Page 56 of Final Betrayal

‘Of course I did. What’s this about, Mam?’

‘Are you absolutely sure?’

Lottie saw the colour that had risen in Katie’s cheeks slip slowly away. Her daughter’s eyes were darkening, and not just from the effect of smudged mascara.

‘When?’ she said. ‘When do you think you might not have had your eyes on him?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe when I was trying on clothes on Monday, in Jinx. But the shop assistant, June, she watched him for me. Mam! You’re scaring the shit out of me. What is it? What’s going on?’ Katie dropped to her knees beside Lottie.

She had to defuse this immediately.

‘I think it’s just a cheap home-made disc of some sort. Maybe someone thought it was a euro and put it in his pocket trying to be kind.’ Lottie didn’t believe a word she’d just said. She added, ‘Now get your cereal and let me deal with this.’

‘Is it evidence of some sort?’ Katie got up and fetched a bowl and filled it with cornflakes and milk.

Lottie shook her head slowly. ‘I doubt it. Leave it to me.’

When Katie had left the kitchen, Lottie ran to the counter and unwrapped a pair of plastic gloves from a box in a drawer. Pulling on the gloves, she found a small freezer bag and placed the coin inside. She took it to the window where she had left the bag of seeds and wondered just what the hell was going on.

TWENTY-NINE

The construction team had hit a brick wall. Literally.

The foreman, Bob Cleary, scratched his head with a thick calloused finger, knocking his hard hat backwards so that its lamp pointed towards the roof, plunging the wall directly in front of him into darkness.

‘What the hell?’ He took out his flashlight and pulled the architect’s drawings from his pocket. Flattening the paper against the damp wall, he shone the light on it. The drawings were wrong. There was no wall in them. But he was standing facing it. Bloody unbelievable.

He scrunched up the pages and shoved them back into his pocket. Placing his hard hat securely back on his head, he scanned the surrounding area. He’d known there were tunnels deep beneath the old courthouse and they had been clearly marked out. But this obstruction, or construction, whichever it was, was not documented on anything he’d seen.

‘This damn job gets harder by the day,’ he muttered. Already three months behind schedule, and this was another unforeseen obstacle.

He hammered his fist against the wall, as if this action could make it disappear. Mortar crumbled against his fingers. With the nail of his index finger he scratched around the edge of the bricks. The cement wasn’t new, just damp from underground condensation. Bob had no idea how long the wall had been here, but he had to get rid of it, and quickly.

His phone had no signal, so he began the trek back through the tunnel. There would be a lot of phone calls to make. And this cock-up was on the head of the architect. No way was Bob Cleary taking the blame for this one.

‘No way.’ His voice echoed back at him as he reached the top of the steps.

Cyril Gill was going to chew his arse over this. Fuck and double fuck.

Lottie popped into McDonald’s for a coffee on her way into work. She was still convinced they did the best coffee in town, though Boyd was currently pontificating about Ragmullin’s newest coffee shop, The Bank. But she couldn’t be arsed looking for parking. Familiarity was the handier option. A television was streaming a twenty-four-hour news channel with the sound muted. Subtitles scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

She had a dilemma to solve. Her family needed protection, but how was she going to convince McMahon to allocate resources when they were already stretched? If she relayed the reason why, she’d have to mention Bernie, and she didn’t want to do that if at all possible.

As she waited for her coffee, her eye was drawn to the television screen. She felt her jaw slacken. Cynthia Rhodes was standing outside Ragmullin garda station. Lottie quickly followed the script scrolling beneath the reporter’s camel coat.

Bernie Kelly, the serial killer who stalked Ragmullin a year ago, is reported to have escaped from the Central Mental Hospital. It is not known when she absconded. Authorities are warning the public to be on the lookout and not to approach her, but to contact the helpline.

‘Can you turn it up?’ Lottie frantically knocked on the steel counter, trying to get the barista’s attention.

‘Sorry. It’s controlled from the office.’

‘Just give me my coffee.’ She threw down two euros and grabbed the drink.

As she turned away, she caught the last scrolling words before the bulletin moved to its next story.

I can exclusively report new information that has come my way. Bernie Kelly is a sister of the detective who put her away. Detective Inspector Lottie Parker.

‘Fucking shit.’ Lottie ran out.

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