Page 85 of The Altar Girls

‘Have you something to hide?’ she asked, chancing one last question.

‘Leave my premises now.’ He unfurled his fists and slammed his hands on the table, the clip he’d been holding skidding along the stainless steel.

‘I’ll be back, Mr Connolly. Don’t leave town.’

‘I won’t. Have you forgotten that I have two children to prepare for burial when they are released to me?’

She felt it was a rhetorical question, so she turned on her heel.

As she made her way back to the station, she mentally kicked herself. SOCOs would have to examine every nook and cranny of the funeral home to discover if the girls had been there. But Connolly had already had time to clean away any evidence, and by the time she secured a warrant, the place would be forensically pristine. That’s if he was guilty.

* * *

Alfie sat on the floor, watching Bethany try to copy the house he’d made with the Lego, but she hadn’t a clue. He supposed she was still a baby. But he was BORED with a capital B.

‘Bethany, would you like to make a snow angel?’

‘Outside? In the snow? Yeah!’ The little girl’s eyes grew wide with excitement. ‘Will I ask Daddy?’

‘He’s busy talking to the guard.’ He leaned his head back against the seat of the couch. When she didn’t move, he called her over and whispered in her ear. ‘I can show you where I found your sister, but you can’t tell your daddy.’ He inclined his head, indicating the kitchen, and put a finger to her lips. ‘It’s our special secret.’

‘Okay.’ She didn’t sound too sure.

‘Where’s your coat?’

‘On the stairs. I’ll get it.’

‘We’ll get the coats on the way out. We have to be really quiet because we don’t want them to say no, do we?’ Alfie looked at the mess on the floor. ‘Help me tidy up.’

She stood immobile while he gathered all the bricks into a pile and threw them into the plastic toybox. He had to hurry if they were to get out without the adults knowing.

Outside, he helped Bethany zip her jacket and pull her hat down over her ears. He watched as she jumped up and down in the front garden, her Peppa Pig wellingtons squelching in the snow.

‘I’m making a snow angel,’ she cried as she lay down and spread her arms and legs. No way was he getting wet.

‘That’s a great one.’

He grabbed her gloved hand and hauled her to her feet. Then he hunkered down and whispered, ‘Not a sound.’

With a glance all around and up at the window, he was satisfied no one was watching.

‘Let’s go. Remember, I told you about our special secret I want to show you.’

‘Will we find Naomi?’

‘Sure we will.’

Stupid kid, he thought as he grabbed her hand and led her down the road away from the safety of her father’s arms.

54

Boyd stood in the lobby of the Brook Hotel and watched a tall, thin man exit the lift.

‘You must be Detective Boyd? I’m Julian Bradley.’ He offered his hand in greeting.

‘I’m a detective sergeant, but everyone calls me Boyd.’ He had picked the familiarity route, hoping it would make the man open up to him. ‘Want a coffee? We can talk in the bar.’

‘Sure.’

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