In the end, I hated him more than I hated her. With the witch, I soon recognised the false attempts at affection, and the pleasure her withdrawal of it gave her. He was different. I sought his love, believed it to be real. Did you ever love someone so much that you were prepared to be destroyed because of it? I cannot abide weakness now. It is such a debilitating trait. I found love in his tears of guilt, and stole joy when, afterwards, he would ask for my forgiveness. I would comfort him, as a parent would a child. The lies were harder to take when his mask of deception finally became apparent to me.
I need to go back to the woods. I always gain strength from their place of death. The Devil card has decided Sandra’s fate, but there is still another to be drawn for the spread. I’ve asked the Reader to reveal it many times, but she can be difficult when she wants to be. She isn’t meek like Sandra, but believes she has the upper hand.
I remember picking the Hangman card before I killed Rick. We had sat in the restaurant that last night, him thinking I would go back to the hotel room with him, assuming I had forgiven him for the gang rape at his precious party, and that I needed him more than he needed me. The arrogance of the ego is another debilitating characteristic. I instigated the argument, knowing which buttons to press. If you know how to pleasure someone, you know how to cause them pain. The Hangman card was perfect: I needed the wisdom from the Well of Wyrd. I took the master number as another sign in the denouncement of God and his book of biblical lies.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when he booked that whore. He wouldn’t have wanted to waste the bed that he planned to share with me. It had delayed things, but time wasn’t of any consequence. Once the card was drawn, his fate was sealed.
My new lover has proved a disappointment too. Maybe it’s all for the best. As I’ve told you before, I’m a believer in destiny.
HARCOURT STREET STATION, SPECIAL DETECTIVE UNIT
MARK LYNCH WASN’T sure about Kate’s theory on the mental condition of the killer, but she had proved herself in the past, and any fresh angle was a good thing. It meant broadening the background checks to anyone connected with Sandra Regan’s early childhood. If Kate was right about her, and the extra pressure accelerating the risk of an adverse reaction, then he needed to adopt a more direct approach.
Both Alice Thompson and Edgar Regan had denied any knowledge of Rick Shevlin, but he had no doubt the two of them were holding something back. Kate wanted him to concentrate on Sandra, but Alice Thompson was also at the forefront of his mind. For a start, Sandra and Alice were by far the most attractive of the four women involved, and therefore more likely suspects. Working backwards, he contacted their professional colleagues, using tax records to access previous employers or associates, going all the way back to their early school days. His investigative juices began to flow when he discovered gaps in their personal records. They had disappeared from Irish records in their late teens and had both come from the same rural village, Leach, in Wicklow.
The more phone calls he made, the more he discovered. The girls had gone to the same primary and secondary schools. The local schools in Leach weren’t large. With the girls being of similar age, the chance of them knowing each other from an early age was high. The then principals of the schools had retired, but they still lived locally, one in a remote location near Elliot forest, the other in the town. The first, Barry Lyons, the primary school head, would have known the girls from when they were four. He was the one living near Elliot forest and, unfortunately, didn’t have a landline. If he had a mobile phone, it wouldn’t have worked so close to the dense woods.
With no other option, Lynch rang the second school principal, James Gammon. He already knew from the records that Gammon had served in the police force in the earlier part of his career. Before leaving, he had gained a reputation as a troublemaker, questioning the big brass in Dublin on all sorts of murky stuff, including bad management. Still, Lynch thought, he’d probably used the discipline of the force to run that secondary school like a well-oiled machine. He hoped Gammon didn’t hold grudges against the rank and file or it might prove to be an uncomfortable conversation.
He rang the number Fitzsimons had given him. ‘Could I speak to James Gammon?’
‘Speaking – who’s asking?’
‘Detective Mark Lynch, Special Detective Unit, Harcourt Street.’
‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘We’re doing background checks on a couple of people from your community. I was wondering what you can tell me about Alice Thompson and Sandra Regan. Sandra’s maiden name would have been Connolly, when she attended the Sacred Heart School. They were pupils between 1994 and 1999.’
There was silence at the other end of the phone.
‘Mr Gammon?’
‘Yes?’
‘I was wondering …’
‘I heard your question the first time.’ Another pause. ‘I knew both girls, yes. Intelligent, hardworking, neither of them ever gave the school any bother.’
‘How would you describe them individually?’
‘Alice was the more outgoing of the two, much more confident than Sandra, who was a shyer girl, with a quiet demeanour …’ another pause ‘… but she was unusual.’
‘How so?’
‘I always felt there was more to her than she would let others see. Funny, I still think about her at times.’