In Deep Water

by Sam Blake

  Cathy caught O’Rourke’s eye. He jerked his head marginally, signalling for her to come over to him. She headed in his direction.

  ‘How’s Frank’s team getting on at The Rookery?’ She had to raise her voice above the bursts of conversation and static coming over the radio in his hand. A flash of something dark passed across his face and she felt her stomach flip. ‘What? Tell me.’

  ‘The boys have found Sarah Jane’s laptop and her diary in an unused locker in the staff room. You were right, it looks like she used a different locker from her usual one, the one Billy Roberts showed us.’ With her deadlines looming, Sarah Jane would have needed her laptop with her, would be using it every minute she had to polish her articles, had probably been planning to work during her breaks. But Cathy knew she would never have left it there by accident. No matter how ill she was.

  ‘I bet she forgot her locker key. She’s hopeless with keys, she’s always losing them – she keeps her car keys and house keys on two separate bunches so she’ll never be totally stuck if one goes missing.’

  O’Rourke nodded, ‘There don’t appear to be any appointments listed in her diary – she had her shifts in the restaurant marked but nothing else for last weekend.’

  Cathy looked up at him, about to speak, but there was something else in his frown that made her stop. ‘What else?’

  He glanced away before he spoke. ‘They’ve found traces of blood at the bottom of the stairs. It’s been cleaned up but not well enough.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Enough to suggest someone received a blow to the head, or fell and whacked their head on the way down. Thirsty’s looking at it now.’

  ‘So not Daniella?’

  He looked speculative, ‘We can’t say yet. It’s possible Daniella was attacked there before she was dismembered, but there’s not enough blood to suggest the hard work was done in that location.’

  ‘So it could be Sarah Jane’s?’

  ‘You know we can’t tell at this stage.’

  Cathy shook her head; it was a stupid question. ‘Sorry, I know . . . but . . .’ It came out as a whisper.

  She’d been at scenes where splatter patterns had proved crucial evidence . . . Had someone caved in the back of Sarah Jane’s head and then dumped her body? Cathy couldn’t think about that. She didn’t have room in her head. They were here to find Sarah Jane alive and they were getting closer, she was sure of it. Cathy felt O’Rourke looking at her hard. He brushed the top of her arm, ‘As soon as I know anything, you’ll know, perhaps someone just cut their finger and it bled badly.’ She threw him a weak smile as he continued, ‘Have you spoken to Irina yet?’

  Cathy shook her head, forcing away the images of Sarah Jane lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs at The Rookery.

  ‘She’s over there in the corner with Aisling Kelly. Is she the same girl on the video who was speaking to Sarah Jane?’ He jerked his head to indicate a young blonde on the far side of the lounge area wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt and sweat pants with strappy high-heeled sandals. She was huddled on the banquette, her knees drawn up. Aisling was sitting beside her, her auburn hair pulled back, her notebook open as she jotted something down. They were deep in conversation.

  Focusing on them, Cathy nodded her head slowly. She was definitely the girl they’d seen on the video talking to Sarah Jane in the shop.

  Cathy replayed the video in her head. Sarah Jane reaching for the lottery slip, writing something down – her phone number, evidently – and giving it to the girl. It had been an instant reaction. But Cathy wondered if Sarah Jane had seen Irina before, had been investigating The Paradise Club. Maybe that’s why she’d got the job in The Rookery in the first place? How much had Sarah Jane found out about what was going on here? And why hadn’t she told Cathy? Cathy shook her head; she knew Sarah Jane, she was her friend, but surely she wouldn’t have kept quiet because she was trying to get a story?

  Cathy looked across at the two young women speaking, at Irina, and suddenly the storm of confusion that had been filling her head since Monday night began to clear. It was as if a light was trying to shine through the fog. Cathy rolled the videos they’d watched this afternoon through her mind; the traffic cam footage was top quality, they’d been able to zoom in on Daniella getting out of Farrell’s sports car, fussing with her hair as she walked towards the bus which had pulled up behind the Aston Martin, her denim jacket embroidered on the back and shoulders with some sort of intricate pattern, sequins catching the light. The footage from inside the bus had been much poorer quality, grainy, but with her long hair and jacket she was easy to spot walking down to the back seat, looking out the window.

  Cathy turned to O’Rourke. ‘What do you see when you look at her?’

  O’Rourke looked surprised, ‘At Irina? Blond, young, slim?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Cathy looked at him pointedly, her eyebrows raised.

  It only took him a second. ‘Like Sarah Jane and Daniella.’

  Irina’s hair was distinctive; like both Daniella and Sarah Jane’s it was long, highlighted, blow dried straight. A lot of girls had the same look – Cathy saw them all the time in town, hanging out in Dundrum shopping centre, almost clones of each other.

  Cathy turned to O’Rourke, putting her hand on his arm so she had his full attention. ‘When you see a woman on a video or across a room, what do you notice first?’

  O’Rourke looked at her, not answering, conscious it was a rhetorical question. Cathy continued, ‘Her hair. Even if she’s wearing something very distinctive. You notice her hair.’

  37

  Despite the noise and bustle of the club, the blasts of radio traffic, phones ringing, Cathy could feel O’Rourke focusing on her, ‘What are you saying?’ He looked at her hard.

  ‘I’m not sure. I just have a hunch. Let me talk to her.’

  ‘Aisling’s getting background from her on the staff before we start interviewing them in the morning.’

  ‘Any sign of that Nacek guy?’

  O’Rourke shook his head, ‘Went home earlier, apparently. There are six on security, but only three on at any one time. We’ll round him up with the other two we’re missing. We’ll find him.’ He paused, ‘Go easy with Irina, she’s had a tough time. She needs a break before we interview her at the station.’

  They both knew she was under no obligation to give them a formal statement about the activity at the club, that in many similar situations they’d been unable to prosecute because the girls, understandably, just wanted to get home, to put the past behind them.

  ‘I won’t keep her.’

  Aisling was closing her notebook as Cathy reached them. The corner she’d taken Irina to was out of everyone’s way, a perfect place to let her talk. Their eyes met and Cathy could tell from the grim look on her face that Aisling had been getting many of the details O’Rourke had relayed to Cathy earlier. None of it was pretty.

  ‘Thanks so much, you’ve been really helpful.’ Aisling’s voice was warm as she smiled at Irina and stood up. ‘This is my colleague Cathy Connolly. She needs to have a quick chat with you, then we’ll get you out of here to somewhere safe where you can rest.’ Irina frowned. ‘Tell me when you want me to go to your police station.’

  Aisling smiled reassuringly as she answered, ‘We will, don’t worry. I’ll just get you another glass of water.’

  Irina smiled at her as Cathy sat down in Aisling’s place. O’Rourke had said Irina wanted to help them all she could, but Cathy could see she was tense; it showed in her face and in the way she was gripping the hem of her sweatshirt, nervously fiddling with it, stopping and pushing her hair behind her ear. Cathy could see she was only just holding on. She knew that feeling.

  ‘Are you with the police?’ Despite her Garda baseball cap and jacket, Irina looked at Cathy’s black sweatpants and hoodie, at her Nikes, obviously puzzled.

  ‘Yes, I’m with the detective unit, like Aisling. Thank you for talking to me. The girl you telephoned,
Sarah Jane, is my friend.’

  Irina put out her hand, grasping Cathy’s wrist tight, shaking her head, ‘No, thank you. If your friend hadn’t given me her number; if he,’ she inclined her head towards O’Rourke, ‘hadn’t arrived, I might not be alive now.’

  Her words were simple yet stark, said with total sincerity. She wasn’t exaggerating. Cathy felt her anger rising. The men who had done this needed to be punished.

  ‘He’s a good guy.’ Cathy rubbed Irina’s hand. ‘But it’s you who has saved all these girls.’ Cathy smiled, hoping it reached her eyes, ‘I’m hoping you can help us with something else too. We’re not sure what’s happened, but Sarah Jane has disappeared. We’re really anxious to find her.’ Irina’s hand shot to her mouth, her eyes filled with fear. ‘Do you mind if I ask you about her?’

  Irina shook her head, a dark cloud passing across her face. Cathy opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything Irina cut in, ‘How did you get my message if she has disappeared?’ Her eyes filled with fear and she started feeding the hem of her sweatshirt through her fingers again as if the feel of the fabric was centring her somehow. Cathy needed her to be strong now, and as she sat beside her Cathy’s feeling that Irina was the missing piece of the puzzle was growing stronger. She needed to tread carefully.

  ‘Her phone was with our technical people. The day she vanished she left it in her car.’

  That still didn’t make any sense. The phone had been dead when they’d found it, but if she’d forgotten it, why hadn’t she gone back for it before she went home? Or had she not been able to collect it?

  ‘Near here? Was her car left near here?’

  ‘Yes, in Drury Street,’ Cathy stopped herself. O’Rourke had said Irina hadn’t been sure which city she was in – she wasn’t going to know street names. ‘Not far from here, in a car park.’ Cathy paused, watching Irina. She knew she should be going in more gently, building Irina’s trust, but time was against them. How had she not seen this before?

  Watching Irina closely, Cathy continued, ‘Sarah Jane worked next door in The Rookery restaurant. We know she felt ill on Sunday evening and the manager called her a cab to take her home. We’ve lost track of her when she arrived there.’

  Irina froze, staring at a point on the floor not far from Cathy’s foot, and Cathy was suddenly sure she was right. She pulled out her phone and texted O’Rourke: NEED YOU. Irina was obviously still fighting with her emotions, biting her lip as O’Rourke materialised silently beside Cathy from across the room.

  Cathy knew she couldn’t rush Irina, but she was bursting with questions now. O’Rourke hung back, his hands in his pockets. He pulled out his phone and switched it to silent. He was waiting.

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it? Getting into the cab, not Sarah Jane.’

  It took Irina a few moments, then she looked up, her blue eyes meeting Cathy’s, glancing anxiously at O’Rourke, her voice catching as she spoke:

  ‘I didn’t understand, I didn’t know why. I was so frightened, the man with the cowboy boots . . .’ Tears began to slide down Irina’s cheeks. Then the words were tumbling out of her mouth, ‘Nacek said I had to go with him.’ In little more than a whisper, ‘I didn’t know.’

  Cathy put her hand on Irina’s arm, fighting to keep her voice calm, relaxed. She glanced at O’Rourke. ‘I just need you to tell me exactly what happened.’

  ‘The man who runs this place,’ Irina’s face clouded, ‘he hurt me before, and then when they said to go in his car I was so frightened, I thought they were going to hurt me again.’

  ‘His car?’

  ‘Before – the day before I went in the taxi, they took me out to a big house and I had to get in his car and then catch a bus. I thought they were going to kill me, that it was some sort of game.’

  Cathy took a breath, processing this information, trying to keep up. ‘The man with the cowboy boots owns this place, and he hurt you before?’

  Irina nodded wordlessly.

  Richard Farrell. Had to be. The cowboy boots.

  ‘Tell me in your own words exactly what happened when you went to the house.’

  Irina began fiddling with her sweatshirt again. ‘Nacek took me. He made me put on a jacket and denim skirt, to brush my hair over my face.’

  ‘What was the house like?’

  ‘Big, with gates and a long drive. There was this horrible dog. I thought he was going to rape me again . . .’

  ‘Nacek or the man with the cowboy boots?’ Cathy tried to keep her voice soft, empathetic.

  ‘Both of them . . .’ She stopped, obviously unable to speak about what had happened before.

  ‘So tell me what happened when you got to the house?’

  ‘Nacek took me into the living room, in the house, told me to put on the clothes. There was a swimming pool – through the window, I could see a swimming pool.’

  ‘Where did he get the clothes from?’

  She shrugged, ‘They were just lying on the sofa. They weren’t new, I could smell the girl’s perfume on them.’ Irina didn’t meet Cathy’s eye. ‘Something really bad had happened to her, hadn’t it? I knew, I knew. But I couldn’t refuse in case it was me next.’

  ‘I understand.’

  Irina took a depth breath, ‘So I got changed and then the boss arrived and took me though this big kitchen into the garage. His car was there. A sports car, black. I got in and Nacek said I just needed to get out of the car when the bus came. He gave me a green card like a credit card, I had to copy the other people and put it on a scanner just inside the door of the bus, then go and sit down. They told me I had to keep my hair over my face and keep looking at the floor.’ The tears began to fall again, ‘Nacek said he’d be following me in his car, that I had to get off the bus when I saw him pull in front of it. He said there were other people on the bus watching, that he would cut my throat if I spoke to anyone or tried to run.’

  Cathy leaned forward, her heart beating hard, ‘So you did what he said?’ Irina nodded helplessly. ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘A few days ago, I’m not sure – the day after I saw your friend.’

  ‘So then what happened?’

  ‘The next day, the day after – after lunch . . . I knew something really bad had happened to the girl I had pretended to be. I saw the fire door open and I just ran. I got to the car park and then Nacek got me. I thought he was going to kill me . . . He hit me in the back of the head so there would be no bruises and then once in my stomach. It hurt so much.’

  Irina bit her lip. Cathy reached forward and rubbed her arm.

  ‘So tell me about Sarah Jane.’

  ‘I didn’t see her again after the shop, I didn’t know anything had happened to her.’

  ‘Tell me about the taxi, what happened that night?’ Cathy could feel O’Rourke’s presence, strong and silent behind her.

  ‘Nacek came again. He had a pink scarf and a black coat, he told me to plait my hair and to put them on. Then he took me down to the fire exit and out across the car park to the bins. I didn’t know what was happening. He made me wait behind the bins. Another man came out of a door. He made me pull the scarf over my face. Then Nacek said I was to go with him and get into the taxi, and I had to act like I was ill. He said he’d be driving behind, and when it stopped I was to get out and walk away from the taxi and he’d be there to pick me up again, like the time before. The man I didn’t know put his arm around me and walked me around to the street, to the taxi.’

  ‘Did he say anything? Anything at all?’

  Irina frowned hard, ‘I think he said something like, “She said she’d call. ” I wasn’t really listening, I’m sorry. I was so frightened.’

  Cathy moved forward onto the edge of the banquette and patted Irina’s knee. ‘I know. You’ve done brilliantly to tell us. I’ll just be a sec.’

  Standing up, she caught O’Rourke’s eye and they moved a few metres away. Cathy was so angry she could hardly contain it.

  �
��Billy Roberts is in this up to his neck. He knows what happened to Sarah Jane, he has to. Has done the whole time.’ She drew in a sharp breath, her voice low, ‘He or Farrell must have spotted the resemblance between Irina and Daniella and used Irina to make it look like Daniella got on that bus. Irina played her part so well they did it again to make us think Sarah Jane had got into the taxi.’ She thrust her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, ‘If I have to speak to Billy Roberts, I think I’m going to kill him.’

  O’Rourke pulled out his phone. ‘Gallagher’s team are still in there. We’ll see what Mr Roberts has to say for himself and bring him in. He’s lied to us and he’s probably edited those security tapes too – we’ll get the techs in the Park to see if they’ve been tampered with.’ Cathy stared silently at a distant spot on the ground, her hands balled in her pockets. ‘You good to keep going with Irina for a moment?’

  She nodded and turned to sit back down as O’Rourke’s call connected.

  *

  If it had been Irina getting into the taxi, then the last definite sighting they had of Sarah Jane had been her getting into the car with the guy in the combats. Who could have taken her anywhere. Cathy thought about the information they had, her mind processing the detail. Had Sarah Jane realised what was happening? Had they confronted her and she said she’d call the cops, or her dad? Had she bluffed them into thinking she had back-up?

  Cathy hoped so. With every particle of her being she hoped so. If they thought Sarah Jane had connections, maybe they were holding her while they got ready to move the girls from The Paradise Club, reckoned they could clean everything up, so if there was a raid the Guards wouldn’t find anything. Or perhaps they were confident enough that the girls were so terrified they wouldn’t talk. They just hadn’t bargained on Irina.