The Stolen Girls

by Patricia Gibney

  ‘But what brought Gjergi O’Hara to—’

  ‘Gjergi Jashari,’ Lottie corrected.

  ‘What brought the butchering bastard to Ragmullin in the first place?’

  ‘Revenge.’

  ‘On Russell?’

  ‘No. I believe Gjergi was involved in trafficking Mimoza and her son to Ragmullin. She was Andri Petrovci’s girlfriend. Petrovci discovered she was in Ireland and followed but couldn’t find her. Petrovci suffers blackouts from the trauma of having his kidney removed and I don’t think he knows what’s real and what’s not half the time. I think Gjergi wanted to fuck with his mind because he’d been about to give evidence against his father at his trial. He was going to torture and kill Mimoza and set Andri up to take the blame. He’d already set him up for the other girls’ murders.’

  ‘But McNally wanted a piece of the action,’ Boyd said. ‘He knew Frank Phillips was pulling out of the deal so he muscled into the gap due to become vacant. Makes sense.’

  ‘Aided by Tracy Phillips. She planned for McNally to kidnap Maeve and demand money from Frank in return for his daughter. When we were in Malaga, Frank told us his family had been threatened. We should have pushed him then for more information.’

  ‘If Maeve was in danger he wasn’t going to tell us anything,’ Boyd said. ‘But I wonder what went wrong.’

  ‘Tracy had it all nicely set up, but McNally got greedy. Sold Maeve off to the doctor to get back at Frank Phillips and get into Gjergi’s good books.’

  ‘That’s why she came to the station urging you to find her.’

  ‘She knew McNally had double-crossed her, but she couldn’t say anything without implicating herself.’

  ‘And McNally became the Lipjan Twitter guy,’ Boyd said. ‘to ensnare Maeve.’

  ‘Yes. I think McNally’s actions motivated Gjergi to start killing the girls he stole organs from. It was an ideal way of framing Andri Petrovci for murder. His coup de grâce was to be Petrovci finding Mimoza and Milot dead in a trench under a street.’

  ‘Mad bastard in his own insane world.’

  ‘And Chloe walked straight into it. She confided in Maeve about her self-harm and was targeted after Maeve’s abduction. I think in Gjergi’s warped mind he believed he was saving the girls he killed. But it was all motivated by revenge.’

  ‘Against Petrovci.’

  ‘Yes. Is he still here?’

  ‘With everything going on we never got to release him.’

  ‘We need to speak with him again,’ she said.

  ‘I think we do,’ Boyd agreed.

  EIGHTY-SIX

  ‘I remember now. Sometimes it like that. The blackouts first, then memory come back.’

  ‘What do you remember, Andri?’

  Lottie sipped a mug of coffee brought in by Boyd. Andri Petrovci had declined the offer of a drink. The three of them sat at the steel table in the suffocating heat of the interview room.

  Andri said, ‘I get headache. I leave apartment because man ring me. You ask what he say.’

  ‘Yes. We’ve checked all the phone records and you were called by the same number that contacted Jack Dermody and Eamon Carter.’

  ‘He say I never see my Mimoza again.’

  ‘Andri. I’m sorry to tell you but Mimoza is dead. She died fighting off a very evil man.’

  He began to shiver. His hands quivered and he shook his head. ‘No! It not true.’

  ‘I’m afraid it is true.’

  ‘Why? Why this happen?’ After a moment he said, ‘This man, he say… I never see son again.’ Tears gathered at the corners of his pained eyes. Hastily he wiped them away and sniffed. ‘I not have son.’ Lifting his hands, pleading, he said, ‘Why he lie? Why?’

  Lottie looked at Boyd.

  ‘But Andri—’ she began.

  Boyd shook his head and mouthed, ‘Outside.’

  They stood in the corridor.

  ‘I have to tell him about Milot.’ Lottie folded her arms and leaned against the wall.

  ‘At least wait until DNA confirms it or otherwise.’ Boyd paced in front of her.

  ‘But he’s the boy’s father. He needs to know.’

  ‘He’s a mental wreck, Lottie. How is he going to care for a little boy? Be realistic.’

  ‘We can’t not tell him.’

  Back in the interview room, Lottie picked up her bag. She took out the photograph she’d found in Adam’s belongings and placed it on the table.

  Andri pulled it toward him. ‘Where you get this? I take this photo. When I a boy. I remember. Why I never see it before?’

  ‘I’m not sure, Andri,’ Lottie said softly. She handed him the name badge Mimoza had brought her over a week ago.

  Andri turned it over and over in his hand, tracing the tight green stitches marking out the name on the canvas. He looked up at Lottie and smiled through his pain.

  ‘Friend. Soldier friend. He good man.’

  Tears spilled from Lottie’s eyes. ‘You knew Adam?’

  ‘Soldier friend, he give me this. He tell me, ever in trouble, come look for him. I give it to my Mimoza. I tell her look for him if anything happen to me. One day I come from work, she gone. Now she truly gone.’ He smiled sadly. ‘Soldier friend, I not forget him.’

  ‘Adam died nearly four years ago,’ Lottie whispered. ‘But he would have helped you.’

  ‘You help me. You believe me when I say I not kill girls. You help my Mimoza?’

  Lottie shook her head. Tears dripped from the end of her nose to her chin and down on to her chest.

  ‘I tried, Andri, but not hard enough. I couldn’t save her.’ She glanced over at Boyd, and he nodded.

  ‘Andri, I’ve something to tell you. Something that will make you very happy.’

  ‘Nothing make me happy. My Mimoza gone.’

  She choked back a sob. ‘Listen to me, Andri. You do have a son. He is a beautiful little boy. His name is Milot.’

  Andri reached out and wiped the tears from her cheek. ‘You tell truth? I have a son?’

  ‘Yes, Andri, you have a son.’

  And when Lottie looked at him, all the black pain had left his eyes, and he smiled.

  ‘I have a son.’

  KOSOVO, MAY 2011

  Andri’s plain black suit had been hired. The collar of his shirt cut into his neck. Though his head was newly shaved and gleamed bright under the artificial lights, his eyes were dark with pain. He shifted on the chair and rubbed his hands together. He could feel someone watching him. Without turning round, he knew Gjergi Jashari was staring at him from the back of the packed courtroom. Seeking out his soul.

  A hush descended as the defendant was led into court, followed by the judges taking their seats. Everyone rose and sat as directed.

  Bracing himself for the trauma he would have to relive, Andri closed his eyes and remembered her eyes. The girl he’d met and loved. The girl someone had taken away from him. He would search the world for her. Once the trial was over.

  But before proceedings could commence, a commotion from the dock caused a flurry of activity. Andri looked over. Old Gjon Jashari had crumpled over on himself, his head smashing against the floor. Both hands clutched his chest as the life shot out of him in a long, hoarse groan. The man who had taken life from others for tainted dollars left the world without paying for his actions.

  As people ran and fetched and carried and shouted, Andri sat motionless and emotionless. He wouldn’t have to give his testimony. Maybe now he could begin his search for his beloved Mimoza.

  As he sat there, above the commotion he heard a door bang shut. He turned around.

  Gjergi was gone. He hadn’t waited to see if his father lived or died.

  And Andri realised that Gjergi had only two goals in life. One was to follow in his father’s footsteps making money from illegal human organ harvesting; the other to make Andri Petrovci suffer.

  EPILOGUE

  31 MAY 2015

  Four white coffins stood behind the brass altar gates
of Ragmullin Cathedral for the prayer service.

  Three of them bore names on copper plates. Kaltrina. Sara. Mimoza.

  The fourth held the unidentified female with her unborn child. A silver angel holding a white dove sat on top of the wood where their names should have been.

  In the front pew, Andri Petrovci had Milot on his knee. The little boy held a new white rabbit with floppy ears. With one hand he fingered the toy’s label, over and back, over and back. His dark eyes searched for his mother in the crowd behind him.

  Lottie and her children were in the next row. Katie held out her hand to Milot and he smiled at her. Lottie’s heart was breaking for her daughter, but Katie was happy now her pregnancy was out in the open. Chloe kept her head down. Milot reached out and rubbed her hair until she looked up at him. He said something to his father, and Andri turned round and acknowledged Chloe with a nod.

  At least Milot is with his dad now, thought Lottie. Katie’s baby wouldn’t have a dad. Her own children no longer had their father, but her heart soared with pride at the stories Andri had related to her of his time with Adam at the chicken farm.

  The sound of murmuring rippled through the congregation as the tap-tap of crutches approached on the marble floor.

  Maeve Phillips stood beside Lottie’s pew.

  ‘Thank you, Inspector,’ she said. ‘For saving my life.’

  Lottie stood and touched the girl’s elbow as she edged into the seat. ‘I don’t know what you’re going to do, Maeve,’ she whispered, ‘but when your dad gets out of prison, don’t go to live with him. Believe me, he is not a good man, no matter how much money he has.’

  Maeve said, ‘I thought he sent me that expensive dress. Just look how wrong I was.’ She moved weakly along the row.

  Lottie felt Boyd slip his hand into hers.

  Glancing across the aisle, she saw Jackie staring at them.

  She squeezed Boyd’s hand.

  For now, it was comfort enough.

  Tomorrow it might be different.

  READER LETTER

  Hello dear reader,

  I wish to sincerely thank you for reading my second novel, The Stolen Girls.

  I’m so grateful to you for sharing your precious time with Lottie Parker and company. I do hope you enjoyed it and that you will follow Lottie throughout the series. To those of you who have already read the first Lottie Parker book, The Missing Ones, I thank you for your support and reviews.

  All characters in this story are fictional, as is the town of Ragmullin, though life events have deeply influenced my writing.

  I’m a little embarrassed to ask, but if you liked The Stolen Girls, I would love it if you could post a review on Amazon or Goodreads. It would mean so much to me.

  Your amazing reviews for The Missing Ones really inspired me to do the best that I could in writing The Stolen Girls.

  You can connect with me via my blog, which I endeavour to keep up to date, or on Facebook or Twitter. If you would like to join my mailing list to be kept informed of my new releases, please click here:

  Patricia Gibney email sign-up

  Thanks again, and I hope you will join me for book three in the series.

  Love

  Patricia

  @trisha460

  patricia.gibney1

  www.patriciagibney.com

  ALSO BY PATRICIA GIBNEY

  The Missing Ones

  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.

  * * *

  Available Now!

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Writing The Stolen Girls was a completely different experience for me than writing my debut novel, The Missing Ones. I could not have accomplished it without the support and encouragement of many people along the way.

  Firstly, I want to thank you, my readers, for taking the time to read The Stolen Girls. Without you, my writing would be in vain. To everyone who posted reviews for The Missing Ones, your words bestowed on me the confidence to believe in my writing ability.

  The Bookouture team, in particular my editors Lydia, Jenny and Helen, for your tremendous work in helping me whip The Stolen Girls into shape. To everyone else from Bookouture who worked with me along the way, thank you also.

  A special thank you to Kim Nash of Bookouture for her amazing ability to market and publicise my books, and for answering my most asinine emails. Your infectious good humour makes even the dullest day shine bright. One awesome lady.

  My fellow Bookouture authors, you are an incredible bunch of people, supporting each other. I am honoured to be among you.

  Thank you to each and every blogger and reviewer who read and reviewed The Missing Ones.

  My agent, Ger Nichol of The Book Bureau, for signing me up and then giving me so much encouragement.

  My writer friends, Jackie Walsh, Niamh Brennan and my sister Marie, for reading early copies of The Stolen Girls and offering worthwhile comment and advice.

  Grainne Daly, Tara Sparling, Louise Phillips, Jax Miller and Carolann Copeland for always encouraging and supporting me.

  Sean Lynch and the staff of Mullingar Arts Centre.

  Paula and the staff of Westmeath County Libraries.

  All my friends in Westmeath County Council.

  Westmeath Topic and Westmeath Examiner, for interviews and articles.

  Claire O’Brien of Midlands 103, for the interviews and broadcasts.

  Martin McCabe, John Quinn and Alan Murray, for advice on policing matters; any mistakes are entirely my own. In order to help the story flow, I took many liberties with police procedures.

  David O’Malley for bringing me out on a shooting range and letting me fire real live guns! Must do it again soon. All for research purposes!

  Antoinette and Jo, for being my best friends forever.

  My mother and father, Kathleen and William Ward, my brother and sisters for unwavering support and belief in me.

  My mother-in-law Lily Gibney and family, always behind me.

  My children, Aisling, Orla and Cathal. You make me so proud, and now I have two adorable grandchildren, Daisy and Shay, who bring me down to earth whenever I see their gorgeous smiles.

  Aidan, my dear husband, who never doubted I would be a published author. I miss your wisdom and advice. But every so often, I get a sign that you are by my side, guiding me and protecting me. I just know you are bursting with pride. Thank you for being part of my life. I miss you, but you are always in my heart.

  Published by Bookouture

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  An imprint of StoryFire Ltd.

  23 Sussex Road, Ickenham, UB10 8PN


  United Kingdom

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  www.bookouture.com

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  Copyright © Patricia Gibney, 2017

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  Louise Jensen has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-78681-218-6