Page 146 of Three Widows

‘Did she explain how her marriage was unhappy?’

‘No. We talked about her, not her husband.’

‘Was she a patient at Smile Brighter for long?’

He shrugged and sipped his green tea. ‘I can’t believe I’ve lost my husband to a murderer.’

‘You told me you’d lost someone else too. Who was that?’

After a long sigh, he said, ‘Before I admitted to myself that I was gay, I dated a woman. I thought she was the love of my life, but she had so many secrets, I couldn’t cope with her.’

‘Who was she?’ Come on, arsehole, Lottie thought, say her name, it won’t kill you.

‘She’s not relevant to anything that’s happening now. We finished a few years ago. It was messy. It’s over. That’s it.’

‘You want to find out who killed Owen, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Frankie, I know about you and Amy Corcoran. She’s in hospital, badly injured. What do you know about that?’

‘I never touched her.’ His face paled. ‘Not recently, anyway. We didn’t work out. I went away to India to recuperate. I really don’t want to talk about Amy.’

‘Did you intimidate her into asking Kathleen Foley to invest twenty grand in your husband’s studio?

‘I haven’t spoken to her in years. We didn’t last long together. She found out the hard way that I was struggling with my sexuality. I was in denial. I’m afraid to say I wasn’t the nicest person back then. And she wasn’t particularly nice either, under all her faux sweetness and light.’ Tears spilled uncontrollably from Frankie’s eyes. ‘I loved her in my own way. But then I found Owen and realised who I needed in my life. Amy couldn’t understand it. I don’t blame her. And the worst thing is, I think I still love her. God, I’m pathetic.’

And are you also a murderer? Lottie wondered.

* * *

She couldn’t see anything such was the depth of darkness. She realised it had been some time since she’d sensed anyone in the room.

She tried deep-breathing in an attempt to ward off the pain in her legs. One was broken, she was certain, but somehow the other was more painful. Was her captor the one who had killed Jennifer and Éilis? She couldn’t let that image invade her brain or she would give up there and then.

To picture where she was being held, she tried to use her other senses. The room smelled old and fusty. Mouldy. She knew she was lying on plastic sheeting, but a bristly carpet lay underneath, pricking her through the plastic. She couldn’t use her hands because they were bound tightly, but she could listen. The tick of a clock. In the room? Probably. She had the feeling she was in a room in an old house. Where was it?

She fell back against the sheeting and gritted her teeth. She wasn’t gagged. Did that mean there was no one to hear her? She must be somewhere remote, then. Somewhere far from other human beings. She wept with frustration, terror and pain. A feeling of despair washed over her. No one would hear her. No one would find her. Because – and this caused her the greatest grief – no one would look for her.

No, she was not going to die. She could fight back again. Her desolation was not total.

Despite the horrific pain in her legs, and a growing thirst, she had to work to keep her focus.

If she was to get out alive, she could not lose hope.

89

Frankie Bardon had shut up then, and Lottie had to leave him to await his solicitor.

Kirby bustled into the incident room and flung himself onto a chair.

‘How is Amy doing?’ Boyd asked.

‘She’ll survive, but she’s so damaged. I found out something crucial to all this.’ He pointed to the board with a sweep of his trembling hand. ‘He did it. He killed them all. I’m absolutely certain.’

‘Frankie Bardon?’ Lottie asked.

‘We have to bring him in. I’ll go once I get my breath back.’

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