Chapter 66
Grainne Nixon talked with Jane Dore at length. The forensics were irrefutable, but what stumped Grainne was the lace collar found under Lily Clarke’s bed.
Jane said, ‘It looks similar to the collar on Freya Healy’s dress. It could be hand-made.’
‘It’s old, then?’ Grainne enquired. ‘Handmade?’
‘Not necessarily. Nowadays some items of clothing are created to look as if they’ve been made by hand when in fact they’re mass-produced in China.’
‘How would I go about discovering where it was made?’ Grainne fingered the collar through its clear evidence bag. It was such an odd item to find under a twelve-year-old’s bed. Hidden, lost? What was its significance? She was intrigued.
‘Contact lacemakers, perhaps.’
‘I’ll check them out.’ She didn’t hold out much hope of success. ‘It could have been made at someone’s kitchen table.’
‘Then there’s no way of tracing it,’ Jane said. ‘Did anything come back regarding DNA on it?’
‘Still waiting. And I’m getting a bit like Lottie Parker. I’ve no patience.’
As she hung up, Grainne was surprised to see an alert for a DNA result on the collar. She entered the required passwords and completed the encrypted checklist before opening the results.
‘Good God,’ she cried.
Lottie had spent ages compiling a report for Superintendent Farrell, and had just put her arms into the sleeves of her jacket to go visit Martina in hospital when Grainne Nixon burst into the office.
‘It’s polite to knock.’ She tried to drag her jacket off.
Grainne looked animated. Hopefully she had positive news, because Lottie couldn’t cope with any more negative shit. She needed the investigation to move forward.
‘The lace collar we found in Clarke’s house. Got a DNA hit,’ the SOCO said, gasping for breath. ‘Sorry, I ran over here.’
‘You could have phoned, but sit down before you fall down.’
Both women sat, and Lottie waited while Grainne slid a sheet of paper across the desk.
‘You’ll have to tell me what I’m looking at.’
‘I can email it to you, but I knew I’d have to explain it, so here I am.’ She slid another page onto the desk, lining them up side by side.
‘Okay,’ Lottie said. ‘Looks the same. Explain.’
‘The first analysis is from the lace collar found under Lily’s bed.’ Grainne pointed to the second page. ‘This is DNA from the collar on the dress that Freya Healy was dressed in. They match. But the DNA is not from Lily or Freya.’
‘So it links Lily’s abduction to the Healys’ murders. We kind of guessed they had to be connected, but I figure that’s not what has you so excited. Spill.’
Grainne then put a third page beside the other two.
‘Where is this from?’ Lottie asked.
‘A cold case from twenty years ago. A lace collar on a dress worn by a child who was murdered after a birthday party.’
‘What?’ Lottie stared at the pages, then bit her lip before speaking. ‘Chloe, my daughter, she’s in Garda training…’
‘I heard she got in. But what has—’
‘She phoned me earlier this morning. Talked about some case that was similar to the Healys’ murders. Jesus. What’s the case, Grainne?’
‘A mother and daughter were murdered in their home. Someone phoned 999 and said, “I killed them.”’
‘Was anyone prosecuted for it?’
‘No.’
‘Tell me what the link is to my current investigation.’
‘That’s just it, the DNA is a match across the cases via the lace collars, but it doesn’t match anyone on our database. Bear in mind that technology then was not what it is now.’
Lottie groaned and ran her hand through her hair. ‘So we’ve gone and added another layer to the puzzle. Damn. We’re no further along.’
‘Don’t despair, it gives you a link to this twenty-year-old case. There has to be someone in common across the board.’
‘You’re right. I need to search for it. Thanks, Grainne. On another note, did you find anything to tie Liam Scanlan’s shoes to the mark on Caroline Healy’s back?’
‘Didn’t get to them yet. I’ll do it now.’
When Grainne left, Lottie clicked on the files the SOCO had emailed over. Her heart rate rose, beating blood through her veins at a dangerous level as she read the names on the old case.
Denise and Poppy Tormey.
Mother and daughter.
Tormey.
Sadie Clarke, née Tormey.