in silence, with no idea where he was going. He was sick and panicked with anger over something he could do nothing about, an overwhelming anger that he knew would leave the situation exactly the same in the end. Anna had cheated on him. Unbearable thoughts and images crawled into his mind. He knew he had felt just a little smug when marriages were falling apart all around him and he could go home to his beautiful wife and know that they were different. Now they were just the same as everyone else: delusional, betrayed, angry, guilty, scarred. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, he drove faster and faster until he knew he needed to pull over. He found himself at the end of the lane that led to Millers’ Orchard. He reclined his seat, leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes, opening them quickly when he heard a hacking cough from the other side of the road. He turned his head slowly to see John Miller standing there, tapping a cigarette on the back of a box. He tried to picture him eighteen years ago when Anna, with her engagement ring on her finger, had risked those two weeks. She was young, just twenty-one, but Joe thought she had known what she wanted when she said yes to him so quickly. When she was going to Ireland, he had brought her to the airport and cried in a stall in the mensroom when she left. For John Miller. Joe watched him light his cigarette like a pro. John was tall and broad and over the years had packed an extra forty pounds over his old rugby build. Joe could only see what was there now – a pathetic man in sagging grey pants, crumpled shirt and cheap shoes. And this almost hurt him even more.
Katie wouldn’t have stood a chance against a man that size, even one who was out of shape. His weight alone was enough. John Miller was a bitter man. He couldn’t have Anna, so he had gone for someone close to her, a young girl almost the same age as Anna was when he had first met her. Miller only had to go a mile down the road and he could watch the traffic in and out of Shore’s Rock. Katie would have no reason not to trust him. She probably would have felt sorry for the guy.
Joe waited for him to turn back, then he started the engine and drove away.
Anna ran out of the house into the laneway when she heard the horn beep. Ray climbed out of the van and moved around to the back doors.
‘Hi, Ray,’ said Anna. ‘Well done.’
‘No problem,’ he said. ‘I’ve actually got all three of the steel panels with me. I can slot them right in to where we cut out the rusty bits.’
‘That’s fantastic,’ she said. ‘Would you mind bringing them down to the lighthouse?’
‘No problem. I’ve got the kerosene tanks as well, if Sam gives it the all clear.’ He stared at the ground. ‘Are you OK? You look…’
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘It’s just, this evening…’
‘I know,’ said Ray. ‘It’s awful. It’s so hard to believe…’ He slapped the side of the van. ‘Anyway, I’ll get started on all this. Hopefully it won’t take too long. And, sure, I’ll see you at the funeral home.’
‘It’s funny,’ said Anna. ‘I think when it’s a child who dies, people want every chance to say goodbye. So they do all the parts: go for prayers to the funeral home, then on to the removal service, then again the next morning for the funeral. It’s a good thing, I think.’
Joe’s Jeep pulled up behind them and he walked past quickly, grunting a hello at Ray.
He went straight for the phone in the den, flicking open an 01 phonebook for Dublin to find a number for Trinity College.
‘Hello, Zoology department?’
‘Hi, I was wondering if I could speak with an entomologist?’ asked Joe.
‘That would be Neal Columb, but he’s in class at the moment.’
‘Could I leave a message for him to call me?’
When he got off the phone, he checked his watch and looked in on Shaun before taking a shower and getting dressed. He was standing in the bathroom, his foot on the toilet lid, rubbing the corner of a white towel over his black leather shoes when Anna walked in.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she snapped. ‘There are cloths under the sink.’ He looked up at her.
Tears welled in her eyes. ‘I don’t know how he’s going to get through this.’
‘With us,’ said Joe. His voice was tight.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.
‘Shh.’
Frank stood with O’Connor by the gates to the funeral home. O’Connor wore the same rimless glasses he was wearing the night Katie’s body was discovered. Frank noticed his eyes were clear for the first time.
‘What happened to your contacts?’ he said.
‘I got rid of them,’ said O’Connor. ‘Did you know ninety percent of the crimes our boys are dealing with are alcohol-related public order offences? It’s out of hand. That’s what’s keeping them busy. And the public’s going mad. People are ringing in to radio stations moaning about the drinking going on, but no-one is actually stopping their kids going out and doing it. No-one thinks their own kids are part of the problem. It’s unbelievable. Paul Woods dropped a child home the other night who was too drunk to make it out of the car, let alone walk up the drive. He had to go and get the mother, who didn’t believe him until she eventually came out and saw the girl lying there, fifteen years of age, passed out, wearing a mini up to her arse that her mother didn’t even recognise. Meanwhile, what these people don’t realise is the huge problem we’ve got with drugs. A problem my men can’t deal with because they’re too busy cleaning puke out the back of their cars. Yet there’s a very organised gang of criminals pumping drugs around the city and beyond.’
‘Really,’ said Frank flatly.
‘Last month, for example,’ he went on, ‘we came close to our first even small break in months with this one particular crowd. We’d been hanging around, watching a youth club disco every Saturday for a couple of weeks before then. Next thing, a van pulls up and two young lads go up to it. We approached it, casually, but the van flew out of there like a bat out of hell. Of course the lads would say nothing, but the story was all over the town the next day, parents calling the station, as if this was the first time this guy had ever shown up. One of the papers ran a front page story. So the pressure is on. I can’t add to that a nutter on the loose, going around taking young girls.’
‘We’re doing everything we can,’ said Frank. ‘We’re out there taking statements, we’ll be going over old statements after this—’ He stopped as he saw Richie approach.
‘Late night last night from what I heard,’ said O’Connor, smiling.
Oran loved arriving in to work with wild drinking stories.
‘Yeah,’ muttered Richie, flashing a brief smile. ‘But at least I don’t have a hangover to show for it.’
‘Good man, yourself,’ said O’Connor, throwing his eyes up at Frank.
Joe watched Shaun walk over to the side door of the funeral home. He was six inches taller than most of his friends and looked strangely mature beside them in his new black suit. They were all trying desperately to cope with their grief, but everyone looked too stunned to talk.
Joe’s gaze moved to the guards standing by the gate. He wondered what the dynamic was between them. The D.I. from Waterford was deep in a one-way conversation with Frank, who was giving polite nods every few minutes. Richie looked uncomfortable beside the two older men. They had turned their bodies away from him, subconsciously, but enough that he was visibly excluded. Frank was in the middle in more ways than one. He seemed pleased to have a break from Richie, just not with a man who made him cock his head at an awkward angle to create some space. Only O’Connor was watching everyone who came in and out of the funeral home.
‘What do
