"Maybe not this time. I think it may not have been Natalie's body that was in the water that night. I think she might still be alive."
Spillane looked at Frank. "Are you being serious?"
"The autopsy reports are being double-checked to make sure it really was her who died. They'll call me as soon as they have a result." Frank could see the fear in the other man's eyes. "We also think that Lucas Doyle may have killed Polly Heaney."
"Lucas?" He shook his head. "No way. That's impossible."
"Why? Because you were with him that night?"
Spillane sank onto the sand and stared into the flames. "How did you know I lied?"
"It was a lucky guess," said Elizabeth. "Unless you killed her together."
"Do you really think I'm capable of such a thing?"
"Do you think Lucas Doyle was?"
"Yes," he whispered. "It's possible. There was always something cold about him, but I don't think he killed Polly; I wouldn't have given him an alibi otherwise."
"Why did you lie for him?"
"He said he'd spent the night with a woman and he didn't want Natalie to find out. She was overprotective of him. Lucas doted on her. He told me he'd met someone and he'd spent the night at her place. He was afraid that if he told the police the truth that it'd all come out."
"So you agreed to give him an alibi."
"I didn't think it mattered; Kyle Whelan had already been arrested. No one ever doubted that he killed her. It never even occurred to me that Lucas could have done it. I still can't believe it."
"Why didn't you tell the truth, especially when he spent years taunting you?"
"Because I genuinely believed that Kyle Whelan was guilty. How many more times do I have to tell you? Not for one moment did I think that Lucas had done it."
"Your wife thought Lucas was guilty."
"Roberta never shut up about Lucas; she was convinced he had killed Polly. How could I tell her that I had given him a false alibi?"
"She'll find out now, whatever else happens," said Frank.
"I know." Spillane put his head in his hands. "She'll never forgive me."
"Where is your wife, anyway?" asked Elizabeth, peering up the beach.
"She's gone to get driftwood. She should be back any minute. Why are you here? Even if Lucas killed Natalie, even if Natalie isn't really dead; what does it have to do with me?"
"It has everything to do with you," said Elizabeth. "As far as Natalie knows, you're the only person alive who knows that her brother's alibi was a lie. If she can find a way to stop you from talking.."
Frank's phone rang. "That'll be O' Flynn," he said, taking the phone from his pocket. "O' Flynn? What did you find?"
Elizabeth watched his face as he listened.
"Say that again," said Frank. "The line's breaking up. No way. Okay, thanks O' Flynn. You did good."
"What is it?" asked Elizabeth.
"O' Flynn got Elmes to show him the autopsy report again."
"And?"
"It is Natalie in the grave. She's dead. The fractures matched."
"I can't believe it. If it wasn't Natalie who was behind all of this, who was it?"
"That would be me," said a voice from the other side of the fire.
The silhouette that stepped from the darkness into the circle of light was Max Redmond. He wasn't looking bad for someone who was supposed to be dead. Elizabeth wondered if it was his boat that they'd heard passing as they stood on the hill earlier. She stared at his gun, wishing she had brought her own.
"Nice piece, don't you think?" Max said, catching her looking at it. "I stole it from Hannah's house. I thought it'd come in handy. It's old, but it'll do the job, which is more than I can say for Hannah. All that crap sex I endured in the hope she'd give me the key to Natalie's locker, and in the end she simply handed it to you. Ungrateful bitch. Well, I've taught her a lesson. She left me no choice. I'd tried softening her up by sending her threatening letters and breaking into the gallery, but she insisted on keeping Natalie's secrets."
"Out of curiosity, who did you kill in Hannah's gallery?" asked Elizabeth.
"I haven't a clue," said Max. "I'm sure he'll be reported missing soon enough. I waited until someone who could pass for me walked by, and then I pretended I'd been mugged. I asked him to come with me to the gallery while I got a glass of water. I told him I worked there. I'd actually stolen the key from Hannah and made a copy. Anyway, the kind stranger helped me inside, and then BANG BANG: some facial reconstruction and he passed for me."
"Who the hell are you?" demanded Spillane.
"Don't you remember me, Finn?" asked Max.
Spillane stared at him blankly. "I've never seen you before in my life."
"He's Nick Heaney," said Elizabeth. "Polly's brother."
"Well done," said Max. "How did you figure it out?"
"I should have known as soon as we realised that the man we thought was the Shooter was Russell Lennon aka Enda Heaney. Who else would Enda have been willing to die to protect but his little brother?"
Spillane was staring at Max. "Nick? But," he said at last. "I thought you were dead."
"Everyone seems to think I'm dead, but that was the whole idea. I wanted to be dead, to be invisible. Life is easier when you're invisible."
Spillane shook his head, unable to comprehend it.
"What are you going to do?" asked Elizabeth. "Are you going to kill us like you killed Natalie?"
"I didn't kill Natalie," Max said with a laugh. "Enda killed her. Poor, stupid Enda; he wanted to protect me from myself, and look where it got him. He thought I was insane when he realised that I was the Shooter, but he couldn't turn me in."
"Madness seems to run in your family," said Elizabeth.
"Stupidity obviously runs in yours," snapped Max. "When I think of your little face that day I called you about the threatening letter I'd been sent. You rushed over, so earnest and concerned."
"While you were the one taking the photos the entire time."
"Correct. Enda made the calls for me to arrange the meetings. When the subjects turned up, I shot them: literally and metaphorically. Poetic really. Vanity can get people into so much trouble: the promise of being featured in an exhibition and they couldn't resist. Enda told them the time and the place and they were there. That's how I got to meet Natalie too. But I called her and suggested me meet at the church. I knew the church meant a lot to her from her childhood. I knew she'd be intrigued enough to come. Unknown to her, I took her photo. The next day I sent it to her with a note inviting her to lunch: our first date."
"Where you seduced her."
"How could she resist? Look at me. Natalie was mine. I always knew it. Natalie and Lucas weren't two halves of the same person; it was Natalie and me."
"How can you talk about her like that?" asked Elizabeth. "She knew her brother killed your sister, and she never told anyone."
"Polly meant nothing to me."
"He raped her. Natalie knew that."
"I know. I watched him do it."
"You were there?"
"It was my first sexual encounter," said Max. "I was hiding in the garden. I saw everything: how he pushed himself inside her, how he filled her mouth with earth until she choked, how he buried her. I saw it all. I never told anyone what I'd seen. It was exhilarating. I knew I'd do the same thing to his sister one day. Natalie and I had an unbreakable bond. I knew we'd be together some day. All three of us shared the secret of what he'd done to Polly. We were fused together. All I had to do was wait."
"Wait for what?" asked Frank.
"Until we could be together. Everything I did was for Natalie and Lucas. I left foster care when I was sixteen and went to London. Nick Heaney had to die, to disappear forever. That's why Enda told everyone I was dead. I became Max Redmond instead. I took night classes in photography and art to prepare myself for the day when Natalie and I would be together.
"I flew back to Cork a few times over the years, just to make sure that ever
yone had forgotten about Nick Heaney and that no one recognised me. Everyone had forgotten about Polly Heaney too. I was free to return."
"When did you come back?"
"About a year ago. Natalie and I soon became lovers. It was everything I wanted, for her too, I believe."
"Two dark hearts together."
He laughed. "Maybe. Natalie gave herself to me in a way she never could to anyone else, not even to Lucas. I brought out something in her."
"Did she know who you were?"
"Not then, no, she didn't suspect. Why would she? It was a long time ago. I was a young boy when she knew me. I wanted to know that she was completely in my power before I told her the truth."
"But you hadn't accounted for Lucas," said Elizabeth.
"Lucas wanted to split us up. He wanted Natalie for himself, and in the end, he got his way. Natalie stopped returning my calls, and she sent my letters back unopened. Then Hannah and Lucas took her away to France. I'd gone through hell, and I wasn't going to have her taken away from me like that."
"What did you decide to do?"
"I decided to kill them all," he said. "Natalie. Lucas. Hannah. I'm sure they were all laughing at me. I couldn't stand the humiliation. All I needed was a gun, and that's where Hannah came in. No one knew about our affair."
"So you blackmailed her into giving you a gun?" said Frank.
"There was no need for blackmail," he said contemptuously. "I took it from her collection. It used to belong to her ex-husband. Once I had the gun, I waited until Natalie was back in town, but it was difficult getting close to her; Lucas was watching her as if she were a child. Waiting was making me tense. I needed a release.
"I went to Natalie's new exhibition and I saw her pictures. I knew that she was sending me a message; she wanted us to be together again. She was waiting for a sign from me, so I didn't kill her. I gave her the sign she wanted; I started killing people in the locations where her paintings were based. The people were random. Of course, the media thought there was some hidden message, something that connected all the victims.
"Every time I killed someone, I sent Natalie the cutting from the newspapers about the killings with the names of the places underlined, hoping she'd realise that they were the places we'd visited together."
"Did she confront you?"
"She came around to my apartment one afternoon demanding to know if I was the Shooter. It was the first time I'd seen her since she went to France. It was so good to see her. I wanted to be with her. I confessed. I even showed her the photos I'd taken of the victims after they died."
"Why?"
"I was hoping that she'd be inspired by what I was doing and want to join me. She knew what Lucas had done; she told me it turned her on."
"But Natalie didn't react the way she was supposed to, did she?"
"She told me she felt nothing for me, that she was ashamed of herself, that she wasn't going to let me destroy her life or her brother's life. She also said she was going to tell the police that I was the Shooter."
"What did you do?"
"I told her that if she exposed me, I'd expose her and her brother."
"How did she react?"
"She went quiet. She asked me for a glass of water. While I was in the kitchen she grabbed my photos and ran. Later, she called me and promised not to tell anyone about my being the Shooter, but that if anything happened to her or Lucas, then the photos would be sent to the police.
"I persuaded Enda to go to Natalie's house, break in, and find the photos. Enda knew I was the Shooter, he begged me to stop, but he couldn't turn me in, so he agreed to get the photos back."
"It was Enda who broke into their house that time?"
"Yes, but he didn't find the photos. However, he did find Natalie's diary, filled with clippings and quotes about Polly's murder. He realised, then, that Lucas had killed her. He'd always believed it was Kyle Whelan. In his shock, he left the diary behind. He didn't need it anyway; he had all the evidence he needed. As far as Enda was concerned, everything that had gone wrong in our lives stemmed from Polly's death. It was his chance to put it right."
"It was after the break-in that Natalie decided to give the photos and the diary to Hannah," said Elizabeth. "She knew they weren't safe at the house."
"Especially when Enda started stalking Natalie, and calling her in the middle of the night and saying he was going to kill her and her brother for what they did to Polly."
"I still don't understand how he managed to kill Natalie."
"He followed her to the church and killed her, just like Lucas killed our sister." The drying driftwood shifted in the fire, sending out a burst of light, which sparked along the barrel of the gun.
"Weren't you devastated that your brother had killed the woman you claimed to love?" asked Elizabeth.
"Not really." He shrugged. "Natalie wasn't the woman I thought she was. She failed me. Anyway, what's done is done. I'm not going to waste my life brooding about her."
"Did you break into my apartment?"
"Yes. I couldn't risk you figuring out the truth. I broke into your apartment and left the photo to scare you off."
"What? Elizabeth, is this true?" Frank asked.
"I didn't want to worry you," she replied, avoiding his eye. "It was the night of Natalie's funeral. The place was trashed when I got home. I didn't want to make a big issue of it. You had enough on your mind."
"An issue?" echoed Frank in disbelief.
"You couldn't let it go, could you, Elizabeth?" Max continued. "I decided you had to die. Enda didn't want to kill you, but he wanted to protect me more. I made him see that there was no other option. You were one step ahead, and he panicked."
"Did you care about your brother at all?"
Max shrugged indifferently.
"Aren't you ashamed that he sacrificed himself to save you?"
"Why should I feel ashamed? It was his decision. I didn't make him do anything. Obviously, he thought that if he could make you believe that he was the Shooter that you would leave me alone. I suppose it was a nice gesture, but I think he was mad to do it."
"Mad?" said Spillane. "You're all bloody lunatics!"
"Maybe, but I'm the lunatic with the gun," said Max.
"What's the plan?" said Frank.
"I plan on protecting myself," said Max.
"What? By coming here after Spillane?" asked Frank. "He doesn't have anything on you."
"I'll deal with him later. I'm here for you two." He raised the gun and pointed it at Frank's head.
"No!" Elizabeth cried out and took a step forward.
Max smirked at her reaction. At that moment a shadow rose behind him, holding something jagged against the light. The shadow brought it down on to Max's head. He slumped to the ground, dropping the gun. Frank kicked it out of his reach. Max raised his hand to his head and looked at his blood-soaked fingers. "That hurt," he said.
"Good!" said Roberta, dropping the driftwood to the sand.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Stars scattered the night sky as Elizabeth stood on her balcony, catching a moment of peace. A car pulled up below, and Ken Williams clambered out. He didn't see her watching him.
Elizabeth pulled open the glass door and stepped into the livingroom. Frank was talking to Dr. Brennan while Foley took notes. O' Flynn had declined Elizabeth's invitation to the party; he had a first date. She didn't blame him. She looked around the room; it wasn't her idea of a party either.
"Williams is here," she announced. Everyone fell silent and stood up, while she crossed the room to open the door. A few moments later, he appeared, looking drained and sombre. "Would he see you?" she asked.
"I saw him." Williams shuddered. "That's the problem."
"I'll get you a drink," said Frank.
Williams shrugged off his coat and sat down. He had spent most of the day with Max. Williams had been sent for because, ever since the arrest, Max had refused to talk to anyone, including his defence solicitor. There wasn't much fo
r him to say. His fingerprints had been matched to the gun used in the Shooter killings and to the photos that were found in Natalie's locker. Forensics were certain that they could connect him to the fire in Hannah Moynihan's house.
However, Frank believed that there was more to be learned about Max. He didn't think there was anything that could necessarily explain what he'd done. He just wanted to know what Williams made of him.
"Thanks," said Williams, taking the brandy that Frank offered him. "I shouldn't really. I won't sleep tonight." He didn't look like he'd get much sleep anyway. He took the glass and sipped the brandy, lost in thought.
"Shall we do this another time?" Elizabeth asked, realising how exhausted he was.
"No. Let's get it over with."
"Did he talk?" asked Frank.
"He talked. He had plenty to say." Williams gulped his drink. "I think he was intrigued by my interest in him. To be honest, the problem wasn't getting him to talk; the problem was getting him to shut up."
"He talked a lot on the beach too," said Elizabeth.
"The only time I could get a word in was when he asked what I thought of what he'd done."
"What did you think of him?"
"I told him I thought he was a common case, psychologically speaking. He wasn't impressed."
"Not very flattering to the ego," said Frank. "Every killer likes to think they're unique."
"Getting a kick out of watching your sister die is what I'd call unique," Foley piped up.
"It's not that unusual," continued Williams. "Everything stems from childhood. Research shows that violent offenders have often had violent fantasies from as young as seven. Sometimes people commit evil deeds because they're born evil, but mostly it's because something happened to them in childhood that makes them what they are."
"Innocence gone wrong," said Frank.
"Max's childhood was messed up long before he saw Lucas kill his sister. He had the classic signs: a dysfunctional home, psychologically damaging parenting."
"What was wrong with his parents?"
"According to what Max told me tonight, all three siblings were forced to watch their father and mother having intercourse. He touched them and made them touch each other. He used to beat them and made them watch as he beat their mother. Watching Lucas rape his sister wasn't a completely new experience."
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