Red Ribbons

by Louise Phillips

  ‘Where’s Sophie?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Don’t worry about Sophie. She’s been taken care of. But my apologies, I’m being rude. I forgot to tell you my name, Kate. It’s William Cronly, by the way.’

  She didn’t need an introduction. ‘Hello, William.’

  ‘Pick up those comics for Charlie, will you, Kate?’ He pointed to a pile of Batman comics on the coffee table to her right. ‘He’ll need something to read on the way down.’

  Kate picked up the pile of comics, as William moved nearer to Charlie. He held the knife to Charlie’s throat and she could feel her heart constrict in her chest. Adrenaline pumped around her body, making her feel sick.

  ‘I’ll carry him to the car, shall I? It’s only around the corner. Now, remember what I told you, Charlie, about being close to sharp blades. They are very dangerous. Isn’t that right, Kate?’

  Incident Room, Tallaght Garda Station

  Monday, 10 October 2011, 3.55 p.m.

  O’CONNOR WASN’T LONG BACK AT THE INCIDENT Room when the second squad car reported from Meadow View. There was still no answer at the house.

  ‘Stay there. DI Byrne is on his way, as are Hanley and his crew. I’m expecting the search warrant to come through shortly. Keep me posted.’

  He looked up as Donoghue walked into his office.

  ‘Our man works at Newell Design. Rang in sick over the weekend. They haven’t seen him since Friday afternoon.’

  ‘Anything on the travel details?’

  ‘The week Antonio Peri died, William Cronly took a Dutch airline flight from Dublin to Paris, and a connecting flight to Galileo Galilei airport at Pisa.’

  ‘What about—’

  ‘Before you even ask, yes, we checked car hire. He picked up a car at Pisa airport. He has an immaculate credit card rating by the way.’ Neither of them smiled.

  ‘And the mother?’

  ‘Are you ready for this?’ Donoghue raised both eyebrows.

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘She died two days after the bishop jumped. She was terminally ill for some time – cancer, and accelerated dementia.’

  ‘So Kate was right – the trigger.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter. What’s the story with pulling that old case file?’

  ‘We should have clearance later today.’

  ‘Right, all we have to do now is find the bastard. Let me know when those search warrants are in.’

  When Donoghue left, O’Connor picked up Ellie Brady’s copybook, reading again her description of the road at the back of the sand dunes. Standing up from his desk, he opened the door and shouted over at Donoghue.

  ‘We’ll need another tech team on hand for Wexford. There’s a pathway in the vicinity of Cronly Lodge that might need checking.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Not sure as yet, but I know someone who has a good idea. Just put it in place.’

  ‘The Dublin warrant is in.’

  ‘Good. Let’s see if all these dots join up.’

  Before he left, he tried Kate’s mobile. It rang out.

  Mervin Road

  KATE COULD SEE THE TOP OF CHARLIE’S SPIKY BLACK HAIR in the rear-view mirror, but she could also see William Cronly’s face. O’Connor had been right; Amy Brady’s killing was connected to the Dublin murders. She needed to work this out. She needed time.

  ‘Where are we going, William?’

  ‘Pull out nicely, Kate and head for the N11. We’re going on a little trip to Wexford. ’

  She could hear Charlie whimpering in the back. Her heart was thumping, a passing car blared her out of it as she tried to pull out too fast.

  ‘Relax, Kate. Charlie is going to be just fine.’ He smiled.

  She drew breath. If he touched or harmed Charlie, she would kill him with her bare hands. She knew that. But she also knew she had to remain calm, for Charlie’s sake as much as her own. She couldn’t lose it now. What did he want with them? Despite the knife, he was behaving as if they were just going on any old day trip, as if the most pressing concern to him was all of them being nice to each other.

  ‘Why don’t you drive, William? You know where we’re going. You must know the way better than I do.’

  ‘No, no. I’ll stay back here with Charlie. It’s very straightforward Kate, just take the same road you use to visit your lovely mother, Gabriel.’

  ‘My mother?’ She made her voice remain calm, while her hands gripped the steering wheel, her heart pounding. She clicked on the indicator, ready to pull out from the kerb, this time checking more carefully for traffic, finding it hard to focus, willing herself to be calm.

  ‘It’s fine, Kate. Don’t fret. Gabriel is doing okay.’

  He knew her mother’s name. She had no way of knowing if her mother was okay. But Charlie’s whimpering in the back was getting louder. He was crying and scared. If the two of them were going to get out of there, no matter how the hell she was going to do it, she needed to concentrate and stop panicking.

  ‘That’s the girl. You’re doing great. I knew you would be marvellous.’

  ‘Charlie, it’s okay. Mommy is just going to drive for a little while.’

  ‘Charlie understands, don’t you, Charlie?’ Kate watched as Charlie shook his head, frantic, the way he did when he was overtired or distressed. Shit, shit, shit, she thought.

  ‘Now, Charlie, you don’t want to make me cross. It’s not nice to disagree, a little boy like you, so lucky having such a loving mommy. Although we can’t forget Daddy, can we? Where is Daddy, Kate?’

  She had to think.

  ‘He’s at work.’

  ‘He wasn’t at work last night. You don’t have to lie to me, Kate. I know he’s gone. I saw the suitcase.’

  Kate caught his stare in the rear-view mirror. This was worse than she thought. How the hell did William Cronly know so much about her?

  ‘Don’t look like that, Kate. You’re better off without him. He was never going to be good enough for someone of your calibre.’

  She needed to establish a rapport. Right now, all she could do was keep talking and keep using his name. ‘Why do you say that, William?’

  ‘Don’t be modest, Kate. Your drive, your dedication to your work, your intelligence, the way you applied yourself to finding out so much about me. I’ve seen you out running. I can recognise someone with discipline and determination. Every fibre of your body, every expression on your face tells me how hard you push yourself. It is a good thing Declan has gone. It gives us time to work things out together. You do understand, I hope, that I couldn’t help what happened to Caroline or Amelia?’

  Running, he’d seen her out running. His face had looked familiar, but she couldn’t place where she had seen him. Eighty per cent of women know their killer. He’d been with her mother. He knew Declan had left. He knew she was upset. He had watched her. In her head, she could hear her own voice talking to O’Connor: ‘He’ll latch on to someone, someone familiar to him, someone who got his attention, someone he admires.’

  ‘I understand, William.’

  ‘Good. That pleases me.’

  Everything was shooting around in her head, what he knew about her, what she knew about him, and the full extent of her situation – and Charlie’s – became clearer by the second. She was the progression. She was the next choice, and the process was already well in motion. She knew that if she let him doubt her, he would kill them both. What could she use to manipulate him? His intelligence? He had mentioned her running – should she talk about physical dexterity, his planning, boost his ego? He took comfort in routine and repeat behaviour. He was looking for friendship, someone to be close to.

  ‘William, why don’t you tell me about Silvia?’

  ‘Ah, Silvia,’ the words sounded like something delicious had just landed on his tongue. She wanted to scream. ‘You know about Silvia? That surprises me.’ Sitting forward, the knife still in Charlie’s side, he touched her shoulder, resting his fingers lightly,
like an insect, his hand lingering. She felt her skin crawl.

  He smiled at her. ‘But then again, Kate, I’m forgetting how clever you are.’

  Meadow View

  Monday, 10 October, 4.30 p.m.

  THEY TRIED THE DOORBELL OF 15 MEADOW VIEW one last time, then put in the door. O’Connor and a couple of the detectives from Harcourt Square entered first and checked that the premises were safe, before stepping back to let Hanley and his crew take over.

  The inside of the house was tidy and immaculately clean. It didn’t take long for one of Hanley’s crew to discover that the shoes and boots in the under-stair storage area were all size nine, with a slight wearing down on the left side. Not a lot on its own, but another piece of the jigsaw as far as O’Connor was concerned.

  There were books stacked neatly on the bookshelves either side of the fireplace. On one of the top shelves they found newspaper cuttings of the recent murders, placed in the sleeve of a large hardback book by someone called Pascal.

  O’Connor’s phone rang. It was Donoghue.

  ‘We have the Wexford warrant. The second tech team and the squad cars are only twenty minutes away.’

  ‘Good. We’re doing well here, have matching size nine footwear, and looks like William Cronly liked to collect newspaper clippings of our victims.’

  ‘Nothing conclusive?’

  ‘It’s still early days. He’s careful, but nobody’s perfect.’

  ‘You’d like to think so. I’ll let you know when the crew arrives in Wexford.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  O’Connor texted Kate – ‘Ring me when you can’ – before turning, hearing Hanley call him from upstairs.

  ‘You might like to see this, O’Connor.’ Hanley held up a clear Ziplock bag with a Polaroid photograph inside. O’Connor stepped over to the bedside locker to stand beside Hanley and took the sealed evidence bag from him. He looked at the photograph of Caroline Devine. Despite O’Connor’s overriding desire to nail William Cronly, he was still taken aback by the image of the dead girl.

  ‘Right, Hanley, keep searching. I’ve a few calls to make.’

  Walking back down the stairs, the first call he made was to Samuel Ebbs at St Michael’s, the second to the crew on the way to Wexford, speaking to DI Carey, the supervising officer, and the third was to Donoghue. He had only hung up the phone on Donoghue when he got another call back from him.

  ‘O’Connor.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Declan Cassidy has put a call in.’

  ‘Kate’s husband?’ O’Connor did a double take, wondering why Kate’s husband would have made contact.

  ‘He’d arranged to meet Kate at 5 p.m., but he went home early, wanted to surprise her. Are you sitting down, O’Connor?’

  O’Connor felt a sudden coldness rush through him. ‘I don’t need to fucking sit down. Jesus. What is it?’

  ‘We think our man has taken Kate, and the boy. Cassidy found the babysitter tied up in the child’s bedroom, lacerations to the neck, bruising to face and arms. She told him a guy broke in and was carrying a knife.’

  ‘Fuck, fuck, FUCK.’

  ‘He took her over an hour ago, O’Connor.’

  ‘Shit, if he’s taken them to Wexford, he could be nearly there by now. Have you pinged Kate’s phone?’

  ‘Doing it now.’

  O’Connor rang Carey. ‘Carey, this is now high risk, category 1 – woman and child kidnapped. I’m sending more men down. Get there fast, but take it easy when you get there. As far as we know, our man is armed with a knife, nothing more. But we can’t take any chances. He has Kate Pearson and her child. Nothing can go wrong here. Are you listening to me, Carey? ’ His voice rose the further into the call he went.

  ‘I’m hearing you.’

  ‘Good, how long until you get there?’

  ‘Ten minutes at the most.’

  ‘Ring me.’

  O’Connor wanted to do anything rather than stand still, but he forced himself to stop and think. What had Kate said? Murder wasn’t his motivation with Caroline. He had to have taken her some place he felt safe. Where? It wasn’t Meadow View, they’d found nothing there to indicate a primary crime scene. It had to be Cronly Lodge. It was the only thing that made sense.

  Getting into the car, his instincts told him to drive straight to Wexford, now, but something else was bothering him. It was the words from Ellie Brady’s copybook. Changing the direction of the car, turning it towards St Michael’s, the words ‘his hideout’ repeated themselves over and over in his head, moving from a quite whisper to a loud, relentless scream.

  Gorey, County Wexford

  KATE HAD TAKEN A GAMBLE ASKING HIM ABOUT Silvia, but she needed to know as much about the man sitting in the back of her car as possible. The more she knew, the more she would be able to understand his motives, and the more ammunition she would have to use against him. She had to pit her wits against his, but it was already a game of catch-up because he knew so much more about her.

  ‘Silvia suffered, you see, Kate. She was an innocent, someone believing in goodness, not clouded the way others are.’

  ‘Silvia was your friend, William?’

  ‘Oh, yes. But I let her down.’

  ‘William, you shouldn’t blame yourself.’ Was he the reason Silvia fell? Did he cause her accident? Was it an accident? She needed to know who else was there. The bishop, Antonio Peri, certainly, but who else? William must have been just a boy, so he hadn’t travelled alone.

  ‘Thank you, Kate, but don’t worry about me on that score. It’s a burden I’ve borne for a very long time. I’ve learned to live with it. I’m not afraid of suffering.’

  ‘You were very young, William. Did you have to travel alone?’

  ‘No, no. Mother and I travelled together. She had a mission, you see.’

  ‘A mission?’

  ‘Yes, an end game. Mother thought she was being very clever. I hate to talk about all this in front of the boy, Kate.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ She glanced at Charlie in the rear-view, but she needed William to talk. It was the only way she could get her head around what to do next.

  ‘Are you sure, Kate? I’ll be discreet, but I do want you to know as much as possible about me.’

  ‘I want to know all about you too, William.’

  ‘I know you do,’ his tone soft. ‘Well if you’re sure.’ He paused. ‘Sadly, Kate, I was the result of a cleric’s indiscretion, at least that was Mother’s story. I was illegitimate, a bastard.’ He looked over at Charlie. ‘Someone to be whispered about. It’s not nice when people talk behind your back, Kate.’

  Kate tried to maintain her focus on the motorway, taking in each time William Cronly lowered his voice.

  ‘I used to think my father was an explorer. There was a picture of a man on the piano in the music room. An attractive silver frame, you’d have liked it, Kate.’

  ‘Would I, William?’

  ‘Oh, yes. It was very classy. But, of course, my father wasn’t an explorer at all. It was just another lie, another fabrication, all cloak and mirrors. Mother was very good at that.’

  ‘What happened when you went to Tuscany, William?’

  He didn’t answer straight away. He looked out the window, as if his mind had suddenly become distracted. Kate needed to use the time well. If Silvia had died when he was a boy, the event would have traumatised him, tied him into the past, perhaps rendering him incapable of moving on.

  ‘Take the next exit, Kate. We’re nearly there.’

  ‘Okay.’

  What had been the trigger? Why had he come out of the woodwork? What had changed things? She needed to keep him talking.

  ‘How’s Charlie doing in the back?’ She had to keep using Charlie’s name, too. He needed to look on her son as a person. If she emphasised William’s suffering as a boy, maybe he would look on Charlie in the same light.

  ‘He’s doing fine. But he’s not interested in his comics. Maybe he’s tired?’

  ‘He
could be. He usually likes comics.’

  ‘I do too.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Still do. Superheroes, like Charlie.’

  Kate smiled thinly. ‘You two have a lot in common.’

  ‘Do you think?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘I was hesitant about bringing Charlie with us, Kate.’

  ‘Perhaps we should take him back.’

  ‘Oh, no. But I did worry about the trauma. I’m a very understanding man when it comes to how children feel.’

  ‘I know you are, William.’

  ‘But then I realised something.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Well, it’s very simple, Kate. Things like this can make a boy stronger. He’s been spoiled, Kate. You must see that. You have to suffer to realise how lucky you are. Don’t you agree?’

  Kate’s knuckles were white, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard it hurt. ‘I guess it depends on the suffering, William.’ She could hear the quiver in her voice. But at least, whatever William Cronly’s feelings were towards her son, he saw a future for him, no matter how warped it might be.

  ‘William, why don’t you tell me about Tuscany?’

  ‘It was beautiful, Kate. The view from Castello de Luca was remarkably similar to home.’

  ‘Home?’

  ‘Cronly Lodge. Don’t worry, you will see it soon. It even had some elderberry trees. It was in Tuscany that I met Silvia.’

  ‘What happened to her, William? What happened to Silvia?’

  Kate watched his expression in the mirror. She needed to pick up even the slightest change in demeanour. Again, his mind seemed to drift. But this time, she didn’t have long to wait.

  ‘It was dreadful, Kate. I loved her, you see. I didn’t know it then, far too young to understand. She trusted me, she was my friend.’

  ‘Go on, William. This is important to me too.’

  ‘Is it? I do hope so, Kate. Your feelings matter a great deal to me.’

  Again she held her silence, smiling in response, alert to the faintest whimper from Charlie, knowing how terrified he must be.

  ‘When it got dark, Silvia and I would go exploring. It was something I taught her, Kate. I was used to roaming around the house at night, listening to the floorboards creaking, learning to be light of foot. We’d take a kerosene lamp with us because the passages of the castello were dark at night, except for the room with the windows, of course.’