Lottie squared her shoulders against the cold and walked with Boyd up Main Street. She stopped at a pole and tore off the piece of paper. ‘Someone’s been putting up flyers looking for information on Lynn O’Donnell.’

‘They appear every year,’ Boyd said. ‘Your current workload already includes a murder, so don’t go off on a tangent.’

‘There’s another one,’ she said. ‘I’m definitely going to read the cold case file.’

‘Lottie!’

‘Not on work time; my own time.’

‘You don’t have any “own” time, I know what you’re like. Just drop it.’

‘Boyd, would you ever piss off?’

She wouldn’t drop it. Not without having a peek at the file first. Superintendent Corrigan would want her to. Just in case there was the possibility of a link to the murder of Elizabeth Byrne.

She walked on ahead of Boyd, wondering why she was so touchy. Perhaps she hadn’t taken two pills after all. She was losing track.

---

The incident room was buzzing. The phones were hopping.

‘What’s going on?’ Lottie said.

Kirby had a phone cradled between his chin and shoulder. ‘McMahon made a statement to the media asking for the public’s help in tracing the last movements of Elizabeth Byrne.’

‘I thought this was my investigation,’ Lottie said, hands on hips.

‘Something might come of it,’ Boyd said.

‘He probably ballsed it up and every crank in the town will be phoning in.’ She sat on a chair facing the incident board. ‘Any luck with the cameras on the trains?’

Boyd said, ‘Head office say they only keep the footage for two days, then it’s recorded over. But they’ll see what they can find.’

‘Probably a dead end. Any good news, Kirby?’

He hung up the call and consulted a file. ‘The service provider says Elizabeth’s phone was last active in the Ragmullin area. They can’t give a definite location yet. And it hasn’t transmitted a signal since 6.30 Monday evening.’

‘The killer has probably dismantled and destroyed it.’ Lottie continued to stare at the meagre information on the board. ‘Any news on Bridie McWard?’

‘Nope.’

‘Did she go to hospital for treatment?’

‘Refused.’

Lottie turned to Lynch, who was keeping her head down. ‘Anything on Matt Mullin?’

Lynch exchanged a glance with Kirby and shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m working on it.’

‘What the hell is wrong with you all? I want answers, not dawdling over nonsense phone calls. Get focused on proper work.’ She paused to take a breath. ‘Shit, I need a coffee.’

She made for the kitchen with Boyd following. Pouring water from the kettle into two mugs, she took one and sipped. Boyd took the other.

‘You must have put two spoons of coffee in it,’ he said.

‘That’s mine. Take this one. I need to be alert.’

McMahon walked by, did a double take and came back.

‘This area is out of bounds. Use the canteen.’

Lottie lifted her mug to her lips and sipped slowly. ‘Says who?’

‘Says me. This place is breaking every health and safety regulation.’

‘We’ve used it for the last three years.’

‘You have a brand spanking new canteen and that’s where you take your breaks. Anyway, I don’t agree with this constant stream of tea-making.’

‘It’s coffee.’

‘Are you being smart with me?’

Lottie shook her head, sniffed her mug. ‘A bit strong, but it’s definitely coffee.’

McMahon puffed out his chest. ‘This kitchen will be dismantled before the day is out.’

He took himself off down the corridor. Lottie shook her head and opened her mouth to speak.

‘Don’t say a word,’ Boyd warned.

‘Two words then. Complete bollocks.’

She stormed back to her office, slopping coffee everywhere.

The phone rang. McGlynn.

‘I’ve something you’ll want to see,’ he said. ‘In the yard.’

‘On my way.’ She pulled on her jacket and headed outside.

---

The yard had been cleared of all vehicles and a tent erected over the skip from the cemetery. A second area for the examination of the rubbish was also covered. Three SOCOs were working their way through the sacks, one by one, as they removed them from the skip.

‘It was six of one and half a dozen of the other,’ McGlynn explained. ‘At least doing it here, we’re away from the media circus and the public gawkers.’

‘What did you find? Besides rubbish?’

‘As you can see, it’s mainly domestic waste. People too mean, or too poor, to pay their bin charges must have used the skip as a personal dump. But I have one sack over here that you will certainly be interested in.’

Lottie followed him to the corner of the tent. The smell was worse than anything she had smelled at the Dead House. Rotting detritus. Scraps of waste food, wrappers and everything you were liable to find in a kitchen bin.

‘Jesus,’ she said. ‘This is a horrible job.’

‘Give me a decomposing body any day,’ McGlynn said. ‘Here we are.’

On a fold-out table covered with Teflon, Lottie saw what had made McGlynn so animated.

A black leather jacket. Grey hoodie. Blue checked shirt. Blue jeans. A pair of ankle-length black leather boots. White fluffy socks, pink bra and white knickers.

She went to touch the jacket.

‘Wait.’ McGlynn handed her a pair of nitrile gloves.

Lottie stared at the clothing. ‘These are hers. They have to be. No one would throw out a good leather jacket.’

‘Not unless it had come from someone they’d killed or were about to kill.’

‘Check for DNA, trace evidence—’

‘I know my job, Detective Inspector.’

‘No handbag?’

‘Not so far.’

‘Can I photograph these? I need to show them to her mother for identification purposes.’

‘They were all wet.’

‘Wet?’

‘As if they’d been dunked in a bath of water. I’ll test them.’

‘Thanks. From the CCTV images, I’m sure Elizabeth was wearing a jacket and jeans similar to these. Good work.’

‘Just doing my job. I’ll bag these and get them analysed.’

‘Let me know as—’

‘Yeah, yeah. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.’

---

‘He surely left DNA somewhere on the clothes.’ Lottie put her feet up on top of her waste-paper basket as she shouted from her office out to the general area.

‘This has the markings of an abduction that was well thought out,’ Boyd said.

‘Do you think he intentionally let her run through the cemetery?’

‘Anything is possible.’

‘Wish we had some idea of what we’re dealing with. Hell, we aren’t even sure where she was taken from. There are those unaccounted hours from six in the evening to three in the morning.’ Lottie dropped her feet. ‘Lynch! I need to know where Matt Mullin is.’

‘I’ve asked for a check on his passport,’ Lynch shouted back.

‘What did the bank say?’

‘They let him go before Christmas.’

‘What?’ Lottie jumped up and rushed out of her office. ‘He has to be at home.’

‘There was no answer yesterday.’

‘Check again.’

‘But I need to—’

‘Now. Kirby will go with you.’ Lottie turned to Boyd, eyeing his meticulously tidy desk. ‘Did you find anything of interest on the list of runners from Rochfort Gardens?’

‘Nothing to report. I copied the pages and scanned all the names into the computer, but nothing jumps out at me.’

‘Did she run every weekend?’

‘These records go back to the week after Christmas. The only day she missed was last Sunday.’

‘Dying with a hangover, according to her mother.’ Leaning over his shoulder, she squinted at the list on the screen. ‘Is it the same crowd every weekend?’

‘More or less. I’ll collate them into some sort of order.’

‘When you’ve finished that, we’ll have to interview each and every person on the list.’

‘What about the nursing home interviews?’

‘I asked either Lynch or Kirby to do it.’ She glanced at the empty desks. ‘Shit, I’ve just sent them looking for Mullin.’

‘I checked the uniforms’ report from the nursing home. No one heard or saw anything.’

‘I’ll go over there myself. I want to have a look around anyway.’

‘Will I go with you?’

‘You keep at that list of runners. I’ll grab a sandwich and head over. Then I’ll check in with Elizabeth’s mother about the clothes.’

‘Are you coming back here afterwards?’

‘What are you now? My mother?’

‘Sorry, just asking.’

Lottie sighed. She’d no idea why Boyd was getting on her nerves today, but he was. ‘I’ll be going home. Katie is heading off tomorrow and I’ve to help her pack. I don’t want to even think about it.’

‘She’ll be grand.’

‘So you say.’ She glanced at the time. ‘And don’t forget to pick up Grace from the station.’

‘As if I’d forget that,’ he said.