Page 96 of The Altar Girls

‘They’re headed up the back streets into town. I’m just about to access the traffic cam at the end of Bishop Street.’

Kirby felt his tummy rumble, and he ate the bar in one bite before shouting, ‘There. That’s them. Where are they headed?’

‘Could Alfie be bringing the child back to the scene of the crime? To the cathedral?’ McKeown glanced up. ‘Jesus, Kirby, did he kill the girls?’

Kirby shuffled his feet. Surely the boy wasn’t the killer, was he?

‘This footage is ten minutes old. Let’s go.’ McKeown stood.

‘No, you keep monitoring it. Log on to whatever cameras you can and keep me informed. I’ll head up there and phone the boss on the way.’

He was out the door without giving McKeown time to react.

Kirby raced across the road and onto the cathedral grounds as fast as he could without falling and smashing face first on the tarmac. He was panting like he was about to have a heart attack when he reached the side entrance.

An eerie quietness hung in the air and moisture dripped from gutters before freezing again. The snow was thick in places underfoot despite the many guards who had worked tirelessly searching for clues, and he was aware of the ice beneath the fresh veneer.

He made his way under the crime-scene tape that marked the inner cordon, now unmanned. The tent had been removed from the patch of earth where Naomi’s body had been discovered. SOCOs had finished their forensic work there. Moving forward, he noted small footsteps with a light fall of snow covering them. He crouched down to examine the indentations. One set larger and deeper than the other. The smaller set had marks as if the child had dragged her feet. Reluctantly. They’d come this way. Alfie and Bethany.

Standing straight, his knees creaking, Kirby gazed at the surroundings. To his left, the rear of the cathedral with its large stained-glass window. To his right, trees backing onto the canal and railway. And behind him, the priests’ house. He turned and glanced up at the windows but didn’t notice anyone watching.

The light was already fading; he had to find the pair before darkness fell. He followed the indentations in the snow, tracking away from Naomi’s resting place. Still two sets of prints.

Raw air swung around the side of the cathedral, causing his breath to catch in his throat. A small building housing two toilets stood in the corner. These had been checked and forensically examined the day before. Grainne had said they were too contaminated to yield anything of note, but she’d worked diligently collecting what she could. God help her.

He studied the ground. The prints ended here. They were a mishmash, as if a scuffle had taken place. Or maybe not. He should call for backup.

‘It’s two kids, not two assassins.’ He hadn’t realised he’d spoken aloud until he heard a soft whimper. From inside.

He opened the first door and did a sweep of the toilet area. No one. He backed out and entered the other one.

The whimpers were louder. The door to the toilet was shut over, but not locked.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said as softly as he could muster. ‘I just want to bring you home.’ The whimpers became full-blown sobs and gulps.

Gently he pulled the door open and squeezed inside, gagging at the smell. A mixture of bleach and urine.

‘Holy Mother of God,’ he exclaimed, forgetting to be soft-spoken. The child backed up against the wall and wedged herself in beside the toilet bowl. Her little face was a mess of tears and her eyes were wide orbs of terror.

‘Bethany? Sweetheart, I’m going to bring you home to your daddy. Okay? I won’t hurt you. I’m a detective.’ He fumbled his ID from his inside pocket and a Mars bar fell out. ‘Look, that’s me, Larry Kirby, and that’s a garda badge.’ Could she even read? It didn’t matter. Her eyes had visibly relaxed. ‘Come with me.’ He held out his free hand and she cowered, tears falling, her hand in her mouth.

He pocketed his ID badge and waited. Glanced around. No sign of the boy.

Wrestling another chocolate bar from his pocket, he tore off the wrapper. ‘This will help you feel better.’

She shook her head. He supposed she’d been told not to accept sweets from strangers. He didn’t blame her. He must look like a gorilla in the tight space. Backing up a step, he put one hand on the door, to keep it nudged open.

‘I’ll wait here. When you’re ready, I’ll take you home.’

Where was the boy? Was he the killer of two little girls? Had he attempted to abduct this child? Or was he in trouble? He was only eleven, and maybe he was scared, or hurt.

‘Who brought you here, Bethany?’

She remained silent. Her eyes were rimmed with tears. She put out her hand, took the chocolate from him and snapped down a bite, then handed back the remains.

‘Good girl. Sugar is good for you when you’re afraid.’

‘Not afraid now. Alfie showed me where Naomi was. I had to pee. Then he told me to hide.’

---