‘I can’t think of anybody who was gunning for the girl. She caused a lot of jealousy among females, I can tell you that. Young and old. And, as I said, the brother is a loose cannon. But I can’t see anybody taking her. I really just thought, like most of the village, that she’d done a runner.’

Tom believed him. It was the recurring theme of this case.

‘One more thing,’ he said. ‘Why didn’t Fiona’s file mention that she was a mother?’

Bart shrugged, a red dot in each cheek.

‘I suppose it just slipped our minds. You’d never think of Fiona as a mother. If you knew her, I mean. Her folks are raising the child.’

‘Still,’ Tom said. ‘It’s a fact. And the baby’s father might come into play if she’s not found.’

‘I can’t see him being found either, Inspector,’ Bart replied. ‘He’s been on the missing list for quite some time.’

CHAPTER 18

The drive from Dublin had been long. Very, very long.

Laura had agreed to them taking Ray’s car for the trip, ostensibly so she could do some reading on the way down to West Cork. But she’d forgotten two things. One, she got carsick when she read for any length of time and two, with no driving to concentrate on, all she could think about was the man sitting next to her.

Ray was wearing large, pilot-style sunglasses and a fitted black v-neck T-shirt, tight at the arms where his muscles bulged. He looked fantastic these days, healthy and happy, with a glow that Laura hadn’t seen in him for a while. She had a sinking feeling that he was seeing somebody. What else could put that smile on his face?

And here she was, the prize eejit, lusting after him again.

Why couldn’t she help herself? She was a strong, smart woman, professional in every way – and she couldn’t stop mooning after this bloody man who had no interest. Each time he reached down to the gearstick, she willed his fingers to brush against her bare leg, the skin visible below the cotton-pleated skirt that had ridden up over her knee. She was fixated on that hand – its strong grip, the little nicks and cuts on his fingers.

He had really masculine hands.

She sighed.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked. ‘It’s not too hot for you?’

‘It’s much too hot,’ she murmured under her breath, lowering the passenger window. Yep. What she needed was a cold shower and a bloody good berating.

‘Will we pull over and get some air?’

‘No. We’re nearly there. Just take this slip-road coming up now and we can avoid the traffic.’