Page 83 of Final Betrayal

‘I’m going to kill her first.’

FORTY

At first the young man wasn’t very accommodating. Neither was his mangy dog. But she needed somewhere to sleep where no one would ask questions. She peeled off a fifty from the bundle of notes she’d stolen from Leo Belfield and waved it in the air.

‘What’s your name?’ she asked the dirty-faced man.

‘Everyone calls me Mick.’

‘Well, Mick, here’s some money. I want to rent your sleeping bag and this corner for the night. Deal?’

He swiped the money, unfurled himself from the boxes and newspapers and tumbled out of the sleeping bag. Wrapping the leash around his hand, he walked off with his dog.

She cast an eye around warily, wondering if anyone had seen the transaction. The supermarket across the road was closing for the night, shutters coming down. The car park was virtually empty. The corner was secluded enough. No one noticed the homeless people any more. They had become part of the infrastructure.

She could blend in. She was a master of impersonation. And a lot of other things. The smell didn’t faze her. The young man had sweaty feet, but the bag was clean enough. Pulling it up over her head, Bernie Kelly settled down for the night, to plot and plan for tomorrow.

FORTY-ONE

Conor was late for work on Thursday morning. He hadn’t slept well. When he’d eventually been prodded from unconsciousness by a passing dog walker, he’d stumbled home, his head throbbing. He’d entered the house as quietly as possible, slunk up the stairs and fallen on top of his bed.

Now, sneaking on to the site, the collar of his coat turned up, he tightened the Velcro on the cuffs of his gloves and picked up the wheelbarrow.

‘Where do you think you’re going with that?’

Bob Cleary was panting his way towards him, splashing sludge everywhere. If Conor was in charge, he’d have the site hosed down every day. It didn’t cost much to be clean.

‘I’m bringing this around the back. Gerry said he needed it for shifting sand.’

‘I’ll shift Gerry out the gate if he doesn’t do what he’s told. Put it down and come with me. The boss wants a word with you.’

‘I didn’t think he’d be in today.’ Conor felt a snake of worry crawl through his blood.

‘And why wouldn’t he be?’

‘His daughter. She was murdered, you know.’

‘Of course I bloody know. The man is inconsolable. Doesn’t stop him working. I reckon he needed to get out of the house and do something constructive. Come on.’

Constructive, Conor thought. Like firing me. He chewed the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to see the boss. He was sure it’d been Gill who’d beaten five shades of shite out of him last night.

‘I have to bring this round or Gerry will fire me.’

‘I do the hiring and firing and I say put the fucking thing down and come with me.’

Should he run or stay? Conor decided to take his chances.

Lottie had hardly shut an eye all night. The old anguish had taken root deep in the pit of her stomach, and she felt she could crouch over the toilet all day puking up her fear.

She’d spent the hours of darkness checking in on her children: stroking their hair while they slept; standing over Louis’ cot listening to him breathing. If anything happened to any of them, she would never survive the pain and the guilt. She had to protect them.

With a mug of coffee turning cold on the table, she sat looking at her phone. Who could help? Leo Belfield? No. He’d already lost Bernie; he’d be useless despite the fact that he was a NYPD captain. She couldn’t spare any of her diminished team. They were too busy. A squad car outside the house could only do so much. Could she justify putting her family under unofficial house arrest? A direct threat had been made, but she knew McMahon wouldn’t sympathise like her old superintendent, Corrigan, would have done. He was too focused on his own performance and that of the district. Freeing up dwindling resources to house-sit his inspector’s children was not on his agenda. Could she keep Chloe and Sean at home without telling them why? She didn’t want to worry them, but at the same time they needed to be alert. What was she to do?

The doorbell shrieked through her musings and she knocked over her mug. She almost freaked out as she slowly headed to the door. Cynthia Rhodes stood on the step.

‘Not you!’ Lottie said with a groan.

‘I come in peace.’

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