Page 65 of The Altar Girls

Lottie hammered on the door. Isaac opened it.

‘We need to talk. Now.’

He lowered his head and let her enter.

In the kitchen, Ruth stood with her back to the stove, her arms folded tightly, flattening her chest. There was no sign of the children.

‘Where are Bethany and Jacob?’

‘They don’t need to see their sinner father,’ Ruth snarled. She looked accusingly at Lottie. ‘This is all your fault, having him released before he’d served his penance.’

‘You need all the support you can get, Ruth.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You can’t be left to handle the death of your little girl alone.’

‘I can manage. I have the Lord on my side.’

‘Ruth. Why don’t you sit down?’

‘Why don’t you get out of my house?’

Isaac entered the room with Martina. ‘I know you’re not happy to have me home, but we really need to listen to what they have to say.’

He indicated for Lottie to sit. He appeared more downtrodden than he had been in prison. What was this family’s dynamic?

‘Sinners should be cast out, and you were cast out,’ his wife spat. ‘I don’t want you here.’

‘Ruth, please.’ Martina stood beside her.

Ruth’s face softened as she looked at the young garda. ‘You don’t understand what this man did to our family. Naomi being taken from us is our punishment for his sins.’

‘What sins?’ Lottie asked. Her question garnered a filthy look from the woman.

Isaac pulled out a chair noisily. ‘Sit down, Ruth.’

‘You sound like that pup Julian Bradley. What you did to him was wrong, but in a way I’m glad you hit him. He interfered, so he did. And you!’ She pointed a trembling finger at Lottie. ‘You’re doing the same. I need to grieve for my dead daughter. You should leave. I’ll only talk to Martina.’

Eyeing Garda Brennan, Lottie nodded. It was against her better judgement, but if the woman would only open up to the young guard, she’d have to let her. ‘I’ll wait outside.’

Leaving the three of them sitting at the table, she made her way out to the hall and shut the door behind her. Going by Boyd’s email, the remaining two children might be at risk. But she had no authority to remove them from their home without evidence, and even then, she’d have to call in child services.

Glancing into the sitting room, she found the sparseness and few toys soul-destroying. Perhaps she should bring over some of Louis’ toys. Her grandson had way too much stuff. Neither Bethany nor Jacob was in the room. A chasm of worry opened in her chest, and with her hand on her heart, she made her way silently up the bare stairs.

In the first bedroom, the only furniture was a double bed and a cot. The little boy was asleep, sucking his thumb, an empty bottle by his head. She pulled up the thin blanket and tucked it under his chin. The child looked cared for, but there was an odd pallor to his skin. She blew on her hands to warm them and rubbed a finger over his cheek. It was warm, but not too warm. He groaned, and his breathing raced before it returned to normal. He seemed to be fine.

Just the two bedrooms in the house. The second room had two narrow single beds, each with a flat pillow and a light-tog duvet without a cover. High between the beds, a lone wooden cross with a ceramic suffering Jesus pinned to it paid homage to the family’s faith. Two square plastic tubs on the floor held a small assortment of clothing. A wooden linen box stood at the end of one bed.

Where was little Bethany?

Lottie looked under the bed. In keeping with the neatness of the house in general, there wasn’t a speck of dust. Perhaps the child was with a neighbour?

She was about to leave the room when she heard a soft scratching sound. And then a tiny cry. Had she woken the baby? No, the sound came from this room. She swirled around on the ball of her foot.

There it was again.

From the linen box?

---