So what had Donny Maguire done about all that?

Now Farmer thought he knew. Sadistic, controlling Donny had kept Dora and her daughter Angel virtual prisoners in that flat, shut away from the real world. They were his dirty secret. He thought of the parties the Jacksons had told him about. And then the fire, destroying the place. Angel had survived it. Somehow. But had Donny? He hadn’t been seen since.

And he’s not going to be seen, either, thought Farmer.

He thought that Donny was dead. No body in the burned-out shell of the flat, though. Maybe a gang removal? Dora had once had connections in that world. It was a nice tidy way to clean up a crime scene, burning the place out in a chip-pan fire. And the big bloke raising the alarm to the people in the downstairs flat, that was interesting. Not a neighbour. At least, not one that the Jacksons had previously been aware of. Maybe a passing stranger, seeing the flames, doing the decent thing.

Or maybe not.

Maybe one of the men who had set the fire. How about that?

147

Angel got a jolt when she opened the front door of the O’Brien family home two hours later to find DI Farmer standing there.

‘Oh!’ she said.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss O’Brien.’

She’d expected Lil and June back from clearing up the flat by now. In fact, she had been hesitant about opening the front door when the old house was empty but for her. But then she’d told herself firmly that she was over-reacting, and she’d opened it anyway. And now, here he was, this handsome man with his honest eyes and his intense scrutinizing gaze, making her feel like a criminal all over again.

Because that’s what I am, she thought.

She stood there, not knowing what to say. Afraid to say anything, really.

‘Miss O’Brien . . . ?’ He was hesitating too. About to cuff her and drag her off to jail, probably. That was all she deserved. He’d connected her to Donny Maguire, it was only a matter of time before he joined up all the dots and got the complete picture.

‘Yes?’ Her throat felt dry, constricted. She’d been waiting years for this to happen. Now, finally, here it was. ‘What do you want?’

Farmer stared at her face. She looked pale. Fuck it, she looked terrified. He found himself feeling a jumble of emotions that caught him by surprise. He found he wanted to look at her face for hours. And he liked her voice, it was husky and it made something animal stir in him. What the fuck was wrong with him? This wasn’t a social call. This was police business. But it was more than that driving him. He had wanted to see her again, police business or not.

‘Miss O’Brien, I have a question, if you don’t mind,’ he said, getting his mind back on track.

‘Yes? What is it?’ She sounded nervous, on her guard.