Page 24 of Final Betrayal

Rose stood and walked to the counter. She put her hand over Lottie’s. ‘No need to be fussing over me. I’m just glad you know now. I haven’t slept a wink the last few nights, worrying about what was the right thing to do.’

The leathery touch of her mother’s skin on hers made Lottie pause. She looked into the older woman’s eyes. She had wondered at one time why they were so different from her own. She’d found out the reason after the bloody encounter with Bernie Kelly in a dungeon under her maternal grandmother’s house. Lottie had been fathered by Peter Fitzpatrick all right, but not with Rose. No, her biological mother was a poor demented young woman called Carrie King, who was also mother to three others. Two of whom were twins. Leo Belfield and Bernie Kelly. Carrie had died in St Declan’s Asylum, and now Bernie was awaiting a similar fate. That was until Leo Belfield had started snooping about, trying to unravel his family history.

‘You were right to tell me. I just need to put the lid back on this can of worms before something terrible happens.’

‘Good girl, Lottie. But be careful. You still carry the physical wounds that woman inflicted on you.’

Lottie hadn’t the heart to remind Rose that the emotional scars ran much deeper.

She made the tea, gave a mug to Rose and sipped her own before throwing it down the sink. The world that had been so bright and hopeful this morning had suddenly turned dark and menacing.

Louise Gill pulled off her clothes and slipped into fleecy pyjamas. The legs had shrunk a bit in the wash, so she rooted in a drawer and found a pair of multicoloured fluffy socks.

Suitably comfortable, she lay down on her bed and flicked through Instagram on her phone. A message appeared.

‘Go away, Cristina,’ she mumbled, and swiped the message up and off the screen. She didn’t want another argument. There was no way she was telling her father about them. Not if she wanted to remain under the comfort of his luxurious roof.

She didn’t know whether to love or hate her father. He put on the public persona of an upstanding citizen. Parading to Mass on Sunday; donating to the right charities; smiling for the camera. But at home he was the boss of Louise and her mother. What he said was gospel, and none of it was in any Bible Louise had ever read. He had set about moulding her since she was fourteen years old, and she was certain he had something far more damning to hide than she had now.

With nothing catching her interest on Instagram, she got out her laptop. Maybe doing a little work would help her relax. Getting into the minds of killers was sobering.

FIFTEEN

Lottie tried calling Leo Belfield every fifteen minutes. No answer. Wherever he was, he wasn’t answering his phone. The rest of the day was filled with budget reports she had to prepare. By the time she left for home, there was still no word of the missing girls.

She’d invited Boyd round for dinner, and when he’d cleared the dishes away, he poured her a sparkling water and sat on the couch beside her. The house was gloriously quiet. Katie had gone to bed when Louis fell asleep after being out in the fresh air most of the day. Sean and Chloe were doing homework in their rooms. At least she hoped they were.

‘Everything was going too well, Boyd,’ she said. ‘I just knew it. When I woke up this morning, I was content with life, even though a slight feeling of foreboding was settling on my shoulders.’

‘Don’t be so melodramatic. Now I know where your kids get it from.’ Boyd casually placed his feet on the coffee table before Lottie patted his leg.

‘Take them down. That’s a new table.’

‘I know. I put it together.’ He drained his glass. ‘I’d better get home. I want to do a half-hour on my turbo bike before bed.’

She turned towards him. ‘Is my company that bad?’

‘Not at all. But I think you need to put that phone away and stop worrying about Leo Belfield and his sister.’

‘They’re my brother and sister too.’

‘Only in name. You don’t know them. You’ve hardly met them.’

‘I’ve been close enough to Bernie to feel the stab of steel in my flesh.’

‘That was a year ago and she’s been locked up. Stop fretting.’ Boyd stood, and Lottie could see irritation written in the hard line of his jaw.

She shoved the phone between two cushions. ‘I’ll walk you to the door.’

She followed him out and waited as he shuffled into his jacket.

‘I’m sorry, Lottie. I didn’t mean to be ratty. Thanks for dinner, by the way. My turn next time.’

She smiled wryly. ‘So there will be a next time then?’

‘Of course. Go to bed. Shut off the phone. Stop worrying.’

She felt the soft caress of his lips on her cheek and a warmth filled her abdomen. She wanted to reach out, to pull him to her and then drag him back to the couch. But instead she opened the door and waved him to his car. ‘Another time, Boyd,’ she whispered to the rainy night.

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