‘This isn’t about Annabelle or Cian or anyone else,’ Lottie said, drawing her back to the topic in hand. ‘This is about my dad.’
‘He was the one who fathered a child outside of his marriage, so don’t go blaming me.’
‘But things must have been strained at home. Jesus, you took in another woman’s daughter. Shit.’
‘She was an addict. She couldn’t care for you. There was no help for her back then, just the asylum.’
Lottie stared up at the ceiling. Blinded by tears. Frustration? Anger? Sorrow? She had no idea.
‘No wonder I’m so fucked up.’
‘I thought if I let you have your father’s things, it would be the end of it. Instead you started on your mad witch-hunt. All those poor innocent people. Killed because of your meddling.’
Lottie dragged herself upright again. ‘You’re wrong there. Marian Russell started it with her genealogy investigations.’
‘But don’t you see, your snooping got Cian O’Shea involved to spy on you, and on me. And whether you care to admit it or not, Lottie, that led directly to the murder of the Moroneys. So don’t play the angel here. Shoulder some of the blame.’
Bristling from the harsh words, Lottie decided that once she was well enough, she’d visit Cian O’Shea in prison to see if she could succeed where others had failed. She needed to know who had got him involved.
‘I’ve heard enough now, Mo… Rose. I think you need to leave.’
Rose pushed away from the wall. At the door, she turned. Lottie stared at the once sprightly woman she had called her mother. Now that woman looked half her size and broken.
‘I’m going,’ Rose said. ‘I just ask one thing. Leave it alone now. Don’t go looking for more answers. It’ll only cause people pain. People who have spent their lives running away from it. Remember, you have your own children and your grandson to think of. You don’t want to bring more heartache into their lives.’
Lottie got up, cringing with pain. She stood as erect as she could.
‘For your information, I’m not finished with this. I intend to find my last remaining half-sibling.’
Rose laughed drily. ‘Don’t forget, you have two.’
‘Two?’ Lottie felt confused. Then it struck her. ‘Bernie Kelly can rot in jail for the rest of her life. I’m talking about her twin. I will find where this Alexis is and—’
‘You won’t. You can never fight her. Your father couldn’t.’
‘What do you mean?’ How did Rose always get the last word?
‘Your father couldn’t stand up to her. He was a tired and broken man, the poor eejit. It was Tessa that made him do it, but I firmly believe that Alexis was behind her, pulling the strings. Didn’t you wonder why Tessa had the gun? The gun that killed your father?’
Yes, she did.
‘Alexis put it all in motion and Tessa wore your father down. Tried to convince him it would be wrong to speak the truth. He was a wreck by the time… by the time… I could never prove it, but I always thought someone tied him up, put the gun in his hand and forced him. Why else was there a rope on the floor by his feet? The rope was taken away, and after the inquest, the gun disappeared too. Tessa had it all these years.’ Sighing softly, Rose added, ‘In the end, I don’t know if he even wanted to pull the trigger or not. But he did it.’
Feeling a weakness in her knees, Lottie sat back on the bed and studied her hands. She had no words left to utter. When she looked up, she was alone.
‘I don’t know who I am,’ she whispered to the rectangle of light shining through the gap left by the open door. ‘Who am I?’
30th October 2015
The Child
The day that woman, Tessa Ball, arrived to sign me out should have been a happy day. But it wasn’t. I was leaving the only place I knew as home.
So when she stood there signing the final form, my soul was as black as the leather bag she held scrunched under her elbow.
She should have left me to my own world.
That day she unleashed a force of vengeance on herself and her family that would take another twenty-odd years to come to fruition.
I’m happy now. I’ve completed my life goal.
I lived with people I knew could one day help me to do what I wanted to do. My mission: to wipe out the insanity that had condemned me and my mother to live without the life to which I was rightly entitled. Even when Natasha was born some years after my release from the asylum, I never wavered. I knew she would understand and help me. She was my flesh and blood after all, and it didn’t matter that I didn’t know who her father was. I would prove the strength of that bond to those who had never allowed themselves to believe in it.
I wonder what they’ve done with Natasha. I suppose they’ll try to make her stand witness against me. But my daughter will not betray me. That defiance, back in the cellar, was just fear. She thought the detective was going to kill us both. Poor girl. I had it all under control. I still do.
I’m back in here now. Well, it’s not St Declan’s, obviously; that’s closed down. Another St Declan’s, though I didn’t even ask the name. All the same to me. I’m to be left here until they decide whether I’m fit to stand trial.
I know I’m not that child who was thrust into a world of madness. I’ve been fully aware that every action I’ve taken in my life was well thought out and implemented with meticulous planning. I know I am not insane. But they don’t know that. I’ve learned to play many roles. And this is one I was destined to play.
The child born to a mentally ill mother; locked up for nearly twenty years for no reason other than to protect family honour. How could I be anything other than insane?
Flicking through the pages of the only book I was allowed to bring with me, I study the herbal illustrations and wonder if they will let me sow some seeds. I would like that. My mother, Carrie, would be proud of me.
Epilogue
31st October 2015
Knocking on Boyd’s door seemed more civilised than jamming her finger on the bell. Soft, tender knocks. Tap, tap, tap.
She waited. No shadow formed behind the glass of the door. No sound, no movement. Silence within while everyday sounds continued outside.
Leaning her head against the cool glass, she realised this had been a mistake. It felt right when she’d made her decision. The decision had come from thinking about the loneliness in her life; the lies her life had been founded upon; the quicksand of lies she was quickly succumbing to.
Surrounded by a beautiful family and still she was lonely. Some might laugh. Others might think she was crazy. Maybe she was. After all, wasn’t there was a little bit of insanity running through her veins? Or maybe she should take that DNA test, just to be sure. No, not right now. One day. Perhaps when Rose died and there was no else to get hurt, she’d get Jane to do the test.
Not now. No. Not now.
The need to feel herself wrapped in the arms of someone she’d come to rely on as more than just a friend had become so strong. So she had acted on it. No alcohol in her system this time. No happy pills. Just herself. And he wasn’t even home.
Story of my life, she mumbled sadly to herself, making her way down the path. Pulling her hood up against the biting wind, hefting her bag higher on her good shoulder, she walked out on to the street.
‘Hey, Lottie, where are you off to so fast?’
She stopped. Turned round.
He was standing at the door. Hair dripping, skin damp. Just out of the shower, most likely.
Why was she really here? Unable to form a coherent word, she said nothing. Just stood like an eejit, staring.
‘Don’t walk away now,’ he said, coming down the path in his bare feet. ‘Come in.’ He held out his hand.
No hesitation. She moved towards him and took it.
And for now, it felt so right.
She felt like she belonged.
* * *
Later that evening, they sat on a boulder on the stony lake shore, looking out to wher
e Arthur Russell’s body had eventually risen with the stormy waters. An innocent man whose wife and daughter had died because of the insanity of the past. The ease with which people could cover up their secrets had confounded Lottie.
‘How many other poor souls were abandoned behind high walls because of land, money, and children born out of wedlock?’ she said.
‘Too many,’ Boyd said.
‘Who am I, Boyd?
‘You are Lottie Parker, that’s who.’
‘I’m not the Lottie I thought I was. I’m another person entirely.’
The final leaf fell from a tree, fluttered down and lay at her feet. A gust of wind lifted it and carried it to the water’s edge. They sat there and watched it float out on the wild lake.
‘A fragile leaf at the mercy of nature’s will,’ Lottie said.
‘And human life, just as fragile, is at the mercy of human greed and shame,’ Boyd said.
‘Will it ever end?’
‘The bad weather?’
‘The lies, Boyd, the secrets and the lies.’
* * *
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Hear More From Patricia
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Also by Patricia Gibney
The Detective Lottie Parker series:
The Missing Ones
The Stolen Girls
The Lost Child
A Letter from Patricia
Hello dear reader,
I wish to sincerely thank you for reading my third novel, The Lost Child.
I’m really grateful to you for sharing your precious time with Lottie Parker and company. If you enjoyed it you might like to follow Lottie throughout the series of novels. To those of you who have already read the first two Lottie Parker books, The Missing Ones and The Stolen Girls, I thank you for your support and reviews.
If you want to keep up-to-date with all my latest releases, just sign up at the following link. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.
Sign up here!
All characters in this story are fictional, as is the town of Ragmullin, though life events have deeply influenced my writing.
If you liked The Lost Child, I hate asking, but I would love if you could post a review on Amazon or Goodreads. It would mean so much to me.
The amazing reviews my books have received to date really inspire me to believe in myself.
You can connect with me on my Facebook Author page and Twitter. I also have a blog (which I try to keep up to date).
Thanks again, and I hope you will join me for book four in the series.
Love
Patricia
www.patriciagibney.com
The Missing Ones
Detective Lottie Parker Book 1
Buy it now!
* * *
The hole they dug was not deep. A white flour bag encased the little body. Three small faces watched from the window, eyes black with terror.
* * *
The child in the middle spoke without turning his head. ‘I wonder which one of us will be next?’
* * *
When a woman’s body is discovered in a cathedral and hours later a young man is found hanging from a tree outside his home, Detective Lottie Parker is called in to lead the investigation. Both bodies have the same distinctive tattoo clumsily inscribed on their legs. It’s clear the pair are connected, but how?
* * *
The trail leads Lottie to St Angela’s, a former children’s home, with a dark connection to her own family history. Suddenly the case just got personal.
* * *
As Lottie begins to link the current victims to unsolved murders decades old, two teenage boys go missing. She must close in on the killer before they strike again, but in doing so is she putting her own children in terrifying danger?
* * *
Lottie is about to come face to face with a twisted soul who has a very warped idea of justice.
* * *
Fans of Rachel Abbott, Karin Slaughter and Robert Dugoni will be gripped by this page-turning serial killer thriller, guaranteed to keep you reading late into the night.
* * *
Get it here!
The Stolen Girls
Detective Lottie Parker Book 2
Order it now!
* * *
The young woman standing on Lottie’s step was a stranger. She was clutching the hand of a young boy. ‘Help me’ she said to Lottie. ‘Please help me’.
* * *
One Monday morning at dawn, a young woman and her son visit the house of Detective Lottie Parker, begging for help to find a lost friend. The same day, the body of a young pregnant woman is found.
* * *
Could this be the same girl?
* * *
When another victim is discovered by the same man, with the murder bearing all the same hallmarks as the first, Lottie needs to work fast to discover how else the two were linked. Then two more girls go missing.
* * *
Detective Lottie Parker is a woman on the edge, haunted by her tragic past and struggling to keep her family together through difficult times. Can she fight her own demons and catch the killer before he claims another victim?
* * *
The Stolen Girls is a gripping and page-turning thriller that will leave you breathless. Perfect for fans of Rachel Abbott, Karin Slaughter and Robert Dugoni.
* * *
Get it here!
* * *
What people are saying about The Missing Ones:
* * *
‘Gibney definitely is a writer to watch and an exciting new voice in crime fiction.’ But Books are Better
* * *
‘Every now and then something good comes into your life. Well in this case two things have. Detective Inspector Lottie Parker and her team; and the author Patricia Gibney who has written a brilliant page turner of a crime thriller. Let’s hope we hear a lot more from both of them.’ Nigel Adams Bookworm
Acknowledgements
To date I have written and published three titles in the Lottie Parker series, The Missing Ones, The Stolen Girls and most recently this book, The Lost Child. Writing each one has been a different experience for me, as I am learning all the time. And the main thing I have learned is that my books would not be out there and doing so well without a magnificent team behind me.
The most important part of that team is you, the reader. You have bought my books and read them, and The Lost Child is no exception. Your reviews instil in me a confidence to keep on writing. Thank you.
Thank you John Quinn and Martin McCabe for advising me on policing matters. They know I take liberties with this information in order to narrow timelines and help the story progress. I take full responsibility for the fiction!
For The Lost Child I had to discover a little about farming matters (even though my paternal grandparents were farmers). Thanks to Michael and Veronica Daly for the grand tour of their farm and for showing me the agitator. I had nightmares for a week.
All my books are published in audio format, so I want to thank Michele Moran for her magnificent narration, giving a voice to Lottie and my cast of characters. And thank you to Adam Helal, Audio Producer.
Bookouture is more than a just a publishing house. It’s like a family home, where everyone supports and advises. The hands-on approach makes my writing and editing a lot easier.
To Helen Jenner, my editor on The Lost Child, thank you for your insight into my writing and for guiding me in making the novel into an incredible writing experience. To everyone else from Bookouture who worked on The Lost Child, thank you. I must give a special shout-out to Kim Nash a
nd Noelle Holten for their incredible media work and for organising blog tours. Your tremendous diligence (at all hours of the day and night) helps get my books noticed.
Thank you also to those who work directly on my books: Lauren Finger, Jen Hunt, Alex Crow, Jules McAdam, Kate Barker, Jane Selley and Tom Feltham.
One thing I’ve experienced since joining Bookouture is the tremendous support among fellow Bookouture authors. Thank you, guys!
Thank you to each and every blogger and reviewer who has read and reviewed The Missing Ones, The Stolen Girls and of course The Lost Child. I will continue to keep you busy!
My agent, Ger Nichol of The Book Bureau, is a font of knowledge on the book business and I value her advice. Ger’s engagement on my behalf with Bookouture, especially with Oliver Rhodes, Lydia Vassar-Smith, Peta Nightingale and Jenny Geras in negotiating new contracts, is something I couldn’t do without.
The Lost Child: A Gripping Detective Thriller with a Heart-Stopping Twist Page 34
