by Hill, Casey
‘I was just afraid of losing him, to be honest.’
Kennedy pulled up a chair and set his steaming plate on the table. He dove straight in. ‘What I thought was interesting,’ he said through a mouthful of sausage and beans, ‘is that what seemed to bother the kid was not what happened at whatever place he was in, but the fact that they threw him out.’
‘Sounded like Conn felt safe there; it was his home,’ Reilly said. ‘Tir Na Nog you said he called it?’
‘Yes.’ Chris frowned. ‘I feel like I’m going back to my childhood – Tír na nÓg and the Children of Lir.’
Kennedy dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. ‘Yeah, I used to read those stories to the kids years ago.’
‘It’s referenced in Irish mythology and folklore,’ Chris told Reilly, toying with his teaspoon. ‘Translated, Tír na nÓg literally means “Land of The Young”.’
‘It was said to exist off the edge of the map, on an island to the west,’ Kennedy continued. ‘There’s no sickness, no crime, no worries, heaven on earth.’
‘Like some kind of earthly paradise,’ Chris agreed. ‘Conn actually used the word “paradise” when I asked him where he was from.’
‘So if it’s a myth,’ Reilly asked, ‘why does he think he was there?’
‘Good question. I didn’t get the chance to ask him that. But in the stories you needed a guide to get there.’ Chris sipped his tea and looked at Kennedy. ‘As I recall, there was some magical horse who could gallop across the water and carry you there.’
‘It’s all a bit hazy to me, to be honest.’
‘Across water…’ Reilly mused out loud, instantly thinking about the algae in Sarah’s hair.
‘But what about this guy he mentioned,’ said Kennedy. ‘The father.’
‘I know what you’re thinking, but I get the feeling he was being metaphorical.’
‘We can only conclude that this person somehow brought Conn there and either arranged for the tattoo to be done by somebody else, or did it himself,’ Reilly posited. She frowned. ‘So if this is connected to our girls, and it certainly sounds that way, are we looking at a cult or an abduction – or both? But why the mythology? And the tattoo …the swan wings, what is the significance?’
‘Part of another Irish legend, actually.’
‘Ah come on,’ Kennedy said, looking balefully at Chris. ‘You’re thinking the Swans of Lir?’
Chris nodded and turned to Reilly to explain. ‘There’s another story, taken from the same mythology, called the Children of Lir.’
She leaned back in her chair. ‘Go on.’
‘The story is about a wicked stepmother who turns her stepchildren into swans. The curse lasts for nine hundred years, and they live on a lake, in the sea, different places for three hundred years each.’
‘More water …’ she mused.
‘And more children living for ever – or at least a long time in solitude.’ Chris cradled his tea in his hands. ‘Based on that scenario, I’m leaning towards abduction.’
‘This Conn seems to want to go back though,’ Kennedy pointed out.
‘Stockholm syndrome? He wouldn’t be the first to fall under the spell of his abductor,’ Chris suggested.
‘So he takes them when they’re young and the fairytales are being presented as truth as the kids grow older,’ Reilly said, trying to get her head around it all. ‘There,Tir Na Nog is good, paradise even. Out here – the real world – is bad.’
‘Conn said there were four girls at Tir Na Nog when he was there, including Sarah presumably. So that suggests there are at least three others still there.’
‘Assuming he’s not added any more in the meantime,’ Kennedy said darkly
‘But our cold case, she was found dead when Conn was just a toddler. Which means there are two possibilities here: either Conn was abducted, possibly to replace the first girl. Or he is actually the biological son of this guy.’
They were each lost in their own thoughts. Finally Reilly sighed. ‘I think we’ll need to go back through all the missing person files again, focusing on males as well this time, to see if one matches Conn’s profile.’
‘The biggest question still remains,’ Kennedy grunted, wiping his mouth, satisfied with his feed,‘where the hell is this supposed Tir Na Nog place? And how come Conn is no longer there?’
Chris shook his head. ‘Looks like we’re dealing with a nutjob here. The guy took Conn at some stage then presumably, and for whatever reason, got rid of him. Let’s just hope he doesn’t decide to get rid of any of the others he might have.’
Reilly shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Based on what Conn described, it doesn’t sound like a threatening place.’
‘I agree,’ said Chris. ‘Whatever is going on at their version of Tir Na Nog, Conn was happy there. His sadness comes not from having been there, but from being cast out.’
‘So what happened with Sarah?’ Kennedy wondered. ‘If she was there in this place, how did she end up on the side of the road that night? Was she thrown out too?’
Chris nodded. ‘Because of the pregnancy perhaps. Which begs the question …’
Kennedy stood up. ‘I need another fag.’ He pulled the packet out of his pocket, and looked down at Reilly and Chris. ‘I don’t know about you, but all this stuff is frying my brain.’
As Kennedy worked his way through the tables to the door, Reilly turned to Chris. ‘When do you think you might be able to talk to Conn again?’
Chris shrugged. ‘Soon, I hope. At this point he’s the best chance we have of finding this place, wherever it is.’
‘I’m guessing it must be reasonably close to where Sarah was found, and the region of the cold-case discovery. In the mountains somewhere?’ she suggested. ‘But with a body of water in the vicinity too, given the algae.’
Chris shook his head. ‘But the same question applies as when we were considering a cult: how could such a place go unnoticed? We’ve had three rounds of door to doors in a twenty-mile radius of where Sarah was found, and drawn a blank. I’ll see if we can set up another – give the local police this new information and extend the radius.’
Reilly looked thoughtful as they got up to leave. ‘Well, given the mythology angle, I’m wondering if we should talk to O’Brien about bringing Reuben in…’
‘Are you serious?’ Chris glanced outside to where Kennedy was huddled under the café’s awning, trying to light his cigarette in the wind and the rain. He pulled a couple of coins from his pocket and threw them on the table. ‘Irish mythology and Reuben Knight,’ he said, shaking his head in resignation. ‘A match made in hell.’
Later that day Rory tracked Reilly down with an update on a potential match for the remaining unidentifed angel.
Or swan actually, Reilly corrected herself. She was doodling; trying to allow her right brain to kick in and make sense of all the facts and details that were emerging. She put her pen down and looked up at him.
‘I’ve gone through the files and what’s left of the corresponding evidence from the cold case. Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of comparative DNA. The dress she was found in has perished over the years. We do have some interesting information on the missing girl Lucy thought might be her though. Jennifer Hutchinson was listed as having a distinguishable strawberry-shaped birthmark on her back when she went missing.’
‘OK …’
‘This reminded me of those slight differences in the second tattoo which we’d explained as deterioration, but I’m wondering if the wings might originally have been an attempt to disguise the birthmark?’ He handed Reilly the cold-case photos once again.
She squinted as she studied the photo, but couldn’t make out any such skin irregularity amongst the design.
Inconclusive.
‘Did Lucy follow up on the missing girl’s family?’ she asked.
‘No next of kin in Ireland apparently. Her mother died of cancer two years later, and her father was killed in a car crash a few years after that.’ He
read through the case notes. ‘Jennifer was an only child; her parents moved here from the UK before she was born. We have traced down a sister of Jennifer’s mother who lives in Hertfordshire in the UK. She is willing to help in whatever way possible,’ Rory continued.
‘Well, that’s good news at least.’
‘So what do you want to do next?’ he asked.
‘Something I was hoping we wouldn’t have to,’ Reilly said with an air of resignation. ‘I’ll need to talk to the coroner’s office.’
She had been hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but given that this now appeared to be a full-blown abduction case, and their cold case was a major part of it…
‘So how does the exhumation process work?’ Rory asked when she explained her line of thinking. ‘I’ve never been involved with one before.’
‘This will be my first in this country too. Initially, I’ll need to convince the coroner’s office to reopen the file. We’ll need to apply for a license through the courts, but it should be quick and unobjected, seeing as she was a Jane Doe. And if we can get the aunt on board…’
No doubt it would raise all sorts of hell, but with the possibility of other missing kids involved, further investigation of a corpse from ten years before might not only confirm the girl’s identity, but could also help them discover more about exactly where she’d been before her death.
Tir Na Nog?
At the very least, Reilly thought, if they could confirm an ID, then after ten long years, the poor girl would be able to get a proper burial and at least one family member would be able to say goodbye.
Shortly afterwards, Reilly stopped by the lab to see how Lucy was.
After their recent conversation about Grace, she was concerned, not only about the younger tech’s ability to remain objective, but also from a personal point of view. She cared about the girl and was worried about the effect all of this might be having on her.
Lucy was just hanging up the phone when Reilly approached. She had a tired look in her eyes.
‘Are you doing OK?’
Lucy gave a half-hearted shrug. ‘Surviving.’
‘We’re making progress, you know.’
‘Do you think so? Rory told me about Jennifer Hutchinson. I hope it doesn’t lead to a dead end.’
Reilly put a hand on her arm. ‘That’s just the nature of these cases – for every promising lead there are a hundred dead ends, you know that.’
‘I know that. I just feel for all these people…waiting, wondering …’
Reilly looked at her closely.
‘Of course you do. For us it’s professional – usually. For them it’s personal, as personal as it can get. You too, because of your own experience.’
‘A loved one, a child missing…’ Lucy said croakily. ‘How do people cope with that?’
‘People do what they have to do,’ Reilly replied, trying not to sound trite. ‘Just like your own family did.’
Lucy looked away, tears in her eyes.
Reilly reached across the desk, grabbed a box of tissues and slid them towards her. The younger girl grabbed one and dabbed at her eyes. ‘It’s the first time I’ve cried about it in years,’ she said.
‘Well, maybe it’s about time.’
Lucy sniffed, and continued to pat her eyes. ‘It just feels so hopeless, Reilly. But at the same time, you can’t help but feel that they must be out there somewhere. I scan faces when I’m out shopping, wondering if I’d still even recognize Grace if I saw her.’
Reilly said nothing, just allowed Lucy the chance to say the things that must have been playing on her mind for years.
‘I know firsthand how busy the authorities are – we are,’ she continued, ‘how little time there is for missing person cases. I mean, unless there is evidence of foul play, unless there is a reason to think they have been killed or abducted, there are just too many of them, aren’t there? And just no time to investigate them all properly…’
She looked up at Reilly, her eyes red.
‘Are you talking specifically about Grace now, or all these other cases?’
‘Both,’ admitted Lucy. ‘I’ve never been able to look at Grace’s case file; my father won’t allow it. But I can’t help but wonder…’
Reilly could see the question in her face. She took a deep breath. ‘I’ll take a look at it if you want…’ she offered.
Lucy’s face brightened. ‘Seriously?’
‘I can make no promises about what we might find,’ she continued, ‘but I will promise to have a look and see if anything stands out.’
But as she encircled the girl in a reassuring hug, Reilly felt a sinking sense of dread about what she might be getting herself into.
Chapter 22
Kennedy’s reaction to the suggestion of consulting Reuben Knight had been predictable.
‘What do we need that gobshite for?’ he grumbled when the team assembled in a conference room the following morning. ‘It’s a bit late in the day now, seeing as we have Conn, the dead angels – I mean swans – and potentially some DNA from another attempted abduction. What the hell can he add?’
‘I still think it would be helpful and O’Brien agrees,’ Reilly pointed out. ‘We’re only starting to build up enough of a profile of the abductor, and based on what we know, Reuben can help us move forward.’
‘Well, don’t expect me to talk to him …’ said Kennedy.
‘Deny him your famous insights, you mean?’ Chris mocked. ‘You know how much he values what you have to say.’
Kennedy’s response was considerably less polite.
Fortunately, O’Brien was willing to sanction such an expense to help them move forwards on the case – but only to the point of a telephone conversation rather than bringing the profiler in on the ground.
In any event, Knight was away working on a case in Italy.
‘Italy!’ said Kennedy as they sat around the conference table. ‘All right for some.’
Reilly looked at him while they waited for the conference call to go through. ‘I thought you didn’t want to be here for this?’
‘Couldn’t trust you two not to screw it up,’ he told her with a grin. ‘We need someone with a bit of maturity in the room.’
‘OK, we’re connected,’ Chris announced. ‘Reuben, I’m going to put you on speakerphone.’
There was a moment’s silence, a quiet click, then Reuben’s nasal voice filled the room. ‘Hello all! So who’s there? Detective Delaney, of course. And the lovely Reilly?’
‘Hi, Reuben.’
‘Always so wonderful to hear your voice. What are you wearing today? I hear the weather has turned cool – not that lovely dark blue McQueen?’
‘It’s none of your business,’ Reilly replied with a smile. She wasn’t about to let him know he had guessed correctly.
‘As I thought, the McQueen. And is Detective Dinosaur there, too? Oh I do hope so …’
‘Let’s get down to bloody work,’ Kennedy growled.
‘I heard that guttural rumbling in the background, so I’ll take that as a yes.’ Reuben paused. ‘I won’t even begin to imagine what he’s wearing; it will quite take away my appetite for lunch and I’m planning on feasting on a good baccala. So, on to our agenda…’
There was a quiet rustling of papers.
‘I’ve read through the information you sent. Fascinating…’ Somehow he made the word last several seconds. ‘I do so love it when people confuse myths and legends with everyday life. And, Detective Delaney, seems you got to show off your ability to speak Irish? I bet that impressed the lovely Reilly …’
‘Reuben,’ said Reilly somewhat impatiently, ‘can we move forwards?’
‘Oh? Am I detecting an atmosphere there?’ he added excitedly. ‘Has something finally happened in the ongoing will they/won’t they saga? Do tell all…’
Chris clenched his jaw. ‘For Christ sake…’
The profiler sighed. ‘Well, I do hope you allow more foreplay when—’
‘
Reuben …’
‘OK, so what do we know?’ he said, suddenly all business. ‘Our man seems to be fixated on pale, red-haired children. He kidnaps them, keeps them at some unspecified location, tattoos them. Anything else that we actually know?’
‘The two girls seem to have escaped the location, or perhaps even left of their own accord,’ Reilly pointed out. ‘The boy, Conn, it seems that he was made to leave.’
‘Yes, that’s rather interesting, isn’t it?’
The room was filled with a strange clicking noise – Reilly could picture Reuben, tapping his beloved Mont Blanc pen against his teeth. ‘So first of all, why is he taking them?’
‘Could he be replacing someone?’ Reilly said, thinking of Lucy’s suggestion. ‘Maybe trying to recreate a family that he lost?’
‘Darling, when you do decide to lift your head up from those test tubes and microscopes of yours, you’re really quite bright. Yes, based on the boy’s interview, and multiple mentions of family, I thought that too. So let’s assume for a moment that our kidnapper has lost a family.’
‘Lost can mean lots of things,’ Kennedy pointed out. ‘They could be dead, or it could be a divorce and the wife’s taken them.’
‘Correct indeed, Detective Dinosaur. But it still might be worth checking people who have suddenly lost entire families in an accident – a car crash, something of that nature. Perhaps he has found a way of successfully isolating himself from reality, from the world.’
‘What about the boy?’ Chris asked. ‘What do you make of that?’
‘You said in your case notes that what seemed to make him sad was not what happened in Tír na nÓg, but the fact that he was expelled, that he was no longer there.’
‘No doubt about that. I’m sure if he was given the chance to go back he would jump at it.’
‘So that could suggest very strong brainwashing.’
Reilly thought for a moment. ‘Of course, it could be that he has, indeed, created a paradise on earth.’
‘Ah, Miss Reilly. A little too simplistic, I fear.’
