Standing up, Cillian said, ‘I think the only place you’ll get all the information is from the guards. But we’d appreciate it if you could do a new appeal for information.’
He watched as she flattened one of the posters out on the table. ‘This phone number, is it one of yours? Can I publicise it?’
‘It’s a dedicated number. For information. Not that it does much good. Hasn’t rung in ten years.’ Cillian looked at his father, who by now had the newspaper folded into a small square.
‘Aye, that’s right,’ Donal said.
‘Maybe my news feature will throw up some new suspects for the gardaí.’
‘They never had any suspects in the first place,’ Donal said. ‘I’ll see you out now, Ms Rhodes.’
After she’d left the house, the three O’Donnell men eyed each other. They knew there was one prime suspect who had never come under garda suspicion. They should have said something back then, but they’d never allow the family to suffer that indignity. Never.
* * *
Carol lay on her side on her bed. Nausea wended its way up from her stomach and settled at the back of her throat. How had she let this happen? She was a fool. She should have told the guards that Elizabeth knew about her pregnancy and the fact that she was much further on than she had intimated.
She figured she had to talk to him soon. To the father of this child growing in her womb. He had been so nice, hadn’t he? After all that had gone before. So understanding of her frustrations with her home life, her gay brother and her dumbass job. Yes, he had been nice to her. But not at the time.
Bloody hell, she thought, it’s a freaking mess.
Her phone lay on the pillow beside her. She’d opened his contact details. Saved under a made-up name, just in case. You can never be careful enough, he’d said. Yeah, she knew he was married. But he had a right to know. Hadn’t he?
Another wave of nausea released itself from her throat and she retched into the bowl she’d placed beside her bed.
How long was this going to last? As a cold sweat broke out on her forehead, she shut off the contact and locked her phone. Not now. She was too sick.
* * *
The traveller site was lit up like Christmas Eve. Paddy McWard parked his Jeep and had a good look around before entering his home.
His dinner was on a plate in the microwave and Bridie was sitting on the couch with Tommy on her knee.
‘How’s Tommy?’ he said.
‘My face is very painful, thank you for asking.’ Bridie was sulking.
He sat beside her and took his son in his arms. He kissed Tommy’s sweet-smelling hair, and the baby nuzzled into his chest. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you recently.’
‘Why is that, Paddy? Why haven’t you been here? Where have you been? Or am I not allowed to ask?’
‘Please don’t ask and I won’t have to lie to you.’
‘Like that, is it?’ She shuffled away from him but he could see her eyes were on Tommy.
‘I’m not going to hurt our son, nor you, for that matter,’ he said. She was biting her lip. He knew this was a sign that she was desperately trying not to cry. ‘And don’t start bawling. I want you to believe that beating you got had nothing to do with me.’
‘I’m sure it had something to do with whatever you’re involved in. Why else have the guards been swarming around this place for the last few weeks like flies on a shite?’
‘They’re looking for scapegoats. Someone to blame for every fight or burglary in town. And I can tell you here and now, it has nothing to do with me.’
She inched back closer to him. ‘But why would someone break in and beat me up?’
‘I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.’ He could almost feel the heat blazing from her eyes. ‘What?’
‘If it’s nothing to do with you, then it’s because someone thinks I saw something at the graveyard. The night that poor girl was murdered.’
He handed the baby over to her and stood up. ‘You leave it to me. I’ve got two of my cousins keeping an eye on this place, and you’re not to go anywhere without bringing one or both of them with you.’
‘But I did nothing wrong. It’s not fair.’
‘Listen here, this town is a very dangerous place at the minute, so I don’t want you wandering around on your own. I can’t afford to lose you too.’ He pressed the code on the microwave and watched the plate turn under the light.
‘How is your mother?’ he asked. He had to change the subject.
‘What do you mean, you too?’ she said from behind him.
He could smell the expensive perfume he’d bought for her. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay. But he didn’t know how to, and anyway, he couldn’t tell her something he didn’t believe himself.
* * *
They sat in a corner in Cafferty’s, nursing pints of Guinness and suffering each other.
‘The old man is losing it,’ Cillian said.
‘I reckon you’re losing it,’ Finn said.
‘You can talk. I think I’ve just gone off my pint. Don’t know why I even agreed to come here with you.’
‘You know why. You wanted to escape the old man’s trip into madness with Lynn’s anniversary coming up.’
‘He was always mad. Lynn vanishing didn’t make him any worse.’
‘Maybe not, but Mother did.’
‘Don’t mention her.’ Cillian sipped his pint. The bile rising from his stomach soured the taste in his mouth.
‘She adored Lynn.’
‘We all did. Me more than anyone.’ Cillian shrugged his chin down to his chest. He didn’t want to be having this conversation. Least of all with a brother he despised.
‘You’re the lucky one in all of this. You have Keelan and Saoirse.’
Cillian shot his brother a look that he knew could make milk turn. ‘Never, ever talk about my wife and daughter. You made your own bed. Go home and lie in it.’
Finn’s jaw crunched up and down as if he was trying to speak but the words were locked in his throat.
After downing his pint in two swallows, Cillian made for the door. ‘I don’t know how you do it, but every time I have to spend even a minute in your company, I get the urge to kill someone.’
Outside, he stood for a full three minutes in the cold before he could put one foot in front of the other. The collision course that had been mapped out in black and white for them since the day they were born was now flashing in front of his eyes in high definition.
As the chilly air cut through his sweater, he cursed the stubbornness that had made him leave home without his jacket. He didn’t want to return to Keelan. Not just yet. There was someone he would much rather be with.
He made his decision and headed for his car.
Sixty-Three
‘I remember the last time we were in that restaurant.’ Boyd sipped a glass of red wine.
They’d had an exquisite Indian meal and had returned to Boyd’s apartment. Lottie didn’t need any coercion to come in for a nightcap. Three glasses of wine in the restaurant had done nothing to assuage her thirst. She craved a bottle.
She smiled. ‘It was snowing so hard it was a virtual whiteout.’
‘And you had to pour me into my car and drive me home. Father Joe was sniffing around you back then.’
‘That is such a vulgar comment, Boyd. He was just being a friend.’
‘There are friends and … there are friends.’
‘Are you sure you didn’t have a second bottle of wine while I was eating?’
‘Just the one.’
‘Liar,’ she laughed, feeling more relaxed than she should. ‘Do you miss having Grace’s company?’
‘Nope. What’s it like at yours without Katie and Louis?’
‘Quiet.’
‘And that’s a good thing, isn’t it?’
‘I miss them already. I know, I know. But Chloe’s being a drama queen. She wants us to go away for a few days next week because she and Sean have a mid-term break. And I put my big foot in it by using work as an excuse.’
‘Knowing you as well as I do, I’d have thought you’d use lack of finance as an excuse.’
Lottie sighed. ‘I couldn’t play that card. Katie gave me some money before she left.’
‘Katie? Where did she get it?’ Boyd paused, and opened his mouth in shock. ‘Tom Rickard?’
‘Yes, and I’m not spending any of his dirty money.’