Lottie paced the cramped office, after dispatching Susan’s phone to the technical geeks.

She informed Kirby what Mrs Murtagh had said about Susan recognising Bishop Connor.

‘I told you to let me kick the shite out of the lying bastard,’ Kirby said.

‘Quick word?’ Lynch touched Lottie’s elbow.

‘Just a minute, I need to call home.’

She phoned Chloe. ‘How are things there?’

‘Fine. Sean went into town earlier on.’

Lottie said, ‘Why’d he go to town?’

‘He hasn’t stopped complaining about his PlayStation so maybe he wanted to check out a new one?’

‘Put him on.’

‘He’s not back yet. Probably gone to Niall’s house. I texted him to see what he wanted for lunch. He didn’t text back.’

‘Probably no credit.’

‘Typical,’ laughed Chloe.

‘Message him on Facebook.’

‘Why didn’t I think of that, Mother?’ Chloe said with mock sarcasm.

‘How’s Katie?’

‘Thick. As usual. Any sign of Jason?’

‘I’m working on it,’ Lottie said. ‘Let me know when Sean gets home.’

‘Will do.’

She hung up and turned to Lynch, ‘You wanted to ask me something?’

‘I want to talk to you about Derek Harte. Is now okay?’

‘I need something to distract me. Go ahead.’

Lynch folded her arms, a file clasped to her chest. ‘I reviewed all the paperwork, examined his statement again, then I ran a check on him.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I think we’ve fucked up, Inspector. Big time.’

‘Oh shit.’

Lottie pulled two chairs over to a hissing radiator and they sat beside the heat. Lynch flipped through the file on her knee.

‘Harte told us he works in a school in Athlone. We assumed he was a teacher.’

‘But he’s not?’ Lottie stared at Lynch. ‘For God’s sake!’

‘He’s not registered as a teacher anywhere. But he does odd jobs. The last known place was St Simon’s Secondary School in Athlone. He gave false information on his application and an address in Dublin. I searched PULSE. Found him.’

‘Convicted of something?’

‘Served five years of an eight-year sentence for the abduction and sexual assault of a minor. Released from Arbour Hill prison eleven months ago.’

Lottie mentally weighed up the enormity of Lynch’s revelation. Whose fault was this mess? Her own, everything was her responsibility as senior investigating officer. She would definitely be hauled in front of the chief superintendent, if not the garda commissioner. Corrigan would explode. And Lynch would escape without blame. Shit! As for the school, they mustn’t have checked him out at all. What about Garda Clearance certification? What a mess.

‘Christ almighty,’ she shouted. ‘Why wasn’t this discovered days ago? I can’t tolerate incompetence. And to think I empathised with the little prick in his fake grief. I’ll kill him myself when we catch up with him.’

‘I’ve checked out the address he gave us. He rents a bedsit.’

Lynch handed Lottie a photograph of the convicted Derek Harte. He looked totally different from the grief-stricken man who had found the body of James Brown. Shaggy beard, long hair. Dark, dead eyes. The bastard. He had now soared to number one on her suspect list.

‘Give me the good news,’ Lottie said, throwing down the photo and pulling at her worn sleeves, feeling a tightness in her chest. She began to cough.

‘Are you all right?’ Lynch asked.

Lottie tried to answer, but couldn’t. Lynch fetched a paper cup, poured water from the dispenser.

‘What’s wrong?’ She handed the cup to Lottie.

Lottie sipped and felt the wave ebb.

‘You’re exhausted,’ Lynch said.

She didn’t want Lynch’s sympathy.

‘It’s only a cold. Find Harte. You and Kirby chase him down. Before Superintendent Corrigan gets wind of this latest fuck-up.’

‘Straight away.’

‘Print off his history. I need to know what we’re dealing with.’

Lynch scooted through the door, ponytail slapping against her shoulders.

Lottie glanced out the window, over the road at the cathedral, standing majestic in the afternoon sepia fog. The streetlights were warming up. The scene appeared surreal. Just when she thought she had everything connected, she was thrown another curve ball.

And she had things to discuss with her doctor, other than a cold. She opened her drawer, picked up the silver pendant she’d found at St Angela’s, pocketed it, banged the drawer shut.