Boyd was standing on the doorstep.

‘Are you going to invite me in, or what?’

‘Or what,’ Lottie said, opening the door wider.

‘Is it raining in there?’

‘I’ve just got out of the shower. Come in.’

He shoved a brown bag containing a plastic bottle into her hand, shuffled out of his jacket and made for the kitchen. ‘Something smells good.’

‘You’re an awful liar. Dinner is well over. Unless you’d like some Pot Noodles.’

‘I’d rather be shot than poisoned any day,’ he said, sitting at the table.

‘Make yourself comfortable.’ Lottie inspected the bottle. ‘Diet Coke? No wine in Tesco?’

‘Beggars can’t be choosers.’

‘You’re in some mood tonight.’

‘Pot and kettle.’

‘Why are you here?’

‘I… Lottie, give me a break. I just came round to see if you’re doing okay. After today, you know…’

‘I’m fine.’ She chewed the inside of her lip, not liking where the conversation was headed.

‘That’s not what Katie… Shit!’

Bottle of Coke in one hand, a glass in the other, Lottie stared open-mouthed at him. She hadn’t expected that. ‘What are you saying? Come on, Boyd. Out with it.’

‘It’s nothing. Katie rang me. Said you were having a meltdown and would I come have a chat with you.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ She handed him the glass. ‘You should have brought wine.’

‘Thanks.’ He twisted it around in his hand.

She poured a glass for herself. Her phone rang. She glanced at it. Saw the caller ID.

‘Are you not answering it?’ he asked.

‘It’s only Annabelle. She can leave a message. I suppose Katie contacted her too. She’s probably checking up that I didn’t take an overdose.’

‘Don’t be so disparaging. People care about you. Sometimes you reach a stage where you have to admit you need help, and when it’s offered, you should take it.’

‘So it’s Dr Phil sitting at my table, not my friend Boyd.’

‘I am your friend. Don’t you get it, Lottie? You had a bitch of a day today, a horrible week, and you need to talk about it. No use burying your head in the sand.’

They sipped their drinks to the sound of Louis whimpering and Katie soothing him in the other room, and the rain bashing against the windows.

‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. No one can understand,’ Lottie said.

‘Try me.’

She kept her eyes downcast, swirling the Coke in the glass.

‘I’m drowning, Boyd. That’s what it feels like. I have this feeling inside, just here.’ She drummed her chest with her fist. ‘It’s consuming me. I feel so selfish. I can’t love anyone. Not even my children. Do you know why?’

‘Tell me.’ His face was etched with concern; his eyes swimming with unspoken words.

‘I’m afraid,’ she said, lowering her eyes from his gaze. ‘If I love, I will lose. And I can’t lose them. Not my children. Oh God, if anything happened to them, to any one of them or to little Louis, I’d throw myself into Lough Cullion. Can you understand that?’

‘I understand that you love your children and Louis. You love them so much you’re afraid to reveal it. You think that if you show how much you care, you’ll get hurt or you’ll hurt them. This is life, Lottie. We all get hurt. But we are the grown-ups. We can handle it. Right? You loved Adam, then he died. And that is your only problem. You don’t know how to cope with the guilt.’

‘Guilt?’

‘Maybe not guilt. Maybe it’s fear. I’m not Dr Phil, but I believe you’re so consumed with a fear of losing all you love that you push everyone away. There’s this giant barrier, like a… like a force field around you, repelling each and every person you care for. You need to break it down, Lottie, or it will break you.’

She smiled weakly. ‘Thanks, Boyd. You’ve put into words exactly how I feel.’ She knew he was so right. Her fear of loss meant she kept him away too. ‘Now no more talk about me. I’ll be fine.’

A soft silence descended on them.

‘I can’t understand why Emma was killed,’ he said at last. His words immediately brought a chill to the room. It settled on Lottie’s shoulders.

‘Maybe she saw or knew something,’ she said. ‘I suspect there’s something about the night Tessa was murdered that we’ve missed. We’ll go back over every bit of evidence in the morning. I won’t rest until this is solved.’

‘Stop. Don’t beat yourself up. Whoever killed her wanted to wipe that whole family out. They’re on a mission and I don’t think you or anyone else would have stopped them.’

‘But why? We need to dig beneath the surface of this.’

The front door opened and closed.

‘Well, if it isn’t himself… Boyd. Am I right?’

‘Hello, Mrs Fitzpatrick.’ Boyd stood and shook her hand.

Rose dropped her umbrella into the sink and shifted out of her raincoat, handing it to Boyd to hang up in the hall. ‘It’s an awful night to be out.’

‘What has you out in it?’ Lottie asked, taking no notice of Boyd’s cautionary look from behind her mother’s back.

‘Dropped in to see if everything was all right.’

Had Katie called her mother? She was going to kill that girl.

‘Everything is fine. Why wouldn’t it be?’

‘I heard about that poor child. Tessa Ball’s granddaughter. Terrible business altogether.’

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Boyd offered.

Lottie glared. It was her house!

‘Sure, why not?’

As Boyd filled the kettle, Lottie asked, ‘Did you hear Marian Russell died today too?’

Rose paled. ‘No, I never heard that.’

‘Are you sure you can’t tell me anything about Tessa and her family?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘She was a solicitor in the seventies and eighties. You or Dad have any dealings with her?’

Lottie studied her mother. Rose’s hand shook slightly, but her eyes were focused straight ahead, unwavering.

‘I can’t recall that we had anything to do with her.’

‘Dad’s will, maybe?’

‘No. You know he left everything to me. And once I’m gone, it’ll be yours.’

‘Mick O’Dowd. Do you know him?’

Rose shook her head. ‘Can’t say that I do. Why? What did he do?’

‘I don’t know yet. I think maybe he was an old boyfriend of Tessa’s.’

‘I doubt that very much. She had no time for anyone other than her daughter, Marian. Spoiled that girl rotten, she did. Compensating for the loss of her husband at such a young age.’

Lottie searched for the insinuation, but couldn’t find it. Rose was quiet. Too quiet. Lottie studied her mother. She seemed to be lost in her own world, a film of tears shrouding her eyes.

‘Mother, what’s wrong? Are you okay?’

Shrugging off Lottie’s hand, Rose stood. ‘I’d better get home. You’re in good hands here.’

‘Kettle’s almost boiled,’ Boyd said.

Rose smiled. Trust Boyd to get her mother on his side.

‘Next time.’

At the door, Rose turned. ‘Mick O’Dowd? A right ladies’ man in his day, if it’s the same fellow I’m thinking of.’

‘Lives out by Dolanstown,’ Lottie said.

‘That’s him.’

‘We think he might have killed Emma,’ Boyd said.

‘Emma? He wouldn’t hurt a hair on her head.’

‘Why not? Did he know her? She was killed at his farmhouse. He is one of our suspects.’

‘He wouldn’t hurt that girl. You’d better look elsewhere.’ Rose stepped out into the rain, opened up her umbrella then closed it again before the wind could take hold of it.

‘What do you mean?’ Lottie asked her mother’s departing figure.

‘Do you want a lift?’ Boyd offered.

‘I have my car.’ And Rose disappeared out onto the road.

Lottie stared at Boyd as the rain beat in on top of them.

‘Close the door,’ Boyd said.

In the kitchen, seated at the table, they sat in silence digesting what Rose Fitzpatrick had said.

‘First she knew nothing, then she knew an awful lot. I can’t figure her out at all.’

‘Could Mick O’Dowd have been the writer of Tessa’s love letters?’ Boyd said.

‘It’s all a bit mad. And I really think my mother isn’t well. Did you notice how pale she is?’

‘A bit thinner, maybe.’

‘I’m going to have a word with Annabelle about her. Book her in for a check-up.’

‘Did Annabelle leave you a message?’

‘I never checked my phone. She’ll ring back if it’s urgent, but knowing her…’

‘Lottie? You need a check-up, never mind your mother.’

‘Don’t start. Finish your drink, then I’m going to bed.’

Boyd drained his Coke, and Lottie took the glass and put it in the sink. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

He got up and headed for the door. ‘You know, if what your mother insinuated is correct, then Marian Russell could’ve been Tessa and O’Dowd’s daughter.’

‘There’s no point in speculating. Whether she was or not, what relevance can it have to anything we’re dealing with?’

‘Maybe nothing, or…’

‘Or maybe everything. At this stage, we don’t know. Goodnight, Boyd.’ She gave him a quick hug.

Chloe came down the stairs. ‘I’ve an appointment with my therapist in the morning. But don’t worry, I can go on my own.’

‘See you,’ Boyd said with a wink.

‘Bye,’ Chloe said.

Lottie locked the front door and switched off the sitting room light.

‘Hey, I’m going to watch some telly,’ Chloe said.

‘Don’t be up half the night,’ Lottie warned as her daughter passed her in the hall, rolling her eyes like only a teenager could.

Lottie’s heart stopped for a moment. There was one Ragmullin teenager who would never roll her eyes again.

She reached out and touched Chloe’s arm. The girl stopped. ‘Are you okay now, Mum?’

Lottie gripped her middle child in a hug, and received one back. Holding Chloe at arm’s length, she said, ‘Once I have my family, I’ll always be okay.’

‘Good. You scared us earlier. You are a good mum, if a little wacky at times.’

‘Thanks for that, Chloe.’

‘Any time. Now can I watch the telly?’

‘And you’re okay too, aren’t you?’

Chloe turned up her sleeves. Lottie gulped at the sight of the old scars ridged along her arms. But there were no fresh cuts. ‘I’m doing fine. And I know I’ve to talk to my therapist or to you if I ever feel that bad again.’

‘And Sean and Katie? Are they okay?’

‘Mum, you need to ask them, not me.’

Lottie gave Chloe one last squeeze and watched her beautiful, intelligent daughter walk tall into the sitting room.

Yes, she really must talk with Sean and Katie.

But first she needed to sleep.