Blinding Lies Read online

  She thought of Anna – in the alley behind the Mad Hatter she had wanted to help. In almost a week, aside from Natalie, Anna Clarke was the only person who had spoken kindly to her. They had been best friends, the four of them. She felt a stab of loneliness.

  She turned the corner and faced the hotel. The Kingsman was narrow and reached eight floors tall. It was at the end of a row of businesses, adjoining a cocktail bar on one side, and had a narrow alleyway on the other. Its front façade had seen better days; pale yellow paint was mottled with mildew, and the S was missing from the name-sign, rusted nails protruding from the wall where it had once hung. It looked cheap, and easily overlooked; as good a place to hide as any.

  The lobby was tiny, even smaller than her room upstairs. It was freezing inside; one half of the front door was propped open with a pot plant, allowing in the arctic chill. White tiled floors were stained with dirt, plastic plants were strewn here and there, and stained blue curtains on small windows were pulled back to let in the morning light. She noticed tiny holes in them; the curtains had either been feasted on by moths or burned with cigarettes. She eyed a young man at the reception desk, no more than a teenager. She hadn’t seen him here before but then she had been keeping her head lowered, the better to stay out of view. He was pale under the acne that marred his young face, and probably tired from the night shift. He looked bored and extremely cold.

  She approached the reception desk.

  “Hi!” she said brightly, flashing him a friendly smile.

  The teenager looked up at her and blushed bright red. Bingo! His teenage hormones would be his undoing.

  “How are you this morning?” She saw no nametag, so abandoned the hope of addressing him by name. “Boy, it’s freezing out there!”

  Neil felt hot under the collar. He was so tired. His Uncle Steve had partied all night, falling into the lobby with his date – Betty, was it? – at about four o’clock in the morning. Steve had promised Neil he could clock off at dawn, but he was still sitting here waiting for his cover to show up. The cops had been here, quizzing him about some woman with wild red hair … they said she might have changed her hair. Neil had college to go to! But here was a very pretty lady with big green eyes smiling at him, and he began to feel better already. She looked freezing. He made a show of hitting lots of keys at the computer in front of him, to look busy and important.

  “How can I help you, Miss …?”

  “Forde,” she answered quickly. “Pauline Forde, in Room 224.”

  Neil smiled.

  “It’s just I’ve lost my mobile phone.” She grimaced and sighed for extra dramatic effect.

  “And I really need to search online for something. Is there any chance I could use the computer?”

  Neil typed again and looked up with a broad smile. He wasn’t supposed to allow guests behind the counter, but he wasn’t supposed to be still sitting here either. Steve owed him. Knowing his uncle, Neil knew he could be passed out until noon.

  “No problem – I can set you up here if you like?”

  Kate’s heart leapt but she kept her face frozen into the bright smile the kid seemed to like so much. She couldn’t believe it had worked. She beamed at him and he blushed again.

  She moved around the desk as Neil stood up and moved aside. As she sat down, she could see out the door she had just come in.

  She froze, her jaw dropping open in shock.

  Outside on the street, stepping from a car that had mounted the kerb, were two tall, well-built men. Dressed in black pants and thick padded jackets, with tight shaved haircuts, they were identical clones of each other, except for one striking feature on the man exiting the driver-side. He had a scar that ran from his lip to his ear. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She had seen that man before, in the toilets of the Mad Hatter. Gallagher’s men. And they were walking toward the hotel door.

  Her mind raced. She visualised every inch of the hotel that she was aware of. No fire exit or back entrance came to mind.

  “I left something upstairs – I’ll be right back!”

  Neil looked perplexed as she sprang from the chair and bolted toward the staircase.

  She mounted it quickly to the second floor, taking two steps at a time.

  Pushing the key into her bedroom door she darted inside and shut it quietly behind her, leaning against it, breathing heavily. The cramped room felt like a trap. Her hands shook as she brought them to her head, pressing her fingers into her temples to quell her panicked thoughts. She leant heavily against the door, her legs threatening to give way.

  The double bed was just two feet from the door, and she moved towards it, steadying her breath as she sat down. She couldn’t believe Gallagher’s men were downstairs. They always seemed to be one step behind her. She thought of the kid at reception – he would cave easily under their questioning and tell the men everything they wanted to know.

  Oh my God, oh my God, they found me, I can’t believe it! I’ve been so careful!

  She blinked tears away and looked around the room. She had to get out of here. She needed to stop panicking and leave – fast!

  She stepped away from the bed and grabbed the small red satchel. It was bulging, almost too full to close. She dared not open the bedroom door – she stood facing it, her eye pressed to the peephole, her bag over her shoulder. She heard the rush of heavy footsteps come down the hall, saw movement pass her door, and heard the door to Room 222, beside hers, open.

  They had the wrong room!

  Either the kid downstairs had given them the wrong number on purpose, or he had made a mistake – either way, her breath steadied as she waited, listening.

  The door had opened easily; it didn’t sound like the lock had been forced – the kid must have been strong-armed into giving them a room key. She could hear her own ragged breathing but tried to concentrate on the sounds coming from the room next door. It sounded like the bedroom was being ripped apart, the bed flipped, and the wardrobe toppled. It didn’t take the men more than half a minute to establish the room was empty. She heard one of the men speaking, then a pause, before speaking again – he was on the phone to somebody, most likely reporting that she wasn’t there.

  She needed to decide what to do. She had no doubt that it was Gallagher’s men that were in the room next door, and probably more were driving the city streets, on the lookout. If she stayed in this room until the men gave up searching, how long would she have to wait until the streets were safe? There was no option but to sit tight until the men gave up the search. She could hardly phone the Gardaí.

  She groaned – she should have left the city, one way or another, a long time ago!

  Within seconds, her plan to sit tight was abandoned. The handle of the door began to lower – someone was trying to open it. She sat on the bed, momentarily frozen in fear. A loud thud as one of the men attempted to shoulder in the door roused her into action. Springing up from the bed she darted to the window – there was enough space for her to climb through. She wouldn’t have to jump to the ground this time – a set of metal fire-escape stairs curled around the outside of the building, and they were within reaching distance of the window.

  Grabbing her things, she pushed the window open and climbed out. She was light on her feet and quickly descended the metal stairs, jumping a short distance to land in the alley within seconds. Luckily the alley was empty – the last thing she wanted was to have to take on Gallagher’s thugs in this narrow space, even with her award-winning kick-boxing skills.

  She hurried own the alley. Her eyes darted from left to right, searching the street outside for any sign that she was observed. She saw the dark car parked on the kerb, thankfully empty.

  Stepping out into the main street again, she slowed to a normal pace, anxious not to draw attention to herself. She wound her scarf around the lower half of her face and pulled the woollen hat as low down as she could. Between the intense cold and her fear that she would be seen, she felt there was fire burning in her lungs.
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  The ice on the footpaths had thawed somewhat, and she moved quickly. She walked towards Parnell Place, a place she remembered from her childhood as the main city bus station. She stepped inside, her red satchel secured over her shoulder, and looked up at the screens advertising routes and bus times. There were buses leaving for a variety of destinations across the country within a few hours. That felt too long for her – where would she hide? Gallagher had found her twice – he could do it again!

  A different route caught her eye – heading south to the start of the Wild Atlantic Way. Nostalgia pulled at her; the route would take her home, home to the place they had lived before her parents’ marriage disintegrated and everything changed. She knew her family home was long ago sold – but the memories made her smile for a moment. Then the longing for her sister intensified and she felt so burdened she thought she would pass out. The bus station interior began to spin, and she sat down on the cold tiles.

  She had to get out of here! Who could she possibly turn to?

  Hope sparked inside her. Anna’s house had been near hers. Did she still live there? Her old friend had tried to help her in the Mad Hatter on Saturday night – would she help her still?

  Pushing to her feet, she approached the ticket booth with renewed energy. She had a plan, and nothing to lose.

  38

  The bus journey to Kinsale was long and tedious. The driver took every backroad possible, it seemed to her. He parked for fifteen minutes at Cork Airport, checking his watch intermittently, steadfastly refusing to leave until the allocated time. No-one got onto the bus there, or on most of the stops. It was mid-afternoon when they set out, and by the time they left the airport, darkness was beginning to set in.

  The bus was almost empty. She sat near the back, the red satchel on her lap, her hat jammed down over her ears. The adrenaline rush from events at the hotel had depleted and suddenly she felt exhausted. Her eyelids drooped, but she fought to stay awake. Whenever she felt herself drifting towards sleep she thought of the Gallaghers, and the man with the scar running from his lip to his ear, and how close he had come to finding her again. Someone had tipped them off, twice now. Someone knew her movements. She had been so careful, but someone was watching her. Fear crept over her – Cork was too dangerous for her now.

  There was plenty of cash in her bag – Gallagher’s cash – and she had hoped to stay in a nicer hotel to lie low until she figured out how to leave the country. But all the nice hotels in the city were booked up. She had read the details of the political conference in the newspaper – she assumed the fancier hotels were reserved for VIPs. Which right now, she was not. She was a fugitive.

  The bus journey from the city was uneventful. From the seat she had observed the other passengers and the road whenever possible. The passengers were not a threat to her, she was sure of that. Although she was tired, where the Gallaghers were concerned she was always alert.

  She felt too tired and her head too fuzzy to form any more thoughts or to make any sense of the situation. Her body sagged against the seat. She was heading for home, and she rested her head against the glass of the window, soaking in the familiar route.

  She recognised almost everything that flitted by as the bus passed. She smiled a little at the sights. It amazed her that after all this time she still remembered this remote part of Cork. She had lived near the city for three years. She wondered now why she had never sought to reconnect with her schoolfriend Anna, or to return to the town where she had grown up. She had Natalie of course, and very quickly Natalie had David Gallagher, and then the twins – Kate’s life had felt too full to rekindle old friendships or step back in time. She had been too focused on surviving the present.

  She wondered whether Anna still lived in her family home – she had heard through mutual friends about Anna’s parents’ disappearance and had followed the story on the news for a while. Shortly after that had happened, Kate’s own father had died, and her mother had announced her intention to remarry. There had never seemed a good time to call Anna. Now, as the bus stopped in the centre of Kinsale, she planned to call in person.

  She had thought she was cold on the bus but, as she alighted, she realised she had been positively cosy. It was so cold at the side of the road that her cheeks stung and her eyes watered. Tiny drifts of snow fell softly, coating the ground in a pristine white.

  The centre of Kinsale had not changed much. In the summer, it was always a bustling tourist hub, the smell of the sea and fish and chips among its memorable characteristics. She smiled despite herself as she remembered days spent here with her parents and Natalie; the funfair, a walk through the narrow streets, then chips for tea and a cone for dessert if the twins were well behaved. Which they always were.

  She noticed the sign across the road for the Oceanic Hotel. It was open, and advertising vacancies. If Anna wasn’t home, or had sold her parents’ house, she would return here and take a room for the night. Regret washed over her – she should have come home as soon as possible, away from the Gallaghers, who seemed to have cast an inescapable net across their territory.

  Maybe it would be from where she started that she could escape.

  Shouldering the red bag, she turned her back on the street and walked uphill, away from the centre of the little town. Her coat and scarf were heavy, her hat warm, and she was surprised the snow didn’t bother her more. Her mind was strangely blank – she had no idea what she would say to Anna, and no energy left to think this through. She would just turn up, and what would be would be. She was done thinking and planning – things just had not worked out the way she imagined they would. Perhaps she would have better luck by winging it.

  After ten minutes of trudging uphill in the snow, she saw it. A large, oval-shaped stone, with the words ‘Willow Rise’ chiselled into it. This was it. She had been here to this estate many times, on sleepovers with Natalie and Vivian. She remembered Anna’s parents, Michael and Helen, and her crush on Anna’s older brother Alex … it was a lifetime ago. She was momentarily scared that Anna wouldn’t welcome her here – but then she remembered how Anna had helped her in the Mad Hatter, and she remembered her words as they had hidden in the alleyway: “I can get you to a safe place – come with me, please!”

  She walked into the estate and quickly found the right house – she had no doubt. After all these years, the door was still red. The paint was faded now. A tiny wooden birdhouse, hand-painted by Anna when they were about ten years old – all the kids had made them in Mr. Browne’s class – hung from a tree branch in her front garden. The sight of it hanging there suddenly brought tears to Kate’s eyes. In the house they had sold after her parents’ separation, her and Natalie’s birdhouses had been left behind. She blinked away her tears and her hand shook as she extended her gloved finger and rang the doorbell.

  39

  Anna’s mobile phone had started vibrating on her bedside locker at three o’clock in the afternoon. The noise woke her, and she had barely been off the phone since. Lauren had finally heard why Anna was out that day – Anna knew it wouldn’t take long for the news to reach her ears – and was horrified.

  “God, your theory was right, but what a way to find out!”

  Anna had agreed she’d have preferred to have been wrong on this one. She quizzed Lauren on whether Kate had been found at the location Elise had called in, but Lauren said no. The Gardaí that had called there spoke to the young man at reception, who said he hadn’t seen any woman matching that description, long hair or otherwise. Anna sighed as she listened. So, the mystery continued.

  Almost as soon as Anna and Lauren ended their call, Alex rang. He sounded weary – knowing him as she did, Anna would wager he hadn’t been able to catch up on sleep, worrying about her.

  “Anna – I wanted to call you earlier, but I didn’t want to wake you! How are you feeling?”

  “Good, much better.”

  “The arrest is already in the online news. I’ve read all the coverage on it. God, I’d love
to get my hands on him!” He sounded choked with emotion.

  “Don’t worry, Alex, I’m fine. Sure, he never stood a chance! Dad and Jason taught me well!”

  Anna attempted to laugh, to lighten the tone of the conversation. Secretly, she had never felt relief like it. She realised she had been anticipating what had happened for a few days; it had felt like walking around waiting for a monster to pounce from the shadows. Now that it was over, she felt lighter. She knew she would have to give evidence in court, but the thought of that didn’t bother her. If it meant the guy being locked up and justice being served, she would happily do what was needed. She was so glad the nightmare of the last few days was over.

  Alex was full of concern, but Anna managed to persuade him not to call over. All she wanted to do was curl up on her sofa in front of a blazing stove and watch the X-Factor repeat.

  Myles texted, apologising for not visiting; he said he was really busy at work, with the conference only days away. He was in the briefing centre with Janet McCarthy and a few other detectives. He promised to phone later.

  Downstairs, she busied herself with lighting the stove in the living room. The house was quiet, and it slightly unnerved her. She rolled her neck from side to side, flexing her back and shoulders. She had missed another gym session this morning, too busy giving evidence and answering questions, and it rankled her. She looked forward to life returning to normal soon.