‘But she’d already spoken with you,’ Boyd said.
‘Maybe she saw or heard something else. Something she hasn’t told us.’
‘I think it’s more likely to be related to her own community.’
‘We’ll see. What do you know about Lynch’s husband?’
‘Not a lot, why?’ he said, turning out onto the main road.
‘Just fishing.’ Lottie tugged the sleeves of her T-shirt down over her cold hands.
‘New hobby?’
‘Drive the bloody car.’
‘Where to?’
‘Wherever we can find Carol O’Grady.’
Thirty-Five
Nothing was going right for Donal O’Donnell. Not today. Not any day. He had waited fifteen minutes before moving, after Keelan had almost broken his doorbell with her insistent finger.
Shuffling across his kitchen floor, he wished for a day when he could walk around without feeling the emptiness inside of him. He glanced at the radio and considered switching it on. He opened the refrigerator instead. He’d need to go out soon. The milk was two days past its best-before date, and there wasn’t anything other than cereal to eat. Perhaps he should have asked Keelan to shop for a few groceries. But then he’d be admitting defeat. And Donal O’Donnell would never give in.
He found the box of matches and lit the candle in front of the photograph. Lynn’s smiling face caused him to pause. Reaching out a finger, he traced the flow of her dark hair and the stud in her ear. He wondered at the light in her eyes. How could someone so young, so full of life, so beautiful just evaporate into thin air?
‘My pet,’ he said.
A cold finger of terror slid down his spine, knocking on each vertebra on its journey. Donal whipped around. No one. No one but himself. Only his shadow inhabited this house now.
He turned back to the photo.
‘You broke your mother’s heart. You broke this family.’ He had no idea if he was talking to Lynn or to himself. He’d never felt more confined by the weight of his own skin. Never more fearful for his remaining family. Because he knew the evil had returned. Tearing at his hair, he screamed at the walls, ‘Leave me be. Leave me be.’
A quiet stillness settled on the kitchen. To dispel it, he turned on the radio and listened to the news. There was never any mention of his Lynn. Not like when she first went missing. When evil had gripped his heart in its claws.
It was true, he thought, as he poured sour milk onto his cornflakes, the nefarious spirits had returned. And this time he felt powerless to fight them.
Thirty-Six
The Jealous Wall, situated on two hundred acres at Rochfort Gardens, loomed up from the dip in the valley. It was fragmented and falling down. Open spaces marked where windows had never rested, and arches jutted out haphazardly. It had been constructed to resemble the wall of a ruined medieval abbey. With jealousy at its heart.
Lottie walked with Boyd down the sharp incline to the visitor centre and entered through the sliding glass doors. At the reception desk, she hit the bell.
A young woman opened the door behind the desk and stood gawking. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘It is me,’ Lottie said, and smiled sweetly at Carol O’Grady.
Carol scowled, her face pale and drawn, as she sat down behind the desk. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I’d like to have another word with you about your friend Elizabeth. Can you join us for a cup of tea or coffee?’
‘Give me a couple of minutes. The café is over there, to your right.’
The scent of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air as the two detectives made their way inside.
‘Smells good,’ Lottie said. ‘I’ll have a toasted ham and cheese croissant. And a large coffee.’ She sat down on one of the sofas to wait for Carol.
‘I’m paying so?’ Boyd said, and turned to the counter.
‘Looks like it.’
Lottie pulled off her hat and scarf and unbuttoned her jacket. Her hands were as white as a corpse and reminded her of Elizabeth’s foot with its pink-painted toenails.
Boyd joined her and sat down. ‘They’ll bring it over.’
She looked up as a shadow fell across the small table.
Carol said, ‘I really have nothing to tell you.’
‘We just want to find out a little more about Elizabeth. There has to be something in her life to give us a clue as to why she was killed.’
‘I don’t want to get into any trouble. I need this job.’ Carol’s hand flew to her stomach. ‘Now more than ever.’
‘Sit down,’ Lottie said. ‘Have a cup of coffee.’
‘I really can’t leave the front desk.’
‘You just have. Isn’t there a bell if anyone calls in?’
With a nervous glance out to the foyer, Carol appeared to settle the conflict in her mind and sat down opposite Lottie as Boyd went off to order another coffee.
‘Black, no sugar,’ Carol called. ‘I can’t bear anything sweet at the moment.’
‘What’s it like working here?’ Lottie asked.
‘It’s okay, I suppose. A bit far from town.’
‘What did Elizabeth do in her spare time?’
‘She hadn’t that much spare time with all the commuting.’
‘She had time to go out for drinks and clubbing, though. And you mentioned she did some running.’
‘Yeah. Out here on Saturdays and Sundays. Lots of locals use the grounds for jogging. We ran together. Don’t think I’ll be doing too much now.’
‘Exercise is good for you, especially while pregnant,’ Lottie said, thinking she could do with some herself. ‘Was there anyone else that Elizabeth ran with besides yourself?’
‘No.’
‘Anyone take an interest in her?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘How many people would be here on a Saturday morning?’
‘Upwards of fifty. I can check the register. Everyone who runs has to sign in. They don’t have to pay, you see, but for insurance they have to sign in. I’ll get the book.’
‘Scare her off already?’ Boyd put a tray on the table, then sat down and dished out the coffee.
Carol returned with a ledger. Lottie ran her finger down the mainly illegible signatures. ‘Can you copy this for me?’
‘Sure. Is this mine?’ Carol took the black coffee and blew over the steaming liquid. After only one sip, she said, ‘You’ll have to excuse me. I need to use the bathroom,’ and escaped with her hand clasped to her mouth.
Lottie said, ‘When we have this copied, I want you to go through the lists. You’re good at that kind of thing.’ She handed the book to Boyd.
‘This goes back weeks,’ he said, flicking through the pages.
‘All the better to make a comparison of names each week. We might find something.’
‘Or not.’ Boyd put the book down and shoved a large portion of croissant into his mouth.
‘I thought that was mine.’ Lottie rolled her eyes and drank her coffee. Another headache was taking root at the base of her skull. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something she should be asking Carol.
Thirty-Seven
Ragmullin train station had stood for over one hundred and fifty years, with the canal on one side and the town on the other. It was situated at the foot of an incline. At one time, it had two viable lines. One carried trains travelling to and from Galway, and the other to Sligo. But now the only remaining line was Dublin to Sligo and vice versa. Part of the old Galway track, along the route of the canal, had been rejuvenated as a cycleway.
‘It’s great,’ Boyd explained to Lottie as they made their way towards the station entrance. ‘Very safe. Great for kids. It’s always busy, but the good thing is, there’s no traffic.’
‘Do you use it?’
‘At least once a week, when I’m not working a murder investigation. This type of job saps my energy.’
‘I’d imagine this type of job would whet your appetite to get out and feel the fresh air in your lungs.’
‘There is that too,’ he said as they climbed the steps and entered the stone vestibule.
‘How are you doing?’ Jimmy greeted Boyd. ‘No train due in until three.’
‘Ah no, I’m not looking for a train this time. Just information.’