Josephine smiled then, her relief almost tangible. ‘I see what you mean now. For a minute there I actually thought you were going to say that Michael might have been in the frame.’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Josephine, have a day off, will you!’ Lana looked at her lovely daughter – she was a real beauty. But the girl’s propensity for worrying about nothing bothered her mother. Josephine had never really come to terms with her father’s sudden – albeit temporary – disappearance from their life. Though they had visited Des regularly, Josephine had never been comfortable in the prison environment. She had hated visiting him in Parkhurst and, even when Des had been sent to the open prison on the Isle of Sheppey prior to his release, she had still found it difficult to cope with her father’s predicament. Even worse was remembering how rough life had been without him. Oh, they’d managed to keep a roof over their heads, but times had been tight and Lana had had to budget down to the last penny. Now, luckily, their businesses provided the Callahans with guaranteed financial security, but Lana knew Josephine had never forgotten that time. She’d never take the relative luxury they lived in these days for granted.
Now she had fallen head over heels for Michael Flynn. And, if Lana knew anything, young Michael was going to rise up to the highest echelons of the Costello firm. Her daughter needed to understand that, when you tied yourself to men like Des and Michael, you had to accept the possibility that they might be put away, and Josephine could find herself exactly where Lana had been all those years ago.
It was an occupational hazard for them, but it was hard on the woman left behind, alone with kids and an empty bed. You had to learn to deal with it, and that was basically that. Perhaps it was time she opened her daughter’s eyes to the world she had chosen.
Chapter Ten
Michael was tired, and he had to stifle another yawn. It was late; the weather had turned over the last few days, and the night air was heavy with icy fog. It was bitterly cold for early October, and the Indian summer they’d been enjoying had disappeared overnight. The weather report had even said there was snow in Scotland – the best fucking place for it as far as he was concerned. He hated the cold, always had. The long nights depressed him – even as a kid he had dreaded the clocks going back an hour. You got up while it was dark, and it seemed wrong somehow. Days shouldn’t begin like that, days should begin with light and sunshine. Even a weak winter sun was preferable to no sun at all.
But tonight the fog would serve a purpose. He looked around him – all he could see were the dark shapes of the trees, and the muddy track he had driven over an hour earlier.
He had thought he would be nervous, frightened, but now he’d set things in motion he had no real feelings either way. This was something that had to be done, and he had no option other than to get it over with, and get on with his life. He had already killed – a whole fucking family – even though he had not known what he was doing at the time. But he had learnt how to deal with it. Once you accepted something it was so much easier to live with – no matter how bad it might be. He had planned every step meticulously this time and, so far, it had all fallen into place. He hoped that everything else would be as easy.
He was not a fool, and he had made sure that he had every contingency in place. He had pondered this for hours on end, planned every detail, trying to work out as many different scenarios as possible. He was convinced that he was covered, no matter what might happen.
He glanced at himself in the rearview mirror, pleased at how calm he appeared. If the police should happen upon him, and ask why he was sitting alone in a car in the middle of nowhere, he had a perfect alibi ready. He had blankets, a flask of soup, and a pair of binoculars. He was a twitcher he’d claim; tell them he often slept in his car so he could get up at the crack of dawn and pursue his hobby. He even had a notebook prepared to show them, if necessary, filled with times, dates, places and what species of bird he had seen. It was probably a step too far, but he had been determined to make sure he had covered every angle. Now he just wanted to get it over with. He was bored, cold, and dying for a decent drink.
As he arched his back to loosen his muscles, and allowed himself a large, noisy yawn, he saw the glare of headlights as a car crawled slowly up the dirt road ahead of him. He relaxed back into his seat, took a long breath, and held it deep inside, until the car pulled up beside his, then he exhaled slowly.
This was it.
He got out of his car quickly, and the cold night air was enough to chase away the last vestiges of tiredness. He smiled amiably as he slipped into the passenger seat of Terry Gold’s Mk IV Cortina. Michael was pleased to see that Terry had used his usual car. That would make things much easier for him.
‘Brass monkeys out there, mate, I’m freezing.’