But with him there, that was impossible. I knew what he would do if he caught me with her. He would destroy everything I’ve been working toward. Spoil it all.
Spoil my fun.
With her I could create a life. The life I'd always dreamed of having. The one I'd been denied.
She was my ray of sunshine, delivered back to me.
I'd always known Clara could bring her back, that she wouldn't fail me. She was the only one who understood, the only one who wanted Alice as much as I did.
She would make everything right...
He was the problem. He would insist on taking his carnal pleasures out on her. His perverse anger would tear at her. Destroy her innocence.
And she was innocent. I could see it in her eyes when she looked at me.
With Alice, everything needed to be different. Special. We would be together and she would be safe with me. Loved and cherished, as she deserved.
My little princess.
I would protect her from him, no matter the cost.
I would save her.
49
"Why were they here, Alice?" Mam's voice was shrill and made my head ache.
"I told you. They needed to go over my statement."
"You're lying."
"It doesn't matter."
"The hell it doesn't. What did that Guard mean when she said your parents should be proud of you?"
"Nothing..."
"Don't ‘nothing’ me. I know when you're lying to me, Alice McCarthy. What was she talking about?"
There was a desperation in my mother's face that I hadn't seen before.
"I was shot," I said, letting the words drop into the air before I could talk myself out of it. "I was working a case involving a young girl and her mother. The father got his hands on a gun and I got shot."
She went white around the lips and I could see a tremor start in her hands. I darted forward as she sank into the kitchen chair the male detective had vacated only moments before. Before I could touch her, she slapped my hands away, her eyes two black pits of accusation as she stared up at me.
"You were shot and you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't want to worry you, I—"
"You didn't want to worry me?" A bark of a laugh escaped her. The sound far more worrying than the hysterical note I'd detected in her voice when the detectives had been here. "That's all I ever do. You don't talk to me and I worry."
"I'm sorry. It's just with everything going on here, I didn't want to add to it all."
"You could have been killed and I wouldn't even have known. Do you know how much that hurts, Alice? Do you know how much it hurts not to know what has happened to your children? To know they're out there somewhere but you can't find them. Can't bring them home where they belong."
We weren't really talking about me anymore, which was a small relief. The Clara conversation was a minefield I had navigated before but I'd never had to do it in relation to my own choices.
"We're going to find her," I said. "With all the new evidence the detectives are—"
"She's never coming home is she?" There was a stark vulnerability to the question I'd never seen my mother expose before. "I keep praying she'll walk through that door and everyday she doesn't it hits me all over again."
What was I supposed to say to her? Everything I could think up sounded contrived and pathetic.
"I do the same thing," I said softly. Perhaps, this was the way for us to build a bridge back to each other. "I keep thinking I'll wake up and it'll all have been a nightmare."
"It's not though."
I shook my head. "No. It's not."
"She was my first baby... I can remember when I held her in my arms for the first time. I'd thought all that talk about falling in love with your children was just nonsense. That they just made it up. But when I held her in my arms and looked into her face, into her eyes, I knew it was true. She was my first big love." She smiled at me. "Don't get me wrong. I love your father, always have. But holding your child is something different. Something purer. I thought I could teach her that with her child. That I would get the chance to explain it to her before..."
She sucked in a deep breath. "And even when you came along. I thought I would have to give up some of that love for her, so I could let you in. I think part of me resented you for that. I worried before you arrived that I wouldn't be able to love you both equally. That you would feel like I loved you less."
Despite not wanting to feel hurt over her confession, I couldn't help a small sliver of pain that pierced me.
"I was wrong. Loving you both was so easy."
I let my shoulders drop.
"But you keep making it harder," she said, quietly.
I felt my breath hitch in my chest as my world came crashing down around my ears.
"We keep trying with you but you're always so distant, as though you don't want to be a part of this family anymore."
"I'm distant?" I couldn't keep the anger from my voice. “I’m not the one who’s distant. I don't blame you for Clara's disappearance," I said. "Not the way you blame me."
She drummed her fingers against the tabletop and frowned, her gaze trained on her hands. "I don't blame you."
"Yes you do," I said, my voice rising. "You always have. I came back that night and Clara didn't but with the way you carry on, you'd swear I was responsible for her going missing. Sometimes I think you wish we were both taken."
"That's not fair." Her face was pale, her lower lip trembling. "You don't know what it's been like."
"And whose fault is that? Did you ever stop to think how I might have felt? I was a kid and you treated me like a criminal."
“We were struggling to come to terms with it, we—”
Hopping to my feet, I started for the door. "I'm going to bed. I don't want to hear this anymore."
"You're so good at running away, Alice. You always were." Her unspoken accusation hung in the air between us. I left her there and started up the stairs.
"If you walk away this time," she followed me out into the hall, "we're done. For good this time."
"Then I guess we're done." I carried on climbing the stairs, leaving her to stare after me.
Pushing open the bedroom door, I stepped inside and flopped down onto the edge of the bed. Guilt gnawed at me. I'd been too hard. I wasn't giving her enough credit for all that she'd been through.
But as much as I wanted to sympathise with her, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'd been a child—a thirteen year old definitely wasn't an adult—and yet she'd cut me loose that day. When I'd come home and told my story. When I'd told them what had happened, she hadn't believed me. And it had been in that moment I'd known that whatever childhood I'd had was over. With Clara gone and nobody to believe me, I had to grow up. I had to grow up and make them understand what had been lost.
Lying back on the bed, I closed my eyes and let the exhaustion overcome me. Falling to sleep was as easy as falling into a river.
The cold water froze my airways, making it impossible to draw breath. I spluttered, my arms windmilling as I half swam half-doggy paddled to the riverbank.
My body was a leaden weight as I dragged myself up onto the mud. Retching cleared at least the worst of the water.
The alcohol in my system had burned away, leaving me fuzzy headed. Lying in the mud, I stared up at the dark sky overhead.
At least the world wasn't spinning anymore.
Rolling onto my side, pain lanced through my head and I raised my hand to the bump on my forehead.
When had that happened?
I closed my eyes and dizzying images of running through the woods flitted through my mind. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth and I brushed my fingers against my lips. It was too dark to make out the colour smeared on my fingers but I already knew.
"Clara?" My voice was a croak and barely above a whisper.
Panic gripped me. What if she had fallen into the water after me? She'd been right behind me and I hadn't seen t
he riverbank.
Pushing onto my knees, I tried to peer into the murky water but while I could hear it rushing past, I couldn't see anything beyond the dark glint of the water's surface.
Clara wouldn't have fallen in the water. She was slower than I was. She'd have seen me fall and that would have stopped her.
Right?
"Clara?" I called again but my voice barely lifted above the rush of the river water.
Exhaustion clung to me, making my eyelids heavy. Every time I sucked in a breath, my chest burned and the wheeze in my lungs reminded me of the bout of pneumonia I'd suffered last winter. I'd been stuck in bed for two weeks, too sick to truly enjoy my time away from school.
When I opened my eyes again it was to the patter of raindrops on the leaves above my head. The sky was grey with the beginnings of the dawn light struggling to peek through.
Rolling over onto my side, I made it to my feet. My knees were jelly and every step was a lesson in self-control. I glanced down at my legs to make sure I still had them. Every time I lifted my foot, it felt like it belonged to someone else. As though I was somehow disconnected from my body.
My teeth had stopped chattering but I was still cold. The kind of cold that seeped inside you and never stirred out.
Making my way back through the trees, I tried to imagine the direction the road lay in. If I could just find it then maybe I would find my way home.
Was Clara waiting for me there?
Mam and Dad were going to kill me when I got in. I was definitely going to be grounded. As I trudged through the trees, I realised I'd have given anything to hear them scold me.
"Clara!" My voice was a little stronger but not by much. My throat was rough, as though I'd swallowed a bunch of wire wool.
The trees continued their silent appraisal of me as I trudged on. Breaking through the last of them, I found myself on the side of the road. Scrambling over the embankment wasn't as difficult in the light as it had been in the dark.
It was empty. No sign of the van from the night before. No glaring headlights to blind me. No gruff voice whispering in my ear. No hand clutching my hair, fingernails tearing at my scalp.
Had I imagined it?
No. Clara had been with me. I hadn't imagined it.
"Alice!" The voice called to me from the direction I'd come from. Clara? Had I left her behind? Was she trapped, hurt or worse?
"Clara!" My voice cracked over her name painfully before it cut out.
Panic constricted my chest, like a too tight hug as the sound of a car approached from behind.
The urge to turn and race back into the trees gripped me.
Close.
Closer.
If I was going to run, I needed to go now.
He's coming back.
"Run..." Clara's last whispered word to me burned inside my mind.
My legs seized up.
I tried to move them but they refused to budge. They buckled beneath me and I hit the road with a dull thud.
Tyres crunched on the gravel next to me.
"Alice McCarthy?" The unfamiliar voice sent me into a tailspin.
If I couldn't run, at least I could crawl.
"Wait, where are you going?"
The sharp stones dug into my hands as I tried to scramble away. Strong arms lifted me from the ground and I found myself staring into the red face of a Guard, his hair flattened on his head where his hat should have sat.
His navy uniform was immaculate, the buttons shining in the glow of the headlights.
"Your parents are worried sick about you," he said.
Bile rushed up my throat and I had enough time to close my eyes and wish for the ground to swallow me whole before I vomited onto the front of his jacket.
50
October 7th 1996
Sarah and her boyfriend picked me up today after my doctor’s appointment. He’s kind of creepy. I tried to tell her that but Sarah seems besotted with him.
She wouldn’t let me near him before this and all of a sudden she’s like, ‘Oh, Dick will pick you up if you want.’ Or, ‘Dick can drop you off.’
Personally, I’d much rather walk than sit alone in the van with him.
Baby boy nearly kicked my bladder to bits today. I’ve been playing him my favourite Boyzone song through my headphones because I read in a magazine that babies can hear things even in the womb.
Mam said we’ll go shopping come the end of the month for some baby bits and I’m so excited. It’s all starting to get real.
I can’t wait to meet him.
51
"My name is Detective Siobhan Geraghty," I said, extending my hand to the young woman in front of me. Her grip was timid and she took her hand back quickly, placing it in her lap.
Sarah Coughlan sat in the same place Liam Donnelly had been sitting less than twenty-four hours previously. From my reading of the interview files, she hadn't changed a bit in the twenty-two years since her friend’s disappearance.
I kept my gaze trained on the file in front of me and watched surreptitiously as she tucked a phantom strand of mousy brown hair behind her ear.
Her too-wide eyes darted around the room, making me think she was uncomfortable in confined spaces. That wasn’t unusual; plenty of people were claustrophobic and the interrogation rooms weren't exactly roomy.
"What am I doing here?" Despite her obvious discomfort and timidity, there was nothing to suggest shyness in her question.
Her voice though soft, was direct, almost confrontational.
"I wanted to ask you a few questions about your friend," I said. "Clara McCarthy. And go over the statement you made during the initial inquiry."
"I'm not sure I can be of much help," she said. "And I won't be able to stay long. I've got to pick my daughter up after school."
“It says here that you’re married, Mrs Coughlan.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Any chance your husband could pick your daughter up? I wouldn’t want to pause the interview and take up more of your time another day by revisiting old ground.”
“He’s out. Fishing I think he said.”
“Alone?”
“No. My brother is gone with him. They get along well, which I suppose is a blessing.”
“It doesn’t sound like you really believe that.”
“Well it’s not easy when he spends more time with him, than he does with me.”
I shot her a sympathetic smile.
“Well, I’ll try to keep this short then, so you can pick your daughter up on time.”
She nodded and shot another nervous glance around the room.
"Can I get you something to drink?"
"No." She shook her head. "I'd just like to get this over with." She smiled, but the warmth never reached her eyes.
"In your initial statement you stated your belief that Clara McCarthy had fled to England for an abortion. Is that correct?"
Her hands fell still in her lap and I noted the ragged fingernails. Was it hard work, or just nervous habit that left them in that state?
"I said that." She shrugged. "We'd spoken about the possibility. Clara didn't think she was ready to be a mother. She wanted a life, said there was too much she wanted to do still and..." Sarah glanced away and gazed at the floor.
"And what?"
"She wanted to punish Liam."
"Why would she do that?"
"He'd been cheating on her. His father told Clara that Liam needed to sow his wild oats, that she shouldn't tie him down." Sarah dug her fingers into the sleeve of her cardigan. “You know he offered her money to get rid of it. Who does that? What kind of monster offers another human being money to be rid of their child?” She sucked in a deep breath and I noted the slight tremor in her hands as she plucked at her cardigan.
I hadn’t been expecting the level of vitriol she’d expressed and I tried to keep my expression neutral.
However, there was no mention of bribery in the files. Not that it was uns
urprising. How could there be a mention of bribery when all the files pertaining to Liam Donnelly didn't even exist.
"And you knew this how?"
"Clara told me," she said. "She was so upset, I thought she was going to do something stupid."
"Why didn't you mention any of this at the time?"
"Because Liam frightened me. I thought if I said something about him, that his family would come after mine."
"You mean he threatened you?"
She shook her head. "Nothing like that. But everyone knew not to cross them. My parents were already struggling with their benefits. And there are certain people in this world that you don't mess with. Everyone knows it. And in a small town like this, well..." She shrugged.
“I don’t think I’m following.”
“If I said something, the social would have found a reason for my parents not to get their money every week.”
“You think Liam’s family had that much power?”
“His uncle was a TD, and some of his family worked in the social welfare office in town. What do you think?”
“I think intervening in the way you suggest would have been a crime.”
She laughed, the sound high and brittle. “Clearly, your experiences aren’t mine.”
Tenting my fingers in front of me, I leaned my elbows on the table. “So what changed?"
"Excuse me?"
"What changed that you can sit here today and tell me all this?"
Her smile was hesitant. "I'm not afraid of bullies anymore, Detective. I left those fears behind me when I became a mother."
I returned her smile but it wasn't entirely honest. There was something about the whole thing that seemed just a little off.
"So where do you think Clara McCarthy is?"
"I don't know," she said. "I'm not the detective. I wouldn't know the first place to begin speculating about it all. And anyway, from what I've heard from Alice you lot believe Clara is dead."
"You're still in contact with Alice McCarthy?"
"I used to babysit her when she was younger. We've always been very close. I tried to be there for her when Clara disappeared."
All the Lost Girls Page 25
