“He was picked up in a stolen car by three other men just before midnight, and taken to the Waterfoot Hotel. There, they waited out of sight for Aaron Parker to emerge. Once he levelled with them, they jumped out and threw him into the boot of the car. Once they did this, they took him to the Bay Road.”
The Bay Road is a secluded area embanking the River Foyle typically reserved for industrial traffic making their way to and from their jobs. But at that time of night it would’ve been deserted.
“There, they were told to threaten him, but not to touch him. They told him that Billy Taylor gave them instructions to kill him unless he agreed to join forces with the Ulster Jacks. Despite this, Aaron Parker still said no. Thinking that he’d seen through their bluff, they contacted Taylor again. He commanded them to take him to an old farm on the Ardmore Road away from the city. Rumours are that the farmhouse is his, although it’s currently empty. So, they took him there and tied him to a chair in the barn, as Taylor requested. When Taylor arrived, he instructed them to leave. And no one has heard anything since.”
He leans back and takes off his glasses, giving the detectives a second to digest this. Sargent physically shakes beside him, seemingly terrified for his own safety. Finally, McNally and Ferguson exchange looks before clearing their throats and regrouping themselves.
“Okay…” McNally begins, “…so no one has any kind of idea what could’ve happened to Parker?”
Sargent shrugs.
“My client stated that there were rumours, but nothing set in stone. Taylor keeps his cards close to his chest. And, of course, no one has the courage to ask him. After all, we all know that Taylor is a dangerous man… Parker wouldn’t have been the first person to get on the wrong side of him, and I’m sure we can all agree that he will not have been the last.”
McNally and Ferguson share grave expressions as they look back at one another sullenly.
“Before this goes any further,” Beattie holds up a hand just as McNally goes to speak once more, “I would strongly urge, for my client’s safety, that he receives police protection, as well as immunity in this circus act. He was simply taking orders from Taylor, who has a reputation as big as his ego. I’m sure you can understand why he wouldn’t want to argue with him.”
McNally doubts there was much arguing on his part, but agrees that this had certainly turned more interesting.
“Okay,” McNally nods after much deliberation, “I will personally deliver your client’s request myself. Thank you, Mr Sargent. You are free to stay here until we find out if and where we can place you.”
Chapter Fifty-Two:
“DI McNally and DS Ferguson have just come out of an interview with a potential suspect.”
The tension lies heavy in the air of the living room. All eyes fixated on Dermott.
“The member of the Jacks has reportedly stated that himself and three other men were instructed to capture your father on the night he went missing. They took him to the Bay Road to threaten him to join their party. However, he refused again. I’m assured that it was only verbal threats, and Taylor instructed them not to touch him anymore than was necessary. After your father declined once more, it seems they grew frustrated.”
A single tear falls down Michelle’s cheek as the family sit forward, hands entwined.
“Taylor ordered them to take him to his farmhouse on the Ardmore Road. There, he was tied to a chair and left with only Taylor for company.”
Ritchie physically shivers.
“And?” Nuala shrieks, making her children jump with fright, “then what?”
“They’re on their way to speak to Taylor now, Nuala.”
Nuala lets out an almighty squeal and falls forward. Ritchie jolts across to grab his mum, but by that time it’s too late. She lies on the floor sobbing into the carpet, both of the elder kids either side of her, consoling her. Whilst Michelle just stares at the scene, silent tears still streaming down her cheeks.
“I knew it,” Nuala bellows, muffled by the fluff on the carpet, “I fucking knew it. All these years, I fucking told them. But they wouldn’t listen. Why wouldn’t they listen? That bastard. That bastard!”
Dermott leans forward and strokes her tear-drenched hair out of her face, before lifting her up and placing her on the sofa again.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this, Nuala. I know it’s hard. The PSNI have been trying to get something on Taylor for years. He’s a slippery one, we all know that. There’s been no cold hard facts. Hopefully this Sargent character is willing to stand up in court and fight this. For your sake. For all of your sakes,” he glances up at the other three, a fond smile on his face.
After it seems like she’s cried herself out, Nuala blows her nose and stands abruptly. Sniffing, she steps forward towards the huge mirror resting on the mantlepiece, fixing her hair back into place.
“Ma?” Michelle raises a brow.
“Can’t look an absolute mess going to Tescos now, can I?”
“Tescos?” Danielle narrows her eyes at her.
“Aye, sure we’ll be having people around tonight for the wake. I’ve half a loaf and hardly any butter, never mind any fillings.”
“Nuala,” Dermott rises, “don’t worry about any of that, we’ll so-“
“Ritchie,” Nuala points her finger at her son, “you collect Granny from her house to bring her round. Pack an overnight bag for her ‘cause she’ll probably want to stay here until after the funeral. We’ll make a space for her in the dining room. Danielle, will you run and get an inflatable bed from Argos, there’s no way she can climb those stairs. Michelle, I want you to start cleaning the house. The bathroom, the kitchen, in here… Anywhere where anyone is going to be.”
“Nuala…”
“I’ll be right back, just going to grab
