The Silent Ones: Could You Leave A Child Behind? (Chrissy Livingstone Book 3)

by Linda Coles

  Well, yours are there…

  The Gardai would likely know by now who she was, or who she had been at least. While they’d asked her to drop in at the station and give her prints for elimination purposes, there really was little point. Chrissy hadn’t wanted to explain that particular insight in front of Julie and Richard. No doubt an officer would be back to talk to her at some point soon.

  Chrissy headed upstairs to the top of the building, intending to look at each floor more closely on her way back down.

  Chapter 29

  The view from the top floor was as spectacular as ever and she stood for a moment watching the Atlantic Ocean out in front of her. It was deep grey as far as the eye could see. Where the sky met the horizon, it was difficult to distinguish which element was which. It would be dark soon, she’d left it a bit late to start inspecting what the professionals had already gone over, but she had to at least satisfy her own curiosity. Even the best technicians could miss something and if they had, she intended to find it. Time was of the essence.

  There was virtually nothing left in the upper room, only the furniture and bedding. Any personal belongings had been removed and the space felt cold and unloved almost, a body with no warmth to it. She moved down to the next level, to where she’d found Flynn in his cot, the tiny bathroom to one side. As with the other floors of the property, dark powder decorated various surfaces, though this room still felt lived in, most likely because it still contained everything a small child needed. Drawers had been opened and searched, clothes left untidily, and Chrissy wondered why they hadn’t been collected up to pass along to Flynn’s caregivers. Surely, he’d be better with his own things nearby and gain comfort in his strange surroundings from fragrances he recognised. With his parents since disappeared, the little boy would be feeling confused and upset. She pulled open a drawer and reached inside, searching with both hands through baby-soft fabrics, hoping to find something that wasn’t there. She repeated the exercise with the other drawers but it was fruitless. Had the Gardai found anything? Had there even been anything to find? Apart from the cot and changing mat, there was nothing else in the space to examine. Her deep sigh bounced off the walls and she stood, hands on her hips, frustrated. Taking a step forward, she pulled on the chest of drawers itself and moved it away from the wall, peering behind. Cobwebs and a spider were all she could see, and they didn’t look like they’d been disturbed anytime recently. She pushed them back into place and headed down a level to the living room. A flash of light way out to sea caught her attention as she entered the space. Perhaps a passing ship; it couldn’t be anything else.

  As with the upper level, the room was absent of belongings and since the light was fading fast, she wasted no time. She lay down on the floor to peer under the sofa. Had anything been missed? She was desperate for something, some clue as to what had happened for a young couple to suddenly run off, leaving their child and dog behind. But she struggled to see, the gap between the base of the sofa and the floor was far too shallow. She stood and heaved the sofa forward into the room a little, allowing the space underneath it to become visible. She scanned what was now on full display, but as with the rear of the set of drawers in Flynn’s room, only cobwebs and general debris lay in front of her. Rupert strolled in and reminded her of his presence.

  “There’s nothing here to find,” she told him despondently and pushed the sofa back into place. “Come on, let’s take a look in the kitchen and then we’ll head back.” Down the steps they went until they were once again in the kitchen. Each cupboard she opened was still filled with crockery or packets and tins of food. Not many would pack this lot up before they disappeared. Packets of rice and pasta and other staples stared back at her. The fridge held cheese and milk and little else, the can of baby formula still visible on the work surface. All was as it had been earlier in the day. Satisfied she wasn’t going to find anything earth shattering that could help her investigation, she turned back to the door where Rupert was now sitting waiting, patiently. Then she spotted the rug on the floor and thought of the cellar below. Had the Gardai been down there? Surely they would have, yet the rug looked untouched, as if the area had perhaps been overlooked.

  “Strange,” she said to the empty room. Not wanting to turn a light on and attract attention to her presence, she yanked the rug back once again and opened the trapdoor. The same freezing-cold air from earlier seemed to grab her around the ankles, pulling her in as she peered down into the darkness. She found the torch on her phone and shone it down in front of her as she descended into the cold, wishing the mains overhead light could have been more contained, and not glow into the kitchen like a beacon. There was no way she could turn it on. The passing ship on the ocean outside sprang to mind. Once she’d ducked under the bulkhead again, her eyes refocused in the light available and for the second time in one day, she gasped out loud.

  And it wasn’t from the temperature.

  The two coffins, which had been propped up against one wall, were both gone. As were most of the other wicker items.

  “Now why would someone remove them?” she asked the empty room. “And when?”

  Chapter 30

  “We were just about to send out a search party for you,” Julie said sarcastically as Chrissy entered the toasty kitchen. The temperature outside had plummeted even further and though she had a thick jacket on, her hands and face felt like they’d never be warm again. Her nose glowed like a radish. Rupert strolled in right beside her and flopped on the floor.

  “No need, I’m back,” she said, unzipping her coat. She tossed it onto a nearby dining chair and flicked the kettle on to boil. “Damn, it’s cold out there now. And as you can see, I found Rupert. Poor lad was sitting on the step at the castle, looking ever so forlorn.” She bent down to stroke him and he rolled over onto his back for a tummy rub. Chrissy obliged.

  “What are we going to do with him?” Julie asked.

  “I don’t know. He can stay here tonight, and we’ll have to decide from then on.” Chrissy approached the kitchen door and closed it quietly so that anyone in the living room wouldn’t notice she’d done so. Julie looked at her sister quizzically, tilting her head slightly in question. Chrissy was just about to speak when the door opened, and Adam walked through so she stayed shtum.

  “Ah, the wanderer returns,” he said, pecking her cheek lightly as he pulled a bottle of red from the nearby wine rack. He studied the label then returned the bottle, pulling another out instead. Satisfied with his choice, he unscrewed the top and sniffed. He nodded to himself. “Who wants a glass?” The two women nodded in unison, ‘please’. They both watched as he poured then filled another two glasses and took them through to the living room. Chrissy again closed the door before turning the kettle off. The red wine would warm her through just the same. Julie moved closer to her sister, conspiratorially.

  “So? What is it? Do tell.”

  “I went back inside the castle.”

  “How on earth—”

  Chrissy raised her palm to stop her going any further. “That’s not important at the moment, but this is.”

  “Well come on then, what?”

  Chrissy checked the door was still firmly closed and leaned in a little further, her head nearly touching Julie’s. “The coffins in the cellar? Both gone.”

  “Really? How? When?”

  “I’ve no idea but they have. Now, is it me or do you think that’s strange, and so quickly too?”

  “No, you’re right there. That is strange. Of all the things the Gardai would do, that wouldn’t be on their priority list to remove. None of the contents would be removed by them, it’s not their property to do so.”

  “My thoughts exactly. And I wouldn’t expect the owners to have ‘popped over’ and taken them either.”

  “So you’re thinking someone else, obviously. Though who?” They sat pondering for a moment then Julie asked, “The door was unlocked, I take it, since it was unlocked when you went inside this morning?”
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  “And that’s another strange occurrence. No, the door was locked but not with a new set-up. I found a key and it still worked.”

  “You’ll get in trouble, entering without permission,” Julie admonished.

  “Only if I get caught.” Chrissy said and brushed the comment off. It was all part of the job. She’d done far worse.

  “Then someone else does have a set of keys to the place, and that someone must know all about the cellar contents.”

  “And be able to move them quickly, so in a van maybe. They wouldn’t fit in a SUV.”

  “Or a hearse? A funeral director?”

  “The likely answer, yes, but two wicker coffins are a far cry from two ornate and highly polished vessels you’d expect them to use. And why store them at the castle? It makes no sense.”

  “Are you going to tell the Gardai.”

  “I can’t, can I? Not without them knowing I’ve since been inside.”

  “True. No, you can’t. Forgot about that bit.” Julie said quietly, once again contemplating the situation. “You really think there’s something sinister going on, don’t you? That they fled in the night out of desperation, desperate enough to leave their child behind, and that the coffins are somehow linked?”

  “The more I find out, yes, I do.”

  Julie stood to refill their glasses. “What do you want to do about it?”

  “Find out what’s happened, obviously.”

  “Then we’ll have to be discreet about it. And not upset the men, we are supposed to be on holiday after all.”

  Chrissy couldn’t help but smile at her sister’s change of mind. Maybe it had been for Richard’s sake, a show of ‘count me out’. They’d been a good team chasing around France for a missing woman and now here they were about to get involved all over again, but in rural Ireland. Julie had her uses. It turned out Julie’s pretty little nose was as sensitive as her own when it came to be digging something up. A truffle pig came to mind, though the image wasn’t nearly as endearing as the sentiment she intended.

  “Right then. I’ve got to submit my fingerprints tomorrow, so I’ll have a chance, I hope, to glean what the Gardai know up to now. Let’s hope I get to see Sergeant Staines or the other one, Harris. It can’t be that big a station. I bet they still use a kettle rather than a vending machine.”

  “What time are you going?”

  Chrissy didn’t want Julie to tag along on that particular journey. She may have some explaining to do, in private.

  “Early, so I can get back. You’ll still be drinking your tea by the time I return. I won’t be long.” Thankfully Julie didn’t read too much into it and accepted it would be a waste of time to accompany her. A knock on the kitchen door was followed by it opening a little. Richard’s head peered around.

  “Sorry to interrupt, and not wanting to sound like whiny children, but Adam and I are hungry. Have you decided where we’re going for dinner?”

  They must have thought that was the topic of conversation – far from it. Since sustenance hadn’t been mentioned during their chat, Chrissy made the decision for them all. And she wasn’t in the mood for a tablecloth dining experience. Not tonight.

  “We have,” she announced, standing. She caught Julie’s eye who was also quite clearly waiting for the news.

  “Back to the pub for another round of Guinness pie and song,” she said, waving her arms around theatrically. She glanced down at Richard’s leg. “We’ll drive up though, this time.”

  “Right you are,” he said before turning to hobble back. If nothing else, it would give Chrissy a chance to talk to the barman about Ciara getting her mobile number from the booking register. Plus she was ravenous herself.

  Chapter 31

  Even though it was a Tuesday evening, Gus O’Connor’s pub was almost fit to burst by the time Chrissy parked up outside. Having decided to drop Richard and the others at the door, she’d driven on to park further down the lane and walked back. Once she made it inside and to the bar, through already rather merry customers, Adam had her glass of wine ready and a table secured, though they wouldn’t be seated for another twenty minutes. Not bad given they didn’t have a reservation. Chrissy took a large mouthful of a full-bodied red and winced slightly as it forced its way through the narrow entrance at the top of her throat. It felt like she was being stretched for a moment, before it returned to its normal width and the warmth cascaded downwards. Adam caught the wince and noted the half empty glass in her hand.

  “Steady on. You downed that like a seasoned drinker in desperate need. Everything all right?” he asked. “Do I need to get you a refill already?”

  “Perfectly fine,” she said, beaming up at him, taking a deep breath and releasing it. “And no, not just yet, I’m driving back, remember?” The two moved further along so customers behind them could get to the bar. Adam struck up a conversation with Richard on his other side. Chrissy, spotting the same barman that had served Julie and herself late on Saturday afternoon, watched him work for a moment or two. There were three staff attending behind the bar, and it looked like the territory of the one she wanted was at the opposite end to where she was currently standing. Had he been the one to give her mobile number out to Ciara, or had the woman helped herself somehow? Thinking as she watched, she came up with two possible ways to find out: by asking him directly or indirectly. The problem was, if she went the direct route, he could well be angry at her accusation. Go the indirect route and either she could land herself with some explaining to do, or he might not take the hint if she was too subtle. A hand appeared waving in front of her eyes like a fan, and it had beautiful nails attached to it.

  “Chrissy, you’re staring,” Julie said, trying to break her sister’s gaze.

  Refocusing on her immediate vicinity, she replied, “Sorry, I was deep in thought.”

  “I can see that.” Julie leaned in closer. “So, what are you going to do now? How are you going to find out? I gather that’s why you suggested we come back here for dinner?”

  Chrissy glanced at Adam and Richard, who were now deep in conversation nearby, before deciding on which approach to go for. Without answering the question, she handed Julie the remains of her wine and said, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  Chrissy made her way over to the curly haired man and struck up a conversation while he poured her a sparkling water. A slice of lemon floated on top like a tiny yellow raft on a bubbling sea.

  “It’s busy again tonight,” Chrissy said. “Is every night like this?”

  “It is, mostly. The live music brings the tourists in, they seem to enjoy joining in.”

  “I didn’t think we’d get a table when we walked in.”

  “We can usually squeeze you in somewhere, even if you end up sharing.”

  “That’s exactly what happened to us on Saturday night actually.” Chrissy couldn’t believe the direction the conversation was moving in, right along to their table guests. “We shared ours with a lovely couple, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.” Chrissy waited a beat before carrying on, searching his face for any kind of recognition, a twitch of a facial muscle perhaps, anything that could guide her in how to put what she about to ask. “In fact, Ciara left something behind, and I wondered if perhaps you may have taken her number that night. Perhaps she booked for dinner? Maybe someone could get hold of her, let her know?” A slight tilt of his head then his eyes locked with hers for a moment longer than necessary. She ploughed on: “I don’t suppose you could pass it along to me, could you?” she said, grinning. He looked sceptical. Chrissy filled the gap: “It’s just that I’m sure she’d like her bracelet back. I found it out on the lane the following day and I noticed she’d been wearing one just like it.” She hoped her best innocent smile would do the trick and kept her mouth shut while he weighed her request up. Chrissy could almost see the wheels turning in his head. Had she said enough?

  Finally, he said, “I’ll check the bookings and see if we have it. Do you know her surname?”

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sp; “Sorry, no, but it was around 7.30 pm and he was called Lorcan, I think.” She made a big deal of looking unsure as she lied through her teeth. In her PI role, exaggerating the truth or full-on lying didn’t faze her. In her non-working role, she just didn’t do it. He looked up and down the bar area, and Chrissy followed suit. There were only a couple of customers actually waiting, and there were two others serving. He could get away. In anticipation of his thoughts, she said, “Thanks, it might be sentimental to her,” and watched him move to a separate screen a few feet further down. Fingers tapped as he presumably looked for Saturday’s bookings and searched through the list. He scribbled something down on a nearby piece of paper and returned to her. Was he going to hand it over?

  “I have a number that could be it, so I’ll drop her a text and let her know. Hopefully she’ll reply. Will that work for you?”

  Chrissy wanted to say no, that she’d be the best one to contact her. It seemed there was no way he was going to hand it over anytime soon. Maybe he hadn’t given Ciara her own number that night after all. “Great, thanks. I’ll give you my number so she can let me know and I can get it to her.” By the man’s eyes flicking up and down the bar, he was conscious of gathering customers waiting to be served. He needed to move on. He nodded quickly and Chrissy recited her own number. When both were on the piece of paper, she watched as he placed it back on the counter near the booking terminal and resumed his work further up the bar serving thirsty customers. She had to get the contents of that note. Thinking quickly, she took her phone out of her back pocket, found the camera app and was ready to click as she deftly took the piece of paper. Watching him as he served, she snapped the photo then slipped the note back in place before heading straight to the ladies to see what he’d written. Once behind the closed door, she took a look. Her own telephone number was written on the bottom half, but the other number, above her own, made no sense. There surely was no such mobile telephone number as 07123 45678.