meantime.’
‘Will you act as liaison officer with the family, Frank?’
‘I’d say Richie would be the man for that.’ Frank felt Richie could learn something about handling a delicate situation.
Superintendent Brady nodded at the men.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said. ‘We don’t all want to land in on the mother and scare the life out of her. I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Right,’ said O’Connor, turning to Frank, ‘I suppose we’ll call in to Mrs Lawson.’
‘She’ll be worn out going through everything over and over,’ said Richie.
Both men looked at him.
‘Well,’ said O’Connor, ‘she might be doing it all over again tomorrow with the Chief and Superintendent Brady. You never know what you might miss the first time.’
‘What an asshole.’ said Richie later.
‘Well, you better get used to dealing with him,’ said Frank.
‘“You never know what you might miss the first time”. What a load of shite.’
Frank didn’t bother responding. Everything was always shite in Richie’s world.
Joe sat at the table thinking about what Shaun could be hiding. His first guess was alcohol and drugs, but it was a half-hearted one. He knew Shaun had smoked dope back home, but he didn’t think he still did. And the worst he would do was sneak a beer or two when he went out. All kids did that.
And Katie – she didn’t drink or smoke. She was more innocent than the girls Shaun dated in New York. They had a predatory look that wasn’t restricted to Shaun. Katie had a twinkle in her eye, but it was more about intelligence and wit than bad behaviour. Was Shaun protecting her from something? Did something happen that made her want to avoid home? Was she making a statement? Was she pregnant? He didn’t want to think about it any more. An uncomfortable sensation – almost as physical as the dull ache in his jaw – was rumbling inside him.
O’Connor sat in Martha Lawson’s kitchen in a stiff wooden chair that pressed into his spine. The radiator behind him was turned up high. He shifted forward. He had already shaken off his suit jacket and hung it on the chair beside him. He ran through the same gentle line of questioning as Frank had, but quickly moved on.
‘Does Katie suffer from depression?’ he asked. The question hung in the silence.
‘She’s sixteen years old!’ said Martha. ‘Of course she doesn’t suffer from depression!’
Frank and O’Connor exchanged glances. Between them, they’d been to the scene of four suicides in the previous five months, all of them teenagers.
‘Depression can start even younger than sixteen,’ said Frank gently. ‘You may not even have realised that’s what it is.’
‘Was she sleeping a lot?’ said O’Connor. ‘Emotional? Irritable?’
‘Isn’t that every teenager for you?’ said Martha.
‘Do you think she was feeling negative or hopeless? Or could she have been worried about anything?’ said O’Connor.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Martha muttered. ‘I don’t think she would have told me.’ She bowed her head and let the tears fall.
Frank’s eyes moved over the family photographs on the sideboard. The biggest one was Katie in her white communion dress, her hands clasped around a prayer book and a white satin bag, her parents standing proudly behind her. In the second, she was dressed in pink trousers, a white top and big white trainers, sitting on a bench laughing with her father.
‘Do you think she was badly affected by Matt’s death?’ asked Frank.
Martha followed his gaze. ‘She was devastated. She adored him. But she was young when it happened. She’ll always miss him, I know that, but I wouldn’t have thought it was something that would trouble her at this stage.’
When she turned away, O’Connor leaned down slowly and turned the dial on the radiator. His face was red and his eyes looked dry. He kept blinking.
‘Does she drink or do you think there’s a chance she could be involved with drugs?’ he asked.
Martha looked back at him, confused. She glanced at Frank for support. His look was apologetic.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘No, she does not. She isn’t allowed. I don’t keep drink in the house. And where would a girl like Katie get her hands on drugs?’
Frank was saddened by her reaction. Did Martha really think she would only get drink from her own house? Or that drugs were hard for a teenager to come by?
‘To be honest, I’m getting very nervous about these questions,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry,’ said O’Connor. ‘For us to do our job properly, we have a list of standard questions that we ask people in a situation like this. We’re not judging you or Katie or anyone. I don’t know Katie, so I’m trying to get a handle on her. That’s all. It will help us to look in the right places for her.’ Frank nodded.
‘OK,’ said Martha.
‘Is there anything else we need to know about her that you think would help?’
‘She’s a wonderful girl.’ She started to cry.
Joe jerked awake on the sofa and glanced around the empty living room. He checked his watch. It was five to four. He ran to the kitchen, grabbed a banana, two Fuel It energy tablets and a shiny purple bottle of LV8. He peeled the banana against the steering wheel on his way into the village, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he heard a crunch. He decided instead to pop the Fuel It and sip his drink until he felt the familiar buzz kick in. When he got to the school, he parked outside the playground where a crowd had gathered. He saw Shaun standing alone by the wall. He jogged over.
‘You finally made it,’ said Shaun.
‘Sorry. I fell asleep on the couch.’
‘Then you probably forgot all about it.’
‘No I didn’t. Shaun, I apologise. But you’re going to have to stop beating me up about this shit.’ He rubbed his face. ‘Sorry. I’m too sore to talk right now.’
‘Sure you are,’ said Shaun.
Joe was about to say something, when someone gave two short claps and everything went quiet.
‘We’re all here today for Martha Lawson,’ said Frank. ‘And she’d like me to thank you for your support. You may have seen searches like this on the news. Everyone moves in a straight line across their assigned search area. These lines are also made up of members of the gardai, who will be numbered for easy identification. As most of you know, Katie is five feet six, slim, with shoulderlength dark hair. A photo is being passed around the group. She was last seen wearing a pair of wide denim jeans with the brand name Minx, a pair of pink running shoes, a pink hooded sweatshirt with the word
Shaun went over to Frank, his eyes pleading. Frank shook his head and put a hand on Shaun’s shoulder.
‘I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ he said. ‘Maybe you should wait at home in case she rings. I bet you’ll be the first one she rings.’
‘I have my cell phone,’ said Shaun.
‘That’s not a huge amount of use to you, with the coverage once we head out of the village,’ said Frank.
‘Go home, son,’ said Joe, coming up beside him.
‘I don’t know what you’re all so worried about,’ said Shaun, his voice rising. ‘What do you think we’re going to find?’
