“I should go and see him with Connor and Amie. He should see his niece and nephew. Perhaps he should be the one to talk to the children about Ronan.”
Both Caruthers and Hinchliffe began to violently shake their heads. “Not a good idea, Miss Lang. Sully won’t be pleased to see them. In fact, he’ll probably be crowing from the rooftops when he finds out what Ronan’s gone and done.” Caruthers got his notebook out and started scribbling in it. “He and Ronan haven’t spoken in years. You can bet your bottom dollar he’d rather claw his own eyes out than lay eyes on those children.”
Such a brutal thing to say. How could this Sully hate a five and a seven-year-old so badly? By the sounds of things, he’d never even met them. I got the feeling Caruthers was painting the situation a little bleacker than necessary. He tore a piece of paper out of his notebook and handed it to me. “That’s Sully’s number there. He’s the best carpenter on the island. The only carpenter really. Everyone knows his number off the top of their heads. Anyway. Call before you go swanning over there, Miss. He isn’t too friendly at the best of times. If he thinks you’re connected with Ronan in any way, he’ll probably shoot you dead.”
“He has a gun?”
“Probably. Who knows? Let’s get out of here,” Caruthers said, kicking at Hinchliffe with his steel toe capped foot. And to me: “We left you the letter after all. No one’s second-guessing this one after all, it seems. We did have a read, though, just to make sure there was nothing incriminating inside.”
It didn’t seem smart to ask if they’d actually found anything. I just wanted them to leave. The longer they stood here, jabbering away, the less time I had to prepare myself for dealing with Connor and Amie. The two of them looked like they’d had enough of poking around in Ronan’s stuff, now, anyway.
“We’ll be on our way, Miss Lang. If you need anything, you just give us a call at the station, okay?” Hinchliffe tipped his hat to me in a very old fashioned way—was he hitting on me? Oh lord. That was all I needed.
“I’ll make sure to do that.”
Hinchliffe smiled from ear to ear. “Grand.”
******
“But where did he go?”
Despite all the commotion and the noise downstairs, Connor had still been asleep when I crept into his room. Amie was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, nightie pooled around her as she doggedly chewed on her breakfast. Most of the pancakes were gone, and she was looking a little green. Connor wasn’t too happy that Ronan was “out.” I didn’t know what else to tell him.
“I wanted him to show me the island today. He said I’d like it here, but I hate it. I hate it. I want to go home.” His heart-shaped face was turning purple with frustration. Almost on the verge of tears, he was fighting not to let them fall. I was in the same boat. I’d been stunned earlier. Shocked. Now that shock was wearing off, and I was on the very brink of breaking down. Ronan had killed himself, and he’d left me to pick up the pieces. How stupid of me last night, lying there in bed, mulling over the possibility that I might allow myself to consider getting close to him. Chances were right at that same moment in time he was tying the noose, lashing it over the ceiling fan in the office, standing on his desk, taking a look around, taking his last breaths. His children were sleeping. He just fucking left them.
“It’s going to be okay, Connor,” I told the little boy, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I can show you the island. We’ll have a fun day. You, me and Amie. What do you say?” I wanted to get out of the house anyway. Needed to. I still couldn’t shake the image of Ronan hanging from the ceiling. It was torture, being trapped within the same building where he committed such a desperate act. Why the hell had he done it, anyway? The note he left on the door wasn’t giving up any clues. The letter addressed to me in his office probably did, but I was too freaked out to go in there and get it.
Connor shrugged away from my touch. “I don’t know you. I don’t like you. I don’t want to go anywhere until Dad gets back.”