Lying there, face up, gazing at the night’s sky. Just like he did moments before, only this time… It’s peaceful. Every bone in his body is sore, but he’s safe. He feels the water pushing against him, but it’s shallow. He lies and catches his breath, although it hurts his lungs, as he continues to look upwards. Thinking about everything he’s done and whether, after all that’s said and done, he deserves this.
Chapter Sixty-Seven:
Ferguson looks as furry as McNally feels. He nods over towards his superior as he joins everyone at the huge table. Murmurs are buzzing around the incident room before O’Connor shuffles in with a steaming cup of coffee, taking his seat as McNally stands to address the room.
“Now, I’m sure you’re all aware of why we’re here this early on a Sunday morning. In the early hours of this morning, shortly before 3am, to be precise, two figures somehow pulled up outside the safe house where Victor Sargent was resting. We can presume these to be members of the Jacks, given their track record. They approached the police vehicle, before retreating when confronted. However, this is suspected to have been a distraction, as another member or members managed to sneak in the back door whilst the officers were busy. The officers had no idea until, moments later, they heard gunfire. They rushed into the house, but whoever had been inside had fled out of the back door once more. They were greeted with an empty room; the bed tore apart with bullets.
“Luckily, Sargent had heard the intruder approaching in the hall and was able to escape out of the window before they had reached his bedroom. Sargent fled through the woods on foot before falling into the River Faughan. From there, he travelled upstream, injured, until he pulled himself out at the bottom of a lady’s garden on the Ardground Road. Almost a mile and a half from the safe house. He hammered on the door and got Mrs Hamilton out of her bed before she called the police.
“After receiving some treatment in hospital, he has been moved to another safe house at the bottom of the Glenshane Mountain. Hopefully that is further enough away to not be discovered, although we still have no idea how he was found in the first place. And we also have no clue who the people were in the original safe house. The two the officers saw coming were wearing balaclavas, and disappeared as quickly as they arrived. Officers will be inquiring at the Crown later today, but I think we can all agree that everyone will be keeping tight lipped. Especially considering the attempt on the life of the last person to betray the organisation, as well as David Wayne yesterday.
“Investigations are also underway into what was happening at the Bull’s Horn last night, although the same can be said for that… Seemingly fruitless. As for the Parker case, Lee McKay, Stuart Riddles and Johnny Spratt, the other three guys who took part in the abduction of the politician, have been questioned. They’ve been giving ‘no comments,’ which I’m sure we aren’t surprised about. This is proving hard to pin Taylor down, with very little evidence. We’ve got him in custody for another 10 hours. We need to apply for an extension, but for that we need facts. And that’s what I need from you all today. Any questions?”
The eyes in the room continue to look at him before his phone starts going off. Nodding that they’re finished here, they start to collect their things as McNally pulls out his phone. A look of confusion on his face as he sees who it is calling him.
Chapter Sixty-Eight:
After the coffin being in there for over 12 hours, Ritchie finally brings himself to step into the living room. He eyes it hesitantly, before taking a seat beside his family on the sofa. They all continue to stare at it. Each engrossed in their own thoughts. Their own memories. They turn down the offer of tea as Granny slides in in her nightie. The thought of another cup sickening them. The front door opens as Granny shuffles into the kitchen, Dermott calling out that it’s ‘only me.’ He pops his head around the living room door and offers them a sombre smile, before holding up two trays of tinfoil goodies.
“Treats from the missus, who sends her best wishes. There’s lasagne and a tart. I’ll throw the lasagne in the freezer if you want?”
Nuala smiles and nods, still not taking her eyes off the coffin. It’s a weird form of grief they’re going through. It was a bit of a shock, but was also expected. They’d have been stupid to think he would just turn up out of the blue one day, still in his suit, having not aged a day. Smiling and asking them what they want from the chippy that evening. At least now the ‘what ifs’ and ‘buts’ are gone. They’ll get closure. They can finally move on, as much as they don’t actually want to. Now, they know, or hope, he didn’t want to leave them. There wasn’t another woman, another family. They can remember him as he was.
“Thank your friends again for me, Danielle,” Nuala finally stands, brushing her hair out of her face, “it was incredibly kind of them. There’s still some things left over, but I’ll run to the shops for tea cakes and biscuits.”
Danielle nods, creating a group chat on Facebook Messenger with everyone that was there, before she realises that she still has Chris blocked. Hovering her finger over the ‘unblock’ button,
