Kevin was still sitting in the car, facing the water. His head leaning on the steering wheel. Lottie unholstered her weapon and approached the vehicle, giving orders for the others to stay well back.
‘Kevin O’Keeffe, come out and put your hands on your head.’
If a gun battle ensued, she’d get a right bollocking from Farrell for not calling in the armed response unit. Then again, she’d most likely be dead, so she wouldn’t have to worry about it.
Her hand wavered. She wasn’t all that brave. Without moving closer, she stood behind the vehicle.
‘Kevin? Get out of the car.’
She held her breath as the door opened slowly.
One foot appeared. Shiny black shoe. Then the other. Pin-stripe trousers with a neat press down the seam. And then he stood out of the car, his face ashen, his hands in the air.
‘Put your hands on your head and face the car.’
He did as she ordered.
Slowly she approached, alert for any sudden movement. But Kevin O’Keeffe was spent.
She cuffed him. Read him his right to remain silent and arrested him for kidnapping his daughter. Then, even without any evidence other than Ruby’s garbled words, she tagged on the murder of Gavin Robinson for good measure.
O’Keeffe did not utter a word in reply.
The sudden elation of capturing her prey had dissipated as soon as O’Keeffe was taken away. The car would need to be impounded, even though it was Marianne’s. Lottie left a crew with it until that happened.
She drove to the station, her head thumping, her body feeling strangely empty. There would be a hundred forms to fill, a thousand reports to file, and the scale of winding up the investigation was so overpowering that she yearned to go home to bed.
Kirby was pacing.
‘Well done on the arrest, boss. It came in over the radio. I was looking for you, actually.’
‘Not now, Kirby. I need to put my head on the desk for five minutes. Then we’ll talk.’
‘Boyd wants you to ring him. Says it’s urgent. And I have new information.’
Lottie felt the blood stop flowing in her veins, and her head lightened. ‘Oh God, Kirby. I bet he got bad news this morning. I don’t think I can handle it. I really don’t.’
‘He did sound a bit off.’
She stared at the detective, with his flushed fat face and wild hair, his shirt straining over a stomach that had consumed way too many Happy Meals. Her knees wobbled. He put out a hand to steady her but she shooed him away.
‘Don’t fuss. I’m fine. I’ll ring him.’
‘You sure? I’ll get you a coffee. A hot one. You like that.’
‘Not now, Kirby.’
‘Sorry.’
She sat on the nearest chair. It was Boyd’s old desk, and a sense of loss swamped her. She shoved the keyboard to one side and laid her head on the cool surface.
‘I’m getting you that coffee,’ Kirby said.
Then she recalled what he’d said a few moments ago. With a laborious sigh, she raised her head. ‘What’s this new information?’
‘I’m not sure, but it might help tie up loose ends.’
‘What loose ends? We have Kevin O’Keeffe for the murders. I can’t wait to interview him. I really need to find out his relationship to Polly Cole and Harry Doyle.’
‘That’s the thing …’
‘What is it, Kirby?’
‘I think there’s someone else involved.’
‘Well, we know Aaron Frost is. His prints were found in Faye’s car.’
‘Gary, the tech guy, he unlocked Aaron’s laptop.’
A shiver convulsed her spine.
‘I’m not going to like this, am I?’
Seventy-Two
Jack was surprised to see his dad outside the door of the principal’s office. He’d been dragged out of class without a reason. Just told to bring his books and school bag.
‘Hi, Dad! Am I getting a day off?’
‘Come on. We have to go.’
Jack followed the long, loping figure down the narrow corridor and his young brain filled up quickly with terrible thoughts.
‘Dad? Is something wrong? Is Maggie okay? Mam?’
‘They’re fine.’
‘Is it because of Gavin? You know I miss him and don’t know how to act about it in school, and—’
‘Jack, be quiet and just follow me.’
He drove them through town and out along the main road, past the road where they lived.
‘Are we not going home?’
‘Not yet. The house is like a fortress with the guards on duty there. I need head space. I want to show you a restoration project I’ve been working on.’
‘I thought you were off work sick.’
‘Irish Canals is a good employer. I can work any day I feel up to it. And today, I feel up to it.’
Jack knew all about the lock gates that Charlie had been working on. He and Tyrone sometimes helped him to paint the walls and cut the grass.
When they got out of the car, Jack looked at the gates. All painted and newly oiled.
‘They’re working now,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ll show you.’
‘I know how they work,’ Jack said. ‘I read about it online.’
‘Nothing like seeing the real thing, is there?’
‘Suppose not.’
Jack was bored already. He wished he had his drone. It would be cool to fly it along this section of the canal. Way cooler than lock gates that must be two hundred years old.
As he stood on the small gantry, the rush of water gushed through Jack’s ears. He heard the train make its way along the tracks that ran parallel to the canal, though he couldn’t see it because of the bushes and trees. He glanced down at the water. A rat scampered along the concrete edge of the lock then disappeared into the long grass, making its appearance again with a splash as it cut through the green slime that hugged the reeds. The slime separated in its wake, rousing the smell of deadness and decay from the water.
‘How deep is it?’ Jack asked.
‘Must be twenty feet.’
‘Good place to hide a body,’ he said softly.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘You know, just with finding the body parts the other day and all that’s happened. Dad, why would someone want to leave them out in the open and not in a place like here, where they’d never be found?’
‘Oh, they’d be found. Bodies are always found. Even bog bodies are found thousands of years later. Nothing is hidden forever.’
‘Still,’ Jack said.
Charlie said, ‘I used to come here a lot as a boy. My father … he used to bring me. That was before I discovered the darkest thing in my life. Now I have to tell you the darkest thing in yours.’
Jack leaned on the heavy balance beam to get a better look at his dad, who was turning the windlass. He knew the equipment. Charlie was filling the lock chamber with water.
‘Jack is at school,’ Lisa said. She was dressed in her white nurse’s tunic and navy slacks and seemed to be ready to walk out the door. Her colour was a little better. Her hair was washed and scooped at the back of her neck. Garda Brennan was chatting to the other garda at the squad car.
Lottie said, ‘I’ve called the school. They told me Jack’s dad picked him up. Where would they go?’
‘Charlie?’
‘Yes.’ Lottie was frantic. She’d seen the emails on Aaron’s laptop. She knew they were running out of time.
Lisa pulled the door shut and locked it. ‘I’ve to drop Maggie to the crèche. Charlie had an early hospital appointment. God, I hope he didn’t get bad news.’
This made Lottie think of Boyd’s texts again. Not now, she warned herself. The boy could be in danger. ‘Where would Charlie take Jack?’
‘I don’t understand. He’d come home. He’d no reason to take him out of school. What are you talking about?’ Lisa brushed past her and stood at the car door, watching Maggie sitting quietly in the back.
&nbs
p; ‘Did you know that Charlie and Aaron Frost were related?’
Lisa whirled around, stones crunching underfoot. ‘What on earth are you on about?’
‘There are emails. Charlie thought he might need a bone marrow transplant. He signed up to an online site to trace near relatives. Why would he do that when he has sons?’
‘What do you mean? Charlie doesn’t need a transplant. He must have been searching for some other reason.’
‘I’ve seen his correspondence with Aaron,’ Lottie said. Her phone rang. ‘Give me one minute.’
She walked a little way down the lane, bracing herself for what she might hear.
‘Boyd. I’m up to my ears. I hope you’re okay, otherwise I’m going to kill you.’
‘I met that guy Charlie Sheridan at the hospital this morning.’
‘Is everything all right?’ Instinctively, Lottie pulled her jacket tight to her chest.
‘I don’t know, but I was trying to draw him out about his illness. We talked about bone marrow and I asked if he had anyone to donate for him if he ever needed it. He said he had a nine-year-old son but he was too young. Then I remembered about Jack finding the torso. He’s eleven, isn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
‘So why did Charlie only mention the nine-year-old?’
‘I’ll find out. Thanks, Boyd. You okay?’
‘I’m fine. I know you’re busy. I just wanted to pass that on. I’ll call round later.’
Lottie walked back to Lisa Sheridan. ‘Lisa, you need to tell me everything.’
‘I’ve to go to work. I’ve missed so much lately.’
‘The sooner you talk, the sooner you can go. Where is Charlie?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Why would he take Jack from school?’
‘I don’t know. You have to believe me.’ Lisa’s forehead bubbled with perspiration.
‘Jack could be in danger.’
‘Jesus, no. Do you think he’s going to harm him?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lottie said honestly.
Lisa gulped and shook her head. Tears were streaming down her face. ‘Jack doesn’t know.’
‘Doesn’t know what?’
‘That Charlie isn’t his dad.’
‘Oh.’ Lottie had half expected to hear this declaration after Boyd’s call. ‘How did Charlie find out?’
‘That’s not important. We have to find him.’
‘We will, but I have to know what I’m dealing with first.’
Lisa shrugged her shoulders wearily. ‘It’s a long story, but back when Charlie first started to feel sick, he had all these symptoms and I foolishly told him he might have leukaemia. He had blood tests done and the doctors initially suspected he might have a mild form of the disease. It turned him into a hypochondriac. He insisted that we all be tested in case he ever needed bone marrow. He became irrational about it, obsessive. I couldn’t talk sense into him. I refused to put my children through unnecessary testing and so … and so I had to tell him.’
‘What was his reaction?’
Lisa cried softly. ‘He was like a madman. Talking about history repeating itself. Hammered the daylights out of me. I was pregnant with Maggie at the time. This was two years ago. I’ve lived with his anger and paranoia every day since.’
‘How was he with Jack?’
‘Offhand. Rude. Angry. Never hit him, though. He wouldn’t hurt him. I know he wouldn’t.’
‘Did you tell Charlie the name of the father?’
Lisa nodded. ‘It was the only way to stop the beatings.’
‘Who is it?’
Lottie was sure the answer would be Aaron Frost.
She was wrong.
Jack stood and watched his father operate the lock gates.
‘Why are you showing me this, Dad? I know how it works.’
‘I have to do something or I’m going to kill someone.’
‘You’re scaring me.’
‘Good.’
Jack thought of running then. Running as fast and as hard as he could. But Charlie stopped twisting the windlass and walked over to him. He sat on the beam and took Jack’s hand in his. Stared at it before dropping it.
‘Jack, listen to me. I found out about my dad the hard way. It darkened my soul for a long time. I raged at everyone. I was delirious, demented.’ He paused. Jack wondered about the monotone flatness of his voice.
Charlie continued. ‘It got so bad that one night I killed them all. I wasn’t sorry. They were laughing behind my back. The bastard son, that’s what I heard them saying. My mother hadn’t even the decency to tell me the truth. I had to overhear it in an argument between her and that fucking excuse for a father. Not my real dad. Never met him. He’s still out there somewhere, but I will find him. Mark my words. And he will suffer too.’
‘Dad, what are you saying? You’re really scaring me now.’
‘That’s the thing, Jack. I’m not your dad. Your mother slept with someone else and then passed you off as mine. I was so excited when she was pregnant. At last I was going to have my own kid, after years living in exile. At last I had something of my own. But like everything in my life, it was a lie. Everything was lies.’
‘I … I don’t understand, Dad.’
‘Don’t call me that. I am not your father. You are not my son.’
‘Of course I am.’
Jack was knocked from the beam as Charlie hit him. He landed on the concrete, a sharp pain shooting through his coccyx bone. He screamed in agony, biting his tongue as Charlie slapped him to shut him up. Blood filled his mouth.
‘I know you saw me that night. With your drone. I know you downloaded the images. What did you save them on? Don’t tell me they’re on your laptop, because I checked and they’re not.’
Jack scrambled backwards, crying in pain. ‘It’s just shadows.’
‘Where is it?’
He didn’t know whether to lie or tell the truth. What would help him? ‘I gave the USB to the detective, Lottie something.’
‘If you’d done that, she’d have arrested me by now. Don’t lie to me. Where is it?’
‘You can’t see anything on it anyway. You have to believe me.’
Jack had no idea where he was finding his bravery. As he crawled, scuffing the palms of his hands, he felt the USB stick in his pocket, and he wished, oh how he wished, he had dumped it.
Charlie turned around. His face, usually pale and wan, was now purple with anger. In his hand he held a large knife. The steel was dull beneath the cloudy sky, but it was bright enough to scare the shit out of Jack.
Instead of doubling over with the pain again, he blocked out the agony, shot upright and began to run. He ran like he was in the Olympics. He ran like the devil himself was on his heels. Because he knew that if he did not outrun Charlie, he would lie with the bones of the dead that were surely in the bottom of the canal lock chamber.
Seventy-Three
Lottie flung open the station doors, scanned her ID card and raced down the stairs to the cells.
‘Open it. Now, for fuck’s sake,’ she yelled at the guard.
Inside, she hauled Kevin O’Keeffe up off the bench and thrust him against the wall.
‘You have one chance to tell me the truth. One fucking chance.’
‘Okay.’
She let go of his shoulder and pushed away from him, breathing heavily as she tried to get her thoughts in order.
‘Charlie Sheridan,’ she said.
‘What about him?’
‘Where would he take your son?’
‘My son? I don’t—’
‘Your son Jack. Jack Sheridan.’
‘You know?’
‘I do. Talk. Jack is in danger. Charlie has taken him.’
Kevin fell back onto the bench and buried his head in his hands. ‘He’s deranged. I’ve seen what he can do.’
‘You’d better start telling me what you know, if you want to save Jack’s life.’
‘Oh God almighty,’ Kevin said.
‘Charlie contacted me. About two years ago. Said he knew about me and Lisa. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. There was nothing to know really. Charlie used to work at A2Z Insurance, that’s how I knew them. It was just a drunken one-night stand. Lisa wasn’t long married at the time and I don’t know why it happened, but it did. Next I knew, she was pregnant and then she had Jack. I assumed he was Charlie’s. She never told me. I never knew. Not until Charlie came hammering on my door in a flittering rage one night. He threatened to kill Ruby in front of me. To tear her limb from limb and then do the same to Marianne.’
‘Jesus.’
‘I’d have done anything to stop him.’ Kevin lifted his head and stared up at the grated fluorescent light. ‘In the end, I did.’
‘Who did you kill?’ She wanted to shake the words out of him, but she couldn’t move. Her feet were rooted to the spot.
He shook his head quickly. ‘Oh no, don’t get me wrong. Charlie killed them all. Faye, Aaron and that poor innocent boy Gavin Robinson.’ He was crying now, the smart businessman a bubbling wreck of snot and tears. He looked at Lottie. ‘I admit I helped him empty the freezers. His original plan was to leave the body parts on the rail track, in the hope that the trains would smash them to pieces. But it would have been tough getting the bins onto the tracks, so in the end he must have dumped them in the canal.’
‘Why did he want to get rid of them?’
‘Something to do with having to sell the derelict house because he thought he was going to die. I don’t know.’
‘Good God, Kevin, do you even know what you’ve done?’
‘I killed no one, I swear to God.’
‘You keep telling me that. Go on.’
‘I moved Gavin’s body for Charlie. He wouldn’t leave me alone. I was sure he was going to kill Ruby before my eyes. I was terrified. I drank. I took it out on Marianne.’
‘How did he frighten you so much? Surely words alone wouldn’t make you do what you’ve done.’
Kevin was silent.
‘I asked you a fucking question.’ She slammed her fist against the wall. He shuddered.
‘He told me stuff he’d done. Horrific crimes. Crimes no one could link to him. He showed me those bodies in the freezer. A little girl and a man. He said he had killed them years and years ago and kept the bodies to remind himself who he really was. He was only fourteen years old at the time and he’d murdered people and terrified others into silence. Don’t ask me how or why he did it.’
Buried Angels Page 33
