‘No, silly, it’s because I talk too much.’
‘My name is William by the way.’
‘Mine’s Melanie.’
‘Hmm, a lovely name.’
‘I’m called after my grandmother. She’s dead now, like your dog.’
‘Oh dear.’ He looked at her with deep appreciation.
‘Melanie, come over here.’
‘Okay, Mam, coming. I’d better go. Nice to meet you …’
‘William.’
‘Woody, leave William alone now. We have to go home.’
‘Good dog,’ he said, ruffling the dog’s head, ‘off you go now. Be good for Melanie and next time I might have a treat for you.’
‘He loves bones,’ she said quickly, almost conspiratorially.
‘Does he now? Well, I’ll have to bring one so.’
‘Melanie, hurry up, we have to go.’
‘See ya, don’t forget the bone.’
He watched the girl as she ran back towards her parents, Woody at her heels. He smiled to himself. Yes, he had sized up the mother exactly. She didn’t even look at the child when Melanie went over, simply turned away from her and walked out of the park, with the father and child in tow. As they went through the park gates, he could see Melanie dragging her heels, holding herself back from both parents. He thought again about how sad her parents must be making her feel. He remained seated on the park bench until the family were no longer in sight. Folding his newspaper, he placed it under his arm and started to make his way out of the park. Perhaps they would be back again. The park was a great favourite with families.
Dublin Mountains
Saturday, 8 October 2011, 11.45 a.m.
KATE SAT IN HER CAR WHILE O’CONNOR GOT HIS update from Hanley, lifting her head up from her notes to wave to him before he sped off downhill. When he was gone, she checked her phone – nothing yet from Declan. She thought about ringing to find out how he and Charlie were getting on, but if she did, she’d probably feel even worse about deserting the two of them on a Saturday.
She sent Declan a text – ‘I shouldn’t be long’ – and regretted sending it as soon as it was gone. She had no idea how damn long she was going to be. Who was she fooling? Maybe it was her unwillingness to talk to Declan, or feeling vulnerable during the conversation with Innes and that unexpected reaction to O’Connor, but she suddenly decided to ring Sweetmount. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t deny the feeling of wanting to talk to someone she felt close to. It was coming up to lunchtime and if she was lucky, she could have a quick word with her mother before they all gathered to eat.
The call was answered quickly by the receptionist, but then it felt like an age passed before she heard her mother picking up the phone. When she did, the signal in the mountains was awful, the sound of her mother’s voice coming in and out. Her mother got more and more confused the longer the call continued, so she ended the call. It had been a mistake to phone her in the first place, but a part of Kate wanted to hear her mother’s voice, remember a time when she depended on her not only as a listening ear, but someone who showed love and support to her.
She grabbed the camera from the car boot and walked uphill to the first location that was still cordoned off. Her gut was telling her that the first burial site would hold different, and perhaps more important, answers from the second one. Although it was sometimes a very harrowing part of her job, it was always imperative to see a crime scene first-hand. Everything about it was important – what you saw within the surroundings, what you heard, smelled, how isolated it was, how busy, who you would expect to see there, the level of exposure, anything that made it different or unique and, most importantly, what it was that had brought the perpetrator there. Photographs could tell you a lot, but they didn’t relate everything.
Despite the large garda presence, Kate tried to imagine the area as it would normally be – deserted. During the day, the mountains were tranquil, but once night fell, it was a lonely place. Kate walked farther up the mountain road, keeping a slow pace, taking it all in. She tried to imagine the terrain in complete darkness, listening to the sound of water flowing down from Montpelier Hill. Kate had passed the last street light a hundred yards back. Without a torch or the lights of a car, this area would be densely black at night.