There stands Jessica Deany in her tight blue blouse outside the Waterfoot Hotel, as she tells the camera that police have opened an ongoing investigation to track his last known movements, finishing with stating that the family are worried and heartbroken and just want him back safe. Back to the newsroom where the anchor moves on to the next segment, as if their father’s disappearance isn’t the most awful thing to happen to them. Just another story to be forgotten about.
“Maybe we should go looking again?” Danielle asks the room in general.
She’d been stuck inside all day; she’s getting cabin fever.
“There’s no point, darling,” Nuala doesn’t take her eyes off the TV, seemingly forgiving Danielle for their earlier spat, “the police are on top of it. They’re still out searching now… Doing everything they can. We have to trust them. All we can do is wait… If anything has happened, we need to be here in case they ring, or they arrive… Or in case he tries to get in contact with us… Dermott will be in touch.”
It sounds like she’s given up, Danielle almost says out loud, but bites her tongue. Her mother had been out all day, she’s probably exhausted. She thinks against asking if her and Chris can go looking, thinking that if something happens while she’s away that she’ll never forgive herself for not being here.
But the silence is unbearable. They sit like this for ages. Some ITV crime drama broken up by adverts, but no one actually paying attention to what’s going on. Everyone in their own world of thoughts and worries.
“What’s happening with your coursework, Ritchie, love?” Nuala says, when the awkwardness can no longer be ignored.
“I’ve basically finished… Been finished for a few days. Have just been leaving it to come back and edit with a fresh eye and see if I’ve missed anything… I’m able to submit everything online, anyway. I sent most of it away at the airport there when I was waiting for the flight. Just a few essays that I need to add the finishing touches to. Bibliographies and stuff,” he shrugs.
“Oh, well that’s good,” Nuala nods, although everyone knows she has no idea what he means, before reverting her eyes back to the TV.
Another few moments of silence. Chris shuffles about uncomfortably and opens his mouth, Danielle frowning at him. Is he going to try to talk to him? They haven’t spoken in months.
“Ye know Dave’s brother, Thomas? He’s studying at Magee here, just finished his final year. He said there’s a good website that he found that really helped him with his dissertation. Set up his bibliography for him, apparently. Ye should get in touch with him, might be of some help.”
Danielle looks over to Ritchie, who, apart from tensing slightly when Chris began to speak, had not shown any acknowledgement that he was being addressed. Nuala looks from Chris to Ritchie and back to Chris again, giving him a sweet smile as if that’s good enough. It fucking isn’t, Danielle thinks.
“Ritchie?” Danielle clears her throat.
He bristles.
“Ritchie, Chris was talking to you…”
Ritchie coughs and nods so subtly it could’ve been perceived as a flicker of the light as he sits in the shadows of the TV and the big lamp. Nuala just looks between them both, her jaw jutted out in worry. This is the last thing she needs.
“Why do you have to be such a dick?”
“Now, Danni…” Nuala raises a hand to stop her.
“Enough is going on at the moment without this added tension and ongoing argument.”
“Danielle, that’s enough.”
“What, Ma? How am I to blame? At least Chris actually just made an effort then. He just pied him off. Honestly, Ritchie… Grow up. I’m a big girl. We’re a couple. Get the fuck over it.”
For the first time, Ritchie glares over towards them. Right at Danielle. He opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it.
“What? You know you’re in the wrong?” Danielle ignores her mother’s continued protests to stop them. “Now apologise to my boyfriend, ‘cause it looks like you’ll be seeing an awful lot more of him.”
“Ma?” Everyone’s eyes fly to Michelle, who had been stirring on Nuala’s lap, their raised voices wakening her. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, sweetie. Let’s get you to bed, will we?”
Glaring at her two elder children, Nuala coos Michelle as she asks if there’s been any updates on her father. They both leave the room and the atmosphere makes the space crank up a few degrees. Probably coming from the fuming brains of the siblings. Chris fidgets beside Danielle, before going to stand.
“Maybe I sh-“
“No!” Danielle grabs him and shoves him back down beside her, looking seethingly over at her brother.
They stay like that for several more moments before Ritchie snorts, stands and storms out of the room, muttering something about having no idea. Seconds later, Chris jolts at the slam of the front door.
Chapter Thirty-Four:
2019
_____
A beautiful woman in her late forties with shoulder length black hair strains an awkward smile out at them on the porch.
“Can I help you?” she can’t contain her bluntness, and it may have come out ruder than intended.
“Hi… Mrs Boyle, is it?” McNally reaches his hand out.
She nods, not even entertaining the idea of looking down at his hand.
“Detective Inspector Liam McNally and Detective Sergeant Cian Ferguson,” they show their IDs, “is your husband in?”
She almost rolls her eyes, and without another word retreats back into the house, leaving the door ajar. Through it, they hear the scraping of plates and the collection of voices, including a booming laugh. The latter seems to get louder as its owner migrates down the hall towards them. The door swings open once more, revealing a balding man in his mid-fifties. His pinstriped shirt is unbuttoned way below what is fashionable, and his white teeth don’t disappear once he sees the detectives. In fact, McNally can’t help but feel like he recognises a glint in his eye.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, come on
