Lottie looked at the house beside which Boyd had parked. St Fintan’s Road backed onto the old army barracks. Most of the houses were still owned by the local authority. After her encounter with the reporter and then the cemetery caretaker, she’d held an impromptu meeting with Lynch and Kirby in the incident room. She wanted Matt Mullin found. She wanted every piece of information on Elizabeth Byrne, and she wanted Bridie McWard formally interviewed. She wanted results, goddammit.

Boyd glanced at the page in his hand and read, ‘Carol O’Grady. Aged twenty-four. She has two younger brothers and lives with her mother and father.’ He’d printed off her photograph from her Facebook page. There’d been information about one brother on their PULSE database.

‘Let’s see what she has to say about Elizabeth,’ Lottie said.

Leaving the car, they walked up the short path to the red door of number 36. It was the end house in a terrace of five and looked well maintained, with sparkling clean windows.

The bell appeared broken, so Lottie knocked hard on the glass panel.

The door was opened by a young man. He was the image of the girl in the photograph. Terry, the eighteen-year-old brother they’d read about on PULSE.

‘Is Carol at home?’ Lottie asked.

‘Who wants to know?’

She took out her ID, flashed it in front of his face and watched the complacency fade.

‘My apologies,’ he said, his tone streaked with sarcasm, ‘I didn’t know you were the pigs … I mean, the guards. Carol should be at work today but she’s off sick. Will I get her for you?’

‘Do that and we’ll wait inside.’ Lottie placed one foot inside the door, in case he slammed it shut.

‘I … I’m not sure,’ he stammered. ‘My mates are here. We’re studying. Exams. Leaving Cert. You know.’

‘Shouldn’t you be at school?’

‘Study break.’

‘We won’t disturb you at all. Just get Carol for us.’

As he flew up the stairs, Lottie reckoned the open door was an invitation to enter. With Boyd behind her, she walked through the small hallway and into the kitchen. There was a scattering of bodies and a scraping of something off the table as she entered.

‘No need to leave,’ she said.

The three lads halted their progress at the back door, and without turning his head, one of them said, ‘We were going anyway.’

‘Don’t forget this.’ Boyd held up a microscopic bag of weed.

‘Shit,’ said one of the lads.

‘Go on, get out,’ Boyd said. ‘I’ll keep it safe for you.’

They kept going.

Lottie smiled. ‘That’s not enough to lift them two inches off the ground, never mind get them high.’

‘Hey, that’s mine.’ Terry had come into the kitchen. He swiped at Boyd’s hand but missed the bag.

‘Where’s Carol?’ Lottie asked.

‘She’ll be down in a minute. Go on into the good room. Just through there.’ He pointed to a glass connecting door.

In the living room, Lottie stood in front of the unlit fireplace. Boyd followed, and sat down on one of the floral-covered armchairs.

‘Where’s your mum and dad?’ he asked.

‘At work,’ Terry said. ‘But they’ll be home after six, if you want to come back then.’

‘Where do they work?’ Lottie said.

‘Where’s your younger brother?’ Boyd said.

‘You ask a lot of questions.’ Terry threw his hands in the air.

‘It’s our job,’ Lottie said.

The door opened and a young woman entered, wearing a dressing gown. Small and pale. Her hair dyed blonde at the ends. Lottie thought how Chloe had wanted to get her hair styled that way. Balayage, or something weird. It cost nearly one hundred euros, so that put a halt to her gallop.

Lottie produced her ID. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Parker, and this is my colleague Detective Sergeant Boyd.’

‘I’m Carol. What do you want with me?’ Her voice was timid.

‘You’re not at work today,’ Lottie said without preamble. ‘Where do you work?’ She knew, but she wanted the girl to relax.

‘Rochfort Gardens. Why do you want to know? This is the first day I’ve missed in two years. I don’t think that warrants the council calling the guards.’ She sank down on the armchair opposite Boyd. ‘Are you going to tell me what this is about?’

‘It’s about Elizabeth Byrne,’ Lottie volunteered. ‘You’re her friend?’

‘What if I am? I doubt she’s done anything wrong. She’s above all that.’

‘How do you and Elizabeth get on?’

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Answer the question,’ Boyd cut in.

‘She lives on the good side of town. But we’ve been friends since school. Her uppity mum doesn’t like it, but tough. Life isn’t all sweet, is it?’

‘No, I don’t suppose it is,’ Lottie said, sniffing the distinct scent of weed in the coldness of the room. She sat down on the sagging couch. ‘When did you last see Elizabeth?’

The girl’s eyes skittered around nervously. ‘I call her Lizzie, by the way. Her mother rang me on Monday night, asking me the same thing. I’d like to know why you’re asking these questions. You’re scaring me.’

‘We don’t mean to scare you. We’re trying to trace Elizabeth’s movements and we need to backtrack to the last time she was seen.’

‘Trace her movements? Is she missing or something?’

‘Something like that.’ Lottie didn’t think the time was right to inform Carol that her friend had been found dead. They needed formal identification first.

Pulling the sides of her dressing gown together, her hands worrying each other, Carol crossed her bare legs at the ankles. Gulping, she said, ‘I saw her on Saturday night. We went to the Last Hurdle. That’s a nightclub. We had a few drinks here first before we went to the pub. Then to the Hurdle. Sorry, I’m messing this all up.’

‘You’re doing fine. Did you meet anyone? Friends?’

Carol looked from one to the other. Deciding what to say? Lottie waited her out.

‘Loads of people were out, but we stuck together. Lizzie didn’t even want to go to the nightclub, but I insisted. I’ve been trying to boost her up ever since that prick Matt dumped her. We were there until maybe two o’clock. I think. Taxi dropped me off first, then Lizzie, because she said she’d pay. I’ve heard nothing from her all week, but that’s not unusual because she works in Dublin and commutes on the train. Long days. Sometimes we go out during the week, but not that much.’

‘No texts or WhatsApp messages? Snapchat?’

‘No. Nothing. Like I said, that’s not unusual.’

‘This boyfriend she had. What do you know about him?’ Lottie folded her arms and stared at Carol.

‘Matt? Couldn’t stand him.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘The way he treated her. Leading her up the garden path, my mum said.’

‘You didn’t think he was ever going to put a ring on her finger, then?’

‘Not in a million years. Lizzie might be a step above me, but Matt was a flight of stairs above her. The minute he got his transfer to Germany, he was out of here like Usain Bolt.’

‘So he’s been gone a while?’

‘Almost a year. Why are you asking about Lizzie? She seemed fine on Saturday night, just a bit drunker than usual. What’s happened?’

‘Do you think she was over her relationship with Matt?’

‘Well and truly over him. She hates him with a vengeance.’

‘And Matt? Know where he might be?’

‘Germany?’ Carol shrugged her shoulders.

‘Anyone else Elizabeth might’ve been interested in?’

‘I’d really like to know what this is about.’ Carol folded her arms and stared defiantly.

‘Answer the question, please.’ Lottie stood up like a military commander conducting a court-martial. Her legs had cramped on the low couch.

Carol appeared to shrink into the folds of her dressing gown. ‘I don’t think there’s anyone in Lizzie’s life. The only place she ever goes is her job in Dublin. Talk to her workmates.’

‘We’ll be interviewing them as soon as possible. So far, we know she was at work on Monday and caught the 17.10 train, but apparently she never arrived home. We need you to think where she might have gone Monday evening, and who she might have been with.’

‘She is missing? Oh God. I honestly have no idea. This is so out of character for her. She doesn’t even go into town without telling her mother. You’d think she was twelve the way that woman keeps a rein on her.’

‘Did she hook up with anyone at the nightclub?’ Boyd asked.

Carol shook her head. ‘No. She wasn’t with anyone. Only me.’

‘Your brothers. Were they out Saturday night? Either of them got their eye on Elizabeth?’

‘You must be joking me. Terry is gay, and Jake is only fourteen.’

Lottie rubbed her hands together, feeling the cold in the room. ‘If you think of anything, will you let us know?’

‘I will. Her mother must be out of her mind with worry. Why didn’t she tell me Elizabeth was missing when she rang? I’d call over, only she hates the sight of me.’

‘Now might not be a good time,’ Lottie said. Official confirmation or not, she decided to give Carol the bad news. ‘Carol, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I think you need to know that we found a body this morning. We have reason to believe it is that of Elizabeth.’

‘What? What are you saying?’ The girl jumped up, then collapsed back down into the chair. ‘You can’t be serious. Oh God, you are, aren’t you?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I can’t believe this. A body? Was it an accident? Where? How … Oh my God, was she murdered?’

‘We’re not sure what happened yet.’

Carol convulsed into sobs. ‘Oh, poor Lizzie. She never hurt anyone in her life.’ More sobs. ‘Where did you find her?’

‘I can’t reveal too much at the moment. But a body was found in Ragmullin Cemetery. Would Elizabeth have any reason to be there on Monday night?’

Carol looked up with red-rimmed eyes. ‘The graveyard? Lizzie never set foot inside those gates since the day of her father’s funeral. She hates the place.’ She seemed to realise what she’d said and corrected herself. ‘Hated the place.’

‘Okay. We have to leave now, but if you think of anything that might help us, please call me.’

Carol took Lottie’s card. She looked so small and feeble, her pale cheeks now flushed with the exertion of crying. Lottie felt like giving her a hug.

‘Are you off sick today? What’s wrong with you? Nothing contagious, I hope?’ She was trying to make light of the situation, but her words fell flat.

More tears flowed and Carol’s knuckles turned white clutching her dressing gown.

‘Hey, I’m sorry.’ Lottie sat on the arm of the chair.

‘I’m pregnant,’ Carol sniffed. ‘My mum and dad don’t know. I did a test. No one knows.’

‘You need to go back to bed,’ Lottie said, ‘and like I said, call me if you think of anything.’ She squeezed the girl’s shoulder in a motherly gesture.

Terry stuck his head around the door. ‘Can I have my stash back?’

‘Not in your lifetime,’ Boyd said, patting his pocket. ‘You should be glad I’m not taking you to the station. Why don’t you do that study you were talking about before we interrupted you?’

‘What study?’ Carol asked.

‘For my Leaving Cert,’ Terry said, his eyes boring two holes into her.

‘Oh … right,’ Carol said, and turned back to Lottie. ‘I’ll see you out.’

At the front door, Carol said, ‘Don’t mind Terry. He’s a grade A liar. I’m not … just in case you think … oh, you know. I told you the truth about Lizzie. I honestly don’t know what happened to her. I feel awful now.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Lottie said.

She had to find out whose fault it was.

---

Upstairs in the bathroom, Carol threw up the little that remained in her stomach. As she gagged and heaved, Terry banged on the door.

‘Have you been smoking my dope? You’ve been in there puking all day.’

‘Fuck off, Terry.’

‘Yeah, well I need to have a piss.’

‘Give me a minute.’

She heard him thumping back down the stairs, banging the wall as he went, and sat back on her haunches. Her best friend Lizzie. Her only friend. Dead. Murdered? She pulled the inspector’s card from her pocket. Should she have told her what Lizzie had said about feeling as though she was being watched by someone on the train last week? Surely that was just Lizzie being Lizzie. Always getting feelings about this and that. But maybe she should have said something.

Putting the card back in her pocket, Carol got up, flushed the toilet and washed her hands. She’d have a think about whether or not to call. First, she needed to put her head on her pillow, and hopefully that would stop the nausea in her stomach.