‘We have a team meeting,’ Lottie shouted after him, ‘and you better be there.’
FORTY-FIVE
Maeve’s skin clung to her like a well-worn washcloth. She tried to turn over onto her side, but pain restricted her movements. Arms heavy, she traced her fingers beneath her body. She wasn’t on the floor. Cold sheets beneath her. Damp. A bed. She lifted her hand. Blood. It smelled coppery, like corroded metal. Was it hers?
She turned her head. Solid walls. Bare concrete. No window that she could see. No furniture. A dusty fluorescent strip lined the centre of the ceiling, casting a weak yellow streak downward, failing in its quest to brighten the room. Where was she?
Carefully she raised her head and glanced down her body. Naked, not even underwear. Instinctively she tried to cover herself, clasping her skin with weak fingers. An arrowhead of pain shot through her and she screamed, but only a strangled sob came from her throat.
Tentatively she caressed the spot where the stab of agony had erupted. A sticky wetness slid over her hand. She bit her lip to prevent another scream.
A wound across her abdomen, spread in an arc over her pelvis. Blood curled down her pubic bone and between her legs. The triangular illuminations from the stained-glass in a panelled door danced before her eyes, exploding in a thousand fireflies, fluttering in the dark.
She struggled to stay alert; to save herself from her unknown captor. What had he done to her?
I want to go home, she cried silently, before the light merged into one long line of blackness.
FORTY-SIX
The extended team members were gathered in the incident room. Lottie was glad when Superintendent Corrigan rang in to say he had to take a sick day. She hoped he wasn’t too ill, but in all honesty he hadn’t looked great all week. At least she wouldn’t have to tell him about Milot.
Standing with the incident boards to her back, she looked at her team. Expectant faces stared back at her. She was about to give them a shit-load of information they already knew, and questions with no answers. She pointed to the photograph of the first murder victim and proceeded to outline the facts.
‘Monday. First victim discovered at Bridge Street. Buried beneath the road. Found by water-main contract worker Andri Petrovci. From the post-mortem results we know the victim had been undressed, shot, the wound washed, then she was re-dressed. Why would he do that?’ She looked at the expectant faces. ‘Control? Power?’
‘Because he could,’ Boyd said.
‘To wash away evidence,’ Lynch suggested.
Lottie said, ‘The killer took a great risk burying her beneath the street where a few days earlier contractors had been digging. Did he know they would be back? If so, he wanted the body found. Why?
‘The victim was about four months pregnant and aged between sixteen and twenty at best estimate. According to the pathologist, her bone structure suggests she is of Eastern European or Balkan origin. Moss was discovered under her nails but no DNA. She’d had a kidney surgically removed within the last twelve months. This detail must be kept from the media at all costs. Understood?’
A murmur of assent filtered throughout the room.
‘A bullet was lodged in the victim’s rib. No report from ballistics. Detective Lynch, you follow this up.’
Lynch nodded as she scribbled notes. ‘Yes, boss.’
‘We’ve no idea who she is or where she lived, though we suspect she may have been a resident at the direct provision centre run by an ex-army man, Dan Russell. We’ve got some information on him but I need you to dig deeper. Find anything you can on Russell and his venture.’
Lynch said, ‘I’ll work on that.’
‘Power and control,’ Boyd said. ‘Ex-army officer. Figures.’
‘We’ll see.’ Lottie leaned against the board, considering where to go next with her spiel. She decided on Mimoza.
‘Before the body was discovered on Monday morning, a young woman called Mimoza visited my home with her son before I left for work. She gave me a note. Roughly translated, it says that her friend Kaltrina is missing and this Mimoza is looking for help to escape. From what, I don’t know. We still have no idea if Kaltrina is one of the murder victims. We’ve run the name, but no success. I have no idea where Mimoza is now.’ She decided against mentioning that Milot had mysteriously appeared at her door last night. ‘Just keep this in mind throughout your investigations. It may be linked.’
Expectant faces stared up at her. Lottie took a sip of water and continued.
‘On to Tuesday. At Bob Weir’s car dismantler depot we found a bullet hole in a rear wall and blood was discovered on the ground nearby. To date, we’ve no report from ballistics, or analysis from the lab on whether the blood was animal or human. Kirby, can you hound them for results?’
‘I’m doing it every day.’
‘Do it every five minutes.’
‘Yes, boss,’ Kirby groaned.
‘Wednesday. We received a report that a seventeen-year-old girl, Maeve Phillips of Mellow Grove, was missing. Reported by her mother, Tracy Phillips. Maeve is the daughter of criminal-in-exile Frank Phillips, who we are currently trying to locate. As far as we can determine, the girl was last seen on Friday, a week ago today. We’ve interviewed her friends and appeals have been issued through social and national media. No sightings to date. It’s possible she’s been abducted. I must state also that Maeve’s mother is an unreliable witness. Hard to believe anything she says.
‘On Thursday, a second murder victim was discovered in Columb Street. Similar circumstances to our first victim. Buried beneath the road. Been dead at least four to five days. Unearthed by Andri Petrovci, who also found the first body.’
‘Number one suspect then?’ Boyd asked.
‘He’s been questioned and a buccal swab taken for DNA, but to date we have nothing to hold him on.’
‘Jesus, he has to have some involvement. Bit odd finding not one but two bodies, isn’t it?’ Boyd stood and walked around. ‘Does his alibi hold up?’
Lottie clenched her fists to prevent herself from telling him to sit down. Best to let him wander.
‘Petrovci lives alone and says he’s at home every night. This morning I visited the pathologist, Jane Dore. She has yet to complete the post-mortem but confirmed that the second victim has an abdominal scar, leading her to believe that she also had a kidney removed. This scar is newer than the other victim’s, possibly six months. Again, I don’t want to read about this on the web or anywhere in the media. Am I clear?’
‘Crystal,’ Boyd said.
Lottie continued. ‘The sutures were professionally administered, which may indicate a qualified doctor—’
‘Or a wannabe doctor,’ Boyd interrupted.
Digging her nails into the palms of her hands, Lottie said, ‘Keep it in mind as you compile a list of suspects.’
‘We don’t even know who the victims are. How the hell can we get a suspect?’ Boyd said.
Lottie shook her head. This wasn’t going smoothly. Only good thing was that Corrigan wasn’t around to witness it.
‘Where was I? Bullet entered the second victim’s back and exited just below the chest. Ballistics will confirm if it is the same weapon as used on victim number one. I’m sure it is. This girl is aged between eighteen and twenty-five. Undernourished also. But a difference to the first victim has been established.’
A murmur of interest spread through the room.
‘She has a lot of scars and cuts on her body. Self-inflicted? I’m waiting for Jane Dore to confirm all of the above, later today.’
She sipped her water again before continuing.
‘Recap time. Both bodies were found by Andri Petrovci. He works with the water-main contractors. He is a Kosovo national. Nothing to link him to the actual murders as yet. And I’ve confirmed he is not on the watch of any of our national crime teams. Columb Street is cordoned off and being searched, as is Weir’s yard. A resident from that area, Willie Flynn, reported to Detective Kirby that the st
reet was closed for a time on Monday night or Tuesday morning. He saw someone with a white van picking up road signs that had been used to shut it off.’
Kirby piped up. ‘The security company employed by Bob Weir to patrol the area have no record of this being their van.’
‘Burial locations for both girls are under streets to the rear of the town, quiet areas, both easily blocked off in the dead of night. People are so used to disruptions occurring without advance warning that it wouldn’t seem unusual. But we need to search through the CCTV from all the businesses that back onto these streets. Kirby, you again.’
He nodded. ‘Nothing works, but I’ll check again.’
‘As we have no reports on the missing persons database of anyone fitting the victims’ descriptions, it’s possible that both girls were residents at the DPC. We had a meeting with Dan Russell and he denied any knowledge of the first victim when shown her photograph. But when Detective Boyd asked him about Mimoza, we think he lied in relation to not knowing her. So what is Russell up to? What’s he hiding? Detective Lynch, please hurry up with your enquiries. I really need to know who I’m dealing with.’
‘Doing my best,’ Lynch replied.
‘Have we enough for a search warrant for the DPC?’ Kirby asked.
‘Only suspicions,’ Lottie said. ‘Another thing to note is that Jamie McNally has returned to Ragmullin, as I’m sure you’re all aware. Our best intel is that he entered the country last Wednesday week. Just before the bodies started turning up. Interesting, isn’t it?’ She pointed to McNally’s photo pinned on the board and eyed Boyd.
‘But if it is him, what’s his motive?’ Boyd asked.
‘I don’t know. The murders might have nothing to do with him, but last night McNally paid a visit to Maeve Phillips’s mother. He took from the house an expensive dress that had been hanging in Maeve’s wardrobe. We had already determined that it had been bought online and delivered on April fifth to Maeve’s address. No idea as yet who purchased it. No idea why Jamie McNally would take it. But we now know from our intel that McNally works with Frank Phillips, Maeve’s father. Is this criminal element related to the murders?’ Lottie let that hang in the air for a moment.
‘DS Boyd, see what you can find out. I believe you know someone who can help us.’
Boyd unfolded his arms and squeezed his hands into fists. He didn’t seem pleased with the task. Tough shit, Lottie thought. A muffled murmur rose among the assembled crew.
‘Any questions?’
Detective Lynch stood up. ‘This Andri Petrovci seems like a prime suspect to me.’
Lottie deliberated over this. ‘Besides McNally, and maybe Russell, he’s the only suspect so far. But why would he unearth the bodies if he had buried them?’
‘Looking for attention?’ Lynch offered.
‘Doesn’t make sense. The whole way the murders and the bodies have been managed shrieks control freak to me. I’m not sure he fits the bill. But by finding the bodies he’s already contaminated them. His DNA will probably prove worthless.’
‘He’s getting off too lightly,’ Lynch protested. ‘I’ve spoken to him twice and he’s definitely using the language barrier as a foil to keep us from digging too deep.’
Lottie thought for a moment. She was usually a good reader of character but she wasn’t at all sure about Andri Petrovci. Why had she asked him to translate the letter from Mimoza? A major mistake on her part? Jesus, she hoped not.
‘Okay.’ She relented. ‘See what you can find out about him and we’ll bring him in again. Anything else?’
‘How does the killer pick his burial sites?’ Boyd asked.
‘He seems to know the contractor’s routine,’ Lynch added.
‘It’s listed on the council website,’ Kirby said.
‘What?’ Lottie said.
‘Traffic management section, online. Shows where they intend working a week in advance.’
‘It still points to Petrovci,’ Lynch said, sticking her pen into her ponytail.
‘I’ve said we’ll bring him in again.’ Lottie knew she was losing control of the meeting. ‘Has anyone got hold of a database from the Department of Justice listing the residents at the DPC?’
‘I got a list emailed to me,’ Lynch said. ‘Took a lot of wheeling and dealing. Russell is running this as a private venture. But the Justice Department relented and sent it on.’
‘I suspect they believe he is compliant with their regulations, but I’m not so sure. We need to go through the names in detail.’
‘I did a quick scan. There’s no one called Mimoza or Kaltrina on the list.’
‘Shit,’ Lottie said.
‘Does that put Russell in the clear?’ Boyd asked.
‘Not in the least,’ Lottie said. ‘What’s to stop him having his own unofficial list?’
‘Why would he do that?’ Kirby stood up, patting his shirt pocket for a cigar.
‘Don’t know yet, but it seems the obvious thing to do if you’ve something to hide.’
Boyd said, ‘We don’t know if he has anything to hide.’
‘If he has, I intend to find out.’
Lottie spent some minutes going over all the details she had outlined and setting up a dedicated team to manage the Maeve Phillips disappearance. Then, with the chatter rising and the detectives shaking their heads, she sent everyone back to work.
A nagging doubt prickled beneath her skin. She hadn’t told the team about Milot turning up at her house. She wouldn’t like it if any of them withheld information, yet here she was doing it herself. Consoling herself that Boyd had said nothing about it, she knew she’d have to follow it up herself.
‘Did you mention something about coffee?’ she asked Boyd as she passed him.
FORTY-SEVEN
‘I said I’m sorry.’ Boyd boiled the kettle. ‘About what I said earlier. But you insinuated I knew something about McNally – that was a bit low.’
‘I’m sorry too. We know McNally was at Maeve Phillips’s house last night,’ she explained again. No point in fighting with the only person who listened to her grievances.
‘Yes. Sent by the girl’s father.’
‘When Jackie called to yours last night’ – Lottie spooned hardened coffee from a jar into mugs – ‘did she mention anything about McNally?’
‘No, she didn’t.’ He poured the water. ‘I got rid of her immediately.’
‘So what are you going to do about McNally?’
‘What are you going to do about the boy?’
‘I wish you’d fuck off,’ Lottie said, with a grin.
‘Be careful what you wish for,’ he said.
They carried their coffees back to the office. Boyd perched himself on the edge of Lottie’s desk, mug of black coffee in hand, matching the dark rings beneath his eyes. She flicked through a file on her desk. He placed his hand on top of hers.
‘Lottie?’
She looked up and caught the earnest look in his eyes.
‘The Child and Family Agency? Did you contact them? You have the number.’
She sighed. ‘Not yet.’
‘For God’s sake—’
‘Hear me out. The boy might know something, and once he’s in the system, he’s lost to us. I’ll have to buy time. Somehow. There’s all the paperwork. In the meantime, we could question him.’
‘Question him? About what? A four-year-old kid without his mother? Get real.’
Lottie stood up quickly, knocking the mug in Boyd’s hand with her elbow. Coffee splashed over his white shirt. He leapt away from the desk. From the scalding liquid. From her?
‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘That’s my last shirt.’
‘Look, Boyd.’ She placed her hand on his arm. He continued wiping the stain without meeting her eye. She dropped her hand. ‘He’s no more than four years old. He found my house having only been there once before. He must be living in town. Probably in the DPC. His mother came to me for help. I didn’t give it enough attention at the
time, but now I feel she really needs it.’
‘What’re you going to do?’ Boyd asked, giving up on salvaging his shirt. ‘Keep the boy? That’s kidnapping.’
‘Know what you can do?’ Lottie picked up her bag and brushed past him.
‘Go fuck myself?’
She smiled back at him but still banged the door on her way out.
Even if Boyd didn’t want to be part of it, she was going to find out why Milot had ended up at her house. Her gut was telling her Mimoza was in danger. And she knew her gut was always right. Well, almost always.
Standing in the corridor breathing deeply, she heard the office door open behind her and sensed Boyd approaching.
Without preamble he said, ‘Do you honestly think they were living in Russell’s weird set-up?’
‘I don’t know. But it makes sense. It’s local. Mimoza was walking and I saw her meeting up with a girl at the end of my road.’
‘What girl?’
‘I’ve a vague recollection that she was small, black, but I’m not sure.’
‘Will I open a missing person file on Mimoza?’
‘How? I know nothing about her. I need details, her photograph. I’m not even sure she’s missing.’
Pacing up and down the cluttered corridor, stepping around box files, she said, ‘We’ll get an interpreter for the boy.’
‘You could ask the O’Hara fellow working at the DPC.’
‘Don’t be daft. What if that’s where they came from?’ Lottie said. She added, ‘The DPC is within walking distance of my house. Not that far for a four-year-old, if he cut down by the canal or was brought that way. And the canal route is lined with cherry blossom trees.’ She took off down the corridor.
‘There are petals everywhere after all that rain. Where the hell are you going now?’
Lottie kept walking. ‘To try and get past Dan Russell’s stonewalling attitude.’
‘Lottie…’
‘What?’
‘Remember you told me what the superintendent said to you the other day, about standing on toes.’
‘Boyd, I think you have a hearing problem.’
The Stolen Girls Page 18
