Page 37 of The Altar Girls

He slowed to a stop. ‘That’s the house.’

The Devines lived in a narrow detached two-storey property in Laurel Way. It was slightly more upmarket than Carberry Grove, where the Kiernans lived, which was on one of Ragmullin’s larger estates, peppered with council and social housing. Laurel Way, however, had an excess of private rented accommodation lacking maintenance. The driveway ended at a side door, but Lottie walked to the front of the house. The pebble-dash had been painted cream at one time but had faded to grey.

Standing on the step, she looked around. She could just about make out the indentations on the snow in the garden where she’d been told Willow had made snow angels before she’d left for school yesterday. The shapes were obliterated like the way someone had stolen the little girl’s life.

When Zara had reported her daughter missing, Lottie had sent guards to interview her at her home later in the day, but she herself had not visited before now.

The door was opened by Detective Maria Lynch. Her fair hair was smoothed back tight to her scalp and knotted in a neat ponytail at her neck. She wore a navy pant suit with a sharp white shirt. Lottie thought she could be mistaken for an undertaker, her expression was that sombre.

‘I haven’t told Zara yet. God, this is horrific.’

She led them into the sitting room. Lottie noticed that the carpet had recently been hoovered. The sideboard was polished to a high sheen, with a plethora of photographs of two little girls neatly lined up in shining silver frames. Something snagged at the back of her mind. Then it struck her that there’d been no photos displayed in the Kiernan house of Naomi or her brother and sister.

She turned from the sideboard as Zara Devine entered the room. The woman stalled in the doorway, her eyes flitting between the three detectives crowding her neat living room. Her soft cotton wide-legged trousers were totally out of season in the cold house, and her blouse appeared to be covered in hand-painted birds. She dropped the tea towel and mug she’d been holding, then shuddered at the noise of the mug thudding on the carpet, her mouth in a wide O of disbelief.

Despite that disbelief, Lottie saw the reality of the unspoken news inscribed in all its desolation on the woman’s fragile face. She looked like a terrified starling as she bent to pick up the mug.

‘Mrs Devine, Zara, please, you should sit down.’ She gestured to a fabric-covered armchair by the fire. Taking the woman’s arm, Lynch led her over and removed the mug from her hand.

‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ Zara said. ‘That’s why you’ve come here. You found my baby, but you were too late to save her.’ She cried softly.

Willow’s mother had visibly aged before Lottie’s eyes, from a strong thirty-two-year-old to a broken woman. It enraged her, but she had to keep calm, for the sake of her sanity and for this family she was decimating with her news.

As she went to close the door, she spied a little girl sitting on the stairs, looking through the posts, her eyes wide and all-knowing.

‘Detective Lynch, will you look after the child?’

Lynch appeared relieved to escape as she brushed past Lottie. ‘Harper, honey, will you help me in the kitchen?’

When she was alone with Boyd and Zara, Lottie sat in front of the grief-stricken mother.

‘No words I say will comfort you or make sense of what has happened, but I need your help to find the person who has brought this awful tragedy to your door. Do you think you can help me?’

Zara’s eyes were like two flat pieces of brown glass. She shook her head slowly.

‘I don’t know why someone would take my girl from me. Why her? Willow is… was the gentlest soul on this earth. She was terrified of spiders but wouldn’t let you kill one. She cared for her little sister like a big sister should.’ Suddenly her eyes flashed with orange flecks of fire. ‘Why would someone take her from us? We have nothing but ourselves. Why?’

‘I don’t have any answers. None that will ease your pain.’ Lottie floundered. She was trying to remain professional, to do her job, but she wanted to rush across and hold Zara tightly. To help share her heavy burden of loss. She glanced at Boyd, who had a stoic expression on his face, and that brought her quickly back to reality. ‘Tell me about your daughter,’ she managed.

‘Willow was out in the front garden yesterday morning making snow angels, and now she is one. Someone took her away from me and I will never again hear her laugh or shout. Never see her float down the stairs holding Harper by the hand. My daughter was a good child and I’m sure Naomi was too. They didn’t deserve this. You have to make it right.’

Lottie knew she could never make it right; she could only bring the little girls’ killer to justice.

‘I need to ask you a few difficult questions.’

‘Go ahead.’ Zara sat straighter, resolute.

‘You live here with your daughters. Do you have a partner? Their father?’ She glanced at Boyd, who had filled her in about this, but she needed to ask these questions herself.

‘We’re all alone. Dave cut his stick before Harper was born. Said he was going abroad to make money for us. Australia. Not that I see much of it. Before you say anything, he wouldn’t hurt Willow. Or Naomi. And he’s half a world away.’

It would be easy to check his whereabouts, so Lottie continued. ‘Do you have anyone else in your life?’

‘A man, you mean? No, I do not.’

‘Has anyone been paying you unwanted attention recently? Showing an interest in the girls? To Willow in particular.’ Lottie wanted desperately to be able to work out if the murders were random or planned. If she could establish that, it would help set the course for the investigation.

‘Not that I’ve noticed.’

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