by Zara Keane
“Go back to bed, mate. Nothing to worry about.” The tremor in Jonas’s voice belied his reassurances.
The little boy ignored his father and took a step toward Olivia. She put an arm around him and hugged him close. “You’d better open up, Jonas. They won’t go away.”
As his hand reached for the latch, Olivia’s heart rate accelerated.
Detective Inspector Connelly loomed in the doorframe, a coldly satisfied look on his craggy face. Seán Mackey stood beside him, his expression closed.
Connelly broke the silence. “Jonas O’Mahony, I’m arresting you on the suspicion of murdering Aidan Gant on the twenty-first of June this year. You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but whatever you say will be taken down in writing and may be given in evidence. Do you understand?”
Jonas swayed, then steadied himself. “I’ve used the official arrest caution of An Garda Síochána so many times in my books that I can repeat it in my sleep.”
“Excellent. Then you know you’ll need to accompany us to the station.”
“Olivia.” Jonas’s voice was deceptively calm. “Can you look after Luca? And maybe call my parents?”
The boy whimpered and huddled against her. “Of course,” she said. “Whatever you need me to do.”
She longed to slap the self-congratulatory smirk off Connelly’s face. “I told you we’d get you in the end, O’Mahony,” he crowed.
“Whatever it is you think you’ve got on me won’t hold up in court,” Jonas ground out. “I didn’t kill Aidan Gant.”
“You’ve been cautioned, remember? Surely you’ve written enough detective novels to know your best bet is to keep your trap shut until your lawyer arrives.”
Jonas opened his mouth but shut it again when Olivia shot him a warning look. Connelly was right. He needed to keep his cool and do things by the book. “I’ll call Karen McCormack.” She shot a glare at Connelly. “You’re making a mistake, Detective Inspector.”
“We’ll see,” Connelly’s beady eyes hardened. “It’ll be interesting to see what the interview turns up about you.”
Jonas gave Luca a quick kiss on the cheek, then met Olivia’s haunted gaze. Before she could speak, his mouth claimed hers in a passionate kiss.
“Come on, now,” snapped Detective Inspector Connelly. “We need to get going. We’ll have to handcuff you, O’Mahony.”
“Is that necessary?” Seán protested. “I doubt he’s a flight risk.”
Connelly glared at his subordinate. “It’s standard procedure when arresting someone suspected of murder, Sergeant Mackey. We can’t bend the rules just because he’s a local boy.”
Jonas held out his wrists. “It’s fine, Mackey. Do what you have to do.”
The snap of metal set Olivia’s teeth on edge. Cuffs in place, Seán led Jonas down the garden path to a waiting police car. Before he got into the vehicle, Jonas turned to look at her and Luca one last time. “I love you,” he called as Connelly stepped forward and shoved him into the backseat. “Both of you.”
“We love you, too,” she whispered as the car door slammed and they sped off into the distance.
***
The next few hours passed in a sleepless nightmare. Jonas’s parents were out at a dinner party and didn’t answer their phone until well past midnight. Given the lateness of the hour, it was decided that Olivia would spend the night with Luca, and his grandparents would collect him after breakfast.
The two of them lay in Jonas’s double bed. The sheets held a hint of his spicy scent. Luca tossed and turned but mostly lay awake shaking in terror. Olivia tried everything she could think of to distract him from telling stories to singing songs. It was past dawn when he finally fell asleep. Waking him for breakfast seemed cruel, but his grandfather was due any minute.
She prepared the food in a daze. This was all her fault. If Jonas hadn’t gotten mixed up with her, he’d be safe at home spending the morning with his son.
Luca was sitting on a kitchen chair, his expression curiously blank. After getting acquainted with him over the past few months, Olivia knew this meant he was overloaded with emotions and was having difficulty processing them. She stroked his soft curls. Patience was key. “I made your favorite. French toast with maple syrup.”
He made no response, but she dished out a generous portion for him anyway.
After going through the motions of pushing food around their plates, Olivia helped Luca pack a small bag of clothes, books, and toys. She looked around for his dog-eared dinosaur encyclopedia and eventually located it over the fireplace under Jonas’s wallet. He must have forgotten it in the drama of last night.
The piercing ring of the doorbell made her jump. It would be either Liam O’Mahony come to collect his grandson, or Seán Mackey looking for Jonas’s wallet. She grabbed the wallet from the mantelpiece just in case.
But the shape through the glass was too small to be either Liam or Seán. With a hesitant hand and a newfound hatred of doors and doorbells, Olivia undid the latch.
Luca sidled up to her and peered at the glamorous woman standing on the faded welcome mat. His grip on Olivia’s hand tightened. “Mummy?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
JONAS’S EX-GIRLFRIEND WAS FASHION MODEL STUNNING. By Ballybeg’s standards, Olivia was stylish. In comparison to Susanne, she was downright dowdy. Given Jonas’s off-hand response when she’d asked him what his ex looked like, she’d formed a mental image of a spray-tanned bottle blond with large breasts. The woman on the doorstep was rail-thin and elegant from the top of her raven chignon to the toes of her designer shoes.
“Hello, Luca.” Susanne’s gaze rested briefly on her son before she proffered an expertly manicured hand to Olivia. “You must be Jonas’s girlfriend.”
“Well, I…yes,” she stammered, uncomfortably aware of her short, unvarnished nails and despising herself for her vanity. Cooking and baking all day didn’t exactly lend themselves to maintaining the perfect manicure. “My name’s Olivia.”
Susanne’s handshake was firm and assured. “May I come in?”
“Jonas isn’t home. I don’t think…”
“I know he’s been arrested,” Susanne said calmly. “That’s why I’m here.”
Her accent was posh south Dublin, either the result of attending the “right” schools or artificially acquired in adulthood.
Olivia dithered, but only for a second. The woman was Luca’s mother, after all, and she wasn’t sure what sort of custodial rights she still had over the child. For the first time in her life, she wished Liam—or even Nuala—O’Mahony would show up and come to her rescue. Oh, the irony.
“Can I offer you a coffee?”
“No, thanks.” Susanne took a seat at the small kitchen table. “But I’d like a glass of water.”
By the time they were settled, Olivia had regained her composure. Luca was on edge but didn’t seem negatively disposed toward his mother. Indifferent was the more accurate description. Poor kid was stressed enough over his father’s arrest. He didn’t need more upheaval today. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you go read a book in your room? I’ll come get you in a few minutes, okay?”
He nodded and beat a hasty retreat. His mother didn’t warrant so much as a backward glance.
Olivia regarded the woman across from her. There was no point in beating about the bush. “I understood you had no contact with Jonas and Luca.”
“That’s correct.”
Susanne didn’t blink. She seemed as indifferent to her son as he was to her. If he were Olivia’s kid and she hadn’t seen him in ages, she wouldn’t be able take her eyes off him. But it was a moot point. If he were her kid, she’d never have abandoned him in the first place.
“How did you get to Ballybeg so quickly? It’s only nine o’clock. Even if you heard about the arrest on the morning news, you can’t have had enough time to drive down from Dublin.”
“Sergeant Mackey called my husband late last night.”
&
nbsp; Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, I haven’t slept and I’m confused. Why would Seán call your husband? Why are you even here?”
“Mackey was one of the investigating officers in a murder case my husband defended a couple of years back. I don’t know the particulars, but Barry thinks highly of him and is aware of my connection to Jonas.”
“Giving birth to Jonas’s child definitely counts as a connection.” The woman’s ice-queen act was pissing her off.
Susanne appeared to be impervious to sarcasm. “I’m here to see if I can help.”
“Help with Luca?”
That elicited a small smile. “No. As you’ve likely been informed, I’m not the maternal type. I do, however, care for my son’s welfare. Having a father in prison is hardly in his best interests.”
Despite exhaustion and stress, the dots were connecting. “Your husband is willing to have a look at the case against Jonas?”
“Yes. He’s a barrister specializing in criminal law. His name is Barry Brennan.” Another tepid smile. “You might have heard of him.”
Indeed. Barry Brennan had successfully defended a number of high-profile criminal cases over the past decade. “I thought you hated Jonas’s guts.”
“God, no.” The woman’s pale blue eyes widened in surprise. “Although I daresay he hates mine.”
“I don’t know about hate, but I get the impression you’re not on his list of favorite people.”
Susanne quirked a pencil-thin eyebrow. “Diplomatically put. My relationship with Jonas failed because we’re too different. The only reason we stayed together was my pregnancy, and I’m the first to admit that having Luca was a mistake.”
Olivia flinched. “Harsh words indeed.
The other woman sighed. “You despise me, don’t you? Look, not every woman is cut out to be a mother. Clearly, I fall under that category. I carried Luca for nine months and gave birth to him, yet I’ve never felt the remotest connection to him. How would it have been better for any of us if I’d stayed?”
Olivia made no response. What could she say to that? The emotional part of her recoiled from Susanne. The intellectually curious part wondered if the woman might also be on the autism spectrum. Her bluntness and apparent lack of emotion indicated something atypical. Or was she merely judging Susanne’s actions according to society’s view of a mother’s role? How many fathers who walked out on their families were dismissed as deadbeat dads but not accorded intrinsic evil?
A flicker of genuine emotion passed over Susanne’s face, the first Olivia had observed since her arrival. “I’m saying what many women think but are too afraid to say out loud. From day one, Jonas was a better parent than I was. I know he doubts himself, but it’s all nonsense.”
“Jonas is a wonderful father.”
“Absolutely. That’s why I’d never dream of taking Luca away from him. What can I offer the boy? More money? I don’t think that’s going to make up for having an emotionally distant parent, do you? No, he’s far better off staying with his father.”
For the briefest moment, Olivia pitied her. She was missing out on so much by not having her son in her life. “Did you not wonder if you had postnatal depression? That combined with the stress of Luca’s diagnosis might made bonding with the baby difficult.”
The woman’s gaze shifted toward the window. “Oh, I’ve been down the counseling route, but there’s no way to prettify it. I would like to keep in touch with my son, if Jonas permits it. And contribute financially. But that’s where it ends. I want to lead a different lifestyle than I’d have if I went back to Jonas and tried to make it work with him and Luca. Besides, assuming he ever loved me, that ship sailed long ago.” She eyed Olivia shrewdly. “I’m betting the only woman he has eyes for now is you.”
“How would you know that?”
Susanne’s lips curved into a sly smile. “The newspapers say so. For once, I think they’ve got it right.”
Olivia’s cheeks grew warm. “I care for Jonas and Luca.”
“Then let me help you fight the system and get Jonas home.”
She exhaled. “All right. What do you need from me?”
“At the moment, your phone number. Beyond that, I’m not sure, exactly. That’s Barry’s department. He’s going to do some digging this morning, and I’m sure he’ll be in touch with questions.”
“Whatever I can do to get the charges dropped, I’ll do it gladly.” Olivia scribbled her mobile number on a Post-it note and gave it to Susanne.
“Excellent.” Susanne stood and extended her hand. Olivia shook it hesitantly. While she admired the woman’s candidness, it was hard to look in the eye someone who’d rejected her own child. And yes, she’d say the same if Susanne were a man. But right now, Jonas needed a miracle. If Barry the Barrister could enact it, then so be it.
***
Jonas was lying on the narrow cot in his cell, staring at the cracked paint on the ceiling and plotting his next mystery. Not, perhaps, the most sensible occupation for a man accused of murder, but “sensible” was hardly his middle name. Besides, making Detective Inspector Connelly the victim of a gruesome crime was affording him no end of pleasure.
The interrogation had been brutal. Given Connelly’s volatility and obvious frustration with the responses he received, Jonas was inclined to believe that the arrest was a desperate attempt to trick him into incriminating himself and providing the homicide detectives with sufficient material to bring formal charges. Thankfully, even Connelly had to eat on occasion, leaving Jonas to enjoy a brief respite before the grilling continued.
The door creaked open to reveal a harassed-looking Sergeant Mackey. “Your mum’s here. You’ll have to make the visit quick, mind. I’m only supposed to let you have one visitor apart from your lawyer, and Olivia is due soon.”
Jonas swung his legs over the side of the cot and heaved himself to his feet. The room rotated briefly, then his balance settled. “I’m relying on you to keep the visit brief, Mackey. Once my mother starts off on one of her harangues, only a divine intervention can stop her.”
A grin broke through the police sergeant’s serious expression. “I doubt I count as divine, but I’ll do my best.”
Mam was sitting in one of the interrogation rooms, looking tired and stressed. Her plump cheeks appeared sunken and drawn. Guilt gnawed at his gut. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have this stress, and she wouldn’t have the added responsibility of caring for Luca.
“Son.” Even her voice sounded tired.
He kissed her on the cheek and took the chair opposite. “How’s Luca?”
“Fine. Quiet. Your dad collected him from Olivia this morning.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For all this.”
“Sure there’s no need to apologize.”
“There is, though. Before you went on your cruise, I relied too much on you and Dad. While you were away, I realized I could cope on my own, even if having extra help eased the load.”
“And now?”
“And now I’m afraid I’ll lose the little guy altogether.” His voice broke as he spoke, raw emotion filtering through the cracks. “I couldn’t wait to foist him off on other people, then escape to my office and immerse myself in my writing. It was easier than dealing with the fear I felt every time I looked at Luca. The fear is still there, but I’ve learned to see past it and focus on the wonderful little boy I have rather than the hypothetical ‘normal’ child I don’t have.”
His mother squeezed his hand. “You’ll be home with him soon. The police will come to their senses.”
“I’m not so sure. Detective Inspector Connelly and his team are fools.”
“If the police screw up, the courts will set it right.”
“Would that I had your faith in the Irish justice system.”
“Would that you did. In more ways than one. A bit of prayer helps in times like these.” She extracted rosary beads from her purse and pressed them into his hands.
He shoved them a
way. “No offense, Mam, but they’re not my thing.”
“They were blessed at Knock,” she said, as if this would make all the difference. “Father Malachy sends his regards. I’ve asked him to pray for you.”
His mouth twisted in distaste. “Father Malachy can go f—”
“Jonas!”
“He’s a sanctimonious prig. Not to mention a hypocrite.” The priest was one of Jonas and Gavin’s former teachers. Although Ireland had banned corporal punishment in the classroom a few years before they’d begun primary school, Father Malachy hadn’t gotten that memo. Jonas had always despised the man, preferring the gentle if doddery parish priest, Father Fagin.
Nuala clutched her rosary beads. “Just know that we’re all praying for you.”
“Thanks, Mam. If my solicitor is correct, they don’t have enough evidence to make charges stick.”
“Of course they don’t,” Mam said in outraged indignation. “I reared you better than for you to go round killing people.”
If the situation weren’t desperate, he’d laugh out loud.
“Even if you were guilty,” she said incongruously, “I’m sure you’d have had a good reason.”
“For feck’s sake. I didn’t kill Aidan Gant. Surely you know me better than that.”
“Love can drive men to do things they’d never dream of otherwise.” Mam dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “Like cover up for others.”
“Olivia is not a murderer.”
“I won’t deny she’s been good to Luca, but she’s a bad influence on you.”
“You said the same years ago when she was friends with me and Bry.”
“So I did,” she said severely. “And look what happened to him.”
“Ah, Mam. Get over your hang-up about Olivia being responsible for Bry’s death. Losing a child is the worst thing that can happen to a parent, but blaming someone for a tragic accident isn’t fair. Besides, it’s the height of hypocrisy to come in here complaining about Olivia when you had no problem letting her babysit Luca overnight.”
“If it weren’t for her, you’d be at home with your son.”
