‘What about the scene? The top half of her body covered up like that?’ said O’Connor.
‘I work with what I see from a body. Anything else, you can call in a profiler.’ She smiled.
‘That is something I never want to hear again as long as I live,’ said Joe, stroking Anna’s face as she lay on the couch. She knew what he meant – the strangled scream from Shaun’s throat. They had stayed with him all night until he eventually fell asleep. He hadn’t come upstairs since then. Joe kept stroking until Anna’s eyes grew heavy and her breathing slowed. He kissed her warm forehead, then let her head rest gently onto a cushion. He grabbed a torch from a drawer by the front door, slipped out quietly and headed for the forest.
Oran Butler sat on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table. He was scooping baked beans into his mouth from the plate he held under his chin. Richie came out from the kitchen.
‘You’re fucking gross, Butler,’ he said. ‘The place is a mess. Would you not just…’
Oran held up a hand to silence him. ‘I’m wrecked. Don’t start.’
They had both trained as guards together and now shared a flat on the Waterford Road a ten-minute drive from the village. Oran was one of six guards who worked in the Drug Unit out of Waterford city.
‘What’s the story with work?’ said Richie.
‘Ah, same old, same old. Trying to track down the usual. Friday week will be a big one. A raid on the Healy Carpet Warehouse in the Carroll Industrial Estate, surprise the fuckers. O’Connor’s wetting himself. This could be his big moment.’
He leaned down and pulled open a can of beer, raising it in a toast. He looked at Richie’s glass. ‘Mineral water. Sad enough.’
‘Shut up, coppernob,’ said Richie.
‘Original
He drank from his can, shaking it at Richie and smiling.
Joe could have driven further up the hill and crossed through to where the body was found, but he didn’t want to miss anything. The light from the torch was weak; a pale, hazy glow that barely lit his way. He had to raise his knees high over the thick briars and imagined that whoever had brought Katie here would have had a struggle, whether she had been alive or dead. Fifteen minutes later he found the tattered remains of blue and white garda tape flapping from a tree and, twenty metres away, another length trailing from the base of a trunk. He looked around carefully, shining the faded light across the ground, picking up the place where the body had clearly lain. He walked slowly towards it, then stepped backwards and crouched down, setting the torch beside him. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pen, using it to lift some of the leaves that were scattered on the forest floor. He stopped to examine something closer, taking it gently between his thumb and forefinger, bringing it in front of the light. It was a dull reddish brown, a papery 5mm-long cylinder that tapered at one end and was broken away at the other. He knew what it was, but he wasn’t quite sure what it meant.
FOURTEEN
Stinger’s Creek, North Central Texas, 1984
‘Out of sight, out of mind!’ laughed Uncle Bill when he saw Duke standing on the back porch looking for him. Duke tried to follow the voice.
‘I’m up here!’ Bill gave him a broad wave.
‘You got me,’ said Duke, smiling. ‘New camo clothes?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Bill. ‘Last gear was faded near white. Can’t have those deer pickin’ me out like a fool. And I’ve got myself a new Baker tree stand,’ he said, patting the side. ‘High and mighty,’ he laughed. ‘They won’t know what hit ’em.’
‘You got plans?’ asked Duke.
‘Yup. Couple weeks’ time I’m drivin’ down to Uvalde for the opening day of deer season.’
He climbed down and slapped Duke’s back.
‘Need to make sure everythin’ is in fine workin’ order before I set out. How’s your mama?’
Duke knew Bill didn’t get along with his mama.
‘Mama’s OK. She’s…she’s OK.’
‘Good to hear,’ said Bill, his head bent to study his bow.
‘Think you could teach me how to shoot?’
Bill looked up.
‘Are you serious, son?’
‘Sure am, sir,’ said Duke. ‘Am I old enough?’
‘Long as you can listen, hold a bow and be safe.’
Duke saluted him.
‘OK, then. Let’s start with how you’re gonna hold the bow. This here’s a compound bow. A beauty. More power, less effort. Now, we need to find out which hand you’ll use to hold the bow and which—’
‘I write with this hand,’ said Duke, holding up his right hand.
‘Doesn’t much matter,’ said Bill. ‘It’s all in the eyes.’ He pointed with two fingers.
‘Which one of your eyes is the dominant one.’
Duke shook his head.
‘OK. Do this,’ said Bill. ‘Pick out some object in the distance.’
‘That old garbage can?’ said Duke.
‘Perfect. Now point at it, then close your left eye. OK? Then close your right eye. Now when you close one of those eyes, your finger seems to shift to one side. Which is it for you, Duke?”
‘My right eye,’ said Duke.
‘Then you’re right-eye dominant, just like your Uncle Bill.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Duke.
‘Means you hold the bow in your left hand and pull the bowstring with your right. Now,’ he said, putting a hand on Duke’s shoulder and turning him towards the trees. ‘Stand up straight, feet apart. You comfortable?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘OK. Now hold this.’ He handed Duke the bow, laughing as the boy rocked forward with the weight.
‘Heavy, isn’t it?’ said Bill. Duke smiled.
‘You’d probably use somethin’ a little lighter,’ said Bill. ‘Anyhow, next thing you do is nock the arrow, meanin’ you put this part here on the bowstring where you see this.’ He took the bow from Duke and pushed the nock back onto the bowstring. ‘The shaft rests here.’ He pointed to a notch on the bow. ‘You’re probably better off watchin’ for the rest of this.’
‘OK,’ said Duke, disappointed.
‘What?’ said Bill. ‘You think I’m crazy, lettin’ a boy loose with a dangerous weapon?’ He smiled. ‘Now, put your pointin’ finger on the bowstring above the arrow and your next two fingers below, but don’t touch the nock. Relax the back of your hand and pull back just a tiny bit.’
He brought the bow up slightly, gripping it between his thumb and index finger, nodding towards Duke to watch how he held it.
‘Now stretch out that bow arm and raise up your drawin’ arm, keepin’ that elbow high. Then pull your arm back until your drawin’ hand is against your jaw, keepin’ your body still all the while. Now move the sight pin over the centre of your target. I’m aimin’ for the steel bear over by that tree. Line everything up, the string, the bow and the sight pin, keepin’ it all on the vertical. You got this?’
‘Yes,’ said Duke, frustrated by the interruption. ‘Do it! Shoot!’ He hopped from foot to foot.
‘Hold your horses,’ said Bill through clenched teeth, keeping his jaw rigid.
‘And release,’ he said. The arrow flew straight, reaching its target, springing gently from side to side on impact.
