St Michael’s Psychiatric Hospital,
Dr Samuel Ebbs’ office
AFTER HIS LAST CONSULTATION WITH ELLIE, DR EBBS had many things to reflect on, not least of which was whether Ellie Brady had spoken the truth, or the truth as she believed it.
It would seem reasonable to assume that, after the fire, she had withdrawn into a kind of protective shell, not out of self-preservation from prosecution but out of necessity for survival. The fact that Ellie had been incapable of showing her true emotions could have been responsible, in part, for blame being laid at her door. That possibility was one of the main reasons the file had unsettled him to begin with. There seemed to be very little doubt about her guilt; everyone, including her husband, had believed and accepted that she was guilty.
Nevertheless, if she truly believed in this mystery man who had befriended Amy, why had she accepted the blame so readily? He knew logic and depression by nature didn’t go hand in hand, but if what Ellie had told him was true, the past fifteen years had been stolen from her. It took a certain calibre of person to maintain a silence for that length of time, and to remain as steadfast in their thinking as Ellie had.
However Ellie Brady had arrived at the set of circumstances that resulted in her daughter’s death, there was no denying she had paid a heavy price.
The writing in the copybook had triggered something, perhaps feelings locked away for a very long time. The sedatives he gave her were strong, but necessary. The right balance was critical, one wrong move and he could end up undoing any progress made. There were never any guarantees, of course; grief always kept its own time.
From his reading of her file and case history, it seemed that it was Ellie’s physical condition, rather than her mental one, that had been the chief cause of concern in her early days at St Michael’s, especially when she had been forcefed intravenously. Was her decision to eat and drink again based on the realisation that her punishment would be greater alive rather than dead? He felt sure that the surrender of her life and freedom had settled far too easily on Ellie’s shoulders.
He considered whether or not he should notify anyone else of Ellie’s latest revelations, but he couldn’t lose sight of the fact that he was dealing with a long-term patient. At this point, everything had to be assessed slowly. No matter how genuine Ellie might have appeared in her discussion with him, she could simply have been relaying her own version of events, none of which could be validated at this juncture. Whatever happened in Wexford had happened a very long time ago; waiting a little longer wasn’t going to hurt anyone.
Meadow View
HE WAS GLAD HE HAD GONE FOR A RUN; HE FELT reinvigorated in both body and mind. The garda car outside Jessica Barry’s house was no surprise. He had heard on the news that the police were planning to release a photofit and she was the only one who could supply it. Perhaps he should have taken care of her earlier, but, then, the girl had barely looked at him. Perhaps it was Kate Pearson’s involvement that had encouraged the girl to open her big mouth? Kate Pearson was quickly becoming the most interesting aspect of the investigation, and one he intended to study very carefully. If she hoped to get inside his mind, it would prove difficult, but would be well worth watching.
Remembering the young boy huddled over his father’s shoulder, he reflected, not for the first time, on how little those who receive love appreciate it. Maybe Amelia and Caroline had been errors of judgement: both had let him down and had been far too immature to appreciate the importance of the situation. Perhaps what he needed now was an equal, someone with both the sensitivity and experience to understand him. As a firm believer in fate, he couldn’t deny that Kate crossing his path meant something. Was she sent to test him, question his resolve? Or were there more interesting aspects to be revealed?
The first time he had noticed her wasn’t long after he’d moved into Meadow View. He had passed her running in Herbert Park. There was something special about her even then, a certain determination, an alertness that he could see immediately. He recognised her drive, she was pushing herself, her level of concentration, focused, striving, thrusting herself beyond the boundaries of pain, showing her hunger to succeed. His curiosity aroused, he had followed her home, seen her with the child, and then later with that husband of hers. He had been too quick to dismiss her, had not known her full potential. But he had been drawn to her, there was no denying that.
Tomorrow he would go to Cronly Lodge and, if necessary, he would take time off work the day after. He had already taken time out earlier in the week, and considering how little his services were appreciated, it shouldn’t prove difficult to do so again.
He had regrets. Not about Amelia. Killing her had been necessary. Caroline was different though. The place he had chosen for her was perfect. The elderberry tree must have been at least twenty feet high. When it had all turned so badly wrong with Caroline, the place had come to mind immediately. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he knew he couldn’t have chosen anywhere better. His mother used to say that berries could grant you a long life. He wanted to remember Caroline the way he’d left her: safe and sound, looking like a perfect angel.
Mervin Road
Saturday, 8 October 2011, 10.00 p.m.
WHEN KATE GOT HOME, SHE WAS NERVOUS IN CASE Declan asked about her plans for the following day. O’Connor would be setting up the next meeting with Jessica Barry, which meant she needed to keep her time free. She knew it would be tricky to discuss not being around again.
She found Declan in the sitting room, watching television, a glass of wine in his hand. When he looked up, his face was softer than earlier. He seemed more approachable, willing to talk.
‘You look tired, Kate,’ he said as she took the armchair opposite him.
‘I am. You look a bit tired yourself. How are you doing?’
‘Okay.’
‘I hope that was a nice bottle of wine.’ Kate looked at the empty bottle on the coffee table.
‘It was – I did offer to share.’
‘I know you did.’
Declan turned up the volume on the television: the double murder was the top news story. They listened in silence as the newsreader gave an update:
Gardaí from Crumlin and Harcourt Square have now joined forces with detectives from both Rathfarnham and Tallaght garda stations in the hunt for the killer of the two murdered schoolgirls, Caroline Devine and Amelia Spain. Chief Superintendent Nolan, who is heading up the investigation team, has issued a statement requesting the public to remain calm, and to contact the Helpline number, which is at the bottom of the screen, with any information. A photofit has been released, and the public’s help is being sought in relation to identifying this man, who they hope will come forward so he can be eliminated from their inquiries.
‘It’s bloody awful,’ Declan said with a sigh. ‘Not a very nice one for you to be involved with.’ She was surprised by his show of support. ‘Sorry for being grumpy earlier,’ he went on, ‘I guess I just miss having you around.’
Kate looked over at him. ‘I know you do, Declan, and if I could help it, I would.’
‘Truce?’
‘Sure,’ she agreed with a reassuring smile.
‘What do you say we all do something tomorrow? We could go see your mom, have lunch out, then take a drive somewhere, spend time together, just the three of us. Charlie missed you today. I did too.’
Kate took a deep breath. ‘Declan, I’m really sorry, but I might have to work tomorrow.’ She saw the look of disappointment and then hurt register on his face, but she plunged on. ‘Look, when this is all over, we can have as much time together as you want. I’ve already sent Ocean House an email to say I need time off. Once this case is sorted, I won’t rush back. We are both well overdue a holiday anyhow.’
‘Kate, I don’t know.’
‘What don’t you know?’
‘About us.’ He stood up.
‘What about us?’ she said, her voice sounding weaker than she meant it to s
ound, almost as if it belonged to someone else.
‘You don’t really need me to spell it out for you, you’re not stupid.’
She bit her lip, stung by his tone. ‘I know things haven’t been great, Declan, but we’re not the first couple to go through tough times.’
‘Don’t psychoanalyse us, Kate. We’re not products of some research findings.’
‘I’m not saying that. Look, all we need is time.’
‘Well, let me know when you have some, and while you’re at it, why don’t you let Charlie know as well.’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘Isn’t it?’ He started walking towards the door.
‘You know it’s not. Where are you going?’
‘Out.’
‘But it’s late.’
‘Don’t wait up.’
Charlie woke when Declan slammed the front door, appearing suddenly in the doorway of the sitting room. He was in his Batman pyjamas, rubbing his eyes with sleep. Kate hugged him close.
‘You okay, honey?’
‘Where’s Daddy?’
‘He’ll be back in a minute. Come on, superheroes need their sleep.’
‘I don’t want to sleep. I want Daddy.’
‘Here, I’ll read you a story; you pick, any one you like.’
He eyed her suspiciously and looked so earnest, with his black spiky hair and cartoon pyjamas, that in spite of everything, she smiled.
‘I want them,’ he said, pointing to the comics Declan had bought earlier.
It was a toss between Batman and Superman, so Kate opted for the latter. Superman now had heat vision, which could shoot laser beams, along with x-ray and telescopic abilities. As Kate attempted to get her son to settle down in his bed, it was Superman’s powerful breathing skills, knocking over cars and freezing objects on the spot, that kept Charlie blowing at her face, constantly telling her to freeze.
Sensing that he might have pushed her too far, he sheepishly asked for his Bear story about the lost bear, the one who is eventually found under the bed. He may have thought superheroes were the best thing ever, but he wasn’t ready to let go of his favourite bedtime story yet.
Kate stayed in the room long after he had fallen asleep. She thought about Declan, about how maybe he had a point, that he had only said what she was already thinking but didn’t want to admit out loud. She had been tied up with work a lot recently, but work wasn’t the problem, and deep down she knew it. Obviously Declan did, too. There was a time when she never doubted that the two of them would always love each other, when everything between them was easy, as if it was simply meant to be. Had her feelings towards him changed so much? Had she stopped loving him? She had no idea what she could do about any of it right now, but whatever she was going to do, it would have to wait until the investigation was over. They’d both have to try and be patient until then.
Incident Room, Tallaght Garda Station
Saturday, 8 October, 10.30 p.m.
O’CONNOR WASN’T THE ONLY ONE WORKING LATE – a couple of the CCTV guys were still going through footage at the back of the Incident Room when he arrived. He nodded to both of them, then phoned Gunning.
‘Any more on the Interpol searches?’
‘Lots of dead ends, nothing concrete, but I’m pushing hard. You know me, O’Connor, I like to get results.’
‘Yeah, well, we all do, but not all for the same reasons.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Never mind, keep me posted, that’s all.’
‘What about your end, anything fresh in?’
O’Connor was slow to give him too much information, even if they were both on the same side.
‘Looks like we might have a match with the boot print at the canal.’ O’Connor allowed the last remark to settle, knowing it would irritate Gunning. ‘The boss is thinking about whether we should release information on the ribbons and the plaiting.’
‘What’s holding him back?’ Gunning sounded glad with the change of direction.
‘You know the way this shit is seen, the media will jump on it – ribbons, plaiting, ritual laying of bodies – could make things a whole lot worse.’
‘I hear you. Like a hand grenade going off in the middle of a fire drill.’
‘I know. The photofit went out on the late news, so it’s a waiting game now to see what that drags in. Nothing concrete by late tomorrow afternoon and my guess is he’ll go public with the ribbons. The plaiting, I’m not so sure.’
‘So how’s your Ms Pearson getting along? She’s a real beauty, nice and sweet.’
O’Connor chose to ignore his last remark. There was something about Gunning’s voice that irked him, and he wasn’t happy about him mentioning Kate. Even over the phone, he came across like a posturing peacock.
‘Funny you should mention Kate. I have a job for you.’
‘Nolan wants me to keep working on the Interpol searches.’
‘I know he does, which is great, because we’re going to please both him and Kate with this one.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘The crucifix Caroline Devine was wearing, it may be nothing, but put it into the mix. Sounds like you have bugger all on the ribbons and positioning, so let’s see what comes up with the cross. I’m sending you over a replica photograph now.’
‘Right.’
‘And Gunning.’
‘Yeah?’
‘If you get anything, no running to Nolan with it, remember that I’m the Senior Investigating Officer.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of breaking the chain.’
‘Good. One other thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Kate isn’t my Ms Pearson, she’s a respected criminal psychologist who is helping to find a killer.’
Before Gunning had the opportunity to answer, O’Connor hung up on him.
Mervin Road
Sunday, 9 October 2011, 9.00 a.m.
WHEN KATE WOKE UP, DECLAN WAS ASLEEP IN THE BED with his back to her. She had no idea what time he had arrived home, but judging by his snoring, he wasn’t moving anywhere in a hurry. She walked across the hall to check on Charlie, and he too was out for the count. She knew that the interruption to his sleep last night would mean a lie-in. Normally, she would have relished the chance for longer in bed, but not today. She made her way to the kitchen and sat at the table with her coffee and phone in front of her. She didn’t have long to wait.
‘Morning, O’Connor.’
‘Right, Kate, meeting with Jessica set up. They’re expecting you.’
‘Great, I’ll head straight over.’
‘By the way, I gave your report to Nolan and Donoghue and they’re not happy.’
‘Why not?’
‘They were hoping for more. What they want to know is what he’ll do next.’
Kate swallowed her annoyance. ‘It doesn’t work like that. It’s been one full day since I’ve been officially involved. Do they want me to fabricate patterns?’
‘I’m just saying—’
‘What we have is what we have. I’m going to talk to Jessica, if any more comes out of that, you’ll be the first to know. But, O’Connor, there was one other thing I didn’t mention last night.’
‘What’s that?’
‘In the report, I’ve noted that he repeats behaviour.’
‘Yeah, I saw that.’
‘It goes back to Amelia being perceived as a loose end. Even though she disappointed him, he carried out part of her burial the same way.’
‘So?’
‘That tells us far more than the details of the burials, the ribbons and positioning being his signature. It tells us about him. He likes the familiar, routine, takes comfort in doing things the same way. If the crucifix is an indicator of Caroline’s elevated status, the lack of it on Amelia, her disappointment to him, didn’t deter him from assigning familiarities, similar behavioural patterns. As I said, he likes routine.’
‘Listen, Nolan’s thinking about going
public with the ribbons and the plaiting, how do you think our guy will react?’
‘Depends on how it’s presented. He’s particular, probably likes the idea of being somewhat elusive, taking pride in how he handles things. If Nolan releases information about the ribbons and plaiting, there’ll be a side of him that will feel complimented in some way. He has an ego, O’Connor. By the way, I saw the photofit from Jessica on the news last night, it wasn’t very distinctive.’
‘I know, sometimes these things work for you, sometimes not – but you never know with photofits, it’s all part of flushing him out. They’re pushing his link with the swimming pools too, so plenty of phone calls in, the guys are working as fast as they can.’
‘All right, I’ll ring you after I’ve spoken to Jessica. Have you the statements in from Amelia’s family and friends?’
‘Pringle will have them for the morning session. I’m running late. Talk later.’
‘Sure.’
As she put down the phone and sipped her coffee, Kate knew well why Nolan and Donoghue weren’t happy. She wanted to know what his next move would be too. The killing of both girls formed the beginning of a pattern, one that could be relied upon heavily, if murder was his main motive or if the crimes were sexually driven. His stalking of Caroline, and possibly Amelia, meant he had been looking for something from both of them. The development of a relationship, even non-sexual, all pointed one way: he was looking for emotional closeness. Would he repeat the same pattern soon, or was he reassessing his choices all the time? She would need to consider the statements from Amelia’s family and friends, but right now she had Jessica to contend with. If the girl was holding something back, she’d have to get it out of her.
≈
Perhaps it was being under tighter police security that had changed the girl, but this time when Kate met Jessica Barry, the girl looked very different. She wore no make-up and when Kate arrived, she was curled up on the sofa in soft white pyjamas with pink daisies. Kate couldn’t make up her mind whether she looked more or less vulnerable without her war paint on, but with it gone, Kate could see how pretty she was. Rather than the overconfident stance of the previous day, Jessica looked anxious. Looking at her, Kate felt that whatever walls she had tried to build up to protect herself had come tumbling down.
Red Ribbons Page 21
