Page 88 of Her Last Walk Home

She dried her tears to the sound of theMr Beancartoon on the television. If they couldn’t escape abroad, they’d have to either sit it out here or else flee somewhere locally until it was safe to return. Paranoid or not, she felt she had to leave Ragmullin.

63

With the lines on Boyd’s graph criss-crossing in mostly illogical patterns, and nothing clear coming to light, Lottie decided to drive out to the rehab facility. Cuan was a long-established addiction rehabilitation centre, and she was hopeful of getting some answers there.

It took her twenty minutes to reach it. She liked the rural aspect of the location. The building had beenin situsince the 1960s, even though it had been partially burned down and rebuilt.

As she waited by the intercom to gain entry to the building, she found the darkening evening peaceful. The only sound was the murder of crows roosting on the bare branches of a large oak tree to the side of the building. The trundle of a tractor starting up somewhere caused the birds to rise as one and swarm the sky like a swirling black blanket. She shivered and pressed the intercom again.

After giving her details, she was admitted into a hallway. The cramped space had tired tiled walls and floor. It was like an ancient bathroom, and it was even colder inside than outside. The reception desk in front of her was encased in Perspex, the only nod to modernism.

‘How can I help you?’ The woman looked to be in her fifties, her face creased in tired furrows with eyebrows severely plucked and painted back on. Her name badge saidMona.

‘Hi, Mona. I’m investigating a serious crime and would like some information on residents who were here about a year ago.’

‘I doubt we can give out that information. Privacy is paramount for our clients.’

‘I get that, but one of your former residents was murdered this week. I’m sure you’ve read about it. Seen the photos and all that.’

‘Oh God, I heard the news. How awful. May she rest in peace.’

She? Lottie tried not to let the surprise show on her face. Did Mona mean Laura? If so, it would need to be confirmed. She had to be careful how she continued her quest.

‘I hope you can see a way to help me find justice for her.’

Mona straightened her back and a steely glare replaced her sympathetic expression. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I want to rule Cuan out of my investigation. Who do I speak to about this?’

‘I don’t know whatthisis yet.’

God Almighty. Was the world made up entirely of stonewallers? ‘I need confirmation that the victim was a resident here.’ What she really wanted to know was if Laura had been resident at the same time as John Morgan, but she couldn’t just blurt out her question. Mona would clam up.

‘Irene might talk to you. Irene Dunbar. She’s the manager.’

‘Right. Will you let her know I’m here?’ It was like pulling teeth while standing on eggshells. Lottie swallowed down her impatience.

‘She’s not normally here on a Sunday, but she came in for a few hours today. I’ll give her a buzz.’

While Mona punched in an extension number, Lottie noticed how bare the hall was. Even the receptionist’s booth had nothing on the walls, and her desk held only a computer and phone.

‘Irene says she’ll squeeze in five minutes for you. Wait there.’

I’m going nowhere, Lottie thought. She checked her phone to make sure no one was trying to reach her. Then she scrolled through her recent photos and debated showing one to Mona. No harm in trying.

‘I’d like to show you a photograph to see if you recognise who it is. Okay?’

‘Sure.’

‘I should warn you, the person in it is deceased.’

‘Oh, I don’t think I have the stomach for that.’ Mona paused, then took a deep breath. ‘Well, I’ll try.’

Turning the phone around, Lottie studied the woman’s reaction closely. Mona paled and scrunched up her eyes, her eyebrows meeting in the middle. ‘It can’t be… Sorry.’ She turned her head away from the image and glanced behind her and back again. ‘Sorry. I’m so sorry.’

With that, a door opened to Lottie’s right and a tall, elegantly dressed woman approached. ‘I’m Irene Dunbar. Come this way.’

With a last imploring eye at Mona, Lottie pocketed her phone and followed the high-heeled clip-clop down the tiled corridor.

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