‘What happened then?’ Lynch adopted a no-nonsense tone.
‘The mail eventually stopped. I assume whoever was sending it got the information about their new details, even though they were never shared with me.’
Kate could see the woman took this as an affront to her position as postmistress of the town. ‘Lily, you described Sandra Connolly as insolent. That seems at odds with the character description we’ve received from others.’
‘Well,’ Lily puckered her lips, ‘that might be because you’ve only talked to men.’
‘We’ve spoken to Billy Meagher and Barry Lyons,’ Kate told her.
‘Barry?’ Lily’s smile looked far too satisfied for Kate not to ask why.
‘You don’t trust Barry’s assessment, then?’
‘Let’s just say the two of them were friendly. I’m not one for spreading rumours, but I do believe in calling a spade a spade.’
I
THE FOREST FLOOR has seen it all, fury and attack, secrets and lies, sex, birth and death. Edgar thinks I’m bringing him to the woods because I need time to think. He isn’t totally wrong. He still believes he’s saving me, but he has no idea how many people I’ve killed, or that he will be next. I contemplate the serious look on his face as our car speeds along the road, him trying to make good time, not realising each forward movement takes us closer to the end game. It will be dark by the time we reach the old house. He has insisted on taking firewood, and heavy blankets to keep us warm, a quaint touch but it caused me to wonder.
I’ve always been fascinated by fire, even before I knew the witch had burned Ellen. Flames are fierce and free, their rich colour tempting and dangerous. Have you ever heard the roar of a wild fire? The crackle, spit and power are intoxicating. I smile across at Edgar. He takes it as a reassuring sign.
I’ve decided I won’t tell him the why. He fell in love with two women, the vulnerable and soft Sandra, and the alluring, tempting Cassie. His pathetic desire to bring Sandra back is the most despicable betrayal of all.
The woods are not far now. Soon, I will be home.
ELLIOT FOREST, COUNTY WICKLOW
AFTER TALKING WITH Lily Bright, Mark and Kate had no choice but to head back to Barry Lyons’s place. They had no guarantees he would be there. The late-afternoon sun blinded them, as Mark negotiated the narrow country roads.
‘I didn’t take Barry Lyons for a paedophile, Kate. I mean that’s what Lily Bright alluded to, wasn’t it?’
‘Me neither, but if Barry Lyons had a sexual relationship with Sandra, it’s all part of her behaviour pattern. The sex was a tool at her disposal, one she quickly learned worked well with men.’
‘I’ve sent a surveillance team to the Regans’ house, by the way.’
‘When did you do that?’
‘While I was waiting for you outside Lily Bright’s – what did you go back in to ask her?’
‘I wanted her opinion on Cynthia Connolly.’
‘And?’
‘Lily also knew Cynthia’s mother – like mother, like daughter, was how she described them, both hard and miserable. Cynthia’s mother died when she was five. She was brought up by her father. Some believed their relationship wasn’t healthy.’
‘Incest, you mean?’
‘That’s not all. She was pregnant when she married Thomas Connolly – another symptom of abuse, and not unusual for it to be handed down from one generation to the next.’
‘So Ellen, Sandra’s mother, was potentially the result of inbreeding.’
‘Who can say for sure? But Lily said there was always something not right about Ellen. The description she used was “soft in the head”.’
‘It could explain her disappearance?’
‘This case, Mark, is rife with cruelty, one act of badness loaded onto the back of another.’
He slowed the car as they neared the cabin.
‘Hold on a second,’ Kate said. ‘I want to check something before we go inside.’
‘What?’
‘I want to review the sketch of Pierre Laurent’s face again. Something’s still bothering me about it.’
She focused on the eyes in the abstract image of Pierre.
‘What is it?’ Lynch asked, turning off the engine.
‘I wasn’t sure, at least not at first.’
Both of them looked up, seeing Barry Lyons step out of the cabin, his hands on his forehead blocking the sun from his eyes.
‘Mark?’ she said, looking back at the sketch.
‘What?’
‘Look at the eyes. They belong to Barry Lyons.’
‘Right. Let’s get some answers.’
The look on the retired teacher’s face was of resignation rather than surprise.
‘We’ve a few more questions for you, Barry,’ Lynch said, loud and accusing.
‘Best come inside, so.’
All three of them walked into the tumbledown cabin. If anything, Kate thought, it looked even more dismal with the sun shooting in from outside.
They remained standing while Barry took the seat he had occupied a couple of hours earlier.
‘I don’t think you’ve been completely honest with us, Barry,’ Lynch continued, in the same tone he had used outside.