The Secret Place

by Tana French

  Holly shrugged. ‘I don’t remember. Before lunch. Noon?’

  I said, ‘Did you have morning classes? Or did you get sent back to your rooms?’

  ‘Classes. Well. Sort of. No one was paying any attention, even the teachers, but we still had to sit in the classrooms and act like we cared.’

  ‘So maybe you started hearing rumours around breakfast,’ I said. ‘At that stage it would’ve been just general stuff, police on the grounds; probably everyone thought it was about the groundskeeper who was dealing. Maybe a bit later, if someone saw the morgue van arriving and knew what it was, there might’ve been some talk about a dead person, but there’s no way yous could’ve known who it was. When was Chris ID’d?’

  ‘Half-eightish,’ Conway said. ‘McKenna thought he looked familiar, rang up Colm’s to see if they were missing anyone.’

  I balanced the evidence bag on one end, caught it when it fell. ‘So by noon, Chris’s immediate family would’ve been notified, but we wouldn’t have released his name to the media, not till the family got the chance to tell everyone who needed to know. You couldn’t have heard it on the radio. The assembly had to be the first time you heard what had happened, and who the victim was.’

  ‘Yeah. So?’

  ‘So how did you know this phone could get Selena in trouble, in time to go get it before the assembly?’

  Holly didn’t miss a beat. ‘We were all watching out the windows, every chance we got – the teachers kept telling us not to, but yeah, right. We saw uniforms and Technical Bureau guys, so I knew there’d been a crime, and then we saw Father Niall from Colm’s – he’s like eight feet tall and he looks like Voldemort and he wears the robe, so it’s not like you could get him mixed up for anyone else. So obviously something had to have happened to a Colm’s boy. And Chris was the only one who I knew had been wandering around the grounds at night. So I guessed it had to be him.’

  Little cock of her eyebrow to me, as she finished up. Like a middle finger.

  I said, ‘But you thought he and Selena had broken up. And you say you knew she hadn’t been out that night, so it’s not like you thought they’d got back together. What would Chris have been doing at Kilda’s?’

  ‘He could’ve got together with someone else. He wasn’t exactly the deep type who’d spend months pining away for his lost true love. Him and Selena had been broken up for at least ten minutes; I’d’ve been amazed if he hadn’t found someone else. And, like I said, he was the only one who I knew could get out of Colm’s. I wasn’t going to wait around till we found out for sure. I said I needed something from our room, I don’t even remember what, and I got the phone.’

  ‘What did you figure would happen when Selena noticed it was gone? Specially if it turned out you were wrong, and Chris wasn’t dead after all?’

  Holly shrugged. ‘I figured I’d deal with that if it happened.’

  ‘At that point, you were just focusing on protecting your mate.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  I said, ‘How far would you go to protect your mates?’

  Mackey moved. He said, ‘That’s gibberish. She can’t answer a question unless it means something.’

  Conway said, not invisible any more, ‘We’re interviewing her. Not you.’

  ‘You’re getting two for the price of one. You don’t like it, tough shit. No one’s under arrest; piss either of us off, and we’ll walk.’

  ‘Dad,’ Holly said. ‘I’m OK.’

  ‘I know you are. That’s why we’re still here. Detective Moran, if you’ve got a specific question in there, ask it. If all you’ve got is the tag line for some teenybopper summer film, let’s move on.’

  I said, ‘Specifically, Holly: Selena didn’t tell the rest of yous that she was seeing Chris. Why do you think that was?’

  Holly said coolly, ‘Because we didn’t like him. I mean, Becca would’ve probably been fine with it – she thought Chris was OK; like I said, she’s innocent. But Julia and I would’ve been like, “Are you serious? He’s an enormous tool, he thinks he’s this big playa, he’s probably three-timing you, what is wrong with you?” Selena doesn’t like arguments – specially not with Julia, because Julia never ever backs down. I can totally see where Lenie would’ve been like, “Oh, I’ll tell them in a while, when I’m sure it’s going somewhere, meanwhile I’ll just try and get them to see he might not be a total prick after all, it’ll all turn out fine in the end . . .” She’d still be doing that now, if they hadn’t broken up. And if he hadn’t died, obviously.’

  Something off there, just a notch. I wasn’t one of Selena’s best mates, what did I know, but all the same: the flinch, when she remembered leaving her best mates behind, sleeping and lied-to. That had hurt. She didn’t seem like the type to do it for half a reason. Weather the argument and wait, gazing peacefully, let Julia storm herself out and Holly roll her eyes. Not squirm away, slice the others out of that crucial piece of her, just because they didn’t fancy hers much.

  Why lie about that?

  I said, ‘So you figure she didn’t tell you because she knew you’d want to protect her.’

  ‘If that’s how you want to say it. Whatever.’

  Mackey, still pinching that clay about, still lounging, but watching me now, eyes hooded. I said, ‘But she was wrong. When you actually found out, you didn’t feel any need to protect her after all, no?’

  Holly shrugged. ‘From what? They were over. Happy ending.’

  ‘Happy ending,’ I said. ‘Only then Chris died. And you still didn’t tell Selena you knew. Why not? You had to figure she was devastated. You didn’t think she could use a bit of protecting then? A shoulder to cry on, maybe?’

  Holly threw herself back in the chair, fists clenching, so sudden I jumped. ‘OhmyGod, I didn’t know what she needed! I thought maybe she just wanted to be left alone, I thought if I said anything she’d be raging with me, I thought about it all the time and I couldn’t work out what to do for her. Because I’m crap or whatever you’re trying to say, yeah, you’re right. OK? Just leave me alone.’

  I saw the little kid I remembered, furious with bafflement, red-faced and table-kicking. Behind her, Mackey’s eyes closed for a second: she hadn’t come to him. Then opened again. Stayed on me.

  I said, ‘Your friendships: those mean a lot to you. Keeping them strong means a lot. Amn’t I right?’

  ‘Duh. So?’

  ‘So that little prick Chris was after wrecking them. The four of you weren’t acting like friends – Jesus, Holly, no you weren’t. Selena’s in love and doesn’t even tell the rest of you. You’re spying on her, but you don’t mention that to the other two. Selena gets dumped flat on her arse, her first love gets killed, and you don’t even give the poor girl a hug. Is that how you think friends act? Seriously?’

  Good cop, Conway had said. In the corner of my eye I could see her leaning back in her chair, fake-easy, ready.

  Holly snapped, ‘Me and my friends are none of your business. You don’t have a clue about us.’

  ‘I know they’re the most important things you’ve got. You burst your bollix getting your da and ma to let you board here, because of the three of them. You hung your whole life on your friends.’ My voice shoving at her, harder and harder. I couldn’t tell why: prove to Conway I wasn’t the Mackeys’ bitch, prove it to the Mackeys, get back at Holly for thinking she could waltz in with her postcard and fold me into origami, get back at her for being right— ‘And then Chris came on the scene, and the four of yous went to pieces. Split apart, went to crumbs, easy as that—’

  Holly was shooting sparks like an arc welder. ‘We did not. We’re fine.’

  ‘Someone wrecked me and my mates like that, I’d hate his guts. Anyone would, except a holy angel of God. You’re a good young one, but unless you’ve changed a load in the last few years, you’re no angel. Are you?’

  ‘I never said I was.’

  ‘So how much did you hate Chris?’

  Mackey said, ‘Aaand scene. Smoke brea
k.’

  Mackey never minded being obvious, so long as you couldn’t stop him. ‘Filthy habit,’ he said, sliding off the table and giving us a great big grin. ‘Need some more fresh air, young Stephen?’

  Conway said, ‘You just had a smoke.’

  Mackey’s eyebrow went up. He outranked the pair of us put together. ‘I want to talk to Detective Moran behind your back, Detective Conway. Was that not clear enough, no?’

  ‘I got that, yeah. You can do it in a minute.’

  Mackey rolled his clay into a ball, tossed it to Holly. ‘Here you go, chickadee. Play with that. Don’t be making anything that’ll shock the detective; she looks like the pure-minded type.’

  To me: ‘Coming?’ And he strolled out. Holly smashed the ball of clay flat on the table, viciously, with the heel of her hand.

  I looked at Conway. She looked back. I went.

  Mackey didn’t wait for me. I watched him take the stairs a flight ahead of me, all the way down those long curves, watched him cross the hall. That dimness, that angle, he looked sinister, someone I didn’t know and shouldn’t be following, not that fast.

  When I got to the door, he was leaning back against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He hadn’t bothered to light a smoke.

  He said, ‘I’m bored of playing games. You and Conway didn’t get me out here because of professional courtesy. You got me out here because you need an appropriate adult. Because Holly’s a suspect in the murder of Christopher Harper.’

  I said, ‘If you’d rather go back to HQ, get all this on video, we can do that.’

  ‘If I wanted to be somewhere else, we would be. What I want is for you to quit bullshitting me.’

  I said, ‘We think it’s possible that Holly was involved in some capacity.’

  Mackey squinted past me, at the treeline ringing that sweep of grass. He said, ‘I’m a little surprised I need to point this out to you, sunshine, but what the hell, let’s play. You’re describing someone who’s too thick to get her shoes on the right feet. Holly may be a lot of things, but she’s not stupid.’

  ‘I know she’s not.’

  ‘Yeah? Then let’s just make sure I’ve got the theory straight. According to you, Holly’s committed murder and got clean away with it. The Murder lads have done their little dance, got nowhere and buggered off. And now – a year later, when everyone’s given up and moved on – Holly brings you that card. She deliberately drags the Murder boys back in. Deliberately puts herself in the spotlight. Deliberately points them towards a witness who can lock her up.’ Mackey hadn’t moved from the wall, but he was looking at me now, all right. Those blue eyes, hot enough to brand you. ‘Talk to me, Detective. Tell me how that works, unless she’s the level of moron that would make the baby Jesus swear. Am I missing something here? Are you just fucking with my head to prove you’re a big boy now and I’m not the boss of you any more? Or are you honest to God standing there with a straight face and trying to tell me that makes one fucking iota of sense?’

  I said, ‘I don’t think for a second that Holly’s thick. I think she’s using us to do her dirty work.’

  ‘I’m all ears.’

  ‘She found that card and she needs to know who made it. She’s narrowed it down, the same way we did, but that’s where she’s stuck. So she pulls us in to stir things up a bit, see who pops to the surface.’

  Mackey pretended to think that over. ‘I like it. Not a lot, but I like it. She’s got no problem with the idea of us actually finding the witness and getting the goods, no? Landing in jail would just be a minor annoyance?’

  ‘She doesn’t think she’ll land in jail. That means she knows the card girl won’t rat her out. Either she knows it’s one of her own, and Joanne Heffernan’s bunch got mixed in along the way – by accident, or because Holly figured she might as well find out if they had any info while she was at it, since they were getting out at night as well, or because she just liked the idea of giving them a scare. Or else she’s got some hold over Heffernan’s lot.’

  Mackey’s eyebrow was up. ‘I said she’s not thick, kid. I didn’t say she was Professor fucking Moriarty.’

  I said, ‘Tell me that doesn’t sound like something you would do.’

  ‘I might well. I’m a pro. I’m not a naïve teenage kid whose entire experience of criminal behaviour is one unfortunate encounter seven years back. I’m flattered that you think I’ve raised some kind of evil genius, but you might want to save a little of that imagination for your online warcrafting time.’

  I said, ‘So is Holly a pro. So are all of them. If I’ve learned one thing today, it’s that teenage girls make Moriarty look like a babe in the woods.’

  Mackey gave me that with a tilt of his chin. Thought. ‘So,’ he said. ‘In this pretty little story, Holly knows the card girl won’t dob her in, but she’s still willing to take major risks to find out who it is. Why?’

  ‘If that was you,’ I said. ‘Starting to think about leaving school. Starting to realise that you and your friends are going to be heading out into the big wide world; this, what you’ve got now, it’s not going to last forever, you’re not always going to be bestest mates who’d die sooner than dob each other in. Would you want to leave a witness out there?’

  I expected a punch, maybe. Got a startled snort of laughter that even sounded real. ‘Jesus, kid! Now she’s a serial killer? You want to check her alibi on the OJ case, too?’

  I didn’t know how to say it, what I’d seen in Holly. Things turning solid, the world widening in front of her eyes. Dreams shifting to real, and the other way round, like a drawing sliding from charcoal to oil in front of your eyes. Words changing shape, meanings slipping.

  I said, ‘Not a serial killer. Just someone who didn’t realise what she was starting.’

  ‘She’s not the only one. You’ve already got a bit of a name for – how do they put it? – not being a team player. Personally, I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing, but not everyone agrees with me. You go another step down that road, and plenty of people won’t want to know you. And believe me, pal: arresting a cop’s kid does not count as being a team player. You do that, you can wave bye-bye to your shot at Murder or Undercover. For good.’

  He wasn’t bothering to be subtle about it. I said, ‘Only if I’m wrong.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Yeah. I do. We solve this, and I’m at the top of the queue for Murder. Everyone might hate my guts, but I’ll get my shot.’

  ‘At working there, maybe. For a little while. Not at being one of them.’

  Mackey watching me. He’s good, Mackey; he’s the finest. Finger straight on the bruise, pressing just hard enough.

  I said, ‘I’ll settle for working there. I’ve got enough buddies to last me.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well,’ Mackey said. He shot his cuff, checked his watch. ‘Better not keep Detective Conway waiting any longer. She’s not too happy about you coming out for private chats with me.’

  ‘She’s grand.’

  ‘Come here,’ Mackey said. Beckoned. Waited.

  In the end I moved in.

  He cupped a hand round the back of my neck. Gentle. Intent blue eyes, inches from mine. ‘If you’re right,’ he said – no threat there, not scaring me, just telling me – ‘I’m going to kill you.’

  He gave the back of my head a double pat. Smiled. Moved off, into the high-arched dark of the hall.

  That was when I realised: Mackey thought all of this was his fault. He thought he had put today in Holly’s blood. Mackey thought I was right.

  Chapter 22

  Monday morning, early, the bus grinding through traffic in stops and starts. Chris Harper has three weeks and less than four days left to live.

  Julia is at the back of the half-empty top deck, with her ankles bent around her holdall at uncomfortable angles and her science homework on her lap. She spent the weekend banging her head against what to do about Chris and Selena. Her
main instinct is to grab hold of Selena, probably literally, and ask her what the fuck she thinks she’s doing; but some other instinct, further back and twisting restlessly, tells her that the moment she says this out loud – to Selena, or to Holly or Becca – nothing will ever be the same again. She can smell the poison smoke as everything they’ve got roars into flame. So she ended up getting nowhere with that and nowhere with homework, and this week is starting off to be a total peach all round. Rain streaks down the bus windows, the driver has turned the heat up to a million and everything is covered in a clammy film of condensation.

  Julia is scribbling fast, something about photosynthesis, with one eye on her textbook and one on her barely-reworded page, when she feels someone standing in the aisle looking down at her. It’s Gemma Harding.

  Gemma lives like four houses from the bus stop, but Daddy always drops her to school on Monday morning, in his black Porsche that takes half an hour to turn in the narrow school drive. Everything factors into the pecking order: Porsche beats most cars, any car beats bus. If Gemma’s on OMG public transport, there’s a reason.

  Julia rolls her eyes. ‘Selena hasn’t been anywhere near Chris. ’Kthanksbye.’ She sticks her head back in her textbook.

  Gemma dumps her weekend bag on the next seat and slides in next to Julia. She’s wet, raindrops sparkling on her coat. ‘This bus stinks,’ she says, wrinkling her nose.

  It does: sweat-marinated raincoats, steaming. ‘So get off and call Daddy to come save you. Please.’

  Gemma ignores that. She says, ‘Did you know Joanne used to be going out with Chris?’

  Julia gives her the eyebrow. ‘Yeah. As if.’

  ‘She was. For like two months. Back before Christmas.’

  ‘If she’d managed to get Chris Harper, she’d have had it tattooed across her face.’

  ‘He didn’t want them to tell anyone. Which should’ve tipped Joanne off – like, hello? But Chris kept giving her loads about how he was scared because he’d never felt this way about anyone before, and his feelings were so strong—’

  Julia snorts.