All the Lost Girls

by Bilinda P Sheehan

  “Do you know if Clara knew a Evie Ryan?”

  Sarah paused. “No, I don’t think so… She’s one of the other missing girls, right?”

  I gave her a tight smile. “Yes.”

  “Should Clara have known her?”

  “It’s just another line of enquiry, we’re exploring all avenues.”

  “You really don’t know what happened, do you?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “This,” she gestured to the air, “it all feels like you’re clutching at straws. If you had something concrete you’d have made a move already. And if you’re planning on pinning this on the Donnelly’s I think you’ll find yourself up against a brick wall.”

  “Why would I pin this on the Donnelly’s?”

  My question seemed to catch her off guard. “Well, it just seems like you’re terribly interested in what happened between Clara and Liam. It makes sense you’d look at him.”

  “He was very young.”

  Sarah’s gaze fell into her lap. “It’s amazing the things you can do when you’re young. Most believe themselves infallible, that no matter what they do, the consequences will never catch up to them.”

  She glanced at her watch and pursed her lips. "I'm going to have to go if I'm going to get across to the school on time to pick Ali up."

  “One last question,” I said, halting her before she could climb to her feet.

  Sarah quirked an eyebrow at me.

  “Do you know anyone who drove a white van at the time of Clara’s disappearance?”

  She pursed her lips and a line appeared in the middle of her brow. “I think Liam’s father had a white van. I can’t swear to it but I’m sure I saw him driving it around a couple of times. Why?”

  “Thanks for your time, Sarah,” I said, dismissing her last question without an answer.

  She nodded as she grabbed her bag from the floor and stood. I directed her to the door and she paused, half way out.

  "Do you think you'll find her?"

  "We're going to do our best."

  "She's dead though, isn't she?"

  "I’m not willing to speculate." Even though everyone knew it was a murder enquiry and not a missing persons investigation, I found myself unwilling to share any information with Sarah.

  "Well I've got faith that she'll be found. One way or another."

  My smile was polite, without the slightest hint of warmth.

  Following her out into the foyer, I watched her leave.

  "Detective Geraghty," the sergeant's voice cut through my contemplation and I turned to find him waving me over from the door to his office.

  He held the door for me as I stepped inside. I stopped dead on the threshold.

  "Hello, Detective Geraghty." Paul pushed up from his chair and my heart stalled out in my chest.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I called them down," Sergeant Mills said briskly.

  "Them?" My voice was cold.

  "Sergeant Mills thought you could do with a little back-up, that's all," Paul said, smoothing over the situation with his well-practiced charm. "He thought it prudent considering the sudden growth of the case and the renewed media interest what with the body of the newest girl turning up."

  "Who else is here?" I clenched my fists, driving my fingernails up into my palms. As much as Paul tried to paint this as nothing more than them stepping in to help out a fellow officer, I knew what it really meant. Sergeant Mills had made the call and they'd all come running because they didn't think I was capable of handling the case on my own.

  "Now is not the time to discuss it," Paul said, turning his attention back to Sergeant Mills. "If you wouldn't mind giving us a few moments alone, so that Detective Geraghty can get me up to speed on everything here?"

  Sergeant Mills smiled broadly and shook Paul's extended hand enthusiastically.

  "Of course," he said. "Good to know things are finally in hand."

  He turned his smile on me and it took every ounce of my strength not to lash out at him and wipe the smug grin from his lips. Instead, I turned away and moved over to the window, staring out at the street beyond the window blinds.

  The soft click of the door signalled he'd left and I turned in time for Paul to drag me into his arms. His mouth came down over mine, a possessive, hungry kiss that under other circumstances would have pleased me.

  Planting my hands against his chest, I shoved hard. Managing to send him backwards a couple of steps.

  "What the hell is this?" I whispered, fury carved into each word.

  "Well I thought it was my saying hello," Paul said, managing to sound both hurt and confused. "Obviously I've misread the situation."

  "Damn right you have." I sucked in a deep breath and tried to let go the worst of the anger constricting my chest like a vice. "Who else is here?"

  "Brady's coming. He'll be here tomorrow, he sent me ahead.”

  "Shit."

  Paul tried to draw me in against his chest once more but I held him at arm's length.

  "And why are you here? I thought you were working your drug case."

  "I volunteered. Thought you might appreciate a friendly face in all of this."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means your mate Mills there really has it in for you, Siobhan. He wants your ass in a sling. Says you've been upsetting some important people around here. Brady's not happy about it, he got a phone call from a pissed off TD right after he spoke to Mills."

  It was going from bad to worse. How the hell was I supposed to do my job when people were far more interested in covering everything up?

  "They've screwed up here," I said. "Interviews that were supposed to have taken place never did. Everything was kept off the record."

  "Mills seems to think you're hung up on one aspect of the case," Paul said. He shoved his hands into his pockets and slowly began to pace the room. "Says you won't investigate any of the other girls involved, just this one McCarthy case."

  "I'm doing my job," I said. "I know how to conduct an investigation but so far I've been chasing my own tail trying to navigate the mess they made of this in the first place."

  "So you agree then that you're hung up on one particular avenue?"

  "No." I shook my head. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm following the evidence where it leads."

  Paul rocked back on his heels and watched me, his gaze travelling down my body and then back up once more.

  "Look, we both know you're not the most diplomatic detective around."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You see," he said. "You can't even take a little criticism. You should have played ball with Mills, listened to his concerns, nodded and then got on the phone to Brady so he could sort it out if it was really that much of a problem."

  With a sigh, I dropped back against the wall. "You and I both know if I'd called Brady in he'd have kicked me back to Dublin and put someone else on this."

  Paul grimaced. "Maybe you're just not cut out for leading cases, Siobhan."

  I opened my mouth to answer him but he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Look, don't shoot the messenger. I'm just here to get things back on track until Brady can make a decision about how he wants things to progress."

  I bit back my anger. There was no point in lashing out at Paul. He was only here to do his job. And taking my fury out on him would only make things worse. Especially if he really believed that I wasn't cut out for leading cases. A poor report from him would be dire for my career. He was a senior officer and too well respected to ignore.

  "Fine, what do you suggest?"

  "Well for starters," he said, his voice low. "I think maybe we should start over with a proper hello?" He took a step forward.

  "How about I take you to meet the team and get you caught up on where we are?"

  His smile faltered. "I'm really sorry about this, Siobhan. I'm not trying to step on your toes here, I'm just trying to help."

  Shit. How was it he cou
ld always managed to make me feel like a complete asshole when I was just trying to do my job?

  "But you're right. We should get straight down to brass tacks." His voice was cold and business like. His smile nothing more than polite.

  Paul pulled the door open next to him and with a flourish, gestured for me to leave. Normally, I would have looked at his behaviour as being endearing but there was no mistaking the edge to it now. He was pissed at me, that much was obvious. But there wasn't much I could do about it.

  We had a killer to catch. For all I knew, he already had his next victim and if we didn't get ahead of him, before too long we'd been digging another mutilated girl up out of the soft dirt.

  52

  It's all beginning to come together.

  Soon she'll come home. I can feel it deep down inside. Warm butterflies flutter around in the pit of my stomach. The anticipation is so sweet, I can practically taste it on my tongue.

  Soon, we will all be together. Happy. Secure. Loved.

  And nothing will stop me from having her.

  Not even him.

  53

  Pausing at the top of the stairs, I strained to decipher the hushed voices coming from the kitchen. My bag was packed and I'd looked up the flight times but I couldn't bring myself to just leave.

  It would easier to just walk out the door, to walk away and leave them all behind. Never look back.

  As much as I wanted to do that, there was still a part of me that refused to give up. It was childish to believe I could ever have the kind of relationship I dreamed of with my parents. There was too much water under the bridge, too many accusations, and emotional wounds to contend with.

  Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to just go.

  It hadn't stopped me from booking a taxi though, just in case. I pulled the sling off and shoved it into my pocket, letting my arm hang loose at my side. It ached but no worse than a niggling headache and I could manage that.

  Clattering down the stairs, I set my bag in the hall, giving them the time they needed to compose themselves before I pushed open the kitchen door.

  Mam's icy stare was enough to tell me it was a huge mistake.

  Dad kept his gaze trained on the paper in his hands but I could tell from the way his eyes darted back and forth in the one spot that he wasn't actually reading anything on the page. They were going to ignore it.

  Imelda leaned against the sink, her gaze sympathetic but not even she said anything.

  "When are you leaving?" Mam's voice cut through the tension.

  "Do you want me gone?" I held my breath.

  "I think it's for the best." She slid her glasses off and placed them on the table. "We've got a lot to do here and we don't need people around who don't actually want to be a part of this family."

  Coming down had been a huge mistake.

  Tears pricked at the back of my eyes and it took all of my willpower to keep them at bay.

  "Fine." I turned back to the sink and grabbed a glass, filling it with water gave me the time I needed to compose myself. "I'll get my flights sorted and then I'll be out of your hair."

  I turned back to face her but she climbed to her feet and with one last icy look, left the room.

  "Your mother is under a lot of stress," Dad said finally. He raised his face and met my gaze head on. "Just give her some time."

  "You know what she's doing," I said. "Why not stop her. It doesn't have to be like this, I..."

  He shook his head and set his paper aside. "You've got your life in England now, love. It's better this way. You two were always too much alike. Too stubborn by half. When they find Clara and bring her home, maybe then it'll be different."

  "Dad, I—"

  He cut me off with a shake of his head. "Just go, love. Don't make it harder."

  I set the glass down on the table. My hands shaking so hard I thought if I kept a hold of it I would spill the contents across the floor. This was it. They had both washed their hands of me.

  I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting but it wasn't this.

  Naive to the end.

  Imelda caught me on the way out the front door.

  "Where are you going to go?"

  I shrugged. "You heard them, they want me gone. I need to book my flights and get back."

  "You can call 'round mine and use the laptop."

  I shook my head. "I'm fine, Imelda." Seeing her crushed expression. "Thanks though. Means a lot but I've got a taxi booked.

  "You were going to leave anyway?" There was no accusation in her voice, just quiet resignation.

  "I have to."

  "It's not right." She scrubbed her hand beneath her eyes. "I'll talk to her, see if I can make her see sense. She's just angry."

  "Thanks." I grabbed my jacket from the bottom of the stairs and slipped both arms through, cringing slightly at the angle I had to manuoever my arm before I could get it into place.

  She walked me out as the taxi pulled up outside and I loaded my stuff into the backseat.

  Imelda dragged me into a tight hug. "You look after yourself, kid," she whispered against my hair. The cold damp air soaked in through my clothes and I pushed her gently away.

  "Go in before you get wet, the last thing Mam and Dad need is you getting sick in the middle of all this."

  Her smile was watery but at least it was genuine.

  "I'm supposed to say things like that," she said. "I'm the adult here."

  I grinned at her and climbed into the taxi.

  "Message me when you get back safe."

  "I will."

  She shut the door, sealing me into the backseat and the heat that swirled around me.

  "Where are we going then?" The friendly-faced taxi driver settled himself behind the wheel.

  I gave him Sarah's address. The thought of just leaving without at least saying goodbye to her, especially after everything that had happened just didn't feel right.

  We pulled out of the drive and I stared at the house as we left it behind, my vision blurred.

  "Did you have a good holiday then?" the driver asked.

  When I didn't answer him, he took one look in the rearview mirror and fell silent, his smile sliding from his face. I could feel the weight of his pity pressing me down into the seat like the hand of some great monster.

  It felt weird dragging my suitcase out of the taxi outside Sarah's house. As I made my way up the narrow path the sound of raised voices reached me and my heart stalled out in my chest.

  The smash of glass breaking caused me to pick up my pace and as I reached the side of the house I could hear Sarah's voice, the pleading in her voice stirring my anger.

  "I said I was sorry," she said.

  The memory of her trying to hide the bruises on her arms flooded back into my head.

  The sound of a flesh meeting flesh turned my stomach and I peered through the kitchen window.

  There was no sign of Sarah but I could see Dick. With his back to me, he looked much larger than he had the night before.

  He drew back and kicked something at his feet.

  My gaze dropped to the floor and my stomach followed suit.

  Sarah.

  She lay on her side, curled around his thick legs.

  "Stupid bitch!" He drew back and kicked her again.

  My hand hit the window, the slap of my palm shaking the glass in its frame.

  I'd let Rachel down. Failed to see what was going on, failed to recognise the signs. I wouldn't do it again.

  Dick turned, surprise on his face as I pressed my phone to my ear.

  “Gardaí please," I raised my voice, keeping the words crisp despite the tremor running through my body.

  54

  October 16th 1996

  Sarah’s boyfriend is definitely a creep. He tried to put his hand up my skirt in the van today and Sarah just brushed it off.

  She said I was making a big deal out of it all. And then she had the nerve to tell me Dick wouldn’t touch a whale like me anyway.

  S
he’s different since they met. I can’t put my finger on it exactly but she seems crueler somehow.

  I just wish I had my friend back…

  Liam is trying harder these days ever since he felt the baby kick. I want to believe he’s changing but I’m not willing to risk it just yet.

  Mam says we’ll go shopping this weekend. I’ve been saving up all month. I don’t think I’ve been this excited since I got pregnant.

  Alice says she wants to come too. I told her about the baby hearing stuff too and she spent all last night whispering to him. She’ll be a great aunt, I know she’s going to spoil him rotten and I’ll have to watch for that. I don’t want him getting too spoiled.

  Roll on the weekend!!!

  55

  Two hours later, I was sitting at the kitchen table with Sarah, my shoulder shooting achy cramps up into my neck and jaw.

  The moment Dick had realised what I'd done, he'd fled. Closing my eyes, I could still remember the violence as he'd ripped open the back door and come after me. I'd run but I wasn't fast enough and his hand had found my hair, jerking my head back before he'd thrown me into the grass.

  My phone had crunched beneath his boot as he’d stamped on it.

  "Silly cow, you don't know what you've done."

  There had been a moment when I'd looked into his eyes but the emotion I'd seen there, I couldn't name. He wanted to hurt me, that much was obvious. Given half a chance, he would probably kill me.

  Instead, he'd run, jumping the back fence as the sirens from the Garda cars had split the air.

  And now, Gardaí were out there looking for him.

  Silence drifted in around us in the kitchen, broken only by the sound of Sarah's unsteady breaths and my own unsettled heartbeat.

  Something nagged at me. I touched my hand to my hair, running my fingers through it. A memory niggling in the back of my mind that refused to surface. Was it something Dick had done?

  Sarah raised her tear-streaked face. "If you hadn't come along when you did, I don't know what he would have done."

  Even though Dick was long gone, there was still an atmosphere of fear in the kitchen. But that was the way with bullies. They inflicted their damage before running, never sticking around to face the consequences of their actions.