Twisted River

by Siobhan MacDonald

  “I’m not looking,” replied Izzy seriously. Kate was not looking either. She was not going to let herself think about what had happened here.

  “Here, let me take that,” said Spike, taking her suitcase as Mannix turned the key in the front door. Exhausted, and happy to let him help, she glanced down at the welcome mat on the small step outside. They had been so full of excitement and joy leaving this house less than a week ago. How the world had changed in such a short space of time.

  • • •

  “So where is Joanne Collins?” Kate demanded after the detectives went outside. “Where the hell is this woman?”

  The kids were unpacking. Out of earshot.

  “I don’t know, Kate,” Mannix said. “Really, I don’t. Don’t you think I’d say if I knew? There haven’t been any more texts.” He looked at her with his newfound hangdog expression. “You heard Detective O’Rourke. She’s cleared her flat in Pery Square. They don’t know yet. Give them a chance. I’m sure they’ll find her.”

  “Mannix is right, Kate,” added Spike. “They’ll find her. Don’t worry.”

  Kate walked to the window and looked out over the falls. She looked at the water coursing over the rocks and boulders. She loved this view. But there was no way she could ever feel safe here until Joanne Collins was caught. The woman had cleared her flat and had vanished. No sign of her. No sign of her child. She wasn’t answering her mobile phone and it wasn’t even registering on any mobile location registers. But she was out there somewhere.

  “It shouldn’t be too long, Kate,” said Spike, joining her at the window. Mannix was propped up against the breakfast counter staring into space. “I was talking to one of the lads earlier,” Spike continued. “You’ll be confined to the house for a day or two, just until they find her. And then you can go back to normal.”

  “Back to normal.” Kate looked at him.

  “No . . . no . . . not back to normal . . . obviously . . .” Spike stumbled. “But you know what I mean . . .” he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

  Was Spike trying to act as peacemaker here? Be the honest broker? She’d never figured him as that. Kate was grateful for the support, but if he wanted to offer practical support, there was one thing he could do for her. It had come to her in the car on the way from Shannon. It was the obvious solution. Better to tackle this sooner rather than later. A long drawn-out parting would be worse. For Fergus especially. Better to do it now. One clean cut.

  “You really want to help?” she asked Spike.

  Mannix listened as well.

  “Sure.” Spike nodded.

  “Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen . . .”

  Kate outlined how Mannix was going to leave. She would not have him in the house. He was going to Spike’s. As far as Izzy and Fergus were concerned, their dad was going to help Spike with yet another electrical problem in his flat. They’d tell them that it shouldn’t take long to fix and that if they wanted to, they could call around to the flat. But it would probably be better to wait until the mentally ill lady was found.

  “Kate, please . . .” said Mannix, coming toward her now. “Please don’t do this.”

  “But, Kate, are you sure?” said Spike evenly. “Are you sure you want to be the only adult in the house—now?”

  “I won’t be the only adult here, Spike.”

  Both Mannix and Spike raised their eyebrows.

  “No?” said Spike.

  “My mother is coming to stay, just as soon as I ring her.”

  Mannix sat on the arm of the sofa.

  “Don’t do this, Kate.”

  There were tears in his eyes. And for one split second, she felt herself waver. She saw his hurt. And confusion. Like he really didn’t understand what he had done. It would be so easy to give in now. To cave in again. She wasn’t used to seeing Mannix like this.

  “Please don’t do this to us.”

  A flare of anger suddenly welled up deep inside her. Her sympathy evaporated instantly. How could he think any of this was her doing? Spike interrupted before she could vent that anger.

  “Manny, leave it for now. Maybe it’s for the best, bro. Just for a couple of days. Come on, buddy. Throw a few things in a bag. Kate needs a bit of time to herself.”

  A short half hour later, they were gone. There was a lump in her throat and her heart felt like it had been ripped in two by a jackhammer. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life.

  • • •

  “Granny’s here!” said Fergus, looking out the window. He was still waiting hopefully for the Armed Response Unit to arrive. Two gardaí flanked the pillars to the driveway and the plainclothes detective sat in the car outside. Again, Fergus had surprised her. She’d thought he’d be more upset at his father’s leaving, but Mannix’s explanation had sat quite well with him. Of course his dad had to help out his uncle Spike.

  Izzy knew that something more was afoot, but Kate would tackle that later. Much later. Dealing with Izzy was going to be a whole other project and she still hadn’t decided how she was going discipline her daughter over Frankie Flynn. One step at a time, she told herself. Just one step at a time.

  Over the course of the next three days, the outside world became suspended. “How much longer are we going to have to stay in the house?” asked Izzy. She had enjoyed baking scones and making cupcakes with her granny but Kate could see she was feeling cooped up and anxious to see her friend Fiona. Kate’s patience too was wearing thin. But there was still no news of Joanne Collins. She had simply disappeared.

  Alice Kennedy did her best to distract them all, and indeed, for the first few days it had the desired effect. She baked. She played cards with Izzy and Fergus, and Fergus in particular discovered that he was good at them. He remembered cards that were played. He remembered the shapes and numbers. More often than not it was her mother who would call a halt to the games, needing respite enough to boil the kettle for her endless cups of tea.

  Her mother had listened quietly as Kate explained how the tragedy had come about. She listened and she never once made any judgment. There was no suggestion of gloating or “I told you so.” Nothing but a heartfelt concern for Kate and the children.

  When Kate asked about the Harveys and their welfare, Detective O’Rourke told her that the Harvey children had left for New York with their aunt. Oscar Harvey was still in the Strand Hotel, hoping for news of an arrest. They didn’t know how long he would stay.

  Kate was conflicted. She should really contact Oscar Harvey to extend her sympathy. Yet when she suggested this to Detective O’Rourke, she got the impression that it might not be advisable. The shock was beginning to wear off and he was now pretty confused and very angry. Perhaps it might be better to wait until Joanne Collins was apprehended. If she was apprehended.

  Kate felt permanently on edge. It had been days and yet there was no progress. Not a sniff of anything. The kids were due back at school in a couple of days and Kate sensed that even though they were distracted by their granny and the comings and goings of the gardaí, they both needed some sense of normality. As did Kate. Her mother had just about washed every item of linen in the house. She’d be taking down the curtains next. As it was, she was out there now, pegging sheets on the line outside as she chatted to the young garda who’d just come on duty. She’d struck up quite a rapport with the gardaí, bringing them regular cups of tea with a side plate of scones and butter.

  “Any chance of a cream cracker?” asked Detective O’Rourke, who’d come in from the car to pay her a courtesy call.

  Kate looked at the kitchen clock. “It’s nearly lunchtime. I was going to have an omelet. Will you join me?”

  His eyes lit up.

  “I don’t want to put you to any trouble, Mrs. O’Brien, but if you’re having one yourself . . .”

  They both sat on either side of the breakfast counter to
eat.

  “Wants to be a detective, then?” said the detective, his mouth full. “Your young lad, Fergus. That’s what he tells me anyway. He wants to be a detective when he grows up.”

  “Really?” Kate smiled. She’d noticed Fergus’s fascination with the armed detectives. He accompanied her mother anytime she brought them tea. But it was the first time he’d ever voiced what he wanted to be when he grew up.

  “It’s a tough life and I’m sure you see lots of stuff,” said Kate.

  The detective looked up from the plate but didn’t respond.

  “Where is she, Detective?” asked Kate then. “Where on earth is she? It isn’t as if it’s a huge country. We live on an island, for God’s sake—she’s got to be out there, somewhere . . .”

  Detective O’Rourke looked up again from his lunch. He shrugged. “She’s giving us the runaround, all right, Mrs. O’Brien. We’re pursuing a number of lines of investigation.”

  Kate wished he wouldn’t call her Mrs. O’Brien. It made her feel ancient.

  “And she never came to your attention before? Never before the courts on any charges?”

  Detective O’Rourke looked thoughtful as he chewed his last mouthful. Slowly and deliberately, he put his knife and fork together in the center of the plate. And then adjusted them slightly so that there was an equal semicircle on either side of the cutlery. He looked at her, expressionless.

  “I really couldn’t say, Mrs. O’Brien. I really couldn’t say.”

  Couldn’t say or wouldn’t say?

  “But you must have something to go on! She can’t have disappeared into thin air. You mean there’s been absolutely nothing since Halloween? No one has spoken to her, been in contact with her, nothing at all?!”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that exactly,” he said, taking a sip of water. “Very tasty, by the way.”

  “You wouldn’t say what exactly?”

  “Mr. O’Brien didn’t tell you?”

  “As you are aware, Detective, Mr. O’Brien has moved out of the house for a few days.”

  “Oh, yes, well . . . sorry, yes, of course . . .” The detective flushed slightly. The gardaí and Special Branch were by now aware of the personal circumstances behind the tragedy.

  “Tell me what?” Kate continued.

  “Well, there has been one sighting of Joanne Collins . . .”

  “What?” Kate was stunned.

  Why did nobody think to tell her?

  “Yes,” said the detective, looking directly at her now. “In Shannon Airport. She was caught on CCTV the morning your flight arrived into Shannon. We got your husband to verify the sighting. And it seems that it was her, all right. Filmed near arrivals. We weren’t sure at first because a lot of her face was hidden from view.”

  “Hidden from view?” Kate repeated.

  “Yes. In most of the clips we saw, she was carrying quite a large bouquet of flowers . . .”

  • • •

  Detective O’Rourke had left. Gone back outside to his car. Kate still felt nauseated. She stood up from the table, afraid that her stomach would not hold down the egg that she’d just eaten. But her legs shook too much to hold her. She slumped back down on the chair. This latest news had left her reeling. So her instincts had been right. She had been right about the woman in the washroom.

  A cold chill descended on Kate. So this is what it feels like to be stalked. What had the woman intended to do? Had Izzy’s arrival in the washroom disturbed her? And where was she now? Did the gardaí know more than they were letting on? All of a sudden Kate felt like she was a sitting duck, sitting here like bait, waiting for a sick and twisted killer to show up.

  And yet what could Kate do? All she could do was wait. Kate was not in control. She desperately needed to feel in control of something. She wanted routine. She wanted her old life back. She needed to think about something that made her happy. She needed to immerse herself in something she enjoyed, or else she felt she might go crazy.

  “Mum?” Her mother was in the garden, checking the washing. “I’m just going to go up to the study for a while. There are some of my students’ portfolios I’ve been meaning to look at for ages. Is that okay with you?”

  “Of course, pet. You go ahead. The children want me to show them how I make my breakfast muffins.”

  “Thanks, Mum. Oh, and remember, no raisins. Fergus doesn’t like them.”

  “I remember,” mumbled her mother, a peg in her mouth.

  Even though the study was a bright room with its large window, Kate put on the angled silver lamp over the study desk. The November light was fading fast. She looked at the sheaf of portfolio folders that had lain there for weeks. Some of the work and the proposals were mediocre, but Kate did have some very talented students. Students whose work excited her. She’d made a mental note to personally put in a good word for one or two of them with an advertising agency she knew in Dublin. She was sure she’d be able to secure at least three decent internships.

  For the next two hours, Kate went through the proposals, and looked at completed multimedia projects on the student Web site. Some of the animation clips even made her laugh. The animation companies she’d dealt with in the past would love this stuff. She could certainly forge much stronger links between the department and her old college friends who now worked in graphic design companies both in Dublin and in London. She sat back in the chair and stretched her arms. That was all very well, she thought, but these things were time consuming. She was limited in what she could do.

  It was fully dark now and she could see lights over the river at the Hunt Museum and the white trellis bridge all lit up. A warm cinnamon smell of baking wafted up the stairs along with the pleasant sounds of chatter. Kate got up to stretch her legs. As she looked over at the lights of King John’s Castle, the outline of an idea came to her and she began to think.

  That night after the children had gone to bed, she put her newly hatched plan to her mother. Again, Alice Kennedy was only too delighted to help. In fact, she seemed more than delighted.

  “Of course you should do this, Kate,” she said. “You’re a capable woman. You’ve always shortchanged yourself.”

  “Well, it all depends, Mum. I could try calling him this evening. But it may be too late. It just depends on what he says . . .”

  That night, alone in the double bed, Kate tried to think positively about the future. She did her best to block out all the disturbing images of Mannix, naked, making love to that woman, that killer. As on previous nights, Kate slept until four and woke with her heart racing, climbed out of bed, and peeked through the curtains to make sure the gardaí were still outside.

  She was in the kitchen the following morning when the doorbell went. Her mother was reheating the breakfast muffins and they smelled good. Next, she heard her mobile ringing. Kate’s heart skipped a beat. Izzy was answering the door. The sound of the door shutting again. No talking. Two sets of footsteps coming up the stairs. Izzy’s and someone else’s . . .

  It was Detective James O’Rourke. This time she knew by his face.

  “We have some news, Mrs. O’Brien . . .”

  “Yes?” Kate’s heart was in her mouth.

  “Look, I know I shouldn’t really be telling you this.” He paused. “But a woman and young child fitting the descriptions of Joanne and Grace Collins were just detained a couple of hours ago trying to board a ferry in Larne, up north.”

  “Oh, thank God! Thank God!”

  Kate slumped against the pillar at the breakfast counter. She was beginning to wonder how much longer she could carry on. Kate suddenly felt as if she had been cut free of a giant boulder that was threatening to pull her under. They had her! They had had Joanne Collins, at last! They were safe!

  Detective O’Rourke was smiling as he patted Izzy on the shoulder.

  “Yeah, our colleagues in the PSNI tipped us
off. A few lads from Pearse Street in Dublin are already on their way across the border. I’m leaving shortly myself to meet them on their return to Dublin and I’ll be escorting them down here to Henry Street to make the formal arrest.”

  “Did something happen?” A bleary-eyed Fergus appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was in pajamas and not yet wearing his glasses.

  “Yes, Soldier! The police in Northern Ireland have caught the very sick lady. So we can all relax again. We’re safe.”

  Kate’s mother hugged her tightly.

  “Does that mean you’re all going away now?” Fergus asked Detective O’Rourke. He sounded disappointed.

  “Well, son, I need to be on my way, but the gardaí outside will swing by throughout the day until a formal arrest is made.”

  Fergus nodded.

  “Does Oscar Harvey know?” asked Kate quietly, over her first rush of elation and relief.

  “Yes, Mrs. O’Brien. I’ve just come from the Strand Hotel.”

  The detective looked about the kitchen, his eyes coming to rest on the tray of muffins that just came out of the oven. “Great smell,” he said.

  “Here, I’ll wrap a few for your journey,” Alice Kennedy offered.

  Five minutes later Detective O’Rourke was gone.

  It was a happy breakfast. Relief came over Kate in huge waves. As each wave washed over her, she felt herself relax a little more. Her shoulders felt less hunched. The knot in her stomach had slackened and the tight feeling across her chest was easing off.

  “So the gardaí are gone now,” said Ferg. He sounded disappointed.

  “That’s right, Ferg,” said Kate.

  “And Dad? When is he coming back from Uncle Spike’s?”

  All eyes turned to Kate.

  “We’ll see, Fergus. I’ll have to talk to Dad today. I don’t know how things are going in the flat. We’ll just see.”

  Kate was clearing up after breakfast, alone in the kitchen, when her mobile rang again. It was Mannix.

  “Hi, Kate, it’s me. You’ve heard the news?”