‘I assume you’re thinking what I’m thinking, O’Connor?’
‘Essentially Thomas and Cynthia Connolly are missing persons, but with the absence of a missing persons report, it looks like their disappearance went unnoticed.’
‘I have another potential missing person for you.’
‘Who?’
‘Sandra Connolly’s natural mother.’ Lynch turned to Kate. ‘Did Barry Lyons or Billy Meagher mention Sandra’s mother’s name?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ she replied.
‘O’Connor, did you find anything on the natural mother during your searches?’
‘Not a lot, but I do have a name from the births, marriages and deaths register.’
‘What is it?’
‘Ellen Connolly – her name is also on Sandra Connolly’s birth certificate, as the birth mother. The father is down as unknown.’
‘Dig some more on Ellen Connolly. Rumour has it she went to the UK. Ring me back as soon as you have anything. If she joins the missing persons list, we have a bigger shitbag on our hands. Also, I might need you to talk to Alice Thompson. We’ve got information that could test the friendship between her and Sandra Regan, and if we have to use it, we will.’
‘I thought I was to take a back seat.’
‘It’s your lucky day, O’Connor. I’ve decided to promote you temporarily, but don’t go off on any tangents. You have my number if you need any more instructions.’
‘I haven’t told you the most interesting thing about Sandra Connolly.’
‘And what’s that?’ Lynch wasn’t enjoying the power play.
‘Sandra isn’t her full name – at least, it wasn’t the name on the birth certificate.’
‘Spit it out, O’Connor. I don’t have time for this.’
‘Her full name is Cassandra.’
Mark Lynch went quiet.
‘What is it?’ Kate asked, seeing the look on his face.
‘He says Sandra’s full name is Cassandra.’
‘The tag name – Cassie is short for Cassandra, Cassie4Casanova. It’s the link – why didn’t any of us think of it before?’
‘I don’t know, and I don’t particularly care.’ Kate sensed heightened determination driving him now. ‘O’Connor, pull in Alice Thompson and press whatever buttons you need to but get her talking. It turns out her friend had sex with Alice’s daddy when she was a teenager, not exactly something a good friend should do.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘As far as Alice Thompson is concerned, we are.’
‘What about Edgar and Sandra Regan?’
‘We’ll hold off on them for now, O’Connor. When we bring them in, I want to be able to hit them hard.’
‘You’re taking a risk waiting. I’d discuss that with Kate if I were you.’
‘Well, you’re not me. Get talking to the Thompson woman and let me know as soon as you have anything.’ Hanging up, he handed the phone to Kate. ‘I guess you got the gist of that?’
‘Thomas, Cynthia and Ellen Connolly are all unaccounted for?’
‘Exactly.’ He stared ahead of him.
‘There’s one other thing we can be certain of, Mark.’
‘What’s that?’
‘If Sandra is connected to her grandparents’ disappearance, we can at least assume she isn’t responsible for the disappearance of her mother.’
‘As you said yourself, Kate, secrets have their own complicated path, and you’re not always sure who’s keeping them from you.’
‘You’ll be questioning Sandra and Edgar, I assume.’
‘Not yet. We’ve a link with the name, but not a hell of a lot else.’ He stood up. ‘Come on. Let’s get this conversation with Lily Bright out of the way.’
‘I guess we won’t be eating these,’ Kate said, as the barman placed the toasted sandwiches on the table.
‘I don’t know about you, but I’ve lost my appetite.’
I
I’VE SET UP the studio for another self-portrait before Edgar comes back. I know I won’t be returning here. There’s no need for Sandra any more – my lesser self. I’ve always known of her existence, even though she has been unaware of mine. She has made limited attempts at keeping a diary, but half pictures are never any good. The reason I’ve seen more than her is because I’m prepared to face the dark. Cowards are best taken out of their misery.
Remember the road through the woods that can’t be seen, hidden by time past, disguised? I still see it, every evil twist and turn of it. It’s etched onto my wall of memory, which is why I’m the keeper, not her.
It’s time to phone Alice.
‘Alice,’ I say, fretful, like Sandra might be, ‘I need you to do something for me.’
‘What?’
I’m not surprised she doesn’t sound like her usual cool self. ‘I need you to pick another card.’
‘Sandra, we’re not children now. This is nonsense.’ Her words drift into anger.
‘Humour me,’ I reply, trying not to sound patronising. ‘Remember how we used to take turns?’
‘You know the police have been asking questions?’
‘Don’t worry about them. Pick the card.’
‘Sandra …’