Page 86 of Three Widows

‘Do you think he’s still alive?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Let’s take it one step at a time and see where we’re led.’

She tapped Grainne’s number and made the call.

She felt Boyd’s gaze on her and turned to him.

A smile woke up his tired face, and he started the car.

* * *

Jackie Boyd sipped her third cup of coffee, trying to come up with a plan for her next move. She’d decided not to follow the Parker girl, who appeared to be minding Sergio. She wanted to reach out to her son, to hug him. Lottie Parker’s kids knew her. Hadn’t she once been instrumental in providing information that resulted in one of the girls being rescued from a murderer? And then Lottie Parker paid her back by snaring Mark. Rage bubbled just beneath the surface of her skin.

Her attention had been caught by the two women huddled in the corner. She’d seen them in the mirror behind the bar and thought they’d looked pretty intense for the middle of the day.

They were an unlikely couple, if that was what they were. One was like a wounded bird, her bones sticking out at her shoulders, elbows and ankles. The other had wild red hair and her clothes were a little too out-there for Jackie. Her floaty silver skirt and tight top were more like you’d see on the Costa del Sol rather than in Ragmullin.

They’d gathered their bags. The bird-like woman had left notes on the table to cover their drinks, then arm in arm they’d left the pub.

Jackie turned her thoughts back to Sergio and the Parker girl. She might have to change her plans.

55

At the Keating house, Lottie’s insistent knocking went unanswered. She rang Kirby to ensure it had been searched at the time of Tyler’s disappearance.

Driving away, Boyd said, ‘Neither Orla nor Helena is answering their phones and we can’t find them. Does that strike you as strange?’

‘Logically speaking, they’re probably out shopping or having food somewhere. They might be together, or maybe not. I’m more worried about Helena, though. From what her mother told us, I reckon she could be unstable. It’s as if something seems to have broken inside her, and her mother has given up hope of trying to fix her.’

‘That’s sad.’

‘Yep.’

‘Mothers and daughters,’ Boyd said.

‘Fathers and sons.’ They lapsed into silence as Boyd indicated to turn up the street towards the station. ‘Didn’t Kathleen Foley say she has a key to Helena’s house?’

After securing the key from a reluctant Kathleen who reiterated that she’d never had cause to use it, Boyd sped across town to Helena’s house.

They made their way up the front path. No one came to answer their knocking, so he opened the door with the key and stepped inside.

‘Helena? It’s Inspector Parker and Detective Boyd. Helena?’ Lottie’s voice echoed in the silence. ‘She’s not here.’

She welcomed the coolness of the hall after the heat outside. It was clean and clear of clutter, with no coats clogging the banister. That was never going to happen in her house, where the stairs resembled a nightclub cloakroom on a wintery Friday night.

She followed Boyd into the open-plan kitchen, with a living room looking out on the garden. As she made her way across the floor, she came to a sharp halt.

‘Don’t move, Boyd.’

‘What?’

‘Stay where you are for a minute.’ She crouched down and looked at the stain that had caught her eye. Scanning the floor, she saw there were more stains all around her. ‘It’s blood.’

‘There’s some here by the counter too.’ He glanced around, tracking the trail with his eyes. ‘It leads to this door.’

‘The utility room? Feck. I hope she’s not—’

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