“Where have you heard that?”
“We couldn’t possibly say.”
Taylor observes them for a few more seconds, a half-smile curling on his lip.
“Terribly sorry to be wasting your time, officers. But this is just hearsay. Where are the facts? The evidence? This is all just a stab in the dark… A cold case with nothing new except a body found. So, you come creeping around with this absolute crap that you all have somehow conjured up in your station. You have absolutely nothing on me, so… I’d like to ask you to either leave, or arrest me. Your call.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine:
Dermott and Nuala’s hushed tones can be heard from the kitchen, although no one can properly hear what they’re saying. Only the odd word thrown in here and there. Ritchie and Michelle have migrated upstairs to digest the new information whilst Chris, Danielle and Steph all sit where they were. No one has moved. They haven’t even attempted small talk. Danielle stares at the flame inside the tealight, flickering lazily on top of the coffee table. Steph and Chris catch each other looking at one another a few times, before dodging their eyes to other sides of the room. The tension is palpable, even more so than when he arrived. He thought unloading onto the family, and then eventually McNally and Ferguson, would’ve helped, but it hasn’t.
“I…”
The girls look up at Chris, as he picks at his nails.
“I’m sorry it had to come from me… Dave just wanted to protect himself… I’m sure he would’ve told ye himself if situations were different…”
Danielle nods and smiles innocently. Steph continues to glare at him as he gives her side eyes.
“Anyway, er… D… Could we talk in private?”
Chris bites his lip and turns towards Steph, who doesn’t budge. Surprisingly though, it’s Danielle who protests.
“Steph is my best friend, Chris. You know that. She’s been there for me during everything and anything… So, whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of her.”
And with that, she marches over and plants herself beside Steph, linking arms with her and resting her head on Steph’s shoulder. Chris growls as Steph sneers over at him, a look of smug triumph on her face.
“Okay… I suppose I just want to properly apologise. I know I never really got the chance, and I had every reason to. I was very dismissive and self-centred. I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I know I was in the wrong. Even before all this stuff with your da… I was very quick to fly off the handle, but if ye did the same then I called ye a psycho… I wasn’t very sympathetic, or empathetic… I just wasn’t a nice person, and I know that now. I’m sorry.”
Danielle nods along, tears brimming in her eyes whilst Steph has her head cocked to the side, a slight frown prominent above her eyebrows.
“I just wish there was more I could’ve done, or more I could do now. I want-“
The living room door opens. In steps Ritchie, who scowls over towards Chris, his chin tilted. They stay like that, in silence, for a few more seconds, before Chris sighs.
“Anyway, I best be goin’… I really hope the new information helps bring you all closure… Or justice, or whatever it is you’re lookin’ for. I’m sure I’ll see ye at the wake, and the funeral. That is… If you’ll let me.”
Danielle looks down at the rug, her tongue out to the side and her foot kicking off the coffee table. A sure sign she’s trying not to cry. Finally, when he’s just about to give up and leave, she nods slightly before clearing her throat.
“Aye… I… I’d like that.”
Smiling down at her, Chris thanks her before excusing himself and saying his goodbyes, bypassing Ritchie at a safe distance, who continues to just stare at the place where he once stood. Danielle clutches Steph’s arm, unsure whether she actually wants him to leave.
Chapter Forty:
“First room up on the right there, Orla.”
Orla shouts her thanks over her shoulder as she hammers up the stairs, before discarding her pink overnight bag down on the landing and closing the bathroom door. Ava and Cathal step through into the living room, where Cathal drops his own bag, before kicking it under the sofa.
“Thanks again for having us, Ave.”
She waves away his gratitude.
“Not at all, don’t worry about it. I’m just sorry I only have two bedrooms.”
I’m not, Cathal almost says out loud. He wondered if she was going to offer the space in her bed beside her to him, but it looks like the sofa is going to have to do. It’s now his turn to act modest, reaching for her elbow and giving it a squeeze.
“The sofa is just fine.”
She scrunches up her shoulders and smiles over to him, before gliding over to the single armchair by the window and parking herself in it, much to Cathal’s annoyance. Taking the sofa on the other side of the room, he nestles into get comfortable as he hears Orla thunder down the stairs.
“Orla! You aren’t in your own house now.”
“Aye, I know we aren’t. Sure, we don’t have stairs.”
She smacks him in the arm and Ava laughs along.
“What do you say to Ava?”
“Jesus Christ, Cathal. I’m not a wain. I thanked her back at the house.”
Ava smiles as she leans back, stretching.
“Honestly, don’t mention it. Is the room warm enough?”
“It is, aye. I have my warm fluffy pyjamas with me anyway if not.”
“Awk, Jesus. How do you sleep in those? I can barely cope with a vest and shorts. Many a night in the summer I sleep naked.”
Ava and Orla start cackling, whilst Cathal wonders whether he can strategically press the cushion beside him against his groin without either of them becoming suspicious. Ava turns on the TV and presses the Netflix icon, asking Orla what she’s currently watching.
