Page 126 of Her Last Walk Home

‘We’re in work mode, Martina, no point in giving me the silent treatment. I’m not going to jump you.’

‘Fuck off, Sam.’ So much for keeping her silence. ‘You think you’re the bee’s knees when you’re really nothing other than a shithead.’

‘Have it your own way then.’ He took off in long strides, leaving her trailing behind. Suits me just fine, she thought. The end of the boundary wall filtered into bushes and shrubs. Thatwas when she noticed a break in the hedge, perhaps a car width. It seemed to be a man-made lane leading to the Moorland houses.

‘Hold up,’ she shouted at McKeown’s broad back, but he kept on walking.

Pulling on a pair of gloves, she took her torch from her belt and headed into the small laneway. The ground was muddy, and there were definitely tyre impressions in the soil. She moved in further along the grass verge where the rutted tracks were more visible. Glancing up, she noted the gap ended about fifty metres from the main road. A short cut into Moorland. Made by pedestrians. Had the killer local knowledge?

She left her torch on the ground, its light shining out over the tracks, and snapped a series of photos with her phone.

Glancing behind, she saw McKeown staring at her.

‘What are you doing up there?’ he said.

‘Go back to the car for tape.’

‘For what?’

‘This area needs to be cordoned off. There are tyre tracks here, but a lot of them have been trampled on by pedestrians.’

‘This isn’t on any map that I’ve seen.’

Jesus, did he have to question everything and everyone?

‘It’s man-made.’ She kept her tone neutral, trying hard not to yell at him. ‘Or person-made, whatever you want to call it. We need to cordon off the area until we can get SOCOs out here, and that won’t happen until morning.’ She showed him the photos she’d just taken.

McKeown rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. ‘If it was used by this taxi killer, whoever he is, how did he know about it? It’s not visible if you’re driving by.’

‘He could live around here.’

‘We’ve canvassed all the houses and found nothing, but, well, good work,’ he said, his tone grudging. ‘I’ll wait. You go get the tape.’

She snapped her torch to her belt and marched off, leaving McKeown behind, a looming shadow in the dark.

88

Irene Dunbar had attended an unscheduled meeting with the Health Service Executive about funding, and once that was over, she’d returned to the office. She’d been glad of the meeting, as she could concentrate on work and not on the other stuff. As she entered the main door, a disgruntled Mona came round the desk to meet her.

‘Irene, there you are. You never answered your phone. You can’t just go off like that and leave me with all this.’ She threw her arms upwards as if the roof was about to fall in on top of them.

‘All what?’

‘Kitchen staff grumbling, therapists, clients, not to mention the guards.’

Irene straightened her back, instantly on alert. ‘What did they want?’

‘The therapists need the main group room fumigated and painted. There’s mushrooms growing out of the ceiling. The cleaners refuse to do it. Say it’s a health hazard and?—’

‘That’s part of the old building.’ Irene tried to keep her voice even while her heart was beating double-time.

‘Yeah, but we give the impression on our website and our brochures that this is a refurbished state-of-the-art facility.’

‘I’ll get on to someone in the morning. What did the guards want?’

‘Asking how clients can afford the care here.’

‘What did you tell them?’ The hairs sprang up on the nape of her neck.

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