Blinding Lies Page 6

  Someone had robbed them. Tom had no doubt it was Kate Crowley. She’d had the opportunity, and she had shot David for good measure.

  Tom had no time to grieve for his son. His hands had developed a tremor; it was an agitation he knew would be healed when he had them around Kate’s throat. In the meantime, he was growing tired of waiting for John to turn up – where the hell was he? John was responsible and steady compared to hot-headed David – if he said he would be in touch, then he would.

  When Mae signed for a package, she had a crystal tumbler in her hand, a soothing whiskey helping to numb the pain and sickening worry. It was her customary balm these days, no matter what hour of the day.

  Tom, pacing with agitation in his office, heard the smash as the crystal hit the tiles, before he heard Mae’s screams. He and Murray rushed to her. She was at the large dining table, a blood-soaked handkerchief in her hand, holding what was undoubtedly a severed finger. It was a ring-finger, and on it sat a solid gold band with a perfect white diamond set in the centre, twinkling in the light – a gift from John’s parents to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. It was his finger. Mae screamed and retched, before sinking down onto the floor.

  Tom ran to her, cradling her in his arms.

  “I promise you I’ll bring him home!” he said, as rage burned inside him.

  He shouted to Murray, who was hovering in the doorway.

  “Assemble the men, all of them. Find the Meiers. And find the bitch that killed my son. Tell the men outside her house to keep their eyes open. And search for any friends, boyfriends, anything. We tear this city apart, do you hear me? Tear it apart!”

  7

  It was almost nine-thirty in the morning before Anna arrived into the city. She was in a foul mood. She had tossed and turned all night, barely able to sleep. The details of the day before had replayed in her mind like a horror film on repeat, the faces of the main characters rotating in and out of focus: Kate Crowley, David Gallagher, images from Google Maps relating to the sexual-assault cases … added to the fact she was worried someone had been in the house. Anna had scarcely managed a full hour of sleep.

  When she had finally drifted into an uneasy, fitful doze, she had slept through her alarm, leaving her no time to head to the gym that morning. She had looked forward to expelling her tension into the punchbag and pushing her body, lap after lap, in the pool after. Now, she would have to carry her agitation with her into the day, an ominous thought in itself.

  After doublechecking that the back door was firmly shut and locked, Anna had set out for work at her usual time, but the roads had been covered in a treacherous sheet of ice. It had taken her double the usual length of time to get to work. She thought back to the bright moon of the night before, and the cloudless, star-filled sky. She should have anticipated the weather this morning; at this time of year, without cloud cover, it was bound to be icy in the mornings.

  For most of her journey she had struggled to maintain control as her car slid on black ice. And when she had finally arrived at work, her shoulders and jaw tense, to find the carpark full, she had almost screamed.

  Having finally parked in the nearby city-centre car park, for which she would have to pay the daily rate, she checked the time. For the first time in three years she was almost late for work. Screw it, she thought. She needed caffeine.

  So instead of turning right and making her way to the office, Anna crossed the street and walked carefully to Victus, her favourite café. The footpath was as treacherous as the roads, and she almost lost her footing twice. She inched along, cursing herself for not taking a sick day.

  The warmth of the coffee shop was a welcome balm, the familiar clink of china mugs and the aroma of roasting coffee beans soothing her frazzled nerves. It was busy, but she spotted a small table at the back. She smiled at Louisa, the barista. Anna was here every morning for her latte and croissant, and they had struck up a friendship. Louisa returned her smile and offered a thumbs-up; Anna’s usual order was on its way.

  Anna took a seat, unwinding her huge scarf and pulling off her woollen hat.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  Startled, Anna looked up into the spectacled brown eyes of Myles Henderson. She was momentarily speechless and motioned for him to sit down. He had a large coffee-to-go in one hand.

  “I was getting a takeaway when I spotted you.” Myles held out one hand across the table. “Myles Henderson – we were introduced yesterday. It’s Anna, isn’t it?”

  Anna shook his hand and smiled.

  Myles was tall – she guessed six foot, the same as her brother. His unruly black curls stood out. He was wearing a thick black overcoat over black drainpipe jeans – he looked to Anna the antithesis of a traditional detective. He certainly looked cool compared to the detectives in Lee Street station.

  “You’re from the Detective Unit in Dublin, aren’t you?”

  Louisa had delivered Anna’s coffee and croissant, and she sipped at the frothy latte, savouring its heat.

  “That’s me!” Myles smiled.

  His enthusiasm and good humour were infectious, and in stark contrast to Anna’s sleep-deprived mood. She felt herself brightening.

  “Are you enjoying it here in Cork?”

  Myles nodded. His smile really was striking – dazzling white against sallow skin.

  “I am! I’m just here until the end of the conference, and I’m hoping to take a few days to explore the city and the coast. I love to surf. I’ve heard Garrettstown beach has some pretty decent waves!”

  Anna nodded. “That’s not far from my house. You should definitely check it out. Although, at this time of year, I hope you packed your wetsuit!”

  Myles shivered in response to her words. “I know, it’s freezing out there, right?”

  Anna couldn’t quite place his accent. Lauren had said he was from the Dublin branch, but Anna thought Myles had one of those accents that could be from any eastern Irish county.

  “I’m staying in a nice hotel just over the bridge.” Myles gestured out the window.

  Anna broke off a piece of her croissant, feeling that all she had to do was listen. Myles was definitely one of those chatty-in-the-morning types.

  “I’m planning to head out tomorrow night actually, there’s a band playing that I like. Saber – have you heard of them? They’re playing in a club called the Mad Hatter. Do you know it?”

  Anna chewed her croissant slowly – with her mouth full she could only nod. It was easy to guess where this conversation was going – Myles was asking her out. Her heart was racing. Myles was asking her to go on a date to the Mad Hatter, the place where Kate Crowley was scheduled to be at the same time. This was Anna’s chance – immediately, she made up her mind. She would try to connect with Kate, with her childhood friend. She would try to speak to her – though with undercover detectives on the lookout, that might be difficult. Her friendship with Kate had meant a lot to her, and she owed it to her to try to help her out now.

  “Do you fancy joining me?”

  With his bright smile and easy-going nature, Anna wondered if anyone ever actually said no to Myles Henderson.

  8

  Kate surmised that it could only be trauma that had knocked her out cold for so long. She had slept for eighteen hours. Struggling to sit up, she was again momentarily gripped by panic at the unfamiliar surroundings – could she ever get used to this? Pushing herself from the bed, she moved to the bathroom and quenched her thirst straight from the tap. Her lower back caused her to groan as she bent to the sink – she didn’t dare to look at her reflection in the mirror. She touched her hand to her hair as she padded back to the bed, running her fingers through to its short ends. The back of her neck felt cold.

  She thought of Natalie. She always thought of Natalie. To be a twin, an identical twin, was to never be separate. Two bodies, two hearts, one soul.

  Throughout Kate’s childhood, she had felt so special. She had a best friend and a sister rolled into one. They were inseparable;
there were no arguments because they always had the same thoughts. There were no differences of opinion because her opinion was Natalie’s and Natalie’s was hers, and that was just … life. Their life. They were happy.

  Even when their parents separated and the twins had to leave their home and friendships in Cork behind to move to Dublin, at least they had each other. When their father died, they leant into each other as one supportive unit. And when their mother married again, they jointly loathed their stepfather, and mutually despaired when the newlyweds moved to America. The decision to return to Cork together was easily made. She and Natalie, Natalie and her; they were one.

  Until Natalie met David Gallagher.

  Now she had killed him. How could she ever tell Natalie?

  On her anxiety-riddled dash to the supermarket the day before she had bought some other supplies – bottles of water, painkillers and some energy bars. She swallowed two tablets now and chewed on an energy bar, her thoughts racing.

  She wondered how Natalie was coping without her, and how the girls were. Her nieces were only three years old – they had already seen too much.

  From under the bed she pulled out her small red satchel. She felt huge relief that she’d had the presence of mind to grab it as she fled her home Wednesday afternoon. The fact that she had failed to put her passport into it would haunt her forever – but still, she had some leverage.

  She emptied the contents onto the hotel bed. Ninety thousand euro in cash … and a tiny silver, rectangular memory key.

  It had been important to David Gallagher – he had been frantic when he realised it was missing. So frantic he had called to her house in a murderous rage. She had stolen it along with his money, days ago. Clearly, the memory key held something of great value to him. But without a computer she had no way of knowing what was contained inside.

  She turned it over in her fingers.

  “What are you hiding?” she murmured softly.

  Rising from the bed again, she pulled open the curtains. It was a cold, icy morning. She watched the traffic crawl slowly along the city streets, drivers cautious on treacherous roads. She had to get air – the walls of the hotel room were closing in around her. She would wait until the roads had thawed before heading outside. And she would try to stay invisible as she moved through the streets – her life depended on it.

  9

  Lauren was surprised to see Anna stroll into work at almost ten o’clock. Her early-bird friend was skirting close to the limit on the acceptable start time. Lauren had missed the takeaway coffee cup on her desk this morning – she had assumed Anna was delayed because of the icy roads. Her face broke into a huge grin when she saw Anna finally arrive, side by side with Myles Henderson. She watched them in conversation, lingering a little before parting to go to their desks, Myles touching Anna’s arm as he moved off.

  As Anna arrived at her desk, she handed her friend a takeaway cappuccino.

  “Ah, you’re so good, you never forget me!” Lauren pulled off the plastic lid and blew into the foam. “I see you had some company this morning.”

  Anna smiled at her friend’s teasing tone.

  “Oh stop! Myles is really nice, really … easy-going. We’re going out for a drink tomorrow night actually.”

  Lauren gagged on her first sip of coffee and foam dripped onto her blouse. She grabbed a tissue from a box on her desk and dabbed at it.

  “Do you and Robbie want to tag along?” Anna asked, but Lauren grimaced.

  “No way! Just ring me Sunday morning with all the gossip. You two lovebirds are about to be split up actually – I heard the department have hired out some office space for all the extra bodies floating around here. Which makes perfect sense really – we are already cramped as it is. There isn’t even a spare socket to charge your phone!”

  Anna nodded at her friend. Lauren was right – it was far too cramped in the office with all the extra detectives covering security for the political conference.

  “William Ryan is back in by the way – I saw him in the canteen earlier.”

  Anna had her computer switched on now, and paused, chewing on her bottom lip. She had been so sure yesterday about her theory linking some house break-ins and the sexual assaults. Today, she felt a little uncertain. It was a tenuous link, and if the victims of the robberies hadn’t actually got alarms installed, or had all used different companies, her theory was moot. Then Anna remembered the billowing white curtain inside the open sliding door in her kitchen and made up her mind.

  The majority of the detectives had larger cubicles on the second floor of the building. Grabbing her notebook with the recap of the break-ins and sexual-assault cases, Anna headed for the stairs in search of William Ryan.

  Detective Sergeant William Ryan stood surveying his desk and groaned. There was an avalanche of Post-its and printouts covering his workstation. He had only been out for a week – how was it possible he had so many messages, and such a long to-do list? He rubbed his right side where the scar was forming, the skin feeling tight and itchy. His supervisor, Detective Superintendent Doherty, had made it abundantly clear his ruptured appendix was highly inconvenient. Especially with the imminent political conference. No-one had covered William’s work while he was out. Now, staring at his desk, he realised he didn’t know where to start.

  “Excuse me?”

  William turned to face the young woman standing behind him. He recognised her vaguely from the civilian staff – he had transferred into the station only six months before. He was ashamed to admit he didn’t know everyone’s name yet – that was normally a priority for him. The woman smiled cautiously and tucked a strand of light-blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. Her large brown eyes gave her an almost startled appearance, but when she smiled her whole face relaxed.

  William sat down at his desk and motioned for the woman to do the same.

  “I’m Anna Clarke, from the Garda staff downstairs.”

  “Nice to meet you, Anna. What can I do for you?”

  Anna had taken the spare seat across from the detective and surveyed his desk between them. “I can see you’re swamped. I’ll try not to take up too much of your time. I hope you’re feeling better?”

  William nodded and motioned for Anna to continue.

  “Well, I’m not fully sure where to begin.”

  “I find the start to be the best place.”

  “Of course!” Anna flushed and hurried on. “Part of my duties include analysing reports from other stations for statistical purposes. I was reviewing a report about a break-in a few days ago and it got me thinking. It’s possible there is a connection between some house break-ins over the last three years and the seven unsolved sexual assault crimes that have occurred in the county.”

  Anna paused. She had spoken in a rush and wondered if it all sounded ludicrous to the detective. But she could tell she had William Ryan’s attention. His eyebrows had shot up almost into his dark hair and his blue eyes had grown wide. He sat up straighter, wincing a little, elbows on the armrest of his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin.

  “Tell me about the connection, please.”

  Adrenaline began to flow through Anna’s veins – now that she had the detective’s full attention, she was anxious not to waste it. She took a deep, steadying breath and cleared her throat.

  “Well … there have been a lot of robberies and break-ins over the years, naturally. It’s the same in every county. But in seven of those cases, a sexual assault has occurred in very close proximity to break-ins, within a few days. I’ve looked back over the reports – there’s nothing to link the burglars to the sexual assaults. Most of the thieves have been apprehended and they are from a variety of backgrounds, and some were in custody when the sexual assaults occurred. Plus, there was DNA left at the sexual assault scenes that has no match on file. The only link, as such, is the close proximity of the attacks.”

  “Go on.”

  “In all seven cases, the homes that were
broken into had no house alarm at the time, and they indicated a desire to have one installed to the Gardaí. I checked the transcripts to confirm that.”

  “And?”

  “Whether they did or did not get an alarm fitted isn’t documented on any of the files. But supposing they all did get an alarm fitted, and just happened to use the same company? And supposing the alarm company sent a guy out to install it who happens to have no previous convictions – the Guards don’t have his DNA on file, and he has ample opportunity to check out the area and spot potential victims.”

  “That’s a lot of supposing.” William smiled. He rubbed at his jaw with one hand. He was thinking this over. After his transfer he had dealt with one attack on a woman, living alone. It remained unsolved. He was aware there were several in the city and surrounding county that had appeared to be random, unexplained attacks. It was possible … maybe Anna Clarke was on to something.

  Anna held up her notebook. “I’ve made some notes recapping the cases.”

  William straightened up and began to move things around on his desk in search of a pen. One thing he wasn’t a fan of was deciphering someone else’s handwriting. He preferred his own shorthand. Under the slips of paper and files awaiting his attention, finding something to write with was proving futile. Moving around was causing him to wince in pain again.

  “Do you want me to grab you a pen?” Anna enquired and he nodded gratefully.

  William gestured to the back of the room, and Anna noticed a tall cupboard she hadn’t seen before. She had walked straight past it. Its cream door blended into the wall, only a faint wooden outline highlighting its existence. The very same storage cupboards were downstairs on Anna’s floor too. They were almost completely flush with the wall, with no handle. One had to push gently against the door, and it popped open. Clever. They were deep enough to step into and lined with shelves containing an array of stationary. And she hated them. Referred to as “stealth storage” by one of her colleagues, she dreaded having to search inside them – cramped spaces like that set her nerves on edge. Lauren always fetched what Anna needed for her – and Anna figured a daily takeaway coffee for Lauren was a fair trade-off.