The Game Changer

by Louise Phillips

  ‘Chloë!’ he roared, cupping his mouth with his hands. He took in the span of the island, and when he finally reached the large rock she had told him about, he stopped and, again, looked all around him. He could see the long stretch of stony beach, the rugged cliffs above, the wild grasses and the angry sky littered with birds, and all the while, his eyes filled with water from the sharp winds.

  The skies darkened even more, and an unexpected blast of hailstones thundered down. Instead of leaving the beach, he held onto the large boulder, as if it was the wheel of a boat caught in a storm. He yelled Chloë’s name once more, and no one, other than the birds, answered.

  Getting down on his hunkers, he saw the purple line markings on the large boulder, similar in shade to the purple used on Donal’s scrawled note.

  ‘Donal!’ he bellowed. ‘Where the hell are you?’ He pulled himself up, the wind causing him to lose balance. ‘Chloë! If you can hear me, I’m at the big rock. Donal! Chloë! It’s me, Addy!’

  When the sun came out from behind the clouds, the hailstones stopped as suddenly as they had begun. Even the sound of the birds lowered, as if the wind was taking a deep breath, allowing a second or two of calm. Addy couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw someone or something move behind him in the hedgerow. It might have been a rabbit or a hare, but something had moved.

  ‘Donal, is that you? I know you’re there. Stop playing games and show your face.’

  Despite his brave words, his fear increased. He was becoming increasingly anxious as to who was close by, and why they were not showing themselves. Then he saw another movement, and this time he knew he wasn’t mistaken, because the person wasn’t hiding now. They were standing right in front of him.

  Kate

  KATE CLOSED HER EYES IN PREPARATION. ADAM wanted her to read the statement, and if he did, there was a reason why. She didn’t want to enter that world again. In part, she wanted to put it all behind her, to pretend everything was okay, that things were normal, but wasn’t that what she had tried to do all her life? Running away, always coming back to the same thing?

  ‘Are you ready?’ he asked.

  She didn’t answer him, but took the statement out of his hands. ‘I’m going to read it in the study.’

  ‘Maybe it’s best if you stay here.’

  ‘No, it’ll be better if I read it alone.’

  ‘Remember, Kate, don’t fall into the trap of superimposing someone else’s memories on to yours.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she replied, even though she knew that was impossible to control.

  In the study, before reading the statement, she looked up at the mind maps on the wall one last time, thinking about Peter Kirwan’s disappearance, wondering what he had gone through.

  Her eyes dropped. The woman’s handwriting was neat, contained, with joined-up script that leaned to the right. All the letters were consistent and free-flowing, the visual appearance giving nothing away about the prospective horror of the content to come.

  Again her identity was hidden, and this time the statement had gaps, with large sections blacked out. Kate took a deep breath and began.

  The second time I was taken, it felt like a repeat nightmare that I would never wake up from. Like before, I must have lost consciousness for a while, and when the door to the Portakabin opened, it was pitch dark outside. I didn’t know what time it was. The two men came in, and the taller man locked my hands to the bed with handcuffs, while the other one put a rag in my mouth as a gag. It’s never going to stop, I thought. I’ll die this time, I’m sure of it.

  Kate was finding the process even more harrowing the second time around. But what about what the girl had gone through? All Kate had to endure was words. Opening her eyes, she continued reading. The next part was blacked out, so she skipped down the page.

  The men kept talking to each other, like it was okay to do things like that. I wanted to be anywhere other than there. I didn’t want my body any more. I wanted to give it to someone else, to not be part of it. The smaller man walked closer to the bed. He had a metal pole in his hand. He banged it off the wall a number of times, and the sound got louder and louder, before he placed it across my chest, and pressed down hard. The other man had a camera and he started taking photographs. The gag was moist in my mouth. I realised the man with the camera had a knife in his pocket. I’m going to die, I thought again. This time I’ll be left here. It’s the end, but of course it was not.

  The next page was blacked out in its entirety, except for sentences at the end.

  Afterwards I looked at the knife and the bar on the bed, and the taller man asked if I wanted to keep them as mementos. If I had the knife, I thought, I might be able to save myself next time, so I nodded. He leaned down to open the handcuffs and I imagined pulling the balaclava off, but I knew if I saw his face, I would never get away. It’s hard to live, knowing what happened to me but I’m a survivor.

  Kate wanted to throw up, but she leaned forward and tried to steady her breathing. She could hear Adam talking in the other room. He sounded animated. A moment later he was standing at the study door.

  ‘Kate, are you okay?’

  She looked at the statement, then up at the mind maps again, staring at her father’s name, wondering what part, if any, he had played in all this. When she finally spoke, it was as if someone else was talking. ‘Adam, I was thinking about what you said, about the girl being taken more than once.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘The abduction and the abuse, bringing her to the same place, all of it. Everything about it is organised, orchestrated and points in one direction.’

  ‘And what direction is that?’

  ‘A single abuse victim is unlikely, and they wouldn’t necessarily have been gender specific.’

  ‘You’re thinking Kevin Baxter?’

  ‘Yes. There could be others. Fear, shame or both may have played a role in them for not coming forward.’ The newspaper report on Peter Kirwan flashed before her eyes. ‘Adam?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m assuming you’ve looked at the Peter Kirwan case. It was a year earlier, but …’

  ‘I have, Kate, along with a great many others.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I met the family liaison officer a short while ago. He’s a good man, and twenty-eight years is a long time to know the family but not know what happened to their son.’

  ‘I went back to my old house today.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m not sure – I guess I wanted to be there again. I met a neighbour, Pat Grant. She had a key belonging to the new owners.’

  ‘I called to your old house too. It was a while back, near the start of the investigation. I decided to do some house-to-house when that first note arrived. I figured it couldn’t do any harm.’

  ‘And did you speak to them, the owners?’

  ‘I spoke to a woman, yes. She was the one who initially told me about the rumours. Apparently some of the old neighbours had shared them with her.’

  ‘And did you call to these neighbours?’

  ‘I did, and they backed up her statement or, rather, at least one of them did.’

  ‘Adam, I found something in the house.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A page from an old newspaper. It was from 1987. It was taped to the back of my mother’s dressing table. I’d been on a school trip to the Áras that year and managed to get my picture in the paper.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘It also had an article about Peter Kirwan. His name and the date of the newspaper were circled in red – the thirtieth of November 1987, two weeks after he’d gone missing.’

  ‘It could be a coincidence.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t believe in them.’

  ‘I don’t, Kate, and I promise you, I’ll run it by the guys in PIU. Anything to do with that old case, no matter how minor, is valuable.’

  ‘Adam, what if my father was responsible?’ she croaked. The room was spinning.


  ‘Kate, don’t go cracking up on me, not now. I need your help.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I got a phone call a few minutes ago from a man called John Sinclair. He’s reported his wife missing.’

  Addy

  THE BOY TILTED HIS HEAD TO THE SIDE, AS IF ADDY was the one who wasn’t supposed to be there rather than the other way around.

  Addy stared at him. Then he said, ‘Why were you hiding like that?’

  ‘I wasn’t.’

  Addy recognised the voice immediately as Donal’s.

  ‘Donal?’ he asked, to double-check.

  ‘Keep your voice down.’

  ‘You said you’d come back, but you didn’t.’ In that split second, Addy wanted to shake him. He took a step nearer, realising he was clenching his fists.

  ‘It was risky. They’re getting more careful – watching everything. They could be watching us now.’ He glanced around him.

  ‘They?’

  ‘The ones I told you about – the people who buried the bodies.’ Addy loosened his fists.

  ‘I hear you’re a member now.’

  Addy could tell the boy was nervous, so he softened his tone: ‘I had to pretend to be one to get out of there.’

  ‘Why were you calling Chloë?’

  ‘I want to find her.’

  ‘You think I’m going to help you, don’t you?’

  ‘Maybe that’s why you came out of hiding.’

  ‘I told you, I wasn’t hiding. I needed to stop you roaring, that’s all.’ He kicked the ground.

  ‘I’m not roaring now, and you’re still here.’

  ‘If you told them you were a member, you lied.’

  ‘I was pretending.’

  ‘Lying is wrong.’

  ‘You lied to me, Donal. You said you’d come back and you didn’t.’

  ‘I couldn’t. That was different.’

  ‘For all I know, you lied about everything – burials, secret meetings, something happening to Chloë.’

  ‘I can prove it to you about the burials.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I can bring you there.’

  ‘Why should I trust you?’

  ‘You don’t have a choice.’

  ‘Why don’t I?’

  ‘Because time is running out.’ He sounded breathless. ‘There’s a boat coming in a couple of days. I overheard the others talking about it. It might be the last one for months.’

  ‘I know about that.’ Addy was calmer. ‘You know where Chloë is, don’t you?’

  ‘I can’t be sure.’

  ‘Donal, don’t mess with me.’

  ‘She could be with Saka – in his rooms.’

  ‘You need to take me there.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You have to.’ Addy was close enough to grab him, and when he did, Donal arched his back as if to defend himself, his body rigid, then attempted to pull away. He was cowering.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you, Donal.’ Addy guessed this wasn’t the first time someone had taken hold of him in an aggressive way. Maybe Chloë wasn’t the only child at risk. He loosened his grip, hoping he hadn’t pushed things too far.

  ‘I’ll take you to Chloë, but first, I’ll bring you to the burial ground,’ Donal said.

  Kate

  KATE LISTENED AS ADAM EXPLAINED ABOUT JOHN Sinclair, and the report he had filed in relation to his wife. It was similar to the others. Sarah Sinclair had left a note to say she was going away for a while. Her husband had hoped she would make contact, but when he didn’t hear anything from her, he made a number of attempts to get her by phone, with no luck. He decided to let it go for a while. They had been arguing, and he thought she needed time to cool down. It had been their wedding anniversary a couple of days earlier, and even though they’d had their differences, he was sure she would be in touch. When she didn’t call, he made more attempts to contact her, but he couldn’t get through on her number. After that, he reported it to his local police station. The report went up on PULSE, and one of the other detectives in the unit had picked up on it. Sarah Sinclair, according to her husband, had withdrawn a large amount of money in cash before she left, similar to Amanda Doyle and Robert Cotter.

  ‘What do you think, Kate?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she answered, putting her head in her hands, trying to concentrate. She wanted the old Kate back, the one who would have responded in seconds, but the old Kate didn’t exist. Then she remembered her earlier notes. ‘I was looking at cult behaviours, to see if there was a link with the Mason and O’Neill cases, and the missing-person reports.’

  ‘Did you come up with anything?’

  ‘If there is cohesion between them, it could be related to a form of empowerment.’

  ‘I’m not getting you.’

  ‘I was thinking about Malcolm, and the possibility that he felt ostracised in some way, being kept on the fringes in the past, outside the core grouping. That if a cult exists, it could be a replacement for the group in the eighties, only this time with someone else in control – him. But I don’t know – it all sounds too crazy.’

  ‘You mean like a copycat type thing. Recreating another study group, with him in the lead?’

  ‘Maybe – it’s a possibility.’

  ‘Fisher has Malcolm on his radar too.’

  ‘Did Sarah’s husband say anything else in the report?’

  ‘Yes. Like the others, his wife mentioned some kind of enlightenment programme.’

  ‘So, it definitely ties in.’

  ‘I’ve arranged to see him in an hour. I want you to come with me.’

  ∞

  John Sinclair’s house was in Terenure village, no more than a ten-minute drive from the apartment. When they arrived, it was obvious that he was deeply upset. He led Kate and Adam into the front living room, and all she could think was that she was looking at a broken man.

  Adam was the first to speak. ‘I know this must be difficult for you, Mr Sinclair, but believe us when we say we have your and your wife’s best interests at heart.’

  ‘You can call me John – a simple name for a simple man.’

  ‘John it is, then.’ Adam introduced Kate, then picked up where he had left off. ‘You reported your wife missing a couple of days ago, when she didn’t make contact with you on your wedding anniversary.’

  ‘That’s correct. It’s an important day for both of us.’

  ‘I understand that.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ His voice was harsher than either Kate or Adam had expected. ‘It’s not only because we got married that day. It’s also the day our daughter died. Her name was Lily. She was only a few days old. Sarah found it difficult to accept. It was easier for her to pretend.’

  Kate sat forward. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘A few weeks back, she ordered this bloody baby doll from the States.’ He put his face into his hands. ‘I didn’t know what the hell to do when she started going on and on about the doll being Lily.’

  ‘You were angry?’ Kate could hear the high emotion in his words.

  ‘Yes, I was. I mean, I tried talking to her, but her head wasn’t in the right place for listening. She kept saying I was the enemy, trying to take Lily away from her all over again.’

  ‘What did she mean by “all over again”?’ Adam kept his voice non-threatening.

  ‘There were complications with the birth. It was my fault that I didn’t get them to the hospital on time.’

  ‘You shouldn’t blame yourself,’ Kate said, trying to ease things. ‘That’s easier said than done.’ He sounded tight, angry.

  No one said anything for a few moments, in an attempt to allow the tension to subside. Finally, Adam flipped the pages in his notebook. ‘I understand your wife withdrew a large amount of money.’

  ‘That’s right. She said she needed it because she wanted to go away for a while. It was her money. She could do what she wanted with it.’

  ‘Did she ever mention a Michael O’Neill or a Malcolm M
adden?’

  ‘Not that I remember.’

  ‘You said she was part of some kind of enlightenment programme.’ Adam looked at Kate.

  ‘Yeah, she had CDs she listened to.’

  ‘Do you still have them?’ Kate asked.

  ‘No, she took them with her, or else destroyed them.’

  ‘Do you think there was anything odd about them?’ Kate’s tone was soft, supportive.

  ‘I didn’t listen to the bloody things. But I knew they had your man’s voice on them.’

  ‘Whose voice?’ Adam looked up from his notebook. ‘A guy called Saka, but I doubt that’s his real name. I mean, what kind of a bloody name is that?’

  Adam nodded, then said, ‘I think Kate may have a few questions.’

  ‘Ask away – although I can’t guarantee I have the right answers.’

  ‘That’s okay, John.’ Kate sat forward, trying to look more together than she felt. ‘Did you notice any personality changes in your wife, either prior to her departure or before she ordered the doll?’

  ‘I don’t know. It was like she was a different person. I mean, we had been through a tough time, and we weren’t out of the wars, far from it. We found it hard to talk about the past.’ He looked away, as if he was trying to find the right words. ‘I mean, I found it hard. Sarah wanted to keep revisiting it. I understand that now. I don’t think I was the best of husbands.’

  ‘But you said Sarah was like a different person?’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to stray …’

  ‘It’s okay. Take your time.’

  ‘A few months back, when she began going to meetings and such, I don’t know, she started treating me like a stranger in my own home. She wasn’t the Sarah I knew. She would stay in bed until I left for work in the mornings, avoiding me.’

  ‘Did her sleep patterns change?’

  ‘I don’t think she slept much. I’d hear her getting up in the middle of the night to listen to those CDS, walking around the house like a half-dead person.’