that poor girl going through a traumatic birth upset me
even more. Sheridan had buried her under the floorboards
and a few years later, started the process all over again.
What sort of person did that? Not the sort to let me go.
‘Ow,’ I winced, as the pain grew in strength, deliv-
ering a warm trickle of release between my legs. These
were no Braxton Hicks. This was labour, and my waters
had just broken.
I opened my mouth to call Sheridan, but fear of Mike
stemmed my words. When Mike was around, bad things
happened. He was a dangerous man. Staggering to the
lift, I jabbed the button, swearing under my breath as it
failed to activate without the needed security pass. No
surprise there. Low backache kicked in as the band of pain
grew. Moaning, I tried the side door, but as I guessed,
it was locked tight. Breathe, I reminded myself, pushing my panic down. I made my way to the bed, digging my
fingers into the duvet as I leaned over the side. Pressing
my face into the material, I moaned, soft and low. Nobody
was coming to help me. I was completely alone.
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CHAPTER SIXTY
Dympna
‘Sit down, stay there and don’t say a word.’ Dympna’s
father’s voice was firm as he escorted her to the plastic
chair. They were in the building of 1 Police Plaza in
lower Manhattan, the headquarters of the NYPD. The
exterior of the fourteenth-floor building looked like an
ugly brown box, with row upon row of uniform square
windows. The security area felt tense as she emptied
her pockets into a tray, and her face reddened as she was
rushed through by an armed officer standing at her side.
She felt like a little girl as her father did all the talking and met their contact, who escorted them to the office
of the Major Case Squad.
The fact she was nervous in a New York police de-
partment made her realise how sheltered her life had been
up until now. Even in Dublin, everything was ruled by
the safety of routine. Joining the Gardaí would open her
eyes. So would being in New York. They had been here
almost a week and Dympna was relieved to be finally
inside the doors of the NYPD. After months worrying
about Roz, things were looking up.
Sitting in the side room, Dympna had a good view
of her father through glass-panelled walls. She guessed it
was some kind of witness interview room, somewhere to
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put people who came in about a case. She watched as her
father spoke with a broad-shouldered brunette woman
who described herself as Detective Hartman. The Major
Case Squad was the inspiration for TV programmes such
as Law & Order: Criminal Intent. The real-life department investigated burglaries, larceny and kidnapping, among
other things. Dympna had done her homework, and she
could not believe that she was here. She slowly leaned
forward, pushing the door open an inch. It wouldn’t hurt
to eavesdrop. Outside, the sudden scream of a police siren
made her jump in her chair. As nervous as she was, she
could not wait to be part of the police world.
She shuffled to the edge of her chair, straining to
listen at the door. There were a dozen officers working
at computer terminals in the room where her father sat,
with panelled lighting overhead and the scent of filter
coffee hanging in the air. The clacking of keyboards
and garbled phone conversations contributed to a steady
rumble of noise. The atmosphere felt intense, but there
was a certain amount of camaraderie too. A sudden shout
of triumph erupted from a middle-aged man in the corner
who was then heartily slapped by his colleague on the
back. Had he had a breakthrough? Dympna wondered.
Sent someone down? She was itching to know. But she
was aware she was snooping and really shouldn’t be here.
If it weren’t for her father’s contacts, she would not have made it past the front door; but thanks to the information Dympna had gathered, at least they were taking
their claims seriously. Sheridan’s pregnancy had hit the
headlines, although there were very few pictures of her
so-called bump.
* * *
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The Perfect Mother
‘You’re not the first person to raise suspicions about Daniel Watson and Sheridan Sinclair,’ Detective Hartman explained, closing a folder on her desk. ‘We spoke to them
following the disappearance of Kelly Blunt, but we didn’t
have enough evidence to obtain a warrant for a house search.’
‘You’ve listened to Roz’s voicemail,’ John replied. ‘You’ve seen the text. Surely you have enough for another call-on?’
Detective Hartman gave John a patient smile. ‘We do,
and we have. It took a lot of effort just to speak to Sheridan, and she barely allowed officers past the door. We’ve been
here before. We need more evidence to get a search warrant.’
‘Forgive me,’ John leaned forward, resting his elbows
on the desk. ‘I’m not trying to teach my grandma how to
suck eggs, but have you explored all avenues? What about
CCTV? Have you interviewed her staff? Roz mentioned
someone by the name of George who was meeting her
at the hotel.’
‘It’s all in hand,’ Detective Hartman said. ‘I’m sorry
I can’t tell you much more.’ She tilted her head as she
registered John’s disappointment. ‘We receive on average
thirty-five missing person reports every day in New York,
but many of the subjects are found. The missing person
department is working on Roz’s case as we speak. As for
us, we specialise in kidnappings, which need a lot more
groundwork.’ She smiled. ‘Now I’m the one telling my
grandma how to suck eggs.’ Her desk phone rang with
some insistency and she rose from her desk. ‘I’ve got your
number. As soon as I have news, I’ll call.’
Dympna exhaled a long breath as her words filtered
through. After an all-too-short meeting, Detective
Hartman showed them both the door.
* * *
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Caroline Mitchell
As they spilled outside, Dympna threw her hands in the
air. ‘I can’t believe we came all this way for that. You’d
think they’d be more respectful. You outrank her, after all.’
‘Not in New York, I don’t,’ her father replied, hands
deep in his pockets as they walked through the plaza.
‘I’ve no jurisdiction over here. She’s doing what she can.
Sounds like it’s all in hand.’
‘Just because Sheridan and Daniel are rich and power-
ful, the police have to build up this big case. Why should
they be treated differently to everyone else?’
Her father looked down his nose at her, a signal to
calm herself down. ‘Because regular people can’t afford
to sue, and…’ He raised a finger as Dympna took a breath
to interrupt. ‘AND … the scandal of arrest could end
Sheridan and Daniel’s careers. Besides, the more prep
the NYPD put together,
the stronger a case they’ll have
when they act.’
Never in a million years had Dympna imagined the
scenario she found herself in. She couldn’t have predicted
that she’d get on an aeroplane, let alone investigate Daniel Watson and Sheridan Sinclair. She rubbed her freckled
arms as goose bumps rose on her skin. The sky was grey
and overcast and she felt a sense of impending doom. She
followed her father towards the municipal building, her
mood low. Frustration had turned to annoyance and she
felt like screaming.
Her father was looking at his phone, having drawn
up Google maps. ‘Fancy a visit to the 9/11 memorial?
It’s a twenty-minute walk from here. It might take your
mind off things.’
‘But I don’t want to take my mind off things. Roz is
in trouble. The minute she has that baby…’ Dympna’s
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The Perfect Mother
cheeks puffed as she exhaled a long breath. ‘God knows
what’s going to happen to her.’
‘Darlin’, it’s not as if they’re not looking for her. She’s been reported as a missing person. They’re reviewing all
the CCTV. You never know, she might come home of
her own accord.’
Dympna snorted. ‘You don’t believe that any more
than I do.’ She paused for thought. ‘I don’t suppose you
caught sight of Sheridan’s address in that folder, did you?’
Her father gave her a wry grin. ‘I did, as it happens,
although she was quick enough to snap it shut.’
‘Dad?’ she said. ‘Can you hail us a taxi?’
Sighing, John shook his head. ‘I know what you’re
thinking, and it won’t work. They won’t let us inside
the door.’
‘But we’ve got to try, haven’t we?’ Dympna threaded
her arm through her father’s.
‘Aye, that we do,’ he sighed, raising his hand to a
passing cab.
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CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Sheridan
‘Every man is guilty of all the good they didn’t do.’ It was a saying Sheridan pondered on, as she thought about the
people whose silence she had forced. Sheridan had bought
both Anna and her granddaughter Juanita’s loyalties by
paying for Juanita to return to education full-time. Then
there was the nanny, who must surely know more than
she was letting on; her driver, who was paid over the odds
for keeping quiet; then Mike, who had actively encour-
aged her just to get into her pants. But George wasn’t like that. He was the purest-hearted of all. She hated herself
for what she had turned him into. His enthusiasm for life
used to rub off on her, and spending time in his company
had been a joy. But like everyone who got to know her,
he had come to recognise her dark side. She could sense
his resentment building for the bind she had put him in.
Which was why she kept him out of what she was about
to do. Guilt was creeping in, and her actions would haunt
her forever. The killing of such a young woman was not
so easily compartmentalised.
How could Daniel leave her to meet film producers
when she needed him the most? He was childlike in his
excitement about playing Bond, but the contracts hadn’t
been finalised yet. She thought about their relationship,
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The Perfect Mother
and how he disappeared when things got tough. Yet she
knew she would forgive him just the same.
Taking a deep breath, she stirred the crushed tablets
into Roz’s drink. The sedatives would make her woozy,
then with Mike’s help, she could administer the injection
needed to induce childbirth. Using a glass instead of a
plastic tumbler, she watched the tiny pink flecks of powder dissolve. Roz was so convinced she was going home, she
would not suspect a thing. Her thoughts heavy, Sheridan
gave the contents of the glass another stir. Mike warned
her to personally ensure that Roz swallowed every drop.
Quick and painless. His words returned to haunt her. His gun was equipped with a silencer, and a pillow would
stem any mess. But could she really bring her baby into
the world, then kill her mother as she took her first breath?
A visit from the police had sealed Roz’s fate. She could
not afford to have her around any more.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath as she tried
to regain control. Think of the end-game. Of Alaska. She imagined the beautiful sunsets and the breathtaking scen-ery she and Daniel would explore. Her grip on the spoon
relaxed.
Absentmindedly, she rinsed it off in the sink. Every
inch of her home had been cleaned to wipe all traces of
Roz away.
‘Ready?’ Mike was waiting for her at the lift, his
thumb hooked into the pocket of his jeans. Mike was
hard. Prison had taken his edges and made them razor
sharp. But she had given him what he wanted and now
he was ready to respond in turn. But there was something
about his behaviour that was off. She watched the heel
of his boot dance against the floor as his leg jittered of
its own accord. This was more than nerves. Her eyes
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Caroline Mitchell
narrowed as she met his gaze. It was only now she no-
ticed his dilated pupils, his muscles twitching beneath
his skin. ‘Son of a bitch…’ she said, aghast. ‘You’ve
been using!’
‘Just a little something to take the edge off,’ he replied.
His tone was dark, and Sheridan sensed a shift in mood.
‘Are we getting this over with or not?’
‘All right,’ Sheridan replied. Now was not the time to
challenge him. ‘Stay in the lift, unless I call you.’
Act normal, she told herself, invoking years of training.
This was a set. She was in a leading role. Much of her life had been lived like this.
As the doors parted, she adjusted her eyes. It didn’t
matter how many lights were switched on; this would
always be a gloomy space.
‘Roz,’ she exclaimed, finding the young woman bent
over the bed.
The smile Sheridan was faking slid from her face as
she approached, glass in hand. Her eyes fell on Roz’s
tracksuit bottoms, which were stained and wet. She took
in her sweaty face, her wild eyes.
‘I’m having the baby,’ Roz moaned through gritted
teeth.
Sheridan clung on to the glass. This was not part of
the plan. ‘You can’t be. It’s not due yet.’
‘Tell that to Ashling,’ Roz said, delivering another
low moan.
How long has she been like this? Sheridan thought. What do I do now?
‘Here.’ She thrust the glass in Roz’s direction. ‘Have
a drink.’
Reaching for the glass, Roz gripped it in her hand
before smashing it against the wall. ‘I don’t want a drink!’
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The Perfect Mother
she screamed, making Sheridan jump. ‘I want a doctor.
Take me to the hospital, now!’
Sheridan watched as the liquid dripped down the wall
in long pink streaks. A flashback mad
e her recoil. Kelly
had lain on this very bed, screaming as the baby crowned.
Just like before, Daniel was nowhere to be seen. Kelly had
cried for the hospital and Sheridan had cried alongside
her, shocked by the turn of events. But she could not risk
everything to help the girl her husband had fallen in love
with. Bright red blood had gushed on to the mattress,
staining her hands.
Panic rose in Sheridan’s chest at the memory of Kelly’s
death.
‘I can’t … I can’t do it again. I won’t…’ It felt as if she were drowning and she couldn’t breathe. She needed to
call for an ambulance. She had to let Roz go. Fumbling
with her phone, she prepared to dial for help.
Heavy footsteps creaked the floorboards as Mike stood
out from the shadows.
‘You don’t need that.’ Taking Sheridan’s phone, he
pressed the button to turn it off. As everything began to
unravel, Sheridan had forgotten he was there.
‘Babe, trust me. Daniel might have abandoned you but
I’m here now. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.’
Roz’s face was a picture of fear. ‘Keep away from me!’
she screamed, backing away from the bed. Picking up a
shard of the broken glass, she pointed it at him. ‘Keep
away!’
‘What … what do I do?’ Sheridan felt like a child
asking for her lines. Except that her mother was not there
to help her. Mike was.
‘Go upstairs,’ he said, his voice deep and reassuring.
‘I’ll take care of this. You don’t need to be here.’
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Caroline Mitchell
It was bad enough losing Kelly through childbirth,
but now it came down to it, Sheridan could not allow
him to harm Roz. ‘No,’ she said, her eyes pleading with
his. ‘Not like this.’
Mike’s hand fell on her shoulder and squeezed. ‘She
knows too much. It’s her or us.’
‘But the baby?’ she said, her breath steadying at last.
‘I told you. I’ll take care of it.’ Mike’s hand slid to the waistband of his jeans. ‘I’ll make it all go away.’
A dry crackle of a laugh passed his lips as he casually
waved his gun around the room. ‘Haven’t I always looked
after you? You can’t risk keeping her kid. Not with the
cops sniffing around.’
That was when it hit her. Mike had never intended
to allow Roz or the baby to live. He had used the plan to
get down here and finish them both off. She wanted to
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