Jenny gazed at nothing and for a moment I thought she had drifted away, but then she whispered, “The babies’ bath. Emma washed Jack’s hair. Got shampoo in his eyes. He was going to cry. Pat . . . his hands in the sleeves of Emma’s dress, like it was dancing, to make Jack laugh . . .”
“That’s good,” I said, and Richie gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. “That’s great. Any little thing could help us. And after the children’s bath . . . ?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. The next thing was here, that doctor—”
“OK. It might come back to you. Meanwhile, can you tell me whether there’s anyone who’s bothered you, over the past few months? Anyone who worried you? Maybe someone you knew was acting a bit odd, or you saw someone around who made you nervous?”
“No one. Nothing. Everything’s been fine.”
“Your sister Fiona mentioned that you had a break-in during the summer. Can you tell us about that?”
Jenny’s head stirred on the pillow, like something hurt. “That was nothing. Not a big deal.”
“Fiona sounded like it was a pretty big deal at the time.”
“Fiona exaggerates. I was just stressed that day. I got worried about nothing.”
Richie’s eyes met mine, across the bed. Somehow, Jenny was managing to lie.
I said, “There are a number of holes in the walls of your home. Do those have anything to do with the break-in?”
“No. Those are . . . They’re nothing. They’re just DIY stuff.”
“Mrs. Spain,” Richie said. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m positive.”
Through all the fog of drugs and damage, something in her face glinted dense and hard as steel. I remembered what Fiona had said: Jenny isn’t a wimp.
I asked, “What kind of DIY stuff?”
We waited, but Jenny’s eyes had clouded over again. Her breathing was so shallow that I could barely see her chest rise and fall. She whispered, “Tired.”
I thought about Kieran and his ID hunt, but there was no way she would be able to find those in the wreckage of her mind. I said gently, “Just a few more questions, and we’ll let you rest. A woman called Aisling Rooney—her son Karl was a friend of Jack’s from preschool—she mentioned that she tried to get in touch over the summer, but you stopped returning her calls. Do you remember that?”
“Aisling. Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you ring her back?”
A shrug; barely a twitch, but it made her wince. “I just didn’t.”
“Had you had problems with her? With any of that family?”
“No. They’re fine. I just forgot to ring her.”
That flash of steel again. I pretended I hadn’t seen it, moved on. “Did you tell your sister Fiona that Jack had brought home a friend from preschool last week?”
After a long moment, Jenny nodded. Her chin had started to tremble.
“Had he?”
She shook her head. Her eyes and lips were squeezed tight. I said, “Can you tell me why you told Fiona he had?”
Tears leaked onto Jenny’s cheeks. She managed, “. . . Should have—” before a sob jackknifed her like a punch. “So tired . . . please . . .”
She pushed Richie’s hand away and covered her face with her arm. He said, “We’ll let you get some rest. We’re going to send someone from Victim Support to talk to you, OK?”
Jenny shook her head, gasping for breath. Blood had dried in the creases of her knuckles. “No. Please . . . no . . . just . . . by myself.”
“I promise, they’re good. I know nothing’s going to make this better, but they can help you get through it. They’ve helped out a load of people who’ve had this happen. Would you give them a shot?”
“I don’t . . .” She managed to catch her breath, in a deep, shaky heave. After a moment she asked, dazed, “What?” The painkillers were closing over her head again.
“Never mind,” Richie said gently. “Is there anything we can get you?”
“I don’t . . .”
Her eyes were closing. She was slipping into sleep, which was the best place for her. I said, “We’ll be back when you’re feeling stronger. For now, we’re going to leave our cards here with you. If you remember anything, anything at all, please call either one of us.”
Jenny made a sound between a moan and a sob. She was asleep, tears still sliding down her face. We put our cards on her bedside table and left.
Out in the corridor, everything was the same: the uniform was still standing to attention, and Jenny’s mother was still asleep in her chair. Her head had dropped to one side and her fingers had loosened on her purse, twitching against the worn handle. I sent the uniform into the room as quietly as I could and got us around the corner, walking fast, before I stopped to put away my notebook.
Richie said, “That was interesting, yeah?” He sounded subdued, but not shaken up: the live ones didn’t get to him. Once that empathy had somewhere to go, he was fine. If I had been in the market for a long-term partner, we would have been perfect for each other. “A lot of lies, for just a few minutes.”
“So you noticed that. They might or might not be relevant—like I told you, everyone lies—but we’ll need to find out. We’ll come back to Jenny.” It took me three tries to get my notebook into my coat pocket. I turned my shoulder to Richie to hide it.
He hovered, squinting up at me. “You all right?”
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”