The more he thought about things, the more he didn’t like the answers he was coming up with. The fire had happened a long time back, but with Steve Hughes’ interfering, Ollie needed to work out the best course of action. If Steve was of the mind to call to Ollie about what he’d found, then he would be of the mind to talk to a whole lot of other people as well. He’d been right to tell him to put the photograph back. Even if it proved to be nothing important, he was happy that at the very least he’d told Steve to do that.
Ellie
DR EBBS LOOKS MORE AGITATED THAN USUAL, OR maybe I’m thinking this because of how I feel.
‘Good morning, Ellie. How are you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did you not sleep well?’
‘No.’
‘Do you want to talk about that?’
‘No.’
‘You look pale, are you unwell?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Are you upset?’
‘No. I’ve heard stuff, seen stuff.’
‘Like what?’
‘It’s to do with what I told you the other day, about what really happened to Amy.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘It’s about the girls who got killed.’
‘The girls from Dublin?’
‘Yes, I think … I think whoever killed Amy killed them as well.’
‘You’re talking about this man you saw in Wexford again?’
Why isn’t he shocked? He looks strained, puzzled, but not shocked, definitely not shocked.
‘Yes.’
‘And what makes you so sure?’
He’s staring at me, talking at me, like I’m some form of idiot, his tone almost patronising.
‘Everything, the ribbons, the plaiting, the crucifix.’
‘What about the crucifix?’
‘Amy had one. She had it in Wexford.’ My voice sounds fast, desperate. ‘They said in the reports this morning that one of the girls was still wearing her crucifix when she was found.’
‘You didn’t mention anything about a crucifix before.’
‘I didn’t think it was important before.’
‘Ellie, lots of people wear crosses.’ He sighs.
‘I tell you it’s him. I know it.’
‘Okay, let’s just calm down, shall we. It’s very understandable that you’re thinking this way.’
‘What way?’
‘The case is so similar to Amy’s.’
‘Did you see the images of the first girl? Do you think she looks like Amy too? ’ Maybe he understands after all.
‘No, Ellie. I haven’t seen any images, just what I heard on the radio, but I understand how it could confuse you, cause you to think all sorts of things.’
‘You don’t understand. I know it’s the same man.’
‘How can you know?’
‘Because of what Bridget said.’
‘Bridget?’
‘Yes, Bridget. She told me this morning about the first girl they found in the mountains, that she was wearing a crucifix. I saw a picture of her on the television yesterday and she looked just like Amy. They could have been sisters.’
‘Ellie, please understand me when I say this, it is very possible that the incident of these girls’ deaths, and the memory from all those years ago, could be getting mixed up inside your head.’
‘You don’t believe me.’
‘It’s not that, Ellie.’
‘Well what is it then?’ I want to stand up, walk away, but I have to make him believe me.
‘Look, I’m just saying that we need to be careful. The mind is capable of tricking us at times.’
‘You are just like the rest of them.’
‘Who?’
‘All of them, all of the others, they didn’t believe me either.’
‘Calm down, Ellie.’
‘I am calm.’
‘You say you heard all this from Bridget this morning?’
‘Yes.’
‘But that you had already heard some stuff, seen some stuff?’
‘Yes, on the television.’
‘When?’
‘Yesterday. It was a repeat of the Late Late Show from Friday night.’
‘And you hadn’t seen it before?’
‘No, not before. Why do you ask? What difference does it make?’
‘I was just wondering about it, perhaps something you heard or saw could have upset you the other day?’
‘I hadn’t seen anything the other day. Look, I want to go.’
‘Ellie.’
‘I want to go. NOW.’
‘Perhaps it’s best if we talk later, when you’re less anxious.’
‘Will you believe me then?’
‘Ellie, you are obviously upset. I can see that. You look pale. I will give you something that will help you relax. Then, if you’re up to it, we can talk later.’
‘Give me whatever you like, but I want the picture of me and Amy.’
He reacts to the defiance in my voice by breathing inwards and pausing, then, without question, he hands me the photograph from the file. ‘I’ll get someone to take you down to your room.’
I don’t answer him.
‘Ellie, are you okay?’
‘Couldn’t be better.’ Walking to the door, I don’t look back at him, but turn the handle as if I’m a free woman, like everybody else.
Meadow View
EVEN THOUGH IT HAD BEEN WELL PAST MIDNIGHT BY THE time he’d returned to Meadow View, he rose early on Monday morning and followed the same routine as if it had been a work day. Kate’s light had stayed on until late. It had taken everything within him to resist going to her. She looked so fragile on the couch. He’d watched her from the fire escape, understanding fully what it’s like when someone you care about lets you down. She was well rid of that husband, though. It took a special kind of person to understand someone like Kate. She needed someone like him, someone who would appreciate her. Of course, timing in these matters was crucial.
He made breakfast – two poached eggs and wheat bread – and decided to fill the kitchen with music in celebration of not having to go into Newell Design. Taking the music centre down from the bedroom, he chose one of his favourites, Vivaldi’s Le Quattro Stagioni, ‘La Primavera’. There was something uplifting about new beginnings. Raising the volume to the highest, he blocked out all other sounds, marvelling at how great music could raise you from the mundane, could lift spirit and soul, in such an extraordinary way. It was precisely what he needed.
His suffering had made him a stronger man, and he had no intention of engaging in any outpouring of emotion, indulging in melodrama like Gabriel and his mother had done. He didn’t approve of such heightened performances, he’d even disliked it as a boy; drama had always been his mother’s speciality.
In Livorno, it had been the same. They had only arrived at Castello de Luca when it became evident that each time his mother spoke, she would assume a raised tone, a ploy she’d used to illustrate that she meant business. Despite his young age, he had sensed that Bishop Antonio Peri wasn’t a man who would be distracted easily. From the very first day, the bishop had given the distinct impression that, despite his mother’s sense of importance, neither she nor her son had been wanted there.
Suvereto had been unlike anywhere he’d seen before, up so high on the slopes of the hills overlooking Costa degli Etruschi, with its wonderful paved streets and stone buildings. He had been enthralled the first time he’d passed through the ancient wall surrounding the town, the streets narrow, the buildings tall, so high they’d blocked out the sun, keeping the inhabitants cool and enclosed whilst moving within them. The sounds too had been different, voices bouncing along the streets like ghost rumblings.
Despite his early enchantment, within a couple of days he had become disappointed with his Tuscan adventure. Other than when they visited the town of Suvereto, they’d stayed mostly at Castello de Luca, and although it overlooked the coast, he’d been restricted in
his movements and not allowed to travel far. He had quickly begun to feel that his new adventure was becoming nothing more than a repeat of things at Cronly, only worse, because at least at Cronly he could escape to the familiarity of his room or his secret hideaway.
It was only when he met Silvia that things had changed.
Silvia was a year older than him and, unlike others, she’d showed no hesitation in becoming his friend. She’d been such fun to be with. It was as if the world had taken on a whole new meaning because of her infectious enthusiasm for life. She’d told him all about her plans to follow the Lord, and had trusted him with her most intimate thoughts. To Silvia, her beliefs had been wondrous. It had seemed so alien to how people from home thought about God. To them, He had been something to be feared but, to Silvia, He had been someone to be loved. Together they had explored the castello with far more fun than he would have had alone. His mother had seemed relieved he had found someone to keep him company, which had given her more time to concentrate on getting what she’d wanted from the bishop. He was a man, after all, and Mother had been accomplished in getting what she wanted out of men.
It was Silvia who’d explained to him how the dead dreamed. When people died, she had told him, they dreamed about the living, some becoming guardian angels to protect souls from birth and through life. She’d said that, when she died, she wanted to become a guardian angel. He had listened to her so intently, believing every word she had told him. She even looked like a guardian angel with her strawberry-blonde hair, making her stand out from her fellow Italians with darker hair. She’d told him this while they sat at the cliff edge. From that vantage point they had been able to see the trees all the way down to the coast. At the time, he had not known what he felt for her was love, being unfamiliar with such emotion.
Perhaps if they hadn’t been so consumed with each other’s company, they would have noticed certain things about the castello that they’d overlooked. A lesson learned when young stays with you forever. He had no intention of falling victim to that weakness again: not noticing important contradictions that could turn out to be significant in the end. At the time, neither of them had thought it strange that, despite the fact that no children lived at the cleric’s castello, there had been items there for them to enjoy. They had never thought to wonder why the rocking horse was in the room with all the windows, or why the bishop kept the best toys in his private rooms. Instead, they had accepted these toys and arrangements at face value, which had made their stay at the castello a bigger adventure than it would otherwise have been.
He had prayed with Silvia in the tiny church down in the basement, a room that was a smaller version of The Cloisters in Suvereto, with its curved walls and arches. He remembered the iron banisters on the stone staircase heading down, cold to the touch, and the steps, steep and narrow. Sometimes they’d giggled, hands over their mouths, trying to keep their silence all the way to the bottom. At first he had liked being down there with Silvia. Away from the intense heat of the afternoons, the air had been cooler there, more welcoming. He’d liked to listen to her pray, watch her go deep inside herself, kneeling below Jesus on the crucifix, at peace with her creator. Looking back, he knew even then how special she was.
At first, when he went on his night prowls, he’d gone alone, not wanting to expose Silvia to the sins of the flesh he had witnessed, the way Mother and men had behaved. He wanted to protect her from that. It was only when he’d thought it was safe that he’d brought her with him, when the attention of the bishop to his mother had decreased, and his mother’s mood had deteriorated with it. In the dark, they’d crept through the corridors like shadows, both of them enjoying the secrecy and the heady sense of disobeying the rules. He had not known she would take to wandering alone. If he had, he would have insisted on following her.
Yesterday at Cronly, he had had very little time to spend in his old bedroom, but he had taken out the lock of her hair. He still felt such disappointment thinking about Caroline. She had been exactly how he remembered Silvia. Perhaps Kate would have enjoyed the Castello de Luca. People with sensitivity are so much better equipped to appreciate the delights of the imagination. Silvia, too, had that gift. When he had laid out Caroline, she had looked just like Silvia at first, as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her. He had made a point of everything being perfect, right down to the last detail, from her hair to the ribbons, then laying her body exactly right and resting her head just as he remembered.
Mervin Road
Monday, 10 October 2011, 9.10 a.m.
KATE LEFT HER FIFTH MESSAGE ON DECLAN’S MOBILE. She knew he was due at work in less than half an hour, and the chances of getting him there were slim after he started his Monday morning meetings. Frustrated, the next call she made was to Sophie, confirming that she would pick up Charlie from school, with instructions to put him down for a nap if Kate was still out when the two of them got back home. Kate wasn’t the only one leaving messages. She had already received half a dozen calls from O’Connor, but she wasn’t ready to talk to him yet.
‘Charlie, hurry up in that bedroom. We’re going to be late.’
Kate brushed her hair, tying it back in a tight ponytail. Her eyes looked as if she had spent the previous night lowering double vodkas.
‘Charlie, I’m warning you. Come on.’
‘I can’t find my shoes.’
She flung open the bedroom door, full of tiredness and frustration, but when she saw her son standing there alone, he suddenly looked so small in his blue school uniform that it stopped her in her tracks. She smiled at him.
‘Okay buster, let’s look together.’
Kate took him by the hand. His grip was tight, fingers stretched to hold on to hers. It didn’t take long to find the shoes. She sat him on her knee and pulled up his socks, before putting the shoes on.
‘I’m tying the laces, Mom. I can do it.’
‘Okay – you do the first knot, and I’ll do the second.’
‘But that’s cheating.’
‘No it isn’t, Charlie. It’s sharing.’
Kate checked her phone again – still no messages from Declan.
‘Mom, I can’t find my schoolbag.’
‘It’s in the hall, Charlie, come on, we’re late. You don’t want to upset Mrs Evans.’
‘Pooh to Mrs Evans.’
‘You don’t mean that! Now come on, monkey.’
≈
Kate waved to Charlie through the school gates. The noise and mayhem of a Monday morning in the yard was just one step above organised chaos. It didn’t take long for Mrs Evans to get Charlie’s class together in a line, huddled tight; they looked like a rope in danger of unravelling at any moment. Before Kate walked away, Charlie turned to her again, waving as if he’d just remembered she was still standing there. He gave her one of his biggest smiles before turning away and leaving his home life temporarily behind him.
There was no point putting off phoning O’Connor any longer. He picked up her call, again before it got to the second ring.
‘About time too, Kate.’
‘Good morning, Detective.’
‘I’ve been trying to get through to you all morning.’
‘Hardly, seeing as it’s only 9.30.’
‘Nolan has sent Gunning to Tuscany. He wants him to apply pressure to the Italian police, inject more speed into the answers we’re getting. As of now, he’s landing on Italian soil.’
‘So Nolan is taking the connection seriously?’
‘Call it having a nose for these things, or bloody desperation, but, yeah, he thinks there’s something in it – or if there isn’t, he wants it ruled out before any more time is wasted.’
‘He’s right.’
‘Kate, where are you now?’
‘At Charlie’s school, I’m just leaving.’
‘I’ve been thinking about your theory, about our killer’s progression.’
‘What about it?’
‘Well, I told Nolan about it. He was
n’t exactly jumping up and down with joy.’
‘It’s all about mindset, O’Connor. We’re dealing with psychotic behaviour here. Our killer is driven, probably more driven than you or I.’
‘Speak for yourself, Kate. I’m more than bloody driven right now.’
‘But you’re not delusional, at least not yet. Our guy is fixated on the task in hand. Everything he does, he believes it is utterly necessary. In his perception of things, he may feel that he’s been driven to look for someone else to fulfil his emotional needs. Either way, he is looking forward. There is no other option for him at this point.’
‘Kate, where are you going to now?’
‘They don’t expect me at Ocean House, so I’ll be working from home today. I want to go over all the images and notes again. Something else might just raise its head.’
‘There’s a televised reconstruction going out later, they’re filming part of it now. Is there anything you want to throw into the mix?’
‘What about the Tuscany connection?’
‘Nolan thinks it’s too early, and I agree with him, but Rohan has released details on the crucifix. At the moment we are playing it low key, stating it may be significant or it may not.’
‘It will still have an impact. The media is a powerful tool, O’Connor, you know that. My advice is to get everything you possibly can in there without instilling panic, but the visuals of both girls’ last movements is going to hit home. You can be sure of that.’
‘Leave that one with me.’
‘Okay, but one other thing, O’Connor?’
‘What?’
‘The photographs from Tuscany, they’re only of the burial site. Did you get any of Silvia Vaccaro before she died?’
‘I’ve asked for them – I should have them this morning. Either way, once Gunning gets to Livorno, he’ll use his charm, but I know what you’re thinking.’
‘Similar features to our victims.’
‘It would certainly make things nice and tidy, Kate.’
‘Let me know when you hear back.’
‘You’ll be one of the first people I call.’
Ellie
I EXPECTED MORE FROM DR EBBS. I GUESS I EXPECTED him to believe me. When he didn’t, it felt like the way it was before, when things like that mattered to me. Not being believed is of no consequence when you don’t care – but when you do, it disables you, like losing your voice, the ability to speak. Some piece of you dies inside. It has to, otherwise you’d go completely mad.
Red Ribbons Page 29
