“Where’s Chris?” Georgia manages.
Danielle shrugs.
“He left a few hours ago to join the search, but I’ve heard nothing from him since.”
“Are you two… Okay?” Steph blushes.
“I don’t know, we haven’t spoken about last night. But I woke up to him beside me in bed this morning.”
The girls look alarmed.
“Jesus, after that argument I’m really surprised…” Abbie looks away embarrassed.
“Me too, even though I don’t remember most of it,” Danielle laughs.
The others giggle along. This is what she needed. To try and forget about this. Not sit in on her own waiting for him to come back… If he’ll come back. Earlier, Nuala had rendered Michelle too young to stay by herself, not a problem when she gets back a half hour earlier than Danielle from school, and was escorted into the back seat of the car and was told to stay put. There she stayed, even now when Nuala had just come home to see if he’d returned and argued with Danielle over who should call Ritchie. The front door slamming declares that she has returned to the search, a sinking feeling in Danielle’s heart stops her from getting up and looking out the window at her retreat. The chick flick goes to an ad break, the latest MTV show teases its launch. She remembers seeing this ad… Last night. That reminds her.
“George, what the hell were you and Jimmy up to in the living room last night?”
Katie’s head snaps towards Georgia’s direction, who turns pink with embarrassment.
“Er… Nothing that you walked in on.”
“Meaning?” Abbie gasps.
“We were just having a kiss… But it might’ve lead to something else,” she bites her bottom lip and closes her eyes against the hurls of abusive lashes the girls throw out, Steph even manages to dart a pillow her way.
“You slag!”
“Jimmy? Georgia, ugh!”
“That’s mingin’”
“I’m gonny boke.”
Despite herself, Danielle manages to burst into laughter and the rest join her, like they’re unsure what they can and can’t laugh at. Sensitive to her condition.
“And was he any good?” Steph winks.
“Ugh, I don’t even want to know,” Abbie retches.
“I only remember bits and pieces, so it’s almost like it never happened,” Georgia scoffs as her friends roll their eyes and say: ‘aye right.’
Chapter Twenty-Four:
2019
_____
Turning into the small dirt car park indenting Ballykelly Forest, McNally had made the 13-odd mile journey in record time. Just under 20 minutes, thank God traffic was light, the wains not yet released from school. He’d driven past this forest numerous times, both to and from his parent’s house, but never actually entered it. Despite it being a relatively good day, he’s surprised to see he’s the only car to pull up. Deciding to wait for the mole in the Ardóimid’s underground organisation, strictly to be called Smyth and nothing more, he admires the beauty of nature.
This would be a good place for a walk, or to find a body. It’s weird how being in this line of work makes you think about something as sinister as the latter. But after viewing Aaron Parker’s corpse this morning, it’s all he can think about. The forensic pathologist Peter, a man with a face as dead as the body’s, and with a voice to match, explained the medical terms that lead him to believe the head injury was the cause of death, with no other tell-tale signs on the body to report. If he had to hazard a guess by examining the crack in the skull, he suggested the murder weapon to be a blunt object, like a tool of some kind.
This caused the SOCOs to return to the scene this morning to see if they can scour through the mess of the Parker’s old land to find anything suggestable to a weapon. Of course, they’re guessing he’s been lying underground for three years, and with so much traffic coming in and out of the area in that time, it’s ludicrous to suggest they’ll find something. But they have to try. McNally had questioned the family this morning after calling off the FLO, asking them if anyone had heard anything strange that night. As guessed, they’d all shook their heads. Danielle was too drunk to even remember getting home, but had been escorted in out of the taxi by her ex-boyfriend, Chris Hewitt, who is on his list to speak to. Michelle had been in bed from 11, and Nuala joined her shortly after, stating she was sitting up watching a film.
She’d became quite defensive when he’d asked why she didn’t join her husband at the party, stating that those things weren’t for her and people looked down their noses at her at the few she had attended. Understandable, he had thought, but he still feels like they’re hiding something. Ferguson shook his head when he’d met him at the station afterwards and suggested his hypothesis.
“They’re innocent, boss. DI Quigley would’ve sniffed it out of them. They’re just a grieving family. None are perfect, but they didn’t deserve this, especially when Parker was trying his best to bring the people of this city together.”
McNally acknowledged this, after indulging in the politician’s manifesto. It seemed too good to be true. Money put into mental health and the NHS, taxes reduced and more employment in the city. Where the hell was he going to get all of this money? Perhaps by cuts on what the opposing parties held dear? Events which each party celebrated religiously, both resulting in government money spent on parades and street cleaning after celebrations, as well as reinforced police presence so bouts of violence could be dealt with swiftly. Maybe these were more motives? Not wanting Parker to take away what each community believed to be their form of ‘culture.’
His thoughts are interrupted as a figure emerges from the trees. Despite the sun beating down, whoever this is has a huge green raincoat, zipped right up with the hood covering their head. Frowning, McNally wonders what this strange character could be up to. They position their
