At the station, Lottie ordered a complete appraisal of the priest’s laptop and logged the hairbrush for DNA analysis. Just in case of the worst.

Sitting at her desk she opened the bottom drawer and from beneath a mess of files, extracted a worn, yellowing Manila folder. Taking a deep breath, she opened it and scrutinised the faded photograph; an image which could not hide the dimpled chin, too wide eyes and spiked hair sticking up on top of his head. Whenever she looked at the picture, Lottie imagined the boy had been due a haircut. A school photograph, taken on one of the few days he had attended.

‘What are you looking at?’ Boyd asked, placing a mug of coffee at her elbow.

Lottie slammed the file closed and moved the mug over on top of it.

‘You didn’t answer my question.’ He perched himself on the edge of her crowded desk.

Two pens fell to the floor. She returned the file to its resting place, banged the drawer shut and sipped her coffee.

Boyd picked up the pens and lined them neatly by her keyboard.

‘It’s that missing kid from the seventies, isn’t it?’

‘You’ve plenty of work to be doing without spying on me.’

‘And you’ve enough work without resurrecting cold case files. What’s your obsession with it?’

‘None of your business,’ Lottie said, tossing the pens across the desk. She noticed one of them belonged to the bishop.

‘That file should be in a museum for restoration work; you have it thumbed to within an ass’s roar of its life.’

‘Get lost.’ She darted him an irritated, scrunch-eyed glare.

Boyd sauntered over to his neat desk. Lottie hastily tidied her own, stacking files and throwing crumpled paper into the bin. She typed up the report of her meeting with Bishop Connor and prepared a missing person’s file on Father Angelotti. She duplicated this into the Sullivan murder database. They might be linked. She could leave nothing to chance. She told Boyd about Father Angelotti.

‘Do you think he had something to do with the victims?’ he asked.

‘We better find out,’ she said. And she knew someone who might have information.

‘Forgot to tell you,’ Boyd said, ‘Garda O’Donoghue found this.’ He held up her scuffed leather slouch bag.

‘Where?’ Lottie grabbed the bag and rummaged through it.

‘Dumped at the tunnel, down by the recycling tyre depot. Not far from where you were attacked,’ he said. ‘Your wallet and bank cards are still in it, though I think he stole your cash.’

‘I didn’t have any.’

‘Why am I not surprised?’

‘You know me too well.’ Lottie rolled her eyes.

She grabbed her jacket and headed off without telling Boyd where she was going.

Sitting with Father Joe, in armchairs either side of a blazing coal fire, Lottie relaxed a little.

‘I didn’t see Father Angelotti very often. He was soft-spoken with good English. I hope he’s okay. He seemed very lost in himself,’ Father Joe said.

‘Now he’s truly lost if Bishop Connor is to be believed.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘In the few minutes I was with him, I formed an opinion of your bishop. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think I like him.’

‘In his defence, to get into high places some people have to bark their way through a dog eat dog world. It erodes their humanity.’ Father Joe paused, looking directly at her. ‘I don’t think much of him either.’

‘Isn’t that paramount to blasphemy?’ she laughed.

‘Something akin to it. But I’m prone to speaking my mind.’ He flicked a strand of hair from his forehead. ‘As far as I know, Father Angelotti was dispatched to “find himself”. In other words, to figure out if he wanted to remain a priest or not. I go through that every other day, so I can’t understand why he’d be sent here. Unless it was for some other reason.’

‘What other reason could there be?’

‘I don’t know.’ The blue of his eyes sparkled in the firelight. ‘I could try to find out.’

‘Could you?’ She leaned toward him.

‘The Church is overprotective, so I can’t promise you anything.’

‘Please try,’ Lottie said.

His lips curved in a conspiratorial smile. ‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,’ he said.

‘Tell you what?’ She blushed, flustered.

‘Your face?’

‘I was mugged last night. These things happen.’

‘I suppose they do,’ he said. ‘You’re a very interesting woman, Inspector Parker. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but the bruises add to your intrigue.’

An unwelcome flush crept up her injured face.

‘You did tell me you speak your mind,’ she said with a smile.

Her phone rang. Corrigan. The smile slipped down her face. Shit and double shit.

‘I have to go,’ she said.

‘You’re not going to answer it?’

‘Believe me, I know what it’s about.’

‘You’re an imbecile. You know that?’

Superintendent Corrigan wasn’t shouting. He was talking in a soft calm voice. Worry time.

‘Cathal Moroney twisted the information,’ Lottie said.

‘And how did he get the information to twist? Answer me that.’

‘With such a large team, it’s hard to secure against leaks, intentional or otherwise.’

‘Lame excuse, Inspector.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘It’s your fecking team. Who’s Moroney’s source?’

‘I’ll find out.’

‘You do that.’

‘Yes, sir. I take full responsibility for my team, but we are under a lot of pressure.’

‘We’re all under pressure, but at times like this we need to be at our best.’

‘Yes, sir. You don’t have to remind me. I know I might have messed up.’

‘There’s no “might” about it. You need to up your game. We want the media on our side. We use them, when and how we dictate. Don’t let Moroney snare you again. In future all press stuff goes through me.’

‘No sir,’ she said. ‘I mean yes sir.’ She didn’t know what she was saying. Duly scolded, she felt worse than if Corrigan had roared at her. His calmness unnerved her.

And Lottie Parker did not like being unnerved.

She wondered who the snitch could be. Maria Lynch flashed into her mind. She’d bawled her out with Kirby over the botched search of Susan Sullivan’s house. Lynch hadn’t liked it one bit. Was she after Lottie’s job?

She stopped at the incident room before heading home.

‘That laptop was wiped clean,’ Kirby said.

‘What laptop?’ Lottie asked.

‘The missing priest’s. A total wipeout.’

‘You know that already?’

‘One of the techies had a quick look. Said there was nothing on it. Not even an operating system. He said someone must have downloaded one of those new illegal applications. It has zilch, nada, nothing, empty . . .’ said Kirby, wracking his brain for more words.

‘I get the picture,’ said Lottie.

‘I wonder why it’s blank?’

‘Father Angelotti is missing and his laptop is blank. Maybe when we find him we’ll solve the mystery.’

‘Has this anything to do with Susan Sullivan and James Brown?’ Kirby asked.

‘I don’t know.’ She thought for a moment. ‘But I think the only people with access to the laptop reside in the bishop’s house and I don’t like that implication.’

‘Will I question them?’

‘Leave it for now.’ Lottie turned to go, then swivelled round on her heel. ‘Kirby?’

‘What, boss?’

‘Thanks for that.’

‘No problem.’

‘It’s after seven, I’m knackered. I’m going home. You should too.’

She left him standing there, scratching his head like he was lost. She knew how he felt.