‘No. Everything was fine. I’ve said all this before.’
‘So you didn’t have a row or anything.’
‘No,’ said Shaun.
Richie started writing. ‘She wasn’t upset.’
‘No,’ said Shaun.
‘She wasn’t crying. She didn’t tell anyone she had a fight with you a few minutes before she disappeared.’
‘No.’ His voice caught.
‘You’d swear to that.’
‘I…don’t know.’
Richie kept writing, then closed the notebook and nodded. ‘Cheers,’ he said.
Frank was standing in front of the bulletin board at the station checking the notices were still in date. He pulled out tacks and repositioned posters, throwing the old ones in the bin. He didn’t hear Joe come in.
‘Sorry to bother you, but there’s something I think you need to know. It might have a bearing on your investigation.’
‘What is it?’ said Frank.
‘About a year ago, I killed someone,’ said Joe. ‘On the job. A guy called Donald Riggs. He kidnapped an eight-year-old girl, collected the ransom, then blew her and her mother to pieces. I saw it all. I shot Riggs and he was lying on the ground, dead. I walked over to him and he had a pin in the shape of a hawk in his hand. That same pin is in an evidence bag somewhere in One Police Plaza in New York. So why did I find one outside Danaher’s on Sunday?’ He held out his palm.
Frank looked at the pin, then looked at Joe.
‘I don’t know,’ he said.
‘I think someone is after me and my family,’ said Joe. ‘The man’s name, I think, is Duke Rawlins.’
‘That could be any old pin and—’
‘It’s not any old pin,’ said Joe. ‘It’s specific to an event,’ he could barely say it, ‘that happened back in the eighties when…look, I know it sounds nuts, I don’t know who this guy is, but he’s—’
‘You’ve been through an awful lot,’ said Frank.
‘What?’ said Joe.
‘You’re under a lot of pressure.’
‘Of course I’m under a lot of pressure,’ said Joe. ‘But that’s got nothing to do with this. I think he’s come to Ireland.’
‘Have you seen him?’
‘No,’ said Joe. ‘But there’s no other explanation for that pin being there. No-one here would know about it and no-one attached any significance to it at the time of the crime. It was just another personal effect of a dead perp. The only reason it means anything to
‘There’s not a lot I can do with that information,’ said Frank.
‘It could be related to Katie in some way. He could have gone after—’
‘We have no way of finding out if he’s here.’
‘What? Immigration! At the airport!’
‘Joe, it doesn’t work that way. If he’s a criminal, he’s not going to come here with an official work permit. And if someone travels here on a short holiday visa, we don’t take a record.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘They can pretty much do what they like.’
Shaun walked in to the empty computer room at St Declan’s and sat down at a PC. He clicked on Mail and typed in his password. There was one message in his inbox. The subject was blank and the sender was a string of letters that made no sense. He opened the message and a photo appeared. It was the lighthouse. Flames burned on the grass in front of it. It was from his mother’s shoot. He jerked the mouse across the mat, clicked the file closed, then grabbed his bag from the floor beside him. He was still furious when he got home.
‘I really think it’s sick the way you all can get on with your lives,’ he shouted at Anna as he walked in.
‘I’m not getting into this with you again,’ said Anna. ‘I’m tired and yes, I have to work. There is nothing I can do about that. I know you’re going through a tough time—’
‘So why are you rubbing my face in it?’
‘I’m not rubbing your face in it,’ she said. She turned around and saw his expression. ‘How am I doing that?’
‘Your email.’
‘What email?’
‘Of the fucking shoot!’
‘What is wrong with you? I will not have you using language like that to me, whatever has happened. Have some respect. What email are you talking about?’
‘The email I got today. From you.’
Joe came into the kitchen and put the portable phone down on the counter.
‘That was Frank Deegan,’ he said, furious. ‘Shaun, were you talking to Richie Bates today?’
‘Yeah. Why?’ said Shaun.
‘Richie said you denied having an argument with Katie before she disappeared. But they have a witness who says you did.’
‘What are you talking about?’ said Shaun.
‘I’m just telling you what I heard. Richie said he spoke to you in the village earlier.’
‘He did, but I never said—’
‘Apparently, you denied, under caution, having an argument with Katie. He thinks you lied and he has it all written down in his notebook.’
‘What does “under caution” mean? Like “anything you say or do can be held against you”?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Well, then he didn’t caution me. I swear to God, Dad. I don’t get this. We were just talking.’
‘Jesus Christ, I’m gonna look like an idiot—’
‘Why?’ said Shaun.
‘Nothing. Come on, you and me are gonna have to go down to the station now to talk to them, clear up a few of these things. I’d like to know myself, Shaun, what the hell is going on.’
Ray walked backwards out of his apartment, pulling a black bag with him. He hauled it over his shoulder and walked to the metal bins lined up on the road at the end of the cul de sac. He flung the bag across the top and it landed with a stink onto the others. It was then he saw the tear across it.
‘For fuck’s sake, Ray,’ said Richie striding up behind him.
Ray turned around.
‘Look,’ said Richie, pointing to the mess Ray had left along the road from his house.
‘Well done, Garda Richie,’ said Ray. ‘You have successfully followed a trail. They’ll make you a sergeant yet.’
‘Shut your face, Carmody. And clean that up.’
‘Why are you so interested in what comes out of my sack?’ Ray smirked.
Richie grabbed Ray’s arm between his thumb and middle finger and squeezed hard.
‘Ow,’ said Ray. ‘You wanker.’ He couldn’t pull his arm free.
‘If I come home to this shit tonight,’ said Richie, looking back at the rubbish, ‘I swear to fuck, I’ll shove it in your letterbox.’ He released his grip.
‘I get it now,’ said Ray. ‘Cleaning up the streets of Mountcannon.’
‘Do you even own your apartment?’ said Richie.
‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’ said Ray.
‘Do you own it?’
