Page 15 of Final Betrayal

Rain fell in sheets as they left the car and approached the guard hut at the entrance to the site. Lottie held up her ID and the guard slid back the window.

‘What can I do for you?’ he said.

‘We’d like to have a word with Ducky Reilly. Is he at work today?’

The young man’s face paled. He closed the window and opened the door. He was about five foot five and had short curly brown hair peeking out from the edges of his beanie hat.

‘What’s this about? I didn’t do anything, no matter what anyone says.’ His voice was high and petulant.

‘And who would be saying anything about you?’ Boyd muscled in.

‘No one. Nothing. Shit, you guys are making me nervous.’ He pulled off his hat, then, as the rain poured down, quickly clamped it back on his head. Water dripped off his yellow work jacket and sprinkled a grey sheen onto the mucky ground.

Lottie shifted her feet, trying not to get her boots too soiled. A losing battle. ‘We’re here about Amy Whyte.’

‘Who?’

‘Come on now.’ Lottie could tell that he knew exactly who she was talking about. ‘When did you last see her?’

‘Amy? Let me think …’

‘Jesus, answer the question.’ Boyd was losing patience.

Lottie tried to be nice. ‘Ducky, what’s your full name?’

‘Dermot Reilly.’

‘Which do you prefer us to call you?’

‘Everyone calls me Ducky.’ He shifted from foot to foot, splashing mud onto the leg of Lottie’s jeans.

‘Ducky it is so,’ she said, and Boyd sniggered. She threw him a dagger stare and turned back to the young man. ‘Can we talk inside?’ She indicated the hut.

‘It’s too small. Just my chair and the security cameras.’

‘Oh, I think we can squeeze in. Boyd, you wait in the car.’

As she followed Ducky into the warm confines of his miniature workplace, she had to agree with him. It wasn’t made for two people. She leaned against the door and he sat on the chair with a couple of screens behind him. Nothing hi-tech. She could see Boyd outside, trying to light a cigarette in the spilling rain.

‘So, tell me about Amy.’

‘Her dad rang me this morning asking about her too.’

‘When did you see her last?

‘Saturday night. We were all in Jomo’s. That’s the nightclub round near Petit Lane car park. You know, at the back of Main Street, past the chipper.’

‘Yes, I know it.’ Lottie squirmed as she recalled her daughters falling out of the taxi on Saturday night. Sunday morning if she wanted to be pedantic about it. ‘Who is the “all” you’re referring to?’

‘Myself and a few of the lads. And Penny, of course. She and Amy hang out together.’

‘Penny Brogan?’

‘Yeah. Amy and Penny are joined at the hip. So my mother says.’

‘Your mother’s met them?’

‘We’re friends. Since school. Amy is a bit up her own hole because her father’s a councillor. But Penny’s fun. Always up to something.’

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