The smell of paint had faded but a scent of newness oozed from the furniture in Superintendent Corrigan’s office. The fact that it was 7.30 in the morning and he had called her in even before she’d had time to take off her jacket didn’t help Lottie’s mood. Nor his either, she thought.

‘Sit,’ he ordered.

She sat. What was going on? She put her hand to her mouth, blew out and sniffed. No smell of alcohol. Good.

‘Where were you at eight o’clock yesterday feckin’ morning?’

‘Here, sir.’ She didn’t like the look he was giving her over the rim of his spectacles.

He wagged a thick finger in her direction. ‘Think very feckin’ carefully before answering, Detective Inspector Parker.’

Lottie sat stock still. What was he talking about? Yesterday morning? Seemed a lifetime ago. She tried hard to think. She had worked the case with Boyd. Talked to Emma. Searched Marian Russell’s house. Lost Emma. Called to Lorcan Brady’s house. Before all that, early morning… Annabelle’s surgery. Surely he couldn’t mean that?

‘I… I… don’t understand, sir.’

‘Let me help you understand, Detective Inspector Parker. You visited Dr O’Shea’s surgery. Remember now?’

Lottie gulped. A visit to her doctor wasn’t a crime, as far as she knew. ‘That was a private matter, sir. Annabelle’s a friend of mine.’

‘Go on.’

‘I had to ask her something about Louis.’ Thinking fast now. Concocting the tale as quickly as the words were leaving her mouth. ‘He’s my grandson.’

‘I know who Louis is!’

She thought Corrigan might explode. His bald pate turned red, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bulged behind his spectacles. He kept tapping a piece of paper with a silver pen, louder with each tap.

‘You’re lying to me. Last chance. Why did you—’

‘Okay, okay, sir.’ Lottie held up her hands. ‘I visited my doctor because I wasn’t feeling well. Thought I was getting the flu.’

‘Flu, my arse.’

She could feel his stare burning through her. ‘Sir, what is this about?’

‘I’ll tell you what it’s about,’ he snapped. ‘I’ve an email here disputing everything you just said. So when are you going to tell me the truth?’

Lottie felt sweat break out on her forehead. Her T-shirt clung to her spine. If she hadn’t had the flu before, she just might have it now.

‘Are you going to sit there with your mouth feckin’ glued shut, or are you going to tell me?’ he roared.

She shook her head slowly. ‘I’ve no idea what’s in that email, sir. What’s it about?’

‘It’s damning, that’s what. You know, if you’ve got health problems, you’re supposed to report to me. Then I can decide if you’re fit to work a case as serious as the one you’re working on right now.’

Shit. ‘I went to see Annabelle because I… I…’

‘Go on.’

Deciding on something resembling the truth, she said, ‘I needed something to help me cope. At home. It’s a bit mental since the baby arrived, and—’

‘I don’t want your family history,’ Corrigan interrupted, waving the printed page. ‘This email claims that you’re an alcoholic and a drug addict.’

‘What?’ Lottie jumped up so quickly, she knocked over the chair. She went to snatch the page but Corrigan grabbed it at the same time, tearing it down the centre.

‘Who sent this? Anonymous, I bet.’ She looked at the scrap of paper in her hand.

‘Yes, but I wanted to hear from you if there was any truth in it.’

She righted the chair and slumped down on it.

‘Are you drinking again, Detective Inspector Parker?’ he asked, his voice way too soft to be soothing. Dangerous.

‘Everyone takes a drink.’ Lame, she knew, racking her brain to figure a way out of this. The only positive thing was that the email was anonymous. The force had a policy of not dealing with such correspondence. Then again, this was personal. Shit.

Corrigan pulled off his spectacles and rubbed his bad eye, which had improved slightly over the last few months, then put the glasses back on again. ‘Every so often you do things that drive me to distraction,’ he said. ‘I’m starting to believe you’ll have me in an early grave.’

‘Sir, I’m sorry. But that is a malicious piece of junk. Bin it.’

‘I will. But first I need to have an idea of your state of mind. Your work isn’t up to scratch these last few months. You’re behind on your admin.’

‘I know. I’m sorry sir.’

‘And you’ve been upsetting old folks with talk about your father’s suicide. That was forty years ago. Drop it.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Corrigan leaned into his chair. ‘You’re telling me there’s no truth in this email?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Fingers tightly crossed on her lap.

He sighed. ‘I think you have a problem, Detective Inspector Parker. A big feckin’ problem. One step out of line and I’ll hear about it. Understood?’

She nodded, lips in a thin, tight line. Thinking. Who the hell had sent that email?

‘Can I have a copy of the correspondence, sir?’

‘Why?’

‘I’d like to investigate who’s been making false accusations against me.’

‘You won’t be doing any investigating. I’ll look into this. You just stay on the straight and narrow. Do what you’re supposed to be doing.’

‘Yes, sir.’

She got out of his office before he could say another word. Pulled the door shut behind her and leaned against it.

Surely Annabelle hadn’t ratted her out? No. There was doctor–patient confidentiality to consider. And she hadn’t been scheduled for a visit. She’d just turned up. Had someone been following her? But how would they know about the pills? The drinking? Boyd. No. He wouldn’t go behind her back. Definitely not Boyd.

But it had to be him, she thought, twisting her hair through her hands.

‘Boyd, you… you arsehole.’

---

Before the team meeting, Lottie cornered him outside the incident room.

‘Thanks a bunch,’ she whispered through gritted teeth, standing legs apart, hands clenched in fists in her jeans pockets. She caught sight of the flecks of hazel in his eyes sparkling under the tubed light.

‘What are you on about?’ Boyd said. His jawline hardened. ‘You on something? You look as wild as the weather.’

‘Don’t, Boyd. Don’t get me started. Someone sent an anonymous email to Corrigan about me and I won’t stand for it. You hear?’

The light faded in his eyes. ‘You think I’d do something like that?’

Shit, wrong call, Parker. She clasped his hand.

‘I’m sorry. I’m just wound up. Who would do that to me?’

He pulled away from her pressing fingers. ‘Well, it wasn’t me.’ Turned on his heel. Pushed open the door to the incident room and disappeared.

Leaning against the wall, Lottie rubbed her fingers round her eye sockets, attempting to dispel the pain that was about to explode. Taking a pill from her jeans pocket, she snapped it out of the blister and swallowed it dry. Now she had to face the troops with possibly one of them mutinous.