Page 127 of Hidden Daughters

‘All I’ll say is take your time. Don’t make any rash decisions. Not now when emotions are high. Let the dust settle.’

‘Whatever that means.’

Boyd waved as he walked to his car, believing no one could say anything to rescue his and Lottie’s relationship. No amount of dust settling could change his mind.

It was over.

His heart felt empty.

Totally empty.

74

CONNEMARA

Mooney made his way up the stairs, decked out in his white protective clothing. The booties over his shoes were making him slip, and even though he wore gloves, he forced himself not to grab the banister. The two SOCOs stood back as he moved into the bathroom.

The sight of the body caused his stomach to turn. He felt a lurch of unease. Should he have done more last night? Taken Ann Wilson to the station? To get her to talk. To take her out of harm’s way. To get her husband out of harm’s way. But he was well aware that there was no point in mourning what he should or shouldn’t have done. It was all too late now. The ravaged body in the bath bore testament to that.

Ann had been scalded. Her skin looked like it was ready to peel off. Her face was twisted in anguish. She had found no relief in death. A callous and cruel murderer had seen to that. Mooney itched to run back down the stairs, to tear off the white suit, to scratch his own skin raw. He had failed the woman, and he suspected she had been failed all her life.

‘Where’s Denis?’ he asked the SOCO nearest to him.

‘He said he’d be back. Doctor came to give him some sedation, but he headed for his car. Said something about knowing who had killed his wife.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Mooney said, and raced down the stairs.

Lottie drove around the unfamiliar roads, unsure of where she was going or where she could park so that they would be undisturbed and unseen. At least the rain had cleared, and the clouds were making way for a blanket of blue sky.

‘How did you get out to the Wilson house, Imelda?’

‘Bus. Ann gave me twenty euros for food and stuff.’

‘Where’s your car? It wasn’t at the cottage.’

‘I had to use it to escape a fucking murderer, didn’t I? Then I abandoned it in a housing estate because he might know what I was driving and find me.’

Or the police might know, Lottie thought. She had a host of questions, but instead asked, ‘Any ideas where we should go?’

‘We’re nearly in Salthill now. It might be a good place. It’s always busy.’

This surprised Lottie. ‘I thought you’d want seclusion.’

‘More chance of being seen when you’re trying to hide. In a busy seaside resort I can blend in.’

Lottie glanced at her passenger. No way could Imelda Conroy blend in anywhere in her current state. She looked haunted. Her clothing, face and hands were filthy.

‘Where did you stay last night?’

‘I walked around the city for a bit before bunking down in a shop doorway. A couple of homeless guys kept me company.’

‘Were you not scared?’

‘I’m more afraid of whoever is trying to kill me.’

This caused Lottie to grip the steering wheel tighter. She wasn’t yet sure if she had a killer in her car or a victim. ‘Who would that be?’

‘I have my suspicions, but I don’t want to say anything yet.’

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