‘Ellie, I know this will be slow. It will take time for you to learn to trust me, but I do intend to help you. Little by little, we will work through things together.’
All this is said with sincerity, the lines on his forehead deepening, his eyes looking straight at me as he leans back in his chair, every movement designed to put me at my ease. If I cared enough, I could humour him, give him some encouragement, but I don’t care. Soon, he won’t either.
‘I want to go.’
‘But, Ellie, you’ve only just arrived.’
‘So?’
‘So now that you are here, it might be good to talk a little longer. I won’t delay you, Ellie, just a few more moments of your time.’
I almost laugh out loud, to hear him talking to me like I’m some busy person. ‘Do I have a choice?’
He leans forward again, his physical proximity requesting a more intimate response.
‘Didn’t think so,’ I say under my breath. I can see my smart remark is a disappointment to him.
‘Ellie, I’m going to talk straight with you. I’m new here at St Michael’s, but I’ve been involved in psychiatric care for a very long time.’
This is supposed to make me feel confident, happy to spill the beans, to trust him. But I am too long at this game for stupidity like that.
‘You look tired. How have you been finding the medication?’
‘Fine, tired is good.’
‘You enjoy sleeping?’
‘It passes the time.’
‘Which is a good thing?’
He is starting to annoy me now, bad enough sitting here answering his questions without them being completely stupid. I say nothing. He’ll learn.
‘For now, let’s say we keep you on the same medication but that we can review it later.’
Again he plays the game. We both know he decides on the medication, it is not and never will be a joint decision.
‘Ellie, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, to putting a face to the file, as they say.’
He laughs at this. I don’t. My lack of reaction does not unnerve him. The good doctor is showing distinct possibilities.
‘Next time we meet, Ellie, we can really get things rolling, how does that sound to you?’
‘Just dandy.’
Standing up, he walks me to the door, guiding my movements with his extended arm as if somehow I might have forgotten my way out.
‘Till next time, Ellie.’ He shakes my hand like I’m a normal person. It surprises me. I don’t expect touch. I don’t expect anything. Not any more.
Dublin Mountains
Friday, 7 October 2011, 8.00 a.m.
DETECTIVE INSPECTOR O’CONNOR WAS ONLY moments away from an early-morning meeting in the squad room at Rathfarnham Garda Station when he got the call about the missing girl. She hadn’t been seen for two full days – never a good sign for a Category 1 high-risk disappearance. Although O’Connor’s district was based in Rathfarnham, it also covered Templeogue, Firhouse and had jurisdiction over the southwestern side of the Dublin Mountain zone. O’Connor had investigated his fair share of murders and missing persons over the years, and he knew more than anyone that for every case solved, many others remained open.
The C1 disappearance had been the talk of the Dublin district. That morning, when Chief Superintendent Nolan’s number lit up his hands-free set, O’Connor took the call and listened, grim-faced.
A sheep farmer had found freshly dug up soil. The storm from the previous night had brought down a fence on his land, and caused his sheep to ramble. When his dog refused to leave the area where the stray animals had been retrieved, he was forced to walk farther in. It was then, just as dawn was breaking over the sprawling city of Dublin, that the grave – suspected to be of Caroline Devine – had been discovered.