‘Whose baby? And who was Lynn that you mentioned?’
‘Now you want to chat. I don’t have time for this.’ He raised the scissors.
‘I’ll tell you where the chain and ring are if you tell me about her.’ Mollie had no idea where she was getting the strength from, but deep down she knew this might be her last chance. If she kept him talking, whoever was up above might hear them.
‘You playing games with me?’
‘No.’
‘My nutjob of a wife does that to me.’
‘I’m sorry about that,’ she lied, trying to be convincing with her sympathy.
‘The bones. That was my sister’s baby. Lynn was pregnant when I took her. Took her away from her loving brother. She always had more time for him. He was always getting me into trouble. Blaming me for things. She was the star of our family show and everyone doted on her, and I was left out. The middle child, that was me. Left behind.’ He set his mouth in a grim line and Mollie saw his fingers whiten as they clenched the scissors.
‘That’s awful,’ she soothed and wondered if she could grab the scissors.
‘Not fair,’ he said. ‘She came home that day, the whore, and announced in front of my excuse for a father and my brother that she was pregnant with a tinker’s child. I knew she was finished then. The golden girl was tarnished and I saw my chance. I took her for myself.’
‘How did you manage that?’ Keep talking, Mollie prayed. Silence from above. Was it a good or a bad sign? As long as she could keep him talking, there was hope.
‘The old man stormed off to the pub, my brother was broken before my eyes, and Mother was due home. I knew I’d be blamed, because, sweetheart, I got blamed for everything. Lynn fled the house, scared shitless. I followed her. Picked her up. Sweet-talked her. Told her a pack of lies and brought her here.’
‘Was this place always here?’
‘This place is a stroke of genius on my part.’
‘You must be very clever.’
‘I think I am actually.’ He smirked. ‘I held her upstairs in the old incinerator room, but over a few weeks I built a false bottom in the chamber with an entrance down here. All this is part of the original boiler house. I helped renovate it one summer. I blocked off the door and put in the hatch and steps. Yes, I am very clever. Anyone who decided to search was never going to find her. And they never did. I finally had something my brother couldn’t have. I had her to myself.’
‘What happened to her … baby?’ Mollie couldn’t help her eyes being drawn to the stark whiteness of the tiny bones.
‘He was born dead, the little bastard. I left him upstairs to rot. Thought of burying him. But it was a better idea to leave his bones out for her to see every day of her miserable life.’
Mollie felt sick to her stomach. The mental torture that poor girl must have suffered. ‘Where is she now?’
‘Who?’
She noticed his eyes glazing over, a film of insanity shrouding the whites, the pupils dark rings of hate. She struggled to keep her voice even.
‘Your sister.’
‘She died. It was such fun, every year, watching them all wallowing in grief, wondering where she was.’ He laughed, a strange, screechy sound. ‘They never told a living soul about the traveller. She had this ring. A Claddagh or something. Swallowed it, she did. Stupid bitch. Don’t know if it got stuck in her gullet, poisoned her or what, but when I told her that Mother had died without ever finding out she was still alive, it was like Lynn couldn’t hack it any longer. Or maybe it was because I was busy with the funeral, relations and all that shite. It went on for a week, the wake, the funeral, the afters. I forgot to come with food and water. So maybe she starved. I don’t really care. I was left with the bother of getting rid of her body.’
‘You could have left her here,’ Mollie ventured. ‘With her baby.’
‘I wasn’t able for the smell. And I wanted to have this space free in case I needed it. And I did.’
Mollie was afraid to ask, but she got the words out, ‘What did you do with her body?’
‘Doused her in bleach, wrapped her up in bin bags and dumped her out at the lake for the rats and wild birds to feast on. But some teenage trash found her before she was eaten to the bone. So, pretty girl, I’m done with talking. Your turn. Tell me, where is the chain with the ring?’
* * *
Lottie held a finger to her lips. ‘Shh. I hear voices. There’s someone down there.’
Boyd leaned into the cavernous space with her. ‘You’re right. I’m going down.’
‘No, you need to call for backup. And have a good look around outside. There might be another way in. This building is next to the boiler house. Have a look there. But do it quietly.’
‘I’m not leaving you alone.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it might be my sister down there and you’ll do something stupid.’
‘I won’t. I’ll just guard this door. Go. Make the call.’
She watched him reluctantly leave, then put her ear to the wooden hatch in the oven floor. The sound was muffled, but she could make out some of the words. She switched her phone to record and pushed it over the widest gap in the timber that she could find.
She had been listening for about five minutes, with no sign of Boyd returning, when she heard the scream.
Without further thought, she slid her phone away, pulled the hatch door open and jumped down.
Ninety-Eight
Lottie hit the floor with a thud, having missed most of the rungs on the ladder.
‘Drop your weapon, Finn. Step away from Mollie.’
Two sets of wild eyes gaped back at her, Mollie’s with terror and Finn’s with confusion. The air was filled with the scent of claustrophobic fear. It dripped down the walls and rested like a sheen on the skin of the naked girl.
She was on her knees, her head haphazardly shaven. He stood behind her, one arm around her waist, pulling her into his body, the other about her neck. A pair of scissors in his hand was pointing directly at her eye.
‘Stay there,’ he growled. ‘I’ll do her, I swear I will.’
‘That’s not a good move.’ Still on the floor, Lottie tried to see something in her vicinity that she could use as a weapon. She had no bag and no gun, but Mollie was in danger and she had to do something. Where the hell was Boyd?
‘Oh, I think it is a good move. I outsmarted the lot of you.’
A noise above them caused Lottie to look up. But it wasn’t Boyd. It was Cillian O’Donnell. Where the hell had he come from? This was not good.
A wild laugh broke from Finn. ‘Now we can play happy families, dear brother.’
Cillian stepped off the ladder, then reached down and pulled Lottie to her feet. Shit, she thought. The two of them are involved in this together. Where the fuck was Boyd?
‘It’s okay, Finn, I have the guard now,’ he said. ‘Put down the scissors. You don’t want another murder on your head, do you?’
‘Another murder? What are you talking about.’
‘We can do this together. Me and you. Like old times.’
Lottie felt the hairs on her arms sizzle. How was she going to take down the two of them? Mollie looked in no shape to help. Boyd better be quick.
‘Yes, Finn,’ she said. ‘Put down the scissors.’
‘Shut her up,’ Finn shouted.
‘I have her. No need to shout,’ Cillian said, and Lottie felt his arm loop around her neck.
Finn snarled. ‘What do you care? You never thought about me before; you’re not going to change now.’
‘But I do care,’ Cillian said. ‘I want to help you. Like you helped me with Lynn.’
‘What do you mean?’ The hand holding the scissors wavered.
Mollie was as still as a statue, only her eyes giving away that she was alive. Darting from Cillian to Lottie, pleading for help. Lottie scanned the room once again for a weapon. The space was so confined, they were virtually on top of each other, but at the same time Finn seemed to be miles from her reach.