Marie shook her head. “He said he didn’t do it.”
“He killed your uncle, for Christ’s sake.”
She stared at Fegan. “He swore he didn’t. He swore on my daughter’s life.”
O’Kane looked from her to Fegan, seeing something break between them.
“Gerry, you swore on my daughter’s soul.”
Fegan closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
She buried her face in the child’s hair and began to weep. O’Kane felt a smirk creep across his lips. He went back to Fegan and leaned over, his hands on his knees.
“I don’t think either of you has been honest with each other. I bet she didn’t tell you the whole story, did she?” He gave Marie a sideways glance. “Eh? Did she tell you about her and our friend, the politician?”
“Don’t,” Marie said.
O’Kane ignored her. He watched Fegan’s lined face as he spoke. “Not many know about it. You see, your friend Marie McKenna used to be very close to Paul McGinty. Very close. If it hadn’t been for him being married already, they wouldn’t have had to keep it a secret.”
He turned to Marie. “How long was it?”
“Stop it,” she said.
“Two or three years, wasn’t it? But she got fed up waiting for him to leave his wife for her, so she finished it. And then she goes and takes up with a cop, just to rub it in. What do you think of that, Gerry?”
Fegan’s face gave nothing away, save for the faintest twitch in his right cheek. “She’s got nothing to do with this. Let her go.”
O’Kane straightened, wincing at the ache in his lower back. “Well, that depends on you, doesn’t it? Do as you’re told, don’t give us any trouble, and she can take her wee girl home. Fair enough?”
Fegan looked from Marie to O’Kane. He nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Right, then.” O’Kane looked at his watch. “I think it’s time we got things sorted.”
He went to the kitchen door and beckoned Coyle inside. He pointed to Campbell. “Take him out to the barn. Padraig, you help him.”
He turned to Downey. “Bring Gerry out, too. If he tries anything, you know what to do.”
Downey aimed the shotgun at Fegan’s head. Fegan stood up. He was tall, but not as tall as O’Kane.
“Remember, Gerry. Do as you’re told and she can go home. Don’t, and . . . well . . . you know.”
Fegan nodded, walked to the doorway, and waited as Coyle and Padraig wrestled Campbell’s limp body through it. He turned to Marie.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”
Downey pressed the shotgun against Fegan’s back and followed him out of sight.
“Wait,” Marie called. She went to go after him, but Quigley gripped her elbow.
“There’s nothing you can do for him,” O’Kane said.
Her eyes welled. “Please don’t hurt him.”
“What do you care?” O’Kane crossed to her. “He’s a lunatic. He’s dangerous. He killed your uncle.”
Tears ran freely from her eyes as she clung to her daughter. “But he doesn’t deserve to die.”
O’Kane sighed. “Jesus, who does?”
He reached down and gripped Marie’s forearms. She was strong, but not strong enough. It was easy to take the child from her, even though she fought hard. He put the little girl in Quigley’s arms. She stared back at her mother, red-faced from the tears.
The ball of bloodstained cotton wool still lay on the floor next to the couch. O’Kane picked it up. He took the brown bottle from the windowsill, opened it, and poured the sweet-smelling liquid onto it.
Marie backed into the corner. “No.”
“Don’t worry, love.” O’Kane walked slowly towards her. “It won’t hurt.”
She only fought it for a few seconds, scratching at his face, kicking at his shins. By the time she thought to raise a knee to his groin she was too weak to put anything behind it. O’Kane lowered her to the floor as she went limp. He looked to the screaming child.
“She’s all right, sweetheart. Look, she’s only sleeping.”
The little girl’s cries continued to stab at him. He showed her the cotton wool. “Do you want to take a wee sleep, too? When you wake up you can go home.”
McGinty took the trembling child, quiet now, from Quigley. “No. That’s enough.”
O’Kane stood up so he could look down on McGinty. The politician stared back, defiant. O’Kane nodded. “All right. Take them back upstairs. You can keep an eye on them.”
He stroked the child’s blonde hair, soft against his rough skin. “You’ll be a good girl, won’t you? Uncle Paul’s going to look after you for a wee while.”
McGinty took a step back, bringing the girl with him. “What about Fegan?”
