by Linda Coles
“I need to think what to do next. But I need a telephone. Can I borrow yours?”
“We’ll swap. You give me your broken one and I’ll get it fixed while you’re in here. You take mine, at least then I can ring you on it from the home line. You have the number you need?”
“No. It’s in the broken one,” she said resignedly.
He remembered what Jake had said, he’d need to install the backup to a new phone from some sort of cloud. He knew what a new phone was, but what he didn’t know was what a backup was. Maybe Bronagh did.
“Have you got a backup?” he enquired, not sounding confident he’d got the terminology correct.
She raised her eyebrows slightly. “I do, it’s in the cloud.”
He’d heard of that before and only hoped Jake knew which cloud he needed.
“Then you’ll need my password,” she said. He passed her bag from the bedside cabinet and watched as she wrote the details down and handed them over.
“Right,” Brocc said, wondering what to do next.
“It’ll take too long to repair, so just get me a new one and I’ll settle up with you when I get out. Have you got your credit card with you?”
“I’ll do it tomorrow. How much are they?”
“About 800 euros now.” She knew he’d got enough money to make the purchase since he rarely spent any of what he earned. As his face blanched, she said, “It’s important to me,” by way of justification. “I can claim it back on my insurance, what with the crash.” Brocc grunted and, catching the eye of the nurse, said his goodbyes and headed out to get his sister a new iPhone.
Watching her brother leave the room, she concerned herself with the problem at hand. Who had taken baby Flynn, and why? Nobody knew he was there on his own. She glanced at the old Nokia phone her brother still used. It felt sticky from oily fingers and it was a wonder it still worked. Now all she needed was the telephone number.
Chapter 26
Two guards entered the kitchen, their blue uniforms adding a touch of authority to the situation. In the background, Julie flitted around and made fresh coffee for everyone while Chrissy gave her account of what had happened so far during the morning. Adam and Richard stood nearby and listened to events over again. The taller of the two guards, a sergeant called Michael Staines, busied himself taking notes and allowed Chrissy to carry on until the end without interruption. Another guard took notes of his own. He’d introduced himself earlier as Drew Harris and while he was the younger of the two men, he had the least hair on top. His thin lips and pointed nose reminded her of a bird, a crow, perhaps, which on the surface didn’t feel like much of a compliment. Best she didn’t say anything. When she reached what she’d found in the cellar, both guards stopped writing as they digested the sinister tale. When she was finished, she had a question for them.
“What will happen to Flynn?” It seemed the most important aspect of the whole sorry tale, and a question each of the holiday party wanted to know the answer to. Sergeant Staines took it.
“We’ll organise for him to be picked up by Tusla and taken into emergency care first off, while we figure out where his parents are. He’ll be safe then.”
“Tusla?”
“Our child and family agency,” he said before carrying on. “From there, it depends on how the investigation goes. Hopefully, we’ll find his parents quickly and the whole thing can be sorted out, but if they have abandoned him, then the agency will decide on his future.” The guard had kind eyes, and Chrissy could see the compassion they held as he spoke. It couldn’t be an easy job dealing with children in need.
“I’ll go back and get some of his things, shall I?” she offered.
“It’s best of you stay away. Let us take a look first. If there has been a crime, and we don’t know that yet, apart from the little boy left alone, we may need forensics in there.”
“But he’ll need things…” started Chrissy.
“Tusla will have that covered, he’ll be well cared for.”
Chrissy wondered about what the sweater shop woman had said: Nobody in there at this time of year. Owners only come in summer; it’ll be empty now.
“The castle,” she started. “It’s privately owned, isn’t it?”
“I believe so, yes,” Sergeant Staines said.
“Only, the woman in the sweater shop said it was empty at this time of the year. And yet Ciara and Lorcan were staying there? With Flynn?”
“My guess is maybe she was wrong. We’ll track the owners down of course, and see who their missing guests were, since we know nothing of them as yet, not even a surname. If they’ve cleaned out their possessions as you say they have, I doubt we’ll find much either, but that’s for us to deal with,” he said, slipping his notebook away. Flynn reminded everyone he was still in the room with a loud gurgle followed by frantic hand waving. There wasn’t a person in the group that didn’t smile back at him, likely each wondering where he’d find himself spending the night. And who with. Sergeant Staines checked his watch.
“Someone will be here to pick him up shortly, I’ve made the call. Garda Harris here will wait with you before handing young Flynn over. In the meantime, I’m going over to the castle myself then I’ll start making enquiries.” He turned to his colleague and added, “Let me know when they’ve been.”
Chrissy wasn’t sure if she was supposed to shake his hand and thank him or not. It seemed rude not to do anything, so she stood and offered her hand anyway. From Sergeant Staines’s facial reaction, she shook a little too firmly, again. An old habit.
“I’ll let myself out,” he said before turning to leave. The remaining officer, Harris, attempted small talk while he waited but nobody was really that interested, or in the mood. What would happen to young Flynn next filled the room like a heavy weight, and even though nobody said anything, they each knew the others were feeling equally low about the whole thing. Richard was right though, Flynn wasn’t a kitten looking for an old blanket and a tin of food at the end of the day, he needed much more than that. A vehicle pulled up outside and the officer stood to look.
“That’s them now,” he said, heading for the door. Voices could be heard outside as they conferred about what would happen next, and just where Chrissy and her family fitted into the puzzle. A moment later, a busty middle-aged woman with a welcoming smile introduced herself.
“Tilly Murphy. I’ll be taking charge of Flynn today.”
Chrissy stepped forward and almost threw herself in front of her, her own eyes searching the woman’s in a fidgety way that Chrissy wasn’t used to. The whole process of handing Flynn over, she knew, was going to be excruciating.
“Chrissy Livingstone. I found young Flynn earlier.”
Walking towards the buggy, she said, “And this must be Flynn?”
“Yes.” Nobody else said a word, as if they were afraid of saying the wrong thing. Even though they hardly knew the child, it was a distressing moment. Everyone watched as she removed the brakes on the buggy and rested her hands on the handle before moving towards the door. Her colleague was waiting in the doorway. Chrissy rushed forward and bent down in front of the buggy so Ms Murphy had to stop abruptly. She reached out to Flynn and stroked his arm before placing a light kiss on his forehead. “Take care, little one,” she said, trying hard to hold back the raw emotion that threatened. Adam went to her side and rubbed her back a little in comfort before they both stepped to one side to let the woman through.
“He’ll be taken good care of,” Tilly said, smiling as she pushed the buggy from the room, leaving four adults staring after them. No one said a word. Garda Harris followed close behind, informing Chrissy he’d be in touch soon. As soon as the door was closed, Chrissy did something she hadn’t done in more years than she could remember.
She burst into tears.
Chapter 27
Chrissy surprised herself at her own reaction to seeing the boy go. Normally the emotional side of life didn’t faze her, she pushed through and didn’t let sent
iment worry her, but this was different somehow. Why? She’d no clue. Maybe it was more the shock of finding Flynn than handing him over to be cared for by the professionals. Judging by the fact that Ciara and Lorcan’s belongings had all gone, they obviously hadn’t planned to go back for him. How could someone abandon a child, of any age, particularly when they had no way to fend for themselves? It was barbaric, unthinkable, and if she ever caught up with the two of them again, she’d tell them so. But not before she’d strangled them both. Still, the chances of catching up with them were almost zero.
Or were they? A renewed energy forced her eyes to flash open and they locked with Adam’s who was sitting on the sofa opposite, watching.
“I’m going to find out what’s happened to them,” she announced, flitting her eyes from Adam to Julie to Richard and back to Adam. A slight smirk clung to Adam’s mouth and he let it develop a while longer until it was almost a full grin. Chrissy looked to Julie, who was peering over her magazine, for moral support. “Do you fancy helping, Julie?” she asked. Two perfectly shaped eyebrows rose another inch before slipping back down behind the glossy pages. Richard unsurprisingly said, “Well, I can’t move from here so don’t look at me,” sounding disappointed. “Otherwise I’d lend a hand, somehow.” He rubbed his still sore shoulder as if for effect before burying himself behind his newspaper. Chrissy didn’t believe a word he’d said, he’d only added the last sentence because he knew he’d be of no use.
“Adam?”
He raised both hands out in front of him, palms facing her as he added, “You’re the PI in the room. I’ll keep Richard company.” Julie had to be listening and Chrissy picked up on the fact she hadn’t turned a page in a while. The articles weren’t that long.
“Julie? You know you want to say yes. Come on, help find that little boy’s parents.” Julie shoved her magazine down roughly and glared at her sister. “Don’t try and make me feel guilty about enjoying my break away. If you want to go looking, that’s for you to decide, but count me out, please.” The magazine was forced back into place as Julie pretended to carry on reading. Chrissy let out a long sigh.
“Right then. I’ll do it on my own,” she said, standing. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she frowned. It was almost 4 pm, a bit late to go over to the castle, and since it would be taped up as a possible crime scene there would be no way to snoop around. The property was the only clue she had to anything concerning the couple’s disappearance; she couldn’t think of another starting point available. The local Gardai seemed pleasant enough, but they were highly unlikely to let her in on developments, either now or later on in the investigation. Why would they? She was a civilian, an English civilian at that, with absolutely no jurisdiction whatsoever. Her investigator’s licence would be as much use to her as an inflatable policeman on crowd control.
She headed to the fridge, popped the top off a lite beer, grabbed a notepad, pen, and a blanket from the basket by the door, and went out to the deck. She dragged a lounger to a sheltered corner, wrapped herself up warm and settled down to work, making notes of everything she knew. There’d be a thread of an idea to pick at when she was done. After fifteen minutes of searching every tiny space of her brain, the list was a short one. She tried a different tack. Turning her pad horizontal, she drew a bubble in the middle at the top and filled in Ciara’s and Lorcan’s names. A smaller bubble off that held Flynn. Another for Rupert.
“Rupert!” With all the concern over baby Flynn, she and everyone else had completely forgotten about the poor dog. Where had he got to? Looking around her immediate vicinity, she found he was nowhere to be seen, so she threw off her blanket and headed back inside. The living room resembled the quiet room in the local library.
“Has anyone seen Rupert?”
Three hushed ‘no’s. She headed to each of the bedrooms in turn, half expecting the dog to be lying sprawled out on one of their beds, but each room was empty. Where had he gone? Chrissy sighed heavily; it had been a stressful enough day so far without the added angst of losing the dog too. He’d be wanting a feed soon. In fact, not only would he be hungry, he’d surely be feeling frightened because of all the upheaval too. All she remembered was handing him over to Julie when they’d first arrived back. Surely, she’d tied him up and not left him to wander? Back to the living room she went.
“Julie, did you tie Rupert up when we first arrived back?”
Julie stayed behind her pages. “Of course not, there was no need, he wasn’t going to run off.”
“Well it looks like he has…”
“I’d expect then he’s gone back home.”
“Helpful, sis.”
“You are welcome, hun,” she said without conviction. Clearly they weren’t concerned.
Chrissy left them to their quiet state and grabbed her boots and jacket before heading out back towards the castle in the distance. This time she didn’t forget to take her phone. There was no way she was going to let the dog fend for itself, that was one life she could look after – if only for a while at least.
Chapter 28
It was a pity she couldn’t draw and walk at the same time and so had to be content filling in the bubble map in her head. By the time she returned back to the house, hopefully she’d have retained most of it and not forgotten anything majorly important. Plus, she had her phone’s recorder if she needed to make notes of her thoughts and could easily transfer the information to her physical map on her return. As she walked across the fields, she ran through the short list she’d prepared while sitting on the deck and slotted various names and notes in bubbles with lines to link them to something else. So far, it was looking rather simple, but there wasn’t much she knew.
Who else had she come in contact with since their arrival? There was the barman. He had her mobile number. Had he been the one to hand it to Ciara? Then there was the woman in the sweater shop. She’d said the castle was empty when it clearly wasn’t. Did she know for sure? Then there was Lorcan himself. He’d said he was in logistics and distribution, a lorry driver that travelled all over Europe but spent time toing and froing between northern England ports. And Ciara? Nothing came to mind, since she hadn’t had a chance to ask her anything while they were in the pub and conversation never arose the night of Richard’s accident. All they’d talked about that particular evening was the local sights and poor old Richard before he nodded off to sleep on the sofa. If she thought she didn’t know much of the pair, she knew absolutely nothing of the woman herself. Nothing. Flynn was the only other human being in the equation, and not a great deal of use on the conversation front – save to say Chrissy had suspected he might have been adopted, but she was only basing that on his hair colour. Since he couldn’t speak and had now been taken into care, that was one dead end. Rupert fell into the same group as the youngster.
By the time she reached the castle, she could see the dog lying on the front doorstep, collar with leash still attached. He must have got bored and headed back to his own place. Sadly, there was no one to take him inside. Crime-scene tape across the door billowed in the stiff breeze and Chrissy wondered what, if anything, the Gardai might have found that would be of use. She bent down to pat him and took hold of his leash. She’d have to take him back with her, she couldn’t leave him on his own, but not until she’d had a quick snoop around herself. Gardai or not, another set of eyes on the scene wouldn’t be a waste of time and she was happy to volunteer her own.
“I suspect it’s locked up,” she said, trying the door. She pushed the handle down, but the door stayed firmly shut. They must have got keys from somewhere. “Thought so,” she added as she looked around for another possible way in. A tiny castle wasn’t exactly constructed like a Barratt house with UPVC double-glazed windows for easy access. No. Tall and skinny was what faced Chrissy as she strode around the perimeter of the building. There was no way she could get inside via one of those. Rupert barked, distracting her thoughts of how to gain entry.
“Any ideas?” she asked the
dog. Whether it was the sound of her voice or something else, Rupert ambled over and sat down in front of her. He barked again, watching her intently. That was when she saw his collar. Not only did it have his details etched on a disc, but there was also a small silver cylinder dangling there. Smiling, she hoped it contained what she thought it might. She reached out, unscrewed the top off, and tipped it up. There in the palm of her hand lay a Yale key.
“Ha. Would you look at that.” she said in a mock Irish accent. Standing up, she moved to the door and placed the key in the lock before turning it. It caught and the door swung open to reveal the kitchen she’d been in earlier that day. Had it only been that long ago? But Chrissy knew if she stepped inside, she’d not only be trespassing, she’d also be tampering with a crime scene. She was standing in the doorway, wondering what to do, when Rupert barked again. In her mind, she recalled Flynn’s cries from earlier as she’d approached. The door had been unlocked then, which had been a good job under the circumstances, so who had locked up since? It couldn’t have been a locksmith, since the key she’d used still fitted, meaning the lock hadn’t been changed. If it had been the Gardai, and that was the most likely choice, where had the key they’d used come from? No matter how much she thought about it, she remained none the wiser, and didn’t want to hang around much longer. Pulling her jacket a little closer around herself, she shivered, realising the temperature had dropped a couple of degrees more. The sweater shop woman had been spot on about the weather getting a lot colder and she shoved her hands into her pockets to keep them warm. It also deterred her from touching anything further. As her eyes adjusted to the light, grey fingerprint powder stared back at her in messy blobs, clinging to various surfaces by the grease and moisture from someone’s hands. She wondered who those prints belonged to – anyone other than Ciara and Lorcan?
