Page 136 of Three Widows

She cried even harder.

Did I bind her too tightly?

I inspect my handiwork. The nylon rope is biting into her flesh. A little blood. Not too much. Not enough to kill her. I don’t want her keeling over dead like her friend Éilis. I have a routine and I want to complete it. I need to act even faster than before.

I tighten the zip on my new overalls, then pull the mask tight on my mouth and nose and tug up the hood. I am careful. I don’t want any evidence left on her. At least the lake water will have contaminated anything that may have been left on the other one. I was too annoyed to be careful. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so cocky, leaving Amy before she died. I thought she was too far gone to survive. My miscalculation, because reports say she is alive, in a serious condition with life-threatening injuries. I do hope she dies. She would be the ultimate loose thread that could string me up and hang me. And I don’t want that to happen until I have completed what I set out to do.

I turn my attention to my latest captive. When I finish with her, I have one more to deal with, then I can rest.

‘Now, crybaby, I need you to cooperate.’

I pick up the bloodied plank and walk towards her. Her crying turns to a strangled scream as she sees what I’m holding.

I can’t help the smirk unfolding behind my mask.

‘Don’t worry. You won’t see anything at all after I’m finished with you.’

84

In the incident room, Lynch wrote up her notes on the meeting with Madelene Bowen, occasionally glancing at the photos on the board.

‘Busy?’

‘Jesus, Lei, don’t do that.’ She hadn’t even felt the presence at her shoulder until he spoke.

‘What?’

‘Creep up on people. I thought you went home to rest.’

‘To stare at four walls? Might as well help out here. Who is that guy?’

‘Owen Dalton. He owns a yoga studio. Healthy living and meditation shite.’

‘He doesn’t look very healthy.’

Lynch noted Dalton’s thin face shrouded by a mane of dark curls, and those eyes. God, they were like glass marbles, an extraordinary pale blue. She dragged a strand of hair out of her own tired eyes. They knew so little about any of their potential suspects.

‘We need to do a thorough search on his life, his studio, and Frankie Bardon, his husband.’

‘Sure.’

She tapped open the studio’s website. After a few minutes, she’d gathered little information. Everything seemed to be window-dressing. That made her think of Éilis Lawlor. Interior designer. She opened Éilis’s website and scrolled to the testimonials. Sure enough, Owen Dalton had written a glowing review for how she had transformed the studio space. She had also worked on Jennifer’s house. And Tyler Keating’s car had been found in Jennifer’s lock-up.

‘There are too many crossover threads with little to solidify them into a motive,’ she muttered.

‘Look at this,’ Lei said from the corner of the room.

Lynch gladly rose from her chair to join him.

‘Dalton set up a company, so his accounts are public. I just thought I’d have a look at how he financed it.’

Leaning over his shoulder, she peered at the screen. ‘Good work.’

‘What does it mean?’

‘It’s another thread, but eventually they’ll all come together.’

Back at her desk, she wondered why Tyler Keating had been one of Owen Dalton’s initial investors.

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