‘Where is she?’
‘You have to leave. I can sort this out myself.’
‘Has he harmed you?’
‘Please leave. It’s too dangerous.’
She went to close over the door, but Lottie was too quick for her and pushed inside. ‘Kirby, keep her out here.’
The sitting room was empty. She’d check upstairs in a minute, but Zara had glanced behind her, so it was feasible that he was in the kitchen. She unholstered her gun and tried the door handle. It turned.
‘Father Maguire? Keith? I’m coming in. Just to talk. Please stand away from the door.’ She had a bad feeling about this, but hoped she was wrong.
No sound.
She inched the door open with her foot and scanned her eyes over the room.
An upturned chair. Blood. So much blood, pooling on the floor. And Father Maguire lying there immobile, blood seeping from a head wound.
‘Shit, shit, shit.’ She holstered her weapon and rushed over, without caring about disturbing the evidence. ‘Kirby! Ambulance! Keep Zara out there. Cuff her. Don’t let her out of your sight.’
She lowered her head to Maguire’s face. He was breathing. Barely. She tore off her jacket and wrapped it around him, then grabbed a towel from the back of a chair. Dropping to her knees, she attempted to stem the flow of blood with the useless towel.
His mouth moved. Then stopped. She laid her ear close to his lips. He wasn’t saying anything, but at least he was still breathing. She heard a sound behind her and turned to see Kirby on his phone, his other hand tightly gripping Zara’s elbow, her hands now secure in front of her. It was then that Lottie noticed a smattering of drops on the side of her face. The coat swung open revealing a blood-drenched blouse.
‘He… he wanted to kill me,’ Zara cried. ‘That’s why he came here. To kill me, like he killed my Willow and poor Naomi. I fought back.’
‘Have you a first-aid kit?’ Lottie asked. ‘More towels?’
‘The kit is in the cupboard above the fridge. Towels are upstairs.’ Her voice was ridiculously calm for someone who had most likely attacked the priest.
‘Kirby, take her into another room. How long for the paramedics?’
‘Two minutes.’
‘Call for backup and alert SOCOs.’
With the sodden towel still pressed tight to the side of Maguire’s head, Lottie stared hard at Zara before Kirby steered the woman away. She wanted to know what had led to this, but she couldn’t start asking questions now. She wondered which of them – Zara or Keith – was the killer she’d been searching for.
93
The two paramedics worked with swift professionalism. They had tubes and swabs and bandages in and on Father Maguire in a little under four minutes before transferring him to a stretcher and wheeling him out to the ambulance. After their noisy instructions to each other, the house seemed to physically relax, dropping to a hush.
Kirby had taken Zara to the sitting room and given her a bottle of water. He’d got it from one of the paramedics because there was no way Lottie could let him into the kitchen. Evidence was already compromised.
The paramedics had offered her a bundle of sterile wipes to remove the blood from her hands. She’d wiped furiously, but it remained embedded beneath her nails, even though they were short and bitten. Her jacket that she’d thrown over Father Maguire was saturated with his blood. She’d put it into a blue plastic bag, again from the paramedics, and left it in the kitchen for the SOCOs.
Uniforms arrived quickly and had a cordon erected around the house to keep neighbours and others at a distance.
When she entered the sitting room, Kirby was in the process of putting small evidence bags over Zara’s hands. She wasn’t objecting, physically or verbally. In the silence, she allowed him to cover her hands securely, still cuffed in front of her.
‘You have to come to the station with us,’ Kirby said. ‘To make a statement,’ he added quickly, after catching Lottie’s eye.
Zara didn’t move or speak.
Lottie was itching to ask what had transpired in the kitchen to result in such a violent attack. But she had to do this right. Zara’s clothing would be taken for analysis and she would be interviewed at the station. However, one question required an immediate answer.
‘Where is Harper?’