Only Lies Remain: A Psychological Thriller

by Val Collins

  ‘You must have been a very young father.’

  ‘Eighteen.’

  ‘That is young.’

  ‘Yes, well, if I had my time over, I’d do it very differently.’

  ‘Wouldn’t we all.’

  ‘You think you were too young when you had Amy?’

  ‘No. I planned Amy and I’m glad I had her, but I didn’t have a clue what I was getting into.’

  ‘Does anyone?’

  ‘I suppose not. What I mean is, maybe I should have given more thought to—’ She shrugged. ‘Don’t mind me. I don’t know what I’m talking about.’

  One of Moaney’s colleagues was speaking to the film crew. ‘Conor,’ he called, ‘give us a hand here, will you?’

  Moaney grinned. ‘See. I’m indispensable.’ He tickled Amy. ‘See you later, munchkin.’ Amy giggled. ‘Can I give you a lift home?’ he asked Aoife. ‘I have to drop into the Kildare police station anyway.’

  ‘Thank you. That would be great.’

  *

  ‘I forgot Amy needs a car seat.’

  ‘I think we’d better take the train, Detective.’

  ‘Wait there, just one minute.’ He walked over to his colleague and they both disappeared around the corner. Moaney returned a few minutes later carrying a car seat.

  ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘I borrowed Joe’s. He’s a weekend father, so he won’t need it today. I’ll give it back to him tomorrow.’

  When they’d eventually managed to get the seat installed, Aoife sat in the back with Amy. She felt obliged to continue their conversation, but it was difficult from that distance. She had run out of things to say when the detective’s phone rang. He pressed the button on the steering wheel.

  ‘Hi, Blaine. I’m driving. Can I phone you back? Great. Bye.’

  ‘Blaine is an unusual name.’

  ‘His mother’s Australian.’ He hesitated, then chuckled. ‘I shouldn’t tell you this, but his full name is Blaine Happiness Johnson Moloney.’

  Aoife suppressed a smile. ‘It’s—unusual.’

  ‘His mother’s name is Johnson. She called him Happiness because she was so happy when she found out she was pregnant.’

  ‘That’s sweet. Especially as she was so young.’

  ‘She was twenty when we met. I went on a two-week holiday with my friends to celebrate finishing my Leaving Cert. Katie was on a mission to see the entire world before she reached twenty-one.’ He smiled. ‘Katie really should have been born in the sixties. I think a hippie commune would have suited her down to the ground.’

  He pulled up outside Aoife’s house. Aoife looked at Jason’s car in the driveway and wished she could stay where she was, with a sleeping Amy in her arms and a kind, undemanding man to keep her company.

  *

  ‘I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.’

  ‘It was a terrible thing to say, Jason. Amy is and always has been my priority. I would never put her in front of my job.’

  ‘I know. I should have made sure you knew I was leaving Amy with you. It was entirely my fault.’

  ‘Yes, well—’

  ‘How did you get home?’

  ‘Detective Moloney gave us a lift.’

  ‘The detective drove you the entire way to Kildare! He lives in Dublin, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, but he had to call to the police station here.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She helped Amy remove her shoes. ‘Why do you ask?’

  Jason shrugged. ‘It must have something to do with Mum, mustn’t it? What else would he be doing in Kildare?’

  ‘That’s the only reason you’re asking?’

  ‘Who’s the suspicious one now, Aoife? Of course I’m concerned when a detective drives all the way from Dublin to my mother’s local police station.’

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Saturday morning and Aoife was enjoying her solitary breakfast. She was reading a report in the local newspaper about Danny’s disappearance. Crimecall had covered the case the previous evening, but the national newspapers hadn’t thought it worth mentioning. The doorbell rang. Aoife ignored it. It was at least a year since she’d eaten breakfast alone and she had no intention of allowing anyone to interrupt her. The bell rang again, longer and more insistent. Aoife muttered to herself as she tramped into the hall. When she found Orla on her doorstep, she was momentarily stunned. Almost two weeks had passed since Orla had done her the favour of flying to New York with no notice. She’d texted Aoife the day she’d returned, letting her know everything had gone well. Since then she hadn’t replied to Aoife’s texts or answered her phone calls. Aoife figured she was busy and would get in touch eventually. Given Orla’s attitude to Kildare and indeed all towns outside Dublin, Aoife was alarmed to find her outside her front door at 9 a.m. on a Saturday.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing. Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ Aoife opened the door and Orla strode into the kitchen.

  ‘There’s no way you drove from Dublin at this hour on a Saturday morning unless something major happened, Orla. What is it?’

  ‘I stayed in Kildare last night. Can’t I visit my best friend without getting the third degree? Where’s everyone?’

  Aoife explained that Jason had volunteered to do the weekly grocery shop and Amy had insisted on accompanying him. Seeing Orla was about to start another lecture on the dangers of allowing Jason to live in her home, Aoife quickly changed the subject to Orla’s recent New York visit.

  ‘You don’t have to keep thanking me, Aoife,’ Orla said as she sipped her coffee. ‘It was fun. And I get a free first-class flight to New York again next week. What more could a girl ask for?’

  ‘Cian said a free flight, Orla, and to Europe, not New York. He didn’t say anything about first class.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Orla put down her mug. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The thing is, Aoife, I’m going to New York with Cian. I hope you don’t mind, but Cian and I are kind of a couple now.’

  ‘You’re a couple? How did that happen? I thought you’d only met for a few minutes in airports.’

  ‘We did, but when we met in Italy, Cian told me about a man in New York who does copies of all the great paintings. Cian thinks he’s going to be famous one day. He gave me four hundred dollars and asked me to pick up a painting he’d commissioned. When I was flying home, I sent Cian a text and he met me in Dublin Airport. We went to dinner that night and we’ve been out every evening since.’

  ‘He never mentioned it.’

  ‘I wanted to be the one to tell you. Do you mind?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I don’t suppose it matters either way. You’re really interested in Cian? I can’t imagine anyone who is less your type.’

  ‘I was a bit surprised myself. At first, I wasn’t remotely attracted to him. I wouldn’t even have gone to dinner with him if I hadn’t been starving, but you know, he’s very interesting. Over dinner he told me the story of the painting that was stolen from Danielle’s grandparents—I mean, the things they went through! It’s hard to imagine. And then we talked some more and he told me about the break-in and his mother and everything. I felt so sorry for him.’

  ‘The bank robbery break-in? What did he say about that?’

  ‘You know his mother was dying at the time, right?’

  ‘Yes, that’s why his father never discussed Danny’s disappearance.’

  ‘Well, remember the papers said three men broke into Cian’s house, the place you work now. They tied up Cian and forced his father to go to the bank and wait until the time locks on the safe opened. Cian was in the house all night on his own. He was only fifteen and he could hear his mother upstairs calling for him. She was in pain and couldn’t move, but he wasn’t able to get her the drugs she needed. He was almost in tears telling me about it.’

  ‘Poor Cian. I wonder he didn’t mention it when we were talking about the night Danny disappeared.’

  ‘I don’t
think he finds it easy to speak about his mother or that night.’

  ‘Did he say anything about the burglars? Any reason to believe one of them was Brendan?’

  ‘I asked him what they looked like. He says he remembers being terrified by the balaclavas, but other than that, the only thing that really registered with him was his mother calling for help.’

  *

  Orla hurried off to meet Cian. He was driving her to Dublin and they were having brunch at some fancy restaurant. Aoife was trying to decide how she felt about that when Jason and Amy returned. Amy was munching the remains of a packet of crisps.

  ‘Jason, please don’t keep buying her those. The papers say they cause cancer.’

  Amy tightened her grip on the crisps and ran out of the room.

  ‘Okay, no more crisps. I’m exhausted. I’m going to watch TV for a while.’ He went into the sitting room.

  ‘Amy,’ Aoife called. ‘Would you like to help me put away the shopping?’

  Amy’s “help” meant it took almost an hour to put everything away. Aoife looked at her pile of ironing. It would have to wait. She didn’t get enough time with Amy these days. During one of her Mother & Toddler sessions, Olive had practically fainted when Aoife admitted Amy had never experienced finger-painting. The following week she’d arrived with a large sheet of very thick white paper. ‘Of course you must take it,’ she’d insisted. ‘You’re a single mother. We’re all here to support you and help with Amy’s development.’

  Aoife moved the kitchen furniture to one side. She covered the wooden floor with an old sheet and placed the paper on the ground. A half hour later Amy was covered in paint. She was using her hands and her bare feet to smear different coloured paints across the paper. When the page was a mess of colours, Aoife covered her hand in paint and made palm prints on the sheet. Amy copied her but was more interested in painting her face. Eventually she put her tiny palm on the sheet, then put one foot into the paint container and made prints with her feet. They were both laughing when Jason came into the kitchen.

  ‘God, what a mess.’

  ‘Join us. We can have a family hand portrait.’

  ‘No way. Look at the state of the place.’

  ‘It will all wash off. Come on, Jason. It’s fun.’

  ‘Forget it. I’m meeting Ryan in twenty minutes. I don’t have time to wash all that stuff off.’

  ‘You’re going out? I thought we’d do something as a family. We’ve barely seen Amy all week.’

  ‘You’re the one who insisted on working four days a week, Aoife. How did you expect to spend time with your child?’ He checked his watch. ‘I’m off. See you tonight.’

  Aoife and Amy finished their painting. Aoife stuck it to the fridge. The two sets of palm prints seemed to be mocking her.

  *

  The following morning, Aoife made another attempt at family time. She had just opened her mouth to suggest a trip to the zoo when her phone rang.

  ‘Aoife, it’s Detective Moloney.’

  ‘Hi, Detective.’

  ‘I’m going to see your mother-in-law shortly. I think you should be there.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘There’s been a breakthrough. Somebody phoned the police station after the re-enactment was broadcast on TV. It’s given us a whole new perspective on your father-in-law’s disappearance.’

  TWENTY-SIX

  ‘I’m not sure I understand, Detective. A woman says Danny gave her sister a lift a few weeks before he disappeared?’

  ‘A few weeks before her sister disappeared, Mrs Walsh.’

  ‘Both of them disappeared? The same day?’

  ‘We’re not exactly sure when the girl disappeared. She sometimes stayed overnight with friends, so her family didn’t raise the alarm immediately, but we think she disappeared the day before your husband’s murder.’

  ‘I don’t see the connection, Detective.’

  Moaney looked uncomfortable. He glanced at Aoife, then turned his attention to Maura. ‘There’s no easy way to say this.’

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘The girl he gave a lift to was Triona Cashman.’

  Maura turned to Aoife. ‘Why do I know that name?’

  Aoife shrugged.

  ‘She was one of a group of six girls who went missing between fifteen and twenty years ago.’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course. The Buckley murders. I remember now. And Danny knew her?’

  ‘We think so, yes. He certainly gave her a lift on at least one occasion.’

  ‘Okay, but how does that help?’

  ‘You remember Buckley’s last victim?’

  ‘The one who got away? Sarah something? I remember vaguely, but I was still trying to adjust to Danny’s disappearance at the time and I wasn’t really paying much attention to the news.’

  ‘Buckley, the guy we arrested, kidnapped Sarah and brought her up the Dublin mountains. Two men who happened to be walking in the mountains that day heard her scream. Buckley ran away, but the girl could identify him.’

  ‘Detective, I really don’t see—’

  Detective Moloney swallowed.

  ‘Girls had been disappearing for over six years. We suspect Buckley was responsible for all the abductions, but he’s always denied it. Although we can’t prove anything, there’s good reason to believe he abducted the first girl, and the third girl was seen with someone who fits his description, but we never found any connection between him and the other three.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘The point I’m trying to make, Mrs Walsh, is that girls stopped disappearing after Buckley was arrested.’

  ‘I know that, Detective. That’s how everyone was sure Buckley was the murderer.’

  ‘Exactly. But Buckley was arrested fifteen years ago.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Aoife muttered.

  Maura turned to her. ‘What?’

  But Aoife couldn’t bring herself to say it.

  ‘Mrs Walsh, Buckley was arrested three months after your husband disappeared.’

  ‘I know that, Detective.’

  ‘So Buckley isn’t the only person who’s been off the scene for the last fifteen years.’ When Maura looked at him blankly, the detective added, ‘So has your husband.’

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  ‘That is the most preposterous, insane, ridiculous thing I ever heard.’

  When nobody answered her, Maura shouted, ‘My husband! The father of my—’ She pointed at Aoife. ‘Your child’s grandfather!’

  ‘Maura, I—’

  Maura held up her hand. ‘Don’t! Get out, both of you.’

  ‘I can’t leave you al—’

  ‘I don’t want you here, Aoife. Either of you.’ Maura charged to the front door, opened it and waited until they left. She slammed the door behind them.

  *

  ‘She’s not going to get into trouble for throwing you out, is she?’

  The detective shook his head. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow when she’s had time to get used to the idea.’

  ‘Do you really think Danny murdered all those girls?’

  ‘I don’t know. He might have been Buckley’s accomplice. All the girls lived within a ten-mile radius of Rathfarnham and your father-in-law was there regularly.’

  ‘Maura says he almost always had the boys with him.’

  ‘I know. I spoke to your mother-in-law’s neighbour. She said the boys often played with her kids while Danny ran errands for his mother.’

  ‘But how long could he have been gone? A half an hour? An hour at most, surely? That’s hardly enough time to kidnap and murder a girl and dispose of the body.’

  ‘No, but your father-in-law might have kidnapped Triona, stored her somewhere and murdered her later. Remember, he didn’t go to work for two days before he disappeared.’

  ‘Jack says he was definitely at work.’

  ‘Fr Byrne is a seventy-four-year-old man trying to remember a seemingly insignificant phone call he made fifteen years ago. Stephen Byrne was in his
fifties when he reported something that happened a few days earlier. Who do you think is the more reliable witness?’

  ‘Did you talk to the other people who worked in the bank?’

  ‘We did. One colleague says she thinks your father-in-law was at work all week. Another thinks he wasn’t. It’s too long ago for anybody to be certain.’

  ‘Wouldn’t the bank have Danny’s holiday records?’

  ‘We’ll check, but I doubt it. As far as I remember, organisations are only required to keep holiday records for five years or so.’

  ‘Please keep me informed of any developments, Detective. We really need to know what’s going on.’

  ‘As soon as there is any news I can share with you, I promise I’ll phone you, Aoife.’

  *

  Aoife got home to find Jason pacing the hall.

  ‘Great! You’re back. I have to go. I told Ryan I’d meet him half an hour ago.’

  As he passed her, Aoife put a hand on his arm. ‘I have to tell you something.’

  *

  Jason was stunned by the implications. ‘That’s crazy. My dad wasn’t a murderer.’

  ‘I know. Your mum’s really upset. Can you go over there now? I think you should spend the night.’

  ‘Not now, Aoife. Ryan’s waiting for me.’

  ‘Tell him what happened. You can meet up at Maura’s house.’

  ‘That wouldn’t work. We booked a tennis court and Ryan’s going to help me with my serve. I need to get some exercise and tennis is the only game I ever liked.’

  ‘Jason! Your mother needs you.’

  ‘She’ll be fine. I’ll phone her straight away.’ He dialled the number, picked up his keys and hurried out of the house.

  *

  Aoife had hoped Jason would spend the night with Maura, but he was home by 9 p.m.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your mother, of course.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure she’s fine.’

  ‘You didn’t visit her?’

  ‘No. Ryan and I went for something to eat after the game and then we went back to his place. I meant to tell him about Mum, but it slipped my mind.’

  ‘What? You forgot!’