Page 157 of The Altar Girls

Zara glanced up at her. The disturbed look had vanished. Now it was vacant. ‘Who?’

‘Your little girl. Harper.’

A shrug before she dropped her head to stare at the floor.

Oh shit, Lottie thought.

‘Did Father Maguire harm her?’

‘She’s safe. No one will harm her. I really need to tidy up this house. The mess, I hate mess. I need to have things in order.’

‘Where is she, Zara? Did you hurt her?’

‘How dare you!’ The manic spark returned. ‘She’s my daughter.’

‘She must be hungry. Can I bring her some food?’

‘She doesn’t need food.’

‘Juice? Little kids love juice. I’ll get it and you can take me to her.’ She wondered then if Maguire had already taken the child somewhere, but no, it seemed more likely that Zara had the little girl hidden away. For safety? Or because of something unspeakable?

‘She’s sleeping. Let her be.’

Lottie flew out of the room and up the stairs. The door to Harper’s room was locked on the outside. She turned the key and, with a lump of fear catapulting up from her chest to her throat, opened the door.

Harper was lying on her bed. Curled in a foetal position, hands joined under her chin. Her dark hair was damp and fanned out around her, as if someone had posed it that way.

Dear God, Lottie thought.

Dressed only in her underwear, the thin little body was heartbreaking to look at. With tears lodged in the corners of her eyes, Lottie was rooted to the threshold. She dared not breathe. She gulped down the mass that was threatening to choke her and braced herself.

She walked quickly across the bare floorboards. A creak. The child did not move.

Finding her voice, she whispered, ‘Harper, honey, you’re safe now.’

And still the child did not move.

Closer.

To the edge of the bed.

She kneeled down and studied the small face. Tears stained the child’s ashen skin. She didn’t want to touch her, but she couldn’t help herself. Leaning over, she caressed the little girl’s hair and stroked away a stray tendril that had caught in her eyelashes.

‘Sweetie, you’re safe.’ Louder now. How she got the words out, she didn’t know, but it worked.

Harper’s eyes slowly opened. There was no fear in them. No joy. Vacant, as her mother’s had been a few moments earlier.

The child had been drugged. No other injuries that she could see.

Lottie sank back on her haunches, relief flooding through her like an avalanche.

At least Harper was alive.

94

‘I honestly don’t know why you’ve brought me here. I should be with my daughter. That maniac tried to kill us both.’ Zara was walking up and down behind the interview table. Her clothing had been taken for forensic analysis and she was dressed in a grubby grey tracksuit. She picked at fluff balls on the sleeves. Dull eyes in her gaunt face. ‘Is she okay? Where is she?’

‘Sit down.’ Lottie was exhausted but wired. She’d found a half-clean T-shirt in her locker and zipped a navy garda fleece over it. She craved a shower and food, but first she had to get to the truth. ‘Harper is being well cared for. Father Maguire is undergoing surgery.’

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