Final Betrayal

by Patricia Gibney

  ‘Dangerous,’ Kirby said.

  McKeown ignored the jibe. ‘I’m going to the car park to walk the line where this shadow was and see what I come up with.’

  ‘Do that,’ Boyd said.

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes, now.’

  ‘Will I tag along?’ Kirby asked.

  ‘No, I want to discuss this Tony Keegan character with you.’

  The office door clattered against the wall. McMahon stood there, hair askew and cheeks billowed out with rage.

  ‘Is she here yet?’

  ‘Who?’ Boyd said.

  ‘Don’t be smart with me.’ He thumped across the floor, narrowly missing the stack of box files, and burst into Lottie’s office.

  * * *

  Lottie lifted her head so quickly the blood didn’t react in time, and the dizziness blinded her. She could see two McMahons bearing down on her. She blinked and shook her head.

  ‘Sorry, sir. Did you want me?’

  ‘Why else would I be standing here? What are you up to, getting national television to run a segment on your daughters? You know the protocol. Those girls are over eighteen.’

  ‘Chloe’s only seventeen!’

  ‘They’ve only been gone a few hours, if they’re missing at all. Good God Almighty, what were you thinking of? Don’t answer that, because I really don’t want to know. But I do know this: you are in shit right up to your bloodshot eyes, Inspector Parker. Deepest of shit.’

  His speech didn’t warrant a response, so Lottie clamped her lips tight. Just in case.

  As if he couldn’t bear her silence, he said, ‘Say something.’

  She shrugged.

  ‘Not going to give me any excuse?’

  Eyeballing him, she said, ‘Do you have children, sir?’

  ‘None that I know of.’

  She drew herself up straight and said quietly, ‘If you had, you’d understand that my daughters are the most important people in my life right now. Nothing else matters.’ She took a breath. ‘I know I have responsibilities to the families of the murder victims and to the team, but right now I need to find Katie and Chloe.’

  ‘But you don’t have to abuse your rank in the process. It makes a laughing stock of the station. You’ve damaged your reputation, not that that was hard, but you also made a mockery of mine.’

  ‘I’ll worry about reputations when I have my girls home safely.’

  He sniffed. She thought it was in derision but she couldn’t be sure. He said, ‘Did you leak the Kelly woman’s photo to the media? To Cynthia Rhodes?’

  ‘I’m sure Cynthia had it on file.’ No point in walking herself in deeper.

  ‘Even so, you have no evidence to put Kelly out there as a person of interest in this supposed abduction you’ve concocted.’

  ‘Her photo is already in the public domain following her escape.’ Lottie suspected she should have kept her mouth shut; she wasn’t going to win this battle with McMahon.

  ‘There’s nothing else you can do but wait. Remember your training. That’s what we tell parents of missing children. Stay at home and wait. I’m not telling you to stay at home, but while you’re waiting, get to work on the murders.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘The courthouse incident has diverted media attention for the time being, but they will return, baying for blood and answers.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Feck off, sir, she added silently.

  ‘Your team needs direction. Leadership. Can you give them that?’

  Not at the moment, she thought, but she said, ‘Yes, I can.’

  ‘Get to work then. And you’re to stay away from the Kelly case or I’ll take you off the murder investigations too. Am I clear?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I’ve been up all night coordinating the rescue operation at the courthouse. I need to be able to depend on you.’

  ‘You can.’ Damn him.

  When McMahon had left, Boyd entered the office. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Any word on Bernie Kelly?’

  ‘Nothing yet. Belfield called to say he’ll be out looking for her today, trawling the streets.’

  ‘He’s of the opinion that she didn’t take Katie and Chloe. I don’t know which is the worse scenario.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Boyd’s face was pale and his hair looked greyer; it was as if the weight of the rubble was still on his back.

  ‘That Kelly took them, or that our murderer did.’ She tried to recall if she’d mentioned to McMahon about the coin she’d found in Louis’ jacket. If she hadn’t, maybe now was the time to do it. It would impress on him the urgency of finding her daughters, if they were in the hands of the killer.

  ‘Calm down, Lottie.’

  ‘Don’t, Boyd. Do not tell me to calm down.’ She tried to keep her tone even, but it kept rising. ‘The one anomaly in all this is the coin I found in Louis’ pocket.’ She went to put on her jacket and realised she’d never taken it off. ‘I’m going to drive around town again.’

  ‘Leave it to traffic. What do we tell parents of missing children? Stay put.’

  ‘I’ve heard that not two minutes ago. Were you earwigging?’ She sighed. She felt so helpless. She had to work the case as if she was an outsider. Leave her emotions at the door. She had to look at all the angles as a detective, not a hysterical mother.

  Boyd said, ‘Listen to this. We might have something on the murderer.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’

  Anything to be doing something, she thought as she followed him out to the main office.

  Fifty-Three

  A pall of smoke hung over the town as they walked to the Petit Lane car park. Traffic was being diverted from the centre to allow the recovery and rescue to continue at the courthouse. Lottie glanced over at the terrace where the first two bodies had been discovered. Mrs Loughlin stood at her gate. She returned Lottie’s wave and made her way into her house.

  Kirby and McKeown were up ahead, walking along the perimeter wall of the car park. Lottie and Boyd had parked there earlier. She’d seen the CCTV images and hadn’t thought they meant anything. Still, she had approved this venture.

  ‘Chasing shadows,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t think McMahon will be too happy with us.’

  Boyd said, ‘The only thing he’s ever happy about is a balanced budget.’

  She had to agree with that statement. Walking behind him, she noticed how he winced as he moved. Her own bones ached, but neither of them was complaining. There was no time or sympathy for that. Walking wounded just about summed them up.

  ‘It’s about here that the shadow disappeared.’ McKeown had stopped a few paces ahead of them. He held the image up, then surveyed the area.

  ‘There’s a manhole cover here.’ Kirby bent down. ‘It’s been opened recently.’

  ‘The council were probably clearing the drains,’ Lottie said.

  ‘But this isn’t a drain, or a sewer. It hasn’t got the correct markings.’ He looked up hopefully. ‘Anyone got a screwdriver or a knife?’

  Lottie leaned against the wall and stared as McKeown took a knife from an ankle strap.

  ‘That’s not allowed,’ she said, trying to keep her jaw from dropping.

  ‘I didn’t see anything,’ Kirby said, taking the offered blade.

  Lottie turned away as she heard Kirby sliding the knife around the edge of the manhole cover. It screeched as it moved.

  ‘Got it!’ he said.

  As she turned back, a gust of wind blew litter into her face and the sky decided to take that moment to spill its load down on top of them. She pulled up her hood as the rain pounded on her head. ‘It’s just a sewer.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’ McKeown hunched down beside Kirby. ‘It’s definitely an entrance to a tunnel.’

  ‘It’s still a sewer,’ Lottie insisted. She leaned over Kirby’s shoulder. An insane thought flew into her brain. Could her girls be hidden there? ‘What are you waiting for?’ she said with renewed urge
ncy. ‘You found it. Down you go.’

  Kirby gave McKeown a nudge with his elbow. ‘You discovered the shadow on the CCTV footage. I think you should go. Have you got a flashlight strapped to your other ankle?’

  Boyd pulled a pencil torch from his inside pocket and handed it over. McKeown took the light and pointed it down into the darkness.

  A voice echoed back up at the four detectives.

  Lottie tottered against Boyd, and McKeown looked at Kirby.

  Then they heard it again.

  ‘Get me out of here.’

  McKeown radioed for assistance while Kirby trotted across the car park to the cordoned-off scene at the courthouse. He came back with a couple of fire personnel and a ladder.

  Lottie was on her knees, torch in hand, directing it into the tunnel. The muddy face of Conor Dowling stared back at her from possibly five to ten metres below ground.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she shouted.

  ‘No. I need to get out of here.’ His voice was hoarse. From shouting, she thought.

  ‘Any injuries?’

  ‘I’m thirsty and starving.’

  The rain thundered down and water flowed into the hole.

  ‘Hurry up,’ Lottie told the assembled crew.

  After the ladder was shunted downwards, a fire officer climbed down to make sure Dowling was strong enough to come up under his own steam.

  ‘Is there anyone else with you?’ Lottie asked.

  ‘No,’ echoed the reply. Closer now. He was climbing the ladder.

  Lottie offered her hand as he reached ground level. He ignored it and hauled himself up and out. He lay on his back, inhaling fresh air. A squad car with uniformed officers arrived. Boyd took a heavy jacket from one of them and, after lifting Dowling to a sitting position, threw it over his shoulders.

  ‘You’re coming with us,’ he said. ‘You’ll be checked over at the station.’

  Lottie kept her focus on Dowling. He was shivering and dirty. But his eyes were alive and piercing. He returned her stare before turning to glance at the courthouse.

  ‘What happened over there?’

  ‘I thought you could tell us that,’ Boyd said.

  ‘Nothing to do with me. I was working below ground. Tried to get back out, but the entrance was blocked. I’ve spent all night in that dark hole, imagining that I would never be found.’

  ‘Maybe you should have stayed in prison,’ Lottie offered. ‘Go with McKeown. I’ll talk to you in a while.’

  While Dowling was escorted to the car, Lottie remained standing at the opening to the tunnel. The fire officer made to remove the ladder.

  ‘Leave it,’ she said. ‘I want to have a look.’

  Boyd put a hand on her arm. ‘I think Amy and Penny’s killer used this tunnel.’

  ‘Because of the shadow on the CCTV footage?’

  ‘I doubt it was used as a means of escape, but it would be an ideal place to stash a murder weapon.’

  Kirby piped up. ‘We need to get our hands on maps or drawings first. There’s probably a maze of tunnels down there. No point in any of us ending up lost.’

  ‘And none of you geniuses thought of getting one before we left the station?’ Lottie said.

  They shook their heads.

  ‘I’m going down,’ she said. ‘Katie and Chloe might be in there.’

  ‘Boss,’ Kirby said. ‘Dowling has been down there since the incident, so there’s no way he could have taken your daughters.’

  ‘I don’t care. I need to see for myself. Hold that flashlight, Boyd, and when I’m safely down, follow me.’

  Without waiting to hear any further argument, Lottie gripped the ends of the ladder, eased herself over the opening and carefully made her way downwards.

  The dark was all-encompassing. The walls were close and the roof closer still. She hunched her back and felt around her with her hands. Damp and cold.

  The light returned as Boyd’s feet thumped down beside her and slime splashed up over her boots and legs. She grabbed the torch and turned.

  ‘I really think we should get a map first,’ he protested.

  ‘Follow me or go back.’ Adrenalin fused her resolve. Could her girls be down here? Logic told her no, but all reason had deserted her. ‘I hope there’s fresh batteries in this fiddly yoke.’

  ‘Of course.’

  She came across Dowling’s work jacket and hard hat.

  ‘Maybe you should put that on,’ Boyd said.

  She kept walking. A junction in the tunnel stalled her progress. ‘Which way do you think we should go?’

  ‘I’d chance right.’

  ‘Let’s go this way and see where it leads us.’ She hoped she wouldn’t come across a rat, or she’d be jumping into Boyd’s arms, and she wasn’t in any humour for that.

  There was less air now, and what little there was, was dank. She could feel it sticking to her as if it had a form of its own. She felt as if they’d been walking for ever, but she estimated it’d only been about five minutes, slowed by the low roof and narrow passage, when she stopped.

  ‘Wait,’ she said. She bit her bottom lip, the torch flickering up and down in her hand as she attempted to focus it on something that had caught the thin shaft of light. ‘Boyd, what’s that?’

  She stepped into a curved cavern. The way ahead was blocked by a brick wall, though a hole seemed to have been bored in it. Bricks and cement lay in a pile. But that wasn’t what had caught her attention. Illogically, she thought she’d found either Chloe or Katie, and her heart seemed to suspend its motion before kicking off again, racing like a sprinter. Dropping to her knees, she felt Boyd’s breath on the back of her neck.

  ‘It’s a body,’ he said. ‘Here a while by the looks of it.’

  ‘Is it male or female?’ She stared at the skeletonised remains.

  ‘Remnants of a shirt and denim jeans. It could be either sex. I’d say the rats had a good feast on this one.’

  ‘Shut up, Boyd.’ She glanced around, moving the light up and down the walls and along the floor. ‘No footwear, and no bag or anything that could give us an identity.’

  ‘We’ll need to get SOCOs on site.’

  ‘Either this person was murdered or they were left down here to die. That wall looks more recent than the rest of the tunnel.’ She pointed to the brickwork with the gaping hole smashed through the middle. ‘But why? Who? Jesus, I don’t know what’s going on.’

  ‘We’d better make our way back and call it in.’

  ‘What was Dowling doing down here when the crane collapsed? And why was he alone?’

  ‘We will ask him those questions.’

  She cast the light once more over the body leaning against the wall. ‘Should I move it? There might be some evidence behind or under it.’

  ‘Leave it be. We need to have it forensically examined in situ. You don’t want to damage something that might give us an identity or perhaps provide us with a reason why this poor soul was abandoned here.’

  ‘You’re right. My head hurts anyway. Come on.’ Her girls were not here. She should be relieved, but it was no consolation. She had no idea where they were.

  As she turned to leave, her eye caught the glint of something silver on the ground, just beside the bones of the left hand.

  ‘Fuck,’ Boyd said.

  ‘Double fuck,’ Lottie agreed.

  Fifty-Four

  Lottie’s knees hurt and her ankles screamed for rest as she reached up her hand and allowed Kirby to haul her out of the tunnel. She was glad to be out in the little daylight allowed by the thunderous skies overhead. But there was no relief. Her daughters were still missing.

  ‘Call in SOCOs,’ she instructed the detective.

  ‘What did you find?’ he asked.

  Boyd hauled himself out beside Lottie. ‘A body. Skeleton really.’

  Kirby scratched his drenched head. ‘Left over from the time of the old gaol?’

  ‘More recent than the nineteenth century, unless they wore Levi’s and checke
d shirts back then,’ Lottie said. While Kirby got on the phone, she checked her own. Nothing. ‘You sure my number is linked to this device?’

  ‘Didn’t McKeown fix it up?’ Boyd said.

  ‘Yeah.’ She shoved the phone back in her pocket and looked around for a car to take her back to the station. She didn’t think her legs could carry her much further.

  She spied a squad car at the perimeter and made her way to it as Kirby began the process of erecting a cordon around the tunnel entrance. She twisted the plastic bag containing the two coins in her hand, and wondered what secrets the network of tunnels beneath Ragmullin had yet to yield.

  Lottie’s throat felt dry and as sore as the rest of her body, and as she walked towards the interview room, her jeans began to steam.

  ‘I always knew you were hot, but you are positively steaming,’ Boyd said with a wink.

  ‘Now is not the time or the place, Boyd. Is Dowling in here?’

  ‘Ready and waiting. Doc says he’s fine. Not a scratch on him. Unlike the two of us.’

  She took off her jacket and rolled it into a ball as McKeown came out of the interview room.

  ‘Has he said anything?’

  ‘Other than not to tell his mother, nothing.’

  ‘Not to tell her what?’

  ‘I presumed he meant that he was out, though he doesn’t strike me as the type of person to be afraid of his mother.’

  ‘I’ve met her. I don’t blame him.’

  ‘That bad, huh?’

  ‘Bad enough.’ She turned to Boyd. ‘Let’s get cracking. I want to hear what he knows about Katie and Chloe.’

  Lottie opened the door and entered the small, suffocating room. The smell of the underground tunnel seemed to trail in with her, or maybe, she thought, it was emanating from Dowling. His elbows were on the table, with one hand propping up his head. His face was washed clean and his hands looked scrubbed. The same filthy clothes hung from his thin frame. He appeared to be asleep, but as she shoved her jacket into a corner, he sat upright.

  ‘Took your time,’ he said.

  Boyd switched on the recording equipment and gave the time, date and names of those present.

  ‘Hey, hold on a minute,’ Dowling said. ‘Is this a formal interview? I’ve done nothing wrong. This is harassment.’