Page 61 of Final Betrayal

‘You’re in big trouble for running out on McMahon.’

‘Boyd! Something I don’t know.’

‘Who killed Amy and Penny?’

She bit down on her thumbnail. ‘Besides Conor Dowling being out of prison, no clues so far.’ The nail broke. Shit.

‘If he wanted revenge on Amy for giving evidence against him, where does Penny come into it?’

She bit the side of her thumb, thinking. ‘That’s what doesn’t make sense.’

‘Are you going to tell me where we’re going?’

‘Park Lane. It’s where Cristina Lee lives.’

‘Who?’

‘A friend of Louise Gill. Can’t you drive faster?’

‘In this crock of shit? No.’

He flicked the indicator and swung left, pulling up at the foot of the concrete steps leading to Cristina Lee’s first-floor apartment.

‘You think Louise could be here?’ he said.

‘According to her father, she left home with no phone after hearing about Amy’s death. So I reckon she’s gone to see her girlfriend.’

‘They’re a couple?’

‘Possibly.’

Lottie waited while Boyd locked the car, though she thought it was a waste of time. No one was going to steal it, the state it was in.

At the top of the steps, she paused to catch her breath. Her lungs were tight. Stress. She had to check that Katie and Louis were okay. She’d organised a taxi for Sean and Chloe, so she was secure in the knowledge that they were safely in school. She sent a quick text to Rose asking her to drop in on Katie.

‘It’s open,’ Boyd said, rousing her from her strained musings.

She immediately pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket and slipped them on. She knocked on the door, then pushed at it.

‘Something’s wrong,’ she said. As Boyd opened his mouth to reply, she added, ‘Gloves.’

While he struggled to get them over his fingers, she put one foot into the dark hallway. A narrow table stood askew; keys and coats on the floor.

‘Hello? Anyone home?’ She listened and waited. ‘What’s that smell, Boyd?’

He sniffed the air as he joined her inside. ‘Incense. Cinnamon or some sort of spice.’

Instinctively she knew she should have put on protective booties, but she had to investigate why the door was open and the hall in disarray. She made her way carefully into the room in front of her. It was dark. The incense scent was stronger here, and she could smell something else. Something cold and metallic.

Sliding her hand up the wall, she found the switch and flicked it on. The scene before her caused her to step back onto Boyd’s toes.

‘What the hell?’ he said.

‘Call it in,’ she ordered. ‘Quickly.’

As Boyd made the calls, Lottie stared without moving. She could not contaminate the crime scene. There was no need to check for signs of life. The two young women were dead. Throats slashed. Blood spatter up along one wall, and though the carpet, either Indian or Turkish, was woven in red thread, she could make out the darkness soaking into it.

One woman was distinctly of Asian origin. Hair matt black and skin slicked with blood. She was in a state of undress. Underwear, but no outer clothing save for a blue silk kimono. Lottie tried to visualise what had occurred. Cristina had risen from her bed to let Louise in. Then what? She gazed sadly at Cyril Gill’s only daughter. Her long brown hair matted and snarled around her face, her throat with a single deep cut. Her clothing dishevelled and disturbed.

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