‘The room with the windows?’
‘Yes. It was our favourite room. Six tall, stained-glass windows in a semi-circle. At night, the moon shone through them, a beam of light exploding into the room. During the day, we would play there together. The rocking horse was there too. In the dark, his eyes reflected the light of the moon, dark red they were, sometimes they looked like large rubies. I went looking for her one night. I wanted to give her a present before I left. But I couldn’t find her. She wasn’t in her room, and she wasn’t in the room with the windows either. It was then that I heard it. The scream, echoing through the walls and the corridors, just like the way the sound travelled in the old town of Suvereto, sending vibrations everywhere. At first I thought it was an animal screaming, the screech was high-pitched, like a wild cat.’
Looking at him in the rear-view mirror, Kate could see his eyes glaze over, as if he were back there, in those rooms, hearing the sound again. He was completely caught up in the memory. She could see that the present had fallen away from him and he was in the past – trapped by the memories, as she’d suspected.
‘I followed the sound. I knew the way to the bishop’s rooms. He let us play there sometimes. I held the hurricane lamp up high, making sure I could see as much as possible, following the sounds. The closer I got, the more I knew it was her. I called out, wanting her to hear my voice, but I could barely hear my own. The echoes were too strong. When I got to his door, I could hear him, goading, laughing. At first I couldn’t open the door, but I used my penknife and fiddled open the lock. I saw him lying on her, pushing into her, her legs spread open. When he turned and saw me, the fat pig didn’t care. I ran at him. She screamed, her eyes were wild, lost.’
Again he paused.
‘When I flung myself at Antonio, he wrestled with me, throwing me to the ground, and that was when she got free of him. Even when she ran, it was as if she was blind, as if she was looking inside herself instead of ahead. When I called after her, she didn’t turn. I followed her, so did Antonio, out to the cliff edge. He was shouting after both of us, his voice vile like the vermin he was. She ran so fast. Her white nightdress made her look like a ghost, a brilliant white against the moon. And then she fell. Her scream lowering in sound the farther down she went. Until all I heard was the silence.’
‘Did you help bury her, William?’
‘We all did. Antonio, Mother. But I fixed her.’
‘In the grave?’
‘Yes. I plaited her hair the way she liked to wear it. I went back to the castello to get her crucifix. She wasn’t wearing it that night. She had had nothing to protect her. Then I gave her my present.’
‘The ribbons?’
‘They were red, with a perforated edge, a herringbone pattern. I knew she would like the feel of them. I had taken them in my attaché case. I tied both her plaits, resting them on her shoulders after I positioned her, fixed her nightdress, placed her head on the stone pillow, joined her hands, bent both her knees. She looked as if she was praying. She wanted to be a guardian angel, Kate. Even in death, she wanted to help others.’
‘And your mother, William. What did she do?’
Kate watched his face change, anger and a look of defiance returning to it.
‘Mother was happy. She got more than she bargained for. It takes a lot of money to keep a mouth shut, especially one as big as hers. It was only a few months ago that I found out the real truth.’
‘And what was that, William?’
‘She had encouraged him to do what he did. My mother was a whore, Kate. She slept with dogs. Antonio entertained her for a while, but she soon realised he had other interests, interests of the younger variety. Nobody mattered to her, you see, nobody other than herself. I had to take action. I had done nothing for far too long.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I killed Antonio of course, pushed him off the cliff edge, the snivelling coward. Begged like a baby, his scream all the better for it.’
‘And your mother?’
‘I gave her the same death as Amy Brady, smothered her with a pillow. An eye for an eye, Kate.’
‘Did you kill Amy Brady, William?’
‘No, no. That was Mother. She thought Silvia had come back to haunt her.’ He snorted. ‘I heard Mother coming back to the house that night. I knew she had been up to no good. She told me she had taken care of everything.’
‘So you went back to Amy’s caravan?’
‘Yes. The girl was still warm. I thought about taking her out of the caravan, looking after her the way I’d looked after Silvia.’
‘What happened?’
‘I fixed her hair, made sure she was wearing the crucifix. Then I heard that woman’s footsteps, the girl’s mother, another little whore.’
‘Ellie Brady?’
‘It was easy to hear her, even from a distance. I heard the crunch of the gravel under her feet. So I did what I could for the girl – joined her hands, prepared her.’
‘And what about your mother, William? After the fire, you protected her? You let Ellie Brady take the blame?’
‘She hadn’t cared for her daughter either. Barely knew she existed.’
‘But your mother—’ Kate stopped herself.
‘What?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Of course it matters, Kate. I owe you an explanation. I can see that now.’ Kate felt the anger rise in his voice as he continued. ‘Mother used to say blood is thicker than water, but it wasn’t that.’
‘No?’ Kate wanted to cry, to be anywhere with Charlie other than where they were now.
He laughed loudly. ‘I foolishly thought it was madness, you see, brought on by belated guilt. But I was wrong. The only person my mother ever cared about was herself. When she finally told me the truth, I saw that crystal clear.’
‘I see.’
‘I knew you would, Kate, because you’re a very understanding person. Slow down here. We’re taking the next right turn.’
Kate slowed down. On taking the turn, she caught a glimpse of the squad cars down the long drive out of the corner of her eye – at exactly the same time as her abductor. He instructed her to keep on going. She thought about stopping the car, screaming out the window for help, but just as she thought this, he pushed the knife closer to Charlie’s face.
‘Do you like going to the beach, Charlie?’
Charlie had a blank look, as if his mind had reached overload with fear. Kate felt like crying as she looked at her son, his little face white, his eyes blankly staring, all the fight and life gone out of him. His head didn’t move this time, he had no response to their abductor’s question.
When William directed her towards the beach road, Kate did exactly as she was told.
St Michael’s Psychiatric Hospital
Monday, 10 October 2011, 4.55 p.m.
DONOGHUE TRACED KATE’S MOBILE PHONE TO HER apartment at Mervin Road. It was not the news O’Connor wanted to hear. As he pulled into the grounds of St Michael’s for the second time that day, he knew Dr Ebbs would be reluctant to release Ellie Brady into his care, even if she was accompanied by a nurse – but none of that mattered. As far as O’Connor was concerned, two lives were in immediate danger and everything else would have to come second to that.
When he arrived, he was relieved to see Ellie standing with Dr Ebbs and a young nurse at the front entrance. The nurse introduced herself as Sinead. O’Connor opened the back door of the car for the two of them, ushering them in as fast as he could. All the while, Dr Ebbs was in his ear, talking constantly about what to do and not to do, but he was only half-listening. His mind was on Kate. All going well, he could reach Cronly Lodge in a little over half an hour with the sirens on.
He was speeding down the N11 when he got the call from Carey.
‘Carey, fill me in.’
‘No sign of Cronly, Kate or her son down here. I’ve cordoned off the surrounding area. It’s a detached house, set on about an acre. I think we have our p
rimary crime scene. Tech team have picked up residue markings of elongated blood splatters on the wall near the fireplace in the main living area, then smaller blood-splatter traces farther out. They’ve bagged and tagged a number of items already, including a metal fireside poker. We have traces of blood pooling in the living room, and also in the garage out the back. Area one, the living room, most likely place of initial attack. Area two, the garage, was probably where body or bodies were brought before or after death.’
‘How old are the blood markings?’
‘They’re not from today, if that’s what you’re asking. Preliminary feedback from techies is that it looks like an attempt was made to clean the scene, but they’re picking up enough trace evidence to keep them busy for some time.’
‘Okay. Anything else?’
‘We bagged a lot from upstairs too, especially in what looks like a kid’s bedroom. We found an attaché case with a number of items, including a silver crucifix and a spool of red ribbon. Plus three small plastic zip bags, each with a lock of hair.’
‘Well you have plenty of support down there, so I want eyes and ears everywhere.’
‘I’m about to set up checkpoints in and out of the town.’
‘No, don’t. No uniforms. Keep it plain-clothed and low key. If Cronly is heading in that direction, I don’t want to spook him. We’ll need some DIs down at the beach too. That’s where I’m heading. I should be there shortly. ’
‘Right, I’ll pull the marked cars away from the front of the house. But O’Connor, he’s going to know he has visitors.’
‘He might know that already. Even so, I don’t want to push him out of the area entirely. Any change, phone me.’
O’Connor almost forgot about Ellie and Sinead in the back of the car, until Ellie spoke, quietly, but assured.
‘What’s his name, Detective?’
‘The man we’re looking for?’
‘Yes.’
‘William. His name is William Cronly.’
O’Connor waited for her response. When it came, Ellie’s voice remained slow, as if the speed of his car and the need to get to Wexford fast were completely at odds with her thinking.
‘Detective, you think he killed those girls from Dublin?’
‘I do.’
‘And what about Amy?’
O’Connor needed to control his voice, keep it gentle, especially now he knew Kate and Charlie weren’t at Cronly. Ellie was his only means of finding this guy’s hideout and he wasn’t taking any chances.
‘A photograph of Amy was found, Ellie, at William Cronly’s house in Wexford.’
‘What kind of photograph?’
O’Connor knew Ellie’s question was loaded. What she really wanted to know was whether or not her daughter was alive in it. From what he’d heard from Donoghue, the photograph was taken while the girl was very much alive.
‘I haven’t seen it myself, Ellie, but it’s a Polaroid image taken of Amy probably while you were holidaying that year.’
‘Holidaying?’ Ellie said it in a tone that contradicted every common understanding of the term. ‘How are you so sure it’s a photograph of Amy?’
‘I don’t have the full details, but I understand Gilmartin, the man who dragged you from the fire, has identified her in it. Ellie,’ O’Connor’s voice was almost pleading, ‘we’ll be there shortly. I need your help. You do understand that, don’t you?’
‘I understand you’re telling me that William Cronly is the one who killed my daughter.’
‘Yes, Ellie, we believe so.’ Ellie kept her silence. O’Connor continued. ‘We also believe he killed Caroline Devine and Amelia Spain.’ Ellie did not respond. O’Connor knew he needed her onside.
‘Ellie?’
‘Yes?’
‘I don’t want Kate or her son added to that list.’
‘Nor do I, Detective O’Connor, nor do I.’
For the first time since his passengers got into the car at St Michael’s, he breathed a sigh of relief for that at least.
The Beach Road, Gorey, County Wexford
DRIVING DOWN THE BEACH ROAD, HE TOLD KATE TO PARK the car at the back of the closed-down amusement arcade, instructing her to get out and wait while he unbuckled Charlie from the back seat.
Kate thought about making a grab for Charlie and running as far away as she could, but she knew that with Charlie in her arms, he’d outrun her. She still had the car keys, so if she overpowered him, she might have a chance to get away, but he was fit, strong enough to win the physical battle against her. She couldn’t risk it. If she crossed him, he’d know all the trust-building in the car was nothing more than a pretence, and Charlie would be in even more danger. If she had any hope of getting herself and Charlie out alive, she had to keep playing his game, wait for her chance to get her hands on that knife, use her head, and hope that the opportunity would come soon.
Standing with her back to the deserted amusement arcade, her legs felt like jelly, the sharp October breeze blowing her hair in every direction. She was shivering, more from fear for Charlie than from the cold, but still she smiled at their abductor, as if they were a normal family out on a day trip.
When she heard Charlie moaning from behind the duct tape and saw him struggling in William Cronly’s arms, it took every ounce of self-discipline she had not to make a grab for him.
‘Now, now, Charlie, you don’t want to make me angry.’
Kate moved forward. ‘Shush, Charlie. It’s okay, don’t worry. Maybe I should carry him, William? He’ll be less of a handful with me.’
‘I don’t think so, Kate. The track we’re taking is steep and you’re not used to it. You might let him fall.’
‘I’ll be careful.’
‘Trust me, I know these things. Now, Charlie, don’t get me annoyed.’
‘Honestly. I’ll take him, William. It’ll be better.’
‘Okay,’ he relented, ‘but I’ll keep close behind you, that way I can take him quickly if you stumble. We don’t want anything happening to him Kate, do we?’
Charlie grabbed hold of her, tight, like a wild baby chimp. He buried his face into her neck. Kate felt his tears on her skin. She put a hand under his jacket, wanting him to feel her close. She felt his skin soaked with sweat through his T-shirt, heard his heart thumping, remembered her own feeling of terror all those years before. He had grabbed her from behind, a knife to her throat, her screams loud but unheard, knowing the only thing between her and death was the most fleeting of chances.
‘Shush, Charlie don’t cry, it’s okay. Mommy is here.’
N11, Gorey Exit
Monday, 10 October 2011, 5.30 p.m.
THE DISCOVERY OF CAROLINE DEVINE’S PHOTOGRAPH at Meadow View was conclusive evidence as far as O’Connor was concerned. He had no doubt that the blood and hair samples taken from the Lodge would link William Cronly to Caroline’s murder, and ultimately to that of Amelia Spain. Coupled with the knowledge that he had taken a flight to Italy the week Antonio Peri died, and had in his possession a photograph of Ellie’s daughter, O’Connor was certain that the man who had taken Kate and Charlie was the same man who had committed all four murders.
In five minutes he would be at the beach front. O’Connor again went over in his mind everything Kate had told him about the killer. The high level of intimacy he perceived with his victims, a risk-taker within controlled parameters, leaned towards the familiar, repeat behaviour, watched his victims before making contact and believed he was developing a relationship with them. O’Connor cursed under his breath. All this time they had been looking for the killer, the killer had been watching Kate.
He thought back to earlier that afternoon, when he had dropped Kate off at her apartment. He had been the one who had left her there. He was the one who had driven away, when the man he most wanted to have by the throat was lying in wait for her. O’Connor struggled to stay focused on the road opening up in front of him, knowing that if everything Kate had said about the killer was true, he had take
n her somewhere he felt safe, a place that had to be so close now. It took everything in O’Connor’s power to stay focused. He phoned Donoghue.
‘Donoghue, is everything in place?’
‘DIs are there, all armed.’
‘And they know to hold out until I get there?’
‘They’re on the ready, waiting for you. Nolan’s been informed. We have dog teams there too. They’ve a woollen hat belonging to the boy and a scarf belonging to Kate. Helicopters on standby for wide sweep of the area should we need them.’
‘I don’t want to spook him.’
‘I know that, O’Connor. The DIs have called in a Carina with matching plates parked at the back of the amusement arcade. It was found empty.’
‘I can see it now, Donoghue. I’m pulling in.’
‘Take it easy, O’Connor.’
‘I will.’
The tyres of his car screeched to a stop on the gravel. He turned to his back-seat passengers and said as calmly as he could, ‘Okay, Ellie, it’s time.’
The Hideout
KATE CARRIED CHARLIE IN HER ARMS, REASSURING HIM, constantly whispering in his ear as she walked the dirt track, the back of the sand dunes on her right. It was bitterly cold now and almost dark. The breeze coming in from the sea was biting and without mercy. William Cronly followed closely behind her, like a shadow. Her old fears ever present, only this time her fears were not for herself but for the little boy frightened and crying in her arms.
Charlie wanted to pull the duct tape off his mouth, but she told him to leave it. She couldn’t risk him screaming and upsetting their abductor. She remembered her response to O’Connor’s question about what would happen if his next victim didn’t play ball: ‘He will lose it, his temper will flare up again, only next time, his disappointment will be greater because next time, he has nowhere else to turn. It will be everyone else’s fault except his own. He won’t internalise blame, he isn’t capable of that. The victim, whoever she is, will suffer, as will anyone else unlucky enough to be with her.’
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