Page 138 of Her Last Walk Home

‘Inspector, I never killed anyone, but I have a fair idea who is behind the murders, and I’ve been warned, so I’m keeping my mouth shut.’

‘I could arrest you for impeding my investigation.’

‘Arrest me then. I’m done talking.’

He closed his eyes and clamped his lips shut. Lottie noticed another dribble escape the side of his mouth and trickle down the cleft of his chin. Collins was helpless, and despite herself, she felt sorry for him.

‘If you have a change of heart, contact me, but I’ll be formally interviewing you when you’re well enough.’

He gave no indication that he’d heard her. She left him there, lying on a trolley in the overcrowded A&E corridor, and wondered what this new information meant to the case.

The smoky smell had adhered itself like glue to his suit, skin and hair. Boyd desperately wanted to take a shower, but he hadn’t time. He felt in his bones that the investigation was gearing up. The burning of Gordon Collins’s house had added a new dimension. The fire officer had told him there was evidence of an accelerant having been used. Boyd doubted Collins had done it himself. The man had appeared besotted with his house. Someone was trying to kill him. Or warn him. Had Collins murdered three people and abducted Shannon? Was he missing a crucial tell?

He’d driven out to the field where Aneta’s body had been found. He wanted to get a feel for the area again, especially after discovering the McGoverns had owned a house in the Drinock locality. He imagined Collins’s fingers were all over that transaction. What did it mean, if true?

Breathing in the fresh country air, he studied the landscape. Someone had to have driven along the road, stopped the car and carried her body to the field. Why this field? It was abouttwo kilometres from the McGoverns’ old house. Was that a coincidence, or were they involved? Small-town living meant people had connections all over and coincidences were rife. The McGoverns had it in for Collins because of the defects in their current home. They appeared to be a hard-working, if struggling, couple with a young son who had inadvertently witnessed the disposal of Laura Nolan’s body.

He scanned the horizon. He couldn’t see any houses from where he stood, though the land was flat. The spires of Ragmullin Cathedral were just about visible in the distance. All around him was farmland. The farmer who’d found the body had been cleared of any involvement without shedding light on why his land had been used to discard the young woman’s body.

Boyd surveyed the area again. Was it opportunistic, because this was somewhere far enough away from the actual crime scene to be deemed safe from detection? Or was it close enough for someone in a hurry?

Back in the car, he pulled up the McGoverns’ old address on his sat nav and out of curiosity, drove towards it. The house was listed as an old Protestant rectory dating from the nineteenth century. The road narrowed the further he drove until it was nothing more than a lane. He reached a closed gate, which he estimated to be at least ten feet high. He stopped the car and noticed an intercom on the pillar to the side of the gate. The house was not visible. Walls and trees surrounded it. Was it just an old rectory that was now someone’s abode, or was it something much more sinister?

He wasn’t going to get answers outside the wall, and he needed more information before he went pressing an intercom on a whim. He decided to return to the station to check the property register. His humour didn’t improve when he realised he had to reverse five hundred metres, praying he didn’t meet a tractor.

98

‘I’m not sure about this, Kirby,’ Lottie said as they exited the car outside the school. It was a sprawling mishmash of interconnected buildings located on a small hill a few hundred metres from the Moorland houses.

‘Well, you said you remembered Rex mentioning a Maggie getting a lift to school in a taxi.’

‘But still… Let’s see how far we get.’ She shook out her arms, trying to dispel the smoky smell, as Kirby entered the school showing his ID.

The grey-haired school secretary played her role like a Rottweiler, insisting they could not come further onto the premises without an appointment. ‘Child protection and safety are paramount.’

With her patience skating on the thinnest of ice, Lottie flashed her own ID, her finger under the wordInspector. ‘It’s imperative that I speak with the principal. He can come out here to talk if we can’t enter.’

With a strangled sigh, the woman punched a number on the phone.

‘Mr Cohen, two detectives are here to talk to you. They don’t have an appointment.’

She raised an eyebrow at his reply and a buzzer beeped on the door beside Lottie. She entered a long, narrow corridor lined with closed doors and little coats hanging on hooks. A young man appeared and gestured for them to enter his office.

‘Sorry about Belinda. She’s good at her job.’

‘She could use better manners.’ Lottie could have bitten her tongue when she saw his crestfallen expression.

‘I apologise, but we have to be careful. I was physically assaulted twice last year by irate parents. Sit, please.’

He slumped into a tattered swivel chair behind an overflowing desk, his face drawn and haggard. He couldn’t be older than forty, but stress lines feathered his eye sockets and mouth. His shirt needed the rub of an iron and his tie was as askew as his blonde hair. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘We need some information about a pupil.’

‘Not sure what I can tell you, but fire ahead.’

‘We’re investigating a series of murders and the abduction of a young woman. During our investigation, we found this page from a school book.’ She passed over the photocopy Kirby had arranged, the original already dispatched for forensic examination. ‘You can see the name Maggieprinted on it. We need to talk to this girl.’

‘Why do you think she’s at my school?’

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