She felt his hand on her arm as he led her to a chair.
‘Why did you come here?’ Lottie sat down and gazed up at her superior officer.
‘I might only have the use of one eye at the moment, but I’m not blind. Nor deaf either. All hell was raging at the station and I wanted to talk to you about it.’ He wiped his eye and winced. ‘So your daughter and the boy. Tell me.’
Lottie explained what had happened.
‘This Eamon Carter, is he our killer?’
‘No, sir. I think my house was being watched. They knew the boy, Milot, was here. I’d say Mimoza’s friend brought him here and they tortured her to find out.’
‘The girl found dead at the pump house?’
‘Yes, sir. I believe they then targeted Carter so they could take Milot without raising suspicion.’
‘So who are “they”?’
‘I don’t know for sure.’ She stood up. How could she be sitting here talking so calmly when she should be searching for her daughter? She had to get out.
‘Sit down, Lottie.’
‘Look, sir, with all due respect, my daughter is out there somewhere with the little boy these men are after. Someone is stalking her on Twitter. I think it’s linked to the missing girls. She’s traumatised and terrified. Can I please go and do my job?’
Corrigan said, ‘I’ve mobilised every officer in the district. They’re turning this town upside down looking for your daughter and the little boy. You’re coming to the station with me. When we find them, I’ll decide what to do with you.’
‘Sir—’
‘Don’t feckin’ “sir” me. No argument. I’m not letting you out of my sight again. Leave the investigating to the others. You’re in no state to be doing anything other than sitting under my watchful eye.’
She didn’t have much choice. Lottie sighed, grabbed her bag and followed him out, pulling the door closed behind her.
* * *
The station was buzzing. Superintendent Corrigan bustled through, giving everyone orders and snapping his fingers. Lottie escaped to her own office.
Boyd was pulling files from a cabinet. He slammed the drawer shut and leaned on top of it, staring at her.
Lottie returned his stare. ‘What?’
‘I’ve been given the shitty job of babysitting you while everyone else is out there hunting for Chloe and Milot. So you can either sit down and we try to solve this together, or you can stand there moaning.’
‘If I wanted a lecture—’
‘You’d get one from your mother. Yeah, I know. I had to listen to her when I dropped off Katie.’
‘Sean was there too, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes, they’re both safe with two detectives watching over them.’
‘Good. Thank you.’
‘Sit.’
‘I can’t, Boyd. I need to find—’
‘You need to do what you’re told.’
Lottie sighed and sat at her desk. Of course he was right. But how could she concentrate when she didn’t know where Chloe had gone?
Boyd said, ‘Chloe is a wise girl. She’s doing what she thinks is best for Milot. She’s—’
‘Scared. She’s terrified. Where is she, Boyd?’ Lottie gulped down a sob.
‘We’ve checked with her friend Emily Coyne and she hasn’t seen her.’
‘What about Maeve’s mother? Tracy Phillips. Chloe might have gone to her.’
‘Checked also. Not there. That woman’s a mess. Why would Chloe go to her anyway?’ Boyd sighed. ‘She’ll be fine. You have to keep telling yourself that. Okay?’ He clasped her fingers.
Lottie nodded and extracted her hand. She didn’t trust herself to speak.