The mornings were the longest. When Saoirse was in school. Not for the first time, Keelan O’Donnell wished she had a job. But Cillian said he wanted her at home. He was making enough money; why would she need to work when he was providing for her? She supposed he was right with regards to the money aspect, but she needed to see other human beings during the day. He’d put a stop to her art classes, told her she couldn’t paint even when the other women in the group thought her work was good. Then she’d joined a choir in the Arts Centre. Mornings for two hours. He stopped that too. Crows can’t sing, he’d said.

Twiddling her phone in her hand, she toyed with the idea of ringing Finn’s wife, Sara. Good God, she thought. That confirmed just how lonely she was. She put her phone away. Things weren’t that bad. Not yet.

She picked up her coat. She’d see if Donal was coping any better. Glancing in the hall mirror, she checked that the make-up concealed the yellow bruise taking shape on her cheek. Cillian really hadn’t been himself since his mother’s death.

Why was she always making excuses for him? She had no answer to her own question.

As she lashed on an extra layer of foundation, just to be safe, she caught sight of the little pink umbrella hanging on the hall stand. As long as Cillian kept his anger directed at her, Saoirse should be safe. But the second he stepped over that line, Keelan was taking her daughter, and he would never find them. Ever.

---

Lottie was away from the office no longer than an hour and a half, but on her return to base, she noted the incident boards had filled up. She looked at the list of tools that had been taken from the cemetery for examination. She was particularly interested in getting the results of the analysis from the spade that they’d discovered propped up beside the digger used to excavate the graves. It seemed to be an opportune tool with which to heap clay and dirt on top of Elizabeth.

‘I’ve just come from the Dead House.’ She stood in front of the boards, facing her team, and pointed at Elizabeth Byrne’s photograph. ‘This girl was asphyxiated by clay. Buried alive.’ She outlined the injuries Elizabeth had suffered. ‘I want to know as soon as DNA and fingerprint results come in for that spade, and also the stone we found with blood on.’ She directed her gaze to Kirby. ‘You took Bernard Fahy’s DNA sample, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, and also from John Gilbey, the other man who was working there.’

‘Any matches?’

‘Nothing on PULSE, but we haven’t yet run them against the blood and tools found at the scene.’ Kirby shifted his buttocks on the narrow creaky chair.

‘Did you check their alibis?’

‘Fahy’s wife confirms he was at home all Monday evening and that night. But wives tend to cover for their husbands. John Gilbey lives in a hostel. I’ll follow up on his whereabouts for the relevant time.’

‘Okay, do that. The search of the caretaker’s office has yielded nothing so far. I didn’t expect it would, but I’ve instructed SOCOs to check it out, and I’ll have a nose around later on.’

‘It’s more likely she was in the car that stopped outside, rather than in the building,’ Kirby said.

‘Bring up the CCTV footage.’

Kirby tapped the laptop on his knee. Lottie flipped around one of the whiteboards and the grainy images flashed onto it.

‘As you can see, there was a car, possibly the killer’s, parked there for twenty-four minutes,’ Kirby said.

‘Our own traffic cams are being checked for the relevant times to see if we can locate the vehicle,’ Lottie added.

Lynch said, ‘I’ve assigned a uniform to that. I’ll review and report to you if anything turns up.’

Lottie thought Lynch looked considerably paler than yesterday. Hopefully she wasn’t coming down with a bug. They needed all the bodies they could get to cover this investigation.

She continued. ‘Today, I want the residents at the nursing home interviewed, especially those with rooms facing the cemetery. And the staff. Kirby, have you the data from the house-to-house?’

‘I’ve checked all the reports. No one saw or heard anything. It was the middle of the night, after all. Traveller site residents give the same story, except for Bridie McWard hearing the screaming.’

‘Her evidence ties in with the CCTV footage and the pathologist’s estimate of time of death. It gives us a time frame to work with. We can deduce that Elizabeth caught the 17.10 from Connolly station, because she was seen by two commuters on the train. They got off at Enfield. To date we’ve discovered no further sighting. Just the screams heard by Bridie McWard at 3.15 a.m.’

‘Maybe Bridie had a nightmare,’ Lynch piped up.

‘It’s possible, but she seemed fairly shaken when I spoke to her,’ Lottie said. ‘Right, I want you and Kirby to do the interviews at the nursing home. Take uniformed officers with you so that you can get it finished quickly.’

‘Boss, we were on stakeout last night. Up in the Munbally estate. Need to get a bit of shut-eye,’ Kirby moaned.

‘Oh right. On that matter, our acting superintendent wants you to cease that operation.’

‘But we—’

‘I’m just telling you what I’ve been ordered.’

‘Such a waste of time,’ Kirby grumbled, patting his pockets. He took out an e-cigarette and jammed it into his mouth.

‘You didn’t have many results, did you?’ Lottie said. ‘Now, on to Carol O’Grady. She was Elizabeth’s friend so I think we should have another word with her. See if we can find out more about Elizabeth and anyone that might have had an interest in her.’

‘Carol’s brother is a bit iffy,’ Boyd said.

‘Terry O’Grady,’ Lottie said, checking her notes. ‘Pull his details from PULSE, and you and I will chat with Carol. Give her a call to see if she’s at home or at work.’ She paused and studied the two images of Elizabeth Byrne, dead and alive. ‘And Matt Mullin, the ex-boyfriend. Any luck, Lynch?’

‘I’ve been trying to chase him up,’ Lynch said, pulling at her eyelids. Just as well McMahon had halted the traveller job. Lottie needed her team awake.

‘Did you try the bank again this morning?’

‘They were very cagey, but at least they gave me a mobile number for him. He’s not answering. I’ll get back onto the bank and see what the story is.’

‘Check if his family know where he is, and see if his passport has been used.’

‘Will do.’

‘Anything from Elizabeth’s mobile phone?’

‘It’s inactive. Dead. I’m trying to get the service provider to determine where and when it was last used,’ Boyd said.

‘I’ll get McMahon to organise a press release. He can make an appeal for information. We need to speak with witnesses from the Last Hurdle, where Elizabeth was Saturday night, and witnesses from the train.’

When she had allocated those jobs, she said, ‘I’ll call to the station again. We need to determine if she actually got off the train at Ragmullin.’

She eyed the team, all ready and eager except Kirby and Lynch.

‘You two look like corpses. Go home. Get two hours’ sleep, and then I want you both back here.’

She dished out more tasks and said, ‘Okay, you all have jobs. Let’s catch the bastard who buried this young woman alive.’

---

‘Donal, I know you’re in there. Open up.’

Keelan pressed the doorbell again. Peered in through the glass on the upper half of the door. No shadows. No movement. No sound. But his bicycle was parked up under the window and she knew he didn’t walk anywhere. Maybe he’d phoned for a taxi.

She turned away from the door and walked down the cracked pathway, avoiding the rambling weeds encroaching from the overgrown winter lawn. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked up at the two-storey terraced house that had been Cillian’s childhood home. It was the only house in the line of ten that remained inhabited. The rest were tumbling down around themselves, some with the roofs caved in and others with the bare branches of bushes growing up around the chimney stacks. Most of the windows were boarded up.

Maybe now that Maura was dead, Donal might move out. Ten years waiting for a ghost to appear while the walls crumbled around you was long enough. She would speak with Cillian about it tonight. Maybe he could get his father to see sense.

The rusted gate creaked shut behind her and she made her way under the railway bridge and back into town.

She didn’t see the curtain twitch.