As the DI exited, McGuire followed at his heels.
The officers got as far as the foyer before Brennan spoke. ‘I see what you mean.’
‘Boss?’
‘Queer all right. It’s what’s at the back of it that worries me.’
‘You think they’re hiding something?’
Brennan glared at him. ‘I’d bet money on it.’
As he turned for the car park, Brennan’s phone rang. He answered straight away: ‘Yes.’
It was Galloway. ‘There’s been some developments.’
‘Go on.’
‘Where are you?’
‘At the hotel… I’ve just interviewed the parents.’
‘Good. You’ll want to bring them in now.’
Brennan swapped the phone to his other ear. ‘Come again?’
‘We just got the full pathology report in. The girl had given birth.’
‘ What?’ Brennan’s thoughts seized. He felt his breath shortening.
‘Carly Donald had a child, and we’re talking about a very young child at that… Our victim had not long ago had a baby.’
Chapter 22
Melanie McArdle sank into the heavily padded white sofa. There was a slight buzzing in her head, but not enough. She reached for the Beaujolais bottle and tipped some more into her glass. The bottle’s rim chinked on its lip and she giggled. ‘C’mon, Mel… Keep the party clean!’ Her giggles descended into full-on laughter as she made another attempt to fill her glass. Some liquid escaped and fell on her chest, ran down into the lacy bodice she wore beneath her dressing gown. Melanie laughed harder now, sat up.
‘Jesus Christ, doll…’
As she wiped away the wine, wrung out the edge of her cream-silk sleeve with her fingertips, Melanie’s laughter subsided. It was another item of clothing ruined; some wine had splattered onto the sofa too. ‘Oh fucking hell.’ She put down the glass, rubbed at the stains with her hands. It made no difference — only pressed the redness deeper into the fabric. Devlin would go mad. He would be home soon and see the state of the place, the state of her, and go mad. Melanie slumped onto her knees, lowered her head. He hadn’t hit her for weeks, since the hospital. When she came back with her face stitched he’d said that was it, no more. He’d said sorry — even looked apologetic — and she’d believed him, but that seemed like a long time ago now.
Melanie shook herself, pulled a foot under her. Her head spun a little — she liked it, had another giggle to herself. She dragged her other foot forward, steadied her arms on the front of the sofa and pushed herself up. It wasn’t so hard to stand after all. She rested a hand on her hip and pointed the other to the ceiling in a victory salute. ‘C’mon, girl, you can do it!’
As Melanie twisted, her foot caught the glass of Beaujolais resting on the floor and the contents flew into the air. They seemed to hang there for a moment as she watched the liquid escape, then the light caught the wetness and the scene became real again. When the wine landed there was an almost imperceptible splashing noise, and a three-foot red streak was etched in the pale carpet.
‘No. No. No.’ Melanie brought her hands to her head, scrunched her eyes. The image was still there when she opened them, however. She cried out, ‘No. God…’ She flopped to her knees again, began rubbing with the sleeve of her dressing gown, but the stain only, spread further into the fabric. As Melanie rubbed, she felt her wrists ache, her arms grow tired. She could feel the pressure on her knees as the carpet burned into the skin. Devlin was coming home soon. He would in all certainty go mental.
‘Oh Jesus, please no.’
As she rubbed harder she felt her head spinning faster. She kept up the movement for a full minute, then slumped, exhausted. The carpet looked worse, far worse than when she had begun. She had managed to ruin the sofa and now the carpet. Her bodice was stained and the sleeves of her dressing gown were blackened. Melanie reached out for the bottle and raised it to her mouth. She slugged deep. The wine spilled from the tip of the bottle and overran her lips, dribbling down her front. She chugged harder, downed the contents as quickly as she could. If the Deil was coming to beat her senseless, she would get there before him. She finished off the wine and felt her head swim in response. She liked that feeling, the dislocated swirl that said nothing could come between you and true happiness. She knew it was an illusion, that it never lasted, but she didn’t care.
Melanie threw aside the bottle. ‘Fuck you, Devlin McArdle!’ She staggered to her feet, swayed a little, then headed to the kitchen. As she went, she steadied herself on the walls. She knocked a lampshade on her way through the door; it made her grimace. The kitchen tiles felt cold on her bare feet but the sensation wasn’t altogether unpleasant. As she reached the refrigerator she had a craving for more alcohol. Her eyes were starting to slow-blink and her mouth had curled into a louche smile. She tugged the dressing gown round her as she opened the door, stared in. A bottle of Absolut vodka seemed to wink at her from the shelf. She reached for the neck. It was cold as she raised it, slammed the door shut in one swift movement.
Melanie removed the cap and threw it on the ground. She downed a mouthful and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. ‘That’s the trick!’ She let out a long exhalation of breath as she steadied herself on the countertop. She took another deep swig and then she walked, shakily, towards the breakfast bar and sat down with the bottle of vodka in front of her.
For a moment she stared at the clear liquid swirling in the bottom and then she sighed, raided the mug rack and poured until the brim was overflowing. She raised the mug, drank greedily until it was drained. ‘Fuck, Mel…’ she laughed at herself for a moment and then, inexplicably, her laughter turned to tears and she lowered her head in front of the bottle.
Melanie didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, leaning on the breakfast bar, but when she heard the sound of car tyres on the gravel of the driveway, she knew it had been some time. The sky outside had darkened and the only light in the kitchen was coming from the cooker’s digital clock and some shafts through the windows where the garden security lamps had come on.
Her mouth felt dry, her tongue harsh. She rubbed at her head — her temples burned. She had been slumped forward and the nape of her neck ached like it had been in a vice. She raised herself, tried to straighten her back, but her head swam, threatening to drop her on the floor. The physical discomfort was intense, but nothing compared to the realisation that she had returned to the real world — the drinking bout had done nothing but delay the fact that she had to face up to her actions, and Devlin.
Melanie shuffled towards the sink, ran the tap. The water came out too fast, too hard. At first she threw up her arms, shielded herself as it splashed off the plates and cups and wetted her face and chest. When she gathered herself, she turned the tap the other way a little, diminished the flow. She cupped her hands underneath and splashed the cold water on her face. It made her eyes smart. As she fanned her hands under the tap, the beads of moist ure seemed to rouse her. She recouped her senses and retreated.
Melanie was running her hands through her hair, tucking stray strands behind her ears, as the front door opened. She heard the heavy thud of the door closing, then Devlin’s keys being thrown on the little table nearby. She had expected to hear shouts, bellows after that, but as his footfalls made the living room she heard an altogether different noise to the one she expected.
It sounded like a baby crying.
She tugged the cord of her dressing gown round her waist and tapped the sides of her cheeks in an effort to waken her senses yet further. Shushing, she heard Devlin shushing. His voice seemed lower than she had ever heard it; unnatural. Slowly, she edged herself towards the kitchen door.
The floor felt cold beneath her feet as she walked but once through the door the carpet was soft. She was so intrigued by the noises coming from the living room that she managed to push the accident with the wine out of her mind. As she turned the corner into the seating area, she straightened the lamp she had knocked earlier, and switched it on.
Light flooded into the room. Melanie felt her mouth widening but no words seemed to be forming on her
