Once confirmation of the second killing was released at a press conference later that afternoon, Kate was well aware that panic would take hold quickly. By the end of her first day on the case, she would have to attempt a detailed profile of the killer, but she knew more than anyone that an accurate profile never happened overnight. Nonetheless, she was going to have to draw on every resource she had to help her figure out what she could about this particular killer. She had learned a lot from Henry about solving the puzzle, questioning everything, probing and exploring all possibilities then back-tracking to confirm conclusions. The only thing that mattered was getting it right, but with time in such short supply, she knew that any protests she might care to make would fall on deaf ears: O’Connor would expect her to help them narrow down the lines of inquiry, and he would expect her to do it fast.
Leaving the mountain road behind her, Kate made her way across the city to Harold’s Cross. The traffic was hectic, but she still made good time, arriving there seconds before O’Connor, whom she could see was talking intently into his mobile. Caroline’s family had been interviewed already, by Gunning, and O’Connor had spoken with them yesterday, but with Amelia’s killing it was essential that they talked to both families, to try to establish any correlation between the girls. Amelia lived nearby in Crumlin and like Caroline she was an active swimmer, another thing apart from age and general appearance the two girls had in common. O’Connor wanted Kate there so they could both get a feel for the girls’ backgrounds and, hopefully, their similarities. Kate knew that in the absence of both victims, the only people who could identify similar or disparaging traits about the girls were their family and friends.
While O’Connor finished his call, Kate got out of her car, locked it and focused on the external surroundings of the Devines’ house. Their semi-d overlooked the canal and was one of a half-dozen houses that were stepped back ten metres from the rest of the buildings on the street. She looked at the canal waters in which, a few days earlier, it was thought Caroline might be found. Crossing over to the canal side, she viewed the house from a distance.
As Kate stood there, thinking about Caroline, she heard a car door slam. O’Connor was crossing the road towards her, striding with purpose. He looked to be still riled from the Incident Room briefing. His manner was brisk and businesslike.
‘Right, Kate, we’ve security in place on Jessica Barry. Viewing the killing of Amelia as a means of tidying things up has really upset Nolan, even more than her obvious physical similarities to the first victim. None of us likes the idea of a tidy killer out there. Jessica and Caroline went swimming together, so if swimming pools are the connection, she might know something the killer doesn’t want anyone else to know. We’ll be paying a visit to her after this. There’s something about that girl’s statement that’s been bothering me.’
‘What’s that?’ Kate asked.
‘It’s too bloody short.’
≈
When Peter Devine opened the front door, Kate could see that he and O’Connor already had respect for each other – the way O’Connor shook Peter Devine’s hand firmly, holding on to it for longer than was really necessary, and how Peter, in turn, looked directly at O’Connor, his eyes asking all the questions he could no longer put into words. Not for the first time, Kate thought about how tragedy had a habit of turning people into fast learners, how victims and their families quickly became fluent in a whole new language of grief.
O’Connor had given her a copy of the report from Shelley Canter, the liaison officer, and so she knew the family’s back-story. At the beginning, when there was still hope for Caroline, Peter and Lilli Devine had been keen to do whatever was necessary to get their daughter back. They gave the gardaí every possible help – the school photograph and the public appeal had all been a means by which their energies could be channelled, in order to avoid that inevitable sense of helplessness that engulfs those left behind.