‘Yeah.’
‘That’s Mollie Hunter. We met last year. Joined up for running at the same time. We started going for a drink the odd evening. I think I’m the closest she has to a best friend. Her family moved to London a few years ago.’ She glanced at Kirby. ‘The thing is, I can’t make contact with her.’
‘Her name is Mollie?’ Grace said.
Boyd looked away from his sister’s wide eyes and open mouth, the expression saying, ‘I told you so’. Shaking his head, he said, ‘Does she commute to work on the train?’
Gilly leaned forward in the armchair. ‘She does. And so did Elizabeth Byrne.’
Boyd sighed, getting the insinuation. ‘That’s a stretch of the imagination. Have you checked out Mollie’s home?’
‘She gave me her spare key a while back. I’ve been to her apartment and it looks like the last time she was there was Wednesday morning. Breakfast dishes were in the sink. No coat or handbag lying around.’
‘How do you know it was Wednesday?’
‘I phoned her Tuesday. We agreed to meet up for a drink Wednesday night. But she didn’t turn up and I called to her home.’
‘She could have just been out,’ Boyd suggested.
‘We checked it earlier this evening too,’ Kirby said.
Boyd stood. ‘I’ll do something about it in the morning.’
‘Elizabeth Byrne disappeared after getting the train home,’ Gilly pointed out.
‘You don’t know Mollie got on the train. She could be in Dublin,’ Kirby said.
‘What if she’s in the hands of Elizabeth’s murderer?’
‘Murderer?’
Boyd swung around to see Grace with her hand clasped to her mouth. ‘Grace, why don’t you go to bed?’
‘Tell them what I told you,’ she insisted.
Boyd sighed and sat back down. ‘According to Grace—’
She interrupted him. ‘Mollie sat beside me yesterday morning on the train and we began talking. Then we got the train home together, the 17.10 from Connolly … and now she has vanished.’
Boyd said, ‘I’ll talk to Lottie tomorrow. We’ll see if we can locate Mollie and establish if there is any connection to Elizabeth.’
He watched Gilly linking Kirby’s arm as they left.
When Grace had gone to bed and he was alone, the shroud of loneliness settled on his shoulders once more.
Forty-Eight
Two teenagers crept out of a mobile home and made their way hand in hand down the dark lake road away from the caravan park. He carried a bottle of vodka and she a bottle of Captain Morgan. They drank as they walked, and the more they drank, the more closely entwined they became.
At a cut in the trees, he dragged her by the hand off the road.
‘Hey, the branches are snagging my hair.’
‘I’ll snag your hair in a minute, gorgeous.’
She laughed and allowed him to lead her. They were bent in two, giggling and squealing.
‘Ah, Shane, this is too much. I think I’m going to be sick.’ She threw the bottle of rum into the undergrowth.
‘It’s not too bad here. You can see the moon.’
‘I can only see trees. This place is scary. It’s too dark.’
He pulled her to the ground.
‘Shane, it’s wet. My jeans …’
His mouth covered hers in a kiss and a smell assaulted her nostrils. Shoving him off, she sat upright.
‘Shane! You’re rotten. Did you fart?’
‘Would you ever shut … You’re right. What the hell is that smell?’
She dragged her phone out of her jeans pocket and unlocked it. The light from the screen shone on his face, casting eerie shadows. She swung the phone around.
‘There’s something over there.’
‘Fuck’s sake, Jen.’ He pulled out his own phone and pressed the flashlight app. ‘Oh my God. It’s … it’s a …’
Jen screamed.
They jumped up and ran, crashing through the forest of briars and bushes.
* * *
His darn dog wouldn’t stop barking. Where was he? Bob Mulligan switched on his flashlight and followed through the undergrowth in the direction the dog had run. Living by Ladystown lake had seemed like an idyllic dream come true for him. Peace, stillness and silence. A stark contrast to city life and all that brought with it. The isolation got to him, though. Days on end, hour after hour. Ticking away with only himself and Mutt. Until youngsters got up to their tricks, drinking and screaming. And tonight they were at it again.
He came out the other side of the clearing with still no sign of Mutt. He stood and listened. The barking had stopped. The screaming had ceased too. The lake was calm, dappled with silver from the moonlight. Stars were shimmering in a constellation against the black sky.
A yelp from his right.
Rustling in the bushes.
Two teenagers ran straight into him.
The girl screamed and pointed behind her. ‘In there. It’s horrible.’
‘Calm down,’ Mulligan said. ‘What’s going on? Did this lad hurt you? Did he do something to you?’
‘No! No,’ she gasped. ‘Don’t go in there. Call the guards. Oh God, I’m going to be sick.’
She took off. The young lad shrugged his shoulders and followed her.
Using his stick, Bob tore away at the frozen undergrowth. The clearing was dim, with only the shadowy illumination from the celestial orb in the night sky.
‘Hey, boy, what’s got you so excited there?’
As he approached, the smell caused him to gag. The dog turned round, tail wagging, something unidentifiable hanging from his jaws.
‘Dear God in heaven!’ Bob fumbled his phone out of his pocket and grabbed Mutt’s collar.
Forty-Nine
The large suitcase was packed and Katie’s rucksack remained open for last-minute essentials.
Lottie sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed and watched her sleep. She turned to the cot. Listened to little Louis breathing. Like she used to do when her own children were babies. Her and Adam. Shushing each other, trying to hear the breaths, to see the little chests rising and falling, before dropping back on their pillows with relief. She supposed every mother on the planet did that at some time in her life, and though her faith had been tested too many times, she prayed that her daughter and grandson would be safe on their travels.
At last she tiptoed out of the room and down to the kitchen. Tiredness chewed sharp bites into her bones as she sat at the table. The cold case file appeared to be tempting her to open it, with its thick sheaf of papers sticking out haphazardly from between the covers. But her shoulder screamed for a painkiller and she remembered the weight of the man’s hand on her injury. Thoughts of the nursing home brought her to the argument with her mother.
Rose had always been confrontational, sometimes with good reason, but now she was being plain obstructive. I’m only trying to help, Lottie thought, though she was aware that she was doing it reluctantly. She should have kept her mouth shut. The things she’d said were hurtful. She’d meant them to be at the time. But now? Now she was sorry. Her feelings for Rose were so confused, she couldn’t bear to fathom out a solution. Not tonight, in any case. She knew she was a past master at burying emotional turmoil deep beneath the mundanity of everyday life.
She found a box of paracetamol and swallowed two with a glass of water, then popped a third to be sure the pain would ease enough to allow her a few hours’ slumber. She needed a drink. Just one.
She found the vodka at the back of the cupboard, where she’d hidden it, and poured a double measure. The first mouthful made her gag, the second went down more smoothly, and by the third, her head felt lighter.
She glanced at the file. Maybe a few minutes buried in the old case would help her sleep.
As she opened the cover, her phone rang. She jumped up as the vibration filled the kitchen. When she ended the call, she rang Boyd. It was going to be a long night.
Fifty