Chapter 93
The air was filled with a shitty ammonia odour. At least the rain had stopped, though the gunmetal sky didn’t provide hope of any long-term relief. Alice Quigley’s car was parked outside the door of the small farmhouse.
‘I’ve called for backup,’ Boyd said as they tightened the Velcro straps on their stab vests. ‘We should wait.’
‘I’m tired of waiting.’
‘How are we going to handle it, then?’
‘Haven’t a clue.’
‘Lottie, we need a plan.’
‘Okay, okay. I’ll go round the back. You stay here. If anyone makes a run for it, stop them.’
‘Sure, like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.’
‘Who are they?’
‘They were…’ He caught her smile and returned it. ‘Forget it, but we should wait.’
They had a job to do, and she was damned if she was waiting any longer for backup to arrive. She wanted to get on with it.
She crept around the side of the house. The ground was muddy underfoot, so she trod carefully. At the rear, she heard raised voices coming from inside. She crouched under the window in an effort to discern the conversation. A female voice was the loudest and angriest. The words indistinguishable.
Slowly she raised her head to peek inside, praying no one would see her.
Eugene Tormey was slumped on a chair by the table, possibly unconscious, his face bloody. She could not see his hands.
Thomas stood at the closed inner kitchen door. Arms folded. Face ashen.
Dermot Macken and Alice Quigley were in a full-flight vicious row. Alice held a knife, he held a small black coal shovel.
If she rushed in, would they kill Eugene? Had he some knowledge that either Alice or Dermot, even Thomas, was afraid of being revealed? She could not decide who was the ringleader and who was the victim among them.
A breath brushed the nape of her neck and she jumped, clipping her head off the windowsill.
‘Sorry.’
‘Boyd!’
‘Shh. Keep your voice down.’
‘I told you to stay at the front.’
‘Door is barricaded on the inside.’
‘How do you know?’ she whispered.
‘I looked through the letter box. No one is getting out that way in a hurry. What’s going on?’
‘I can’t make out what they’re saying. At least no one has a gun that I can see. ETA on backup?’
‘Five minutes.’
‘Someone in there could be dead by then. I’m going in.’
‘Don’t be daft. Do you even know who the primary target is?’
She shook her head. ‘Okay. We both go in.’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ he said.
‘You with me or not?’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Do we play it cool, like we just dropped by for a cuppa?’
‘Feck off, Boyd. I’ll knock and walk straight in.’
‘What if it’s locked?’
‘They barricaded the front, so they had to leave a means of escape out the back.’
She crawled over to the door and stood. After giving two sharp knocks, she turned the handle and marched inside.
The argument stopped. Three heads turned towards the door. Eugene still appeared to be unconscious.
Before Lottie could speak, Alice beat her to it.
‘Thank God you’re here, Inspector Parker. I’m at my wits’ end with this lot.’
‘Care to tell me what’s going on?’ Lottie wrinkled her nose at the stench of body odour and something that wasn’t farm related this time. Fear and hate.
Dermot Macken said, ‘Yeah, I’d like to know that too.’
‘You shut up.’ Alice brandished the knife.
Thomas said nothing. Hands now in trouser pockets.
‘Put down your weapons so we can talk this out,’ Lottie said.
‘He tried to whack me with the shovel,’ Alice said, pointing the knife at Macken. Lottie could see she was tightening her hold on it.
‘It’s not much good against a knife,’ Macken said, and threw the shovel into the coal bucket.
‘What happened to Eugene?’ Lottie asked. ‘Does he need a doctor?’
‘Old bastard fell over his own front step.’ Alice snorted. ‘He’s fine. Asleep.’
‘He could be concussed.’
‘Good enough for him.’ She folded her arms over a zipped-up dark green fleece and leaned back against the counter, causing a pile of dishes to topple from the draining board into the already packed sink. The noise roused Eugene.
‘What’s going on?’ He rubbed his hand over his forehead. His fingers came away bloody. ‘Did I fall?’
‘You’re an old bastard,’ Alice sneered.
Lottie asked, ‘You okay there, Thomas?’
He nodded quickly in a gesture that suggested he didn’t dare speak for fear he might say something wrong or incriminating. She was still trying to figure out if they were all in this together, whatever this was.
‘Can you take your hands out of your pockets where I can see them?’ He obliged. They were empty and trembling. ‘Why did you bring Eugene here, Alice?’
‘Because the old fart knows where Sadie is. That bitch killed my family like she killed her own years ago. She’s not getting away with it again.’
‘She never killed anyone,’ Eugene said. ‘I reckon it was you.’
‘You really are in the throes of your dotage,’ Alice said.
‘And you.’ Eugene pointed a quivering finger at Macken, who had slunk back against the range. ‘You’re the pup who used to sniff around my Sadie. She wouldn’t touch you with a bargepole.’
‘Not true,’ Macken said softly.
‘That’s my wife you’re talking about.’ Thomas suddenly came alive, waving his hands around the room. ‘You should arrest the lot of them. One of them has taken my wife and daughter. I want my family found.’
Lottie still hadn’t got the answer as to why they were all at the farm. She had to separate them and get them to the station for proper interviews. But Alice was still holding the knife. Boyd was behind her, so she couldn’t even make eye contact with him to make a move.
‘Who do you think has them, Thomas?’ she asked.
‘Alice says the old man knows. Claims he’s Sadie’s father. She says he holds the key.’
Lottie marvelled at how many shades of pale Thomas could turn in an instant. ‘And what key is that?’
‘I thought she meant the key to wherever Sadie and Lily are being held.’
‘That’s exactly what I meant,’ Alice said. ‘Either the old bastard or Macken. One of them knows, but neither will tell me.’
As she and Boyd were outnumbered, Lottie figured she had to keep them talking while awaiting backup. ‘What interest have you in finding the Clarkes, Alice?’
‘I told you. Sadie killed my family. I want revenge.’
‘I thought you’d want justice.’
‘That’s what I meant.’
Lottie wanted to throw a grenade in among them about the photos and videos of children. But she had to hold fire, and it was killing her.
Boyd stepped around her. ‘Alice, I think it would be a good time to give me your weapon.’
‘And why would I do that?’
‘Because you’ll end up getting arrested for threatening detectives with a deadly weapon.’
She seemed to consider his request, then nodded and flung the knife into the sink on top of the toppled dirty dishes.
‘I had to take matters into my own hands. A week into this and you still don’t know who killed my girls. But I believe it was either Sadie Clarke or one of these three.’
‘I tend to agree that it was someone in this room,’ Lottie said, and stepped forward as the sound of sirens filled the air. At last.