Kate had little memory of the hours that filled that last day in New York. She knew she’d packed and tidied the apartment. He had changed the travel arrangements. He had contacted the gardaí in Limerick and told them of his suspicions. He had phoned Spike.
She remembered walking through the lobby, dragging her suitcase, eyes lowered, unable to look Du Bois in the face. She’d heard the confusion in the doorman’s voice as they left, three days early.
Sitting on the plane home, she felt hollow inside. Dead. She and Mannix sat in a row in the middle aisle of the plane, separated by the children. Kate could hardly bring herself to look at him. There was no way of putting this one right. No brushing this one under the carpet. This was no petty theft. No stupid punt gone wrong. No feckless harebrained scheme in tatters. This was on a grander scale. This was infidelity and murder. And Mannix was guilty of both. No matter what he said, Mannix had blood on his hands now.
Kate knew that life could never be the same again. Her marriage was shot to bits. Family life, as she had naïvely known it, was over. It had all come crashing down around her ears in a way she never could have imagined. Had she slept at all last night? She didn’t know. Lying trancelike and alone on the wide bed, she had listened to Mannix snoring in fits and starts in the living room. The steady sound making her more angry. How dare he relax enough to fall asleep? What kind of man was he? Where was his conscience?
Over the last twenty-four hours, Kate questioned her judgment during their years together. She’d been so foolish. And, oh, so naïve. A leopard doesn’t change his spots. Isn’t that what her mother always said? Oh, my—what would her mother say about this? Not even she could have foreseen disaster on such a scale.
Time and again, Kate had ignored or dismissed his bad behavior, the risks he took. It was what made him different. That is what she’d told herself. She’d fallen in love with his weaknesses, convincing herself that was what made him interesting. Interesting, for God’s sake! What was the matter with her? Sure—Mannix was different from all the other men who’d ever pursued her. He wasn’t staid or boring. She’d been attracted to that in the early days. Flaws were what made people interesting, she’d convinced herself.
Over the course of their marriage, Kate had seen Mannix grow increasingly unpredictable. Increasingly reckless. Mannix was the one who insisted on investing abroad. “It’s a sure thing,” he said. Like everything was a sure thing with Mannix. Until it wasn’t. And as time went on, she found herself envying friends and colleagues with solid partners and husbands. A safe harbor was what she needed. They had kids. Responsibilities. She’d forgiven Mannix so much over the years. But no, not this. This could never be forgiven.
Kate had to face an unpleasant truth: She had gone into this marriage with her eyes wide open. She too had been reckless. Her mother had warned her. Even Spike in his best man’s speech had saluted her bravery in taking on his brother. Everyone had laughed, toasting their union with pink champagne. And she had laughed as heartily as the rest of them. She’d prove them all wrong. She’d show them all. Or so she thought at the time.
What, indeed, would her mother say when she learned the whole truth? Kate had seen precious little of her mother over the last few years. Alice Kennedy came to the house for the kids’ birthdays, but more often than not there would be some excuse or other when an invitation was extended. Once they had married, Alice Kennedy never overtly criticized her son-in-law again. And Kate sensed it was probably better to keep her husband and her mother out of each other’s way. It hurt Kate, but it was yet another situation she chose to ignore. Another little secret she kept to herself.
Kate sighed as she stretched out a leg under the seat in front. She’d had the capacity to forgive the stupid stuff Mannix had done in the past, but he’d broken her illusion of what she thought they’d had—a solid marriage. She didn’t have the capacity to forgive him that. He’d willfully and wantonly put them all in danger. He’d invited a deranged woman into their lives. Kate shivered. An innocent woman lay murdered, her skull smashed in, all because Mannix had fancied a bit on the side.
Kate’s thoughts turned to Fergus and Izzy. Mannix hadn’t been thinking of them either. He’d betrayed them all, each and every one of them. Her mother had been right after all. “Those O’Briens have the morals of alley cats,” she used to say in the days before they got married. And sure enough, though it had taken long enough for Kate to realize it, an alley cat was what Kate got.
The mother in her was seething. Mannix had strayed and shown affection to another woman’s child. That too she would not forgive. Over the course of the last day or so, Kate had experienced every possible negative emotion ever felt. Fury, betrayal, anger, jealousy, bitterness, and, every now and then, an overwhelming sadness at what was lost.
It came to her then that she no longer had a picture in her head of her and Mannix growing old together. She just couldn’t conjure it up. She couldn’t imagine it anymore. What was needed now was a different vision of her future. A vision without Mannix. And, painful though it was, she needed to reimagine it all. She would be strong. For herself and her children, she would be strong. She had made one really bad life choice. She alone could try to fix it.
She was tired now. Tired of keeping secrets. With another long deep sigh, she realized that she was actually tired of him. Exhausted from him. Even if she could ever forgive, she no longer had enough energy to go around. The energy she did have would have to be saved for herself and the children. It was over. Mannix O’Brien was out of time.
• • •
Kate needed to phone her mother. Shortly after Mannix told Kate, and though she was still reeling from the shock, Kate knew she had to phone her. This could not wait until she got back home. It would be all over the news. As Kate shakily picked up the handset in the Harveys’ flat, it occurred to her that Hazel Harvey would never again hold this handset, never again have a conversation on this phone. Kate gulped. She had no idea what she was going to say when her mother answered. She was struggling to hold her emotions in check.
“Mum?”
“Kate? Kate, is that you?”
“Yes, Mum, it’s me . . .” And suddenly, all her resolve, all her composure, evaporated. She was the young girl who’d become separated from her friends and missed the last train home from a concert in Dublin. She was the nine-year-old who’d been dragged off her bike by a passing truck on the way to school, whose deeply gashed leg needed stitching. The years peeled away and all of a sudden she was a sobbing child again. No longer a mother or a wife. A child.
“Oh, Mum . . .” She tried to speak but her words were strangled.
“Kate, what is it? Are you all right? Is it the kids?”
Her mother sounded alarmed.
“No, no, we’re fine. We’re all all right,” Kate managed to say.
“You’re still in New York?”
“Yes, yes.” Kate sniffed, conscious that the kids were sleeping. She didn’t want to wake them.
“Oh, Mum—you were right. I know you’re going to say ‘I told you so’ and I’m so sorry I never listened to you. You were so right about Mannix. And now something dreadful has happened. Something tragic . . .”
Kate tried to get herself under control. Neither did she want to wake Mannix, who was snoring on the sofa.
“I would never say ‘I told you so,’” said her mother gently.
Strangely, these words made Kate want to weep all the more.
“I’ve always been here for you, Kate. Whether you felt that or not. Always. Now, please tell me what I can do.”
As ever, Alice Kennedy was practical.
“I don’t really think you can do anything—not now, at least.” Kate sniffed. “But I am going to need you over the next few weeks and months, Mum. I am really going to need you. And so are the kids.”
“That’s what I’m here for. You know that, Kate.”
The quality of the landline was very good, and taking a deep breath, Kate began to feel slightly better.
“Mum?”
“Yes?”
“You’re probably going to hear some pretty awful stuff on the news over the next few days . . .”
“I see.” Alice Kennedy didn’t sound too perturbed.
So Kate just blurted it out.
“Our American houseguest was murdered in our house.”
There was a sharp intake of breath this time.
A pause.
“I see,” her mother said. “But you and the kids are okay—you’re telling me the truth now?”
“Yes, Mum. We’re fine. It looks like we’re going to be placed under police protection as soon as we arrive home. It’s all very complicated. I’ll explain when we get back tomorrow.”
There was a lengthier pause this time.
“Okay, sweetheart. I don’t need to know the ins and outs just yet. You just call me when you get home. I’ll come as soon as you want me.”
If Alice Kennedy really wanted to know, the truth was that her daughter wanted her now. By her side this very minute. But Kate would have to wait. She knew that from now on, there were many things she would have to do by herself. And she would. She could. Somehow, she would manage.
“Thanks, Mum. Thanks for everything,” said Kate, sounding a lot more composed than she felt. “And Mum—I’m so sorry I let you down.”
“Kate, you’re my child and you have never let me down. Just make sure you come home safely.”
“I will . . .”
As Kate quietly docked the receiver, she stretched her neck from side to side. For the first time in the midst of this hellish nightmare, she felt less alone. It had been a long, long time since she’d had an open exchange with her mother.
• • •
But then there was the fear.
Every now and again Kate had to block it out, before it threatened to fill her up and swallow her whole. It was an ongoing battle—Kate versus the fear. She could not afford to give in to it, to let it take her over.
Kate tried not to think about the Collins woman and where she was. Just how crazy and deranged was this woman? Had she come to the attention of the gardaí before? Often it was only in the wake of a tragedy that people realized the clues were there all the time. That there had been a history. Signs that had been ignored.
Did Joanne Collins look unbalanced to the naked eye? Was she the sort of woman you could pick out in a crowd by her strange gait or by the look in her eyes? Or had she the detachment and composure of a seasoned killer? Was it possible that she had done this before?
The masochist in Kate wanted to know exactly what this woman looked like. What did a killer look like? What was it about her that had attracted Mannix? Had she laughed readily at his easy charm? Had she played it up as turbulence hit the plane? Was she small and feminine or toned and athletic? Did she eat her food nicely or enjoy it with the same lust she had for Mannix? Had she chased him or had he chased her? Or did Joanne Collins simply radiate wanton abandon, sheer raw available sex, in some unhinged way?
Kate couldn’t demean herself to ask. Her shattered and fragile pride would not let her stoop that low. All she could do was imagine what the woman looked like, and then, perversely, try to block out all the disturbing images she’d conjured up.
He had assured her the gardaí had things under control. Assuming they hadn’t found Joanne Collins by the time they arrived back in Ireland, Kate would be put under police protection as soon as they arrived at Shannon Airport.
The gardaí knew where the woman lived. They knew where her child went to school. Surely they should be able to pick her up easily enough? Maybe Joanne Collins had gone into hiding. Maybe she was good at disappearing, at reinventing herself. Maybe they would never find her. Maybe Kate would have to live the rest of her life forever looking over her shoulder. Stop! Stop it! Get a grip, Kate! She couldn’t afford to think like this. She had to focus.
“What do you suggest we tell the kids?” Kate asked Mannix before they left the apartment on Riverside Drive. She was gulping one last coffee, trying to muster some energy for what lay ahead. She hoped he could hear the disgust in her voice.
“About what exactly?” he asked nervously.
“They’re expecting only Spike at the airport in Shannon. I would imagine they’re going to find it a tad peculiar being met by the Special Branch of the gardaí when we land, don’t you?” Kate was finding it almost impossible to sound civil, but for the sake of the children she knew she’d have to try.
“I’m not sure exactly . . .” He hesitated. “Do you have something in mind? Something that’s not going to scare them too much . . . especially Ferg . . . he’s the one who could get really upset . . .”
“It’s a bit late for all that now, don’t you think, Mannix? You should have thought of that before.” Her voice left her throat in a monotone this time. Calm. More controlled.
“I’m sorry, Kate,” he muttered. “I’m so very, very sorry . . . if only you knew . . .”
“Enough!” Kate put up her hands. She didn’t want to hear it.
She looked at him now. At his sheepish expression, looking for solace. In that moment, she wanted to hurt him. Really, really badly. She wanted to reach inside herself and scoop out all the hurt and heartache and drive it deep inside him, twisting and turning it until the pain of it choked him.
She took another deep breath.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said. “We are going to have to tell them something close to the truth. Some made-up fairy story is not going to wash with Izzy. She’s far too clever, so let’s not treat her like a fool.”
“Okay . . .” Mannix nodded.
“We are going to tell them that a mentally unstable woman has been committing random attacks in the city and that until she is caught, we are being given protection—seeing as she’s suspected of being involved in the death of Hazel Harvey.”
Mannix looked alarmed. “Oh, Kate, I don’t know. Random attacks. A mentally unstable woman. What are they going to make of that?”
“As I said already, Mannix, you should have thought of all of that before,” she replied coldly.
“And you know what?” Kate added.
“What?”
“You are going to be the one to tell them. And you are going to tell them now, before we leave this apartment. I’ll go and call them into the living room.”
Kate listened, her heart sinking, as she watched a white-faced Mannix tell Izzy and Fergus what would be waiting for them when they arrived in Shannon. She watched their little faces as they listened carefully.
Izzy said nothing at first, analyzing and weighing up this disturbing information. It was Fergus who broke the silence.
“Gardaí outside our house as well?” His eyes grew wide behind his glasses. “Will it be the Armed Response Unit with the flashing lights? You know—the special cops with guns? Frankie Flynn was bragging that it was outside his uncle’s house last month!”
Mannix said nothing, looking to Kate for direction. But Kate too was flabbergasted. And for the first time since this nightmare had unfolded she felt the beginnings of a smile. A bitter smile. Could it really be that her little Fergus thought there was actually some prestige in having the Special Branch or the Armed Response Unit outside their home?
“Well, Soldier, we don’t know yet,” she said gently. “It may well be that this poor sick lady will have been found and arrested by the time we get home. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Wait and see, wait and see,” chanted Fergus, marching up and down the hallway.
Mannix shot Kate a look, grateful that she’d rescued him.
“But why did this woman kill Hazel Harvey?” asked Izzy quietly. She was not so easily satisfied.
“We don’t know that yet, Izzy,” said Kate. “She’s a very sick person. She must be. It may be that she escaped from a psychiatric ward. We just don’t know. It’s all very sad. A real tragedy. We must keep the Harvey family in our prayers. The important thing now is that we are going to be safe. The gardaí are going to look after us.”
“And are they going to look after everyone else on Clancy Strand?”
Izzy certainly knew the questions to ask. Mannix looked awkward, but Kate did her best to maintain the same tone of voice.
“I guess so, Izzy. But I imagine they’ll be parked outside our house.”
“But . . .”
Before Izzy had a chance to ask another question, Kate interjected, “Time to go now, kids. Let’s get our suitcases. Du Bois will have that cab waiting by now!”
Izzy’s face set in a frown as she went to get her suitcase.
• • •
As the flight captain announced they were flying over Greenland, Kate’s thoughts again turned to Oscar Harvey and his children. Poor tragic Hazel Harvey got a homecoming she never expected. A final homecoming. Kate closed her eyes. Whatever the strength of emotion she was feeling, she could only imagine Oscar Harvey’s grief, the shock and confusion of his kids. Two families destroyed because of Mannix. Kate bit the insides of her cheeks. The stupid, selfish, faithless shit. She’d had her chances since they’d been married. Guys who’d shown an interest. Who would have taken flirting to another level. But she’d ignored the signals. She’d made her choices. She was married. She was faithful.
And to think that Mannix had the audacity to try to shift the blame on her. That somehow Kate was responsible. Because they hadn’t been getting on, she had forced him to look elsewhere for pleasure. That somehow Kate had a part to play in this murderous tragedy. What was the matter with him? she asked herself again. Couldn’t he have found some regular slut to play away with? It wasn’t like there weren’t plenty out there. But no. Mannix had to pick the nutter.
Kate felt deep distaste as she thought of all the times they’d since made love. The duplicitous shit. Had any of his affection been real? And then it hit her. She wondered if it had happened before. How much of their life together had been a sham?
It was only sex. He kept repeating it. If he said it one more time, she’d scream. It may have been just sex to him but it was a whole load more to her. It was trust. It was the inviolability of their marriage. Forsaking all others—when she’d said it at the altar, she’d meant it. But he had let that nutter in and things could never be undone.
Kate thought back to last March, about the time he’d been to Boston. She tried to remember exactly what had been going on in their lives. True—they hadn’t been getting on too well. There had been pressures. Money, or the lack of it. Debts. Fergus. She’d been fretting all the time about Fergus. And all the while, he’d been sleeping with her.
Later into the flight, Kate fell into to an uneasy doze, wishing the burden she felt could be lifted. She had no idea how things would play out when they landed, but of one thing she was certain. She had to be on her guard at all times. At every twist and turn. There was no room for complacency. There was no telling where this woman might be. Could she even trust the gardaí to protect her?
The damp light was beginning to fade as the aircraft followed the weave of the Shannon to the marshland airport. It was a landing like no other. Kate was usually happy to return home from any foreign jaunt. Not this time. As she tried to muster a smile for the kids, Kate felt sick to her stomach. They were no longer going home as a unit to the sanctuary of the family home. That too had been violated. The little terrace house that she so loved was now a murder scene.
She tried again to imagine the future without Mannix. She imagined different houses around the city, a nice small flat for her, Fergus, and Izzy. She needed to keep on imagining it, to make it real, because that’s where she was headed. Then it dawned on her. Why should Kate be the one to move? The house at Curragower Falls was home to Izzy and Fergus as well. There were going to be so many adjustments in their young lives, why heap an unnecessary cruel move on them as well? If anyone was going to move out, surely it should be Mannix?
How would Izzy and Fergus react to their father’s departure? It chewed her up inside as she tried to picture it. Fergus idolized his father. And how would Kate fare, cast in the role of villain, ejecting his hero from the family home? Fergus would have to be told very carefully, his father’s departure sensitively executed. Kate would think of something. She had to think of something. There was a solution out there—only she hadn’t thought of it just yet.
“Don’t worry, Kate. It’s going to be okay,” said Mannix quietly as they stood at the luggage carousel. He was looking out for the suitcases with their trademark yellow twine. “Spike will be just through those doors in arrivals along with the plainclothes gardaí.”
Kate didn’t bother to respond. It was going to be okay for him, all right. Mannix wasn’t the intended target. Kate was.
Kate thought she’d had the measure of this man. But Mannix’s ebullient confidence in the face of all that had happened was staggering. Did he really believe that he could somehow smooth things over? Was he stupid? Did he genuinely think that things could ever return to business as usual? Mannix had a death on his hands. And yet he appeared to have little or no idea of the depth of her anger and revolt.
Three of their suitcases arrived promptly and Mannix swung them onto the trolley as if he hadn’t a care in the world. She wondered then if his behavior was part of a ruse. Mannix was nothing if not a showman. Perhaps underneath the nonchalant exterior, he was as distressed as she was.
“Mum?” Fergus was wiping imaginary dust from the camera, which he’d insisted on holding on to.
“Yes, Ferg?”
“Why aren’t you talking to Dad?”
Fergus had an unhappy knack for pointing out and heightening any socially awkward situation. Tact was something she would have to try to teach him in the years to come. In fact, Kate was surprised he hadn’t remarked on the silence between them earlier. She noticed now that Izzy had pricked up her ears. Izzy was definitely unhappy with what she had been told so far. She felt her daughter’s dark eyes steadily fix on her. Mannix looked at her too, wondering what she’d say.
“Of course I’m talking to Dad. I’ve got a lot on my mind with this dreadful tragedy.”
“No, you’re not, Mum. You haven’t said a single word to him since we got on the plane. It’s not Dad’s fault we have to come home early. It’s not Dad’s fault there’s a psycho on the loose!”
Poor Ferg, always his father’s champion. If only he knew.
Sharp, astute, Izzy was quick off the mark.
“It’s not your fault, is it, Dad?”
Mannix looked at Izzy, flummoxed.
“Of course not, Izzy. Don’t be ridiculous,” chided Kate.
The words were out before she knew it. It wasn’t that she was trying to protect Mannix, but she did want to protect the children. There would be time enough for the whole truth at a much later date. For now, she’d protect the kids as much as she could. Again, Mannix looked at Kate with relief. She hoped her actions hadn’t given him false hope of any reconciliation. As soon as they were in private again, she would disavow him of any such notions.
“Let’s go, troops,” said Mannix as the last suitcase arrived. “We’re locked and loaded!”
Beset by a feeling of dread, Kate followed him toward the sliding doors. Each step like walking on wet sucking concrete. What lay on the other side of those doors? Kate’s heart fluttered and started to race. Her legs shook. Her palms perspired heavily. With each footstep, Kate’s heart beat louder. Thump, thump, thump. Suddenly the doors were open and they were through.
Was she there?
That nutter?
Slinking through the crowd?
Faces. Faces. A sea of faces.
All looking at Kate. Kate felt her skin prickle and the hairs stand up on the nape of her neck. Someone out there was watching her. She could feel it. Kate scanned the crowd, eyes swiveling, darting this way and that.
Stay alert. Keep looking.
Voices called out. Kate’s heart was beating wildly.
Who was that? There—at the back, behind the crowd?
That woman with the blue head scarf—she was steadily making her way toward Kate! Kate’s breath came in short bursts. Kate’s eyes fastened onto the woman—petrified. She was definitely headed in Kate’s direction. Kate should run! Get out of here. NOW! But Kate was rooted to the spot. She could see the woman’s lips were shiny—glistening with red lip gloss. A moment later she disappeared. Melted into the crowd. Where was she? There she was again. Directly in front of the man with the walking stick. Moving faster. Much, much faster—a purpose to her step. Suddenly, the woman’s expression changed, her face creasing into a smile. All Kate’s senses screamed. Was she smiling at her? Or was she smiling at Mannix? Kate shot a quick glance at Mannix. How had he not noticed the woman? She was nearly on them!
Whoosh!
Kate became dizzy as she felt the soft fabric of someone brushing by. The blood was thumping in her ears. Looking around, Kate stared as the woman wrapped herself in a tight embrace with a dark-skinned man. Relief coursed through Kate and a bead of sweat trickled down her back.
Kate desperately needed to get out of this crowd. To feel cold water on her face. Now. She would never make it to the exit. The sign for the ladies’ toilets was there, to the right. Just a quick sprint away.
“Kate! Where are you going?”
It was Mannix. He spoke so sharply other travelers turned to look.
“Bathroom,” she said, and it occurred to her that if it weren’t for her kids, she’d love to keep on walking, to cut a line through the gathering of waiting taxi drivers and welcoming relatives, out through the concourse doors, to keep on walking and walking, without ever looking back.
“Quickly then,” Mannix barked. “We’ll wait here for you.” It was the first sign he’d given acknowledging any danger.
A ball of stress had formed inside her. As Kate waited for a free cubicle, she looked around her. She wondered if anyone else in the queue was expecting a homecoming quite as appalling as hers. “Muuuum, I’m really bursting,” moaned a small child, wiggling her tiny frame. “Shhh, Rosie, we’re in next,” said her mother.
Kate looked in the mirror over the hand basins. Her hair hung lank and there were dark circles under her eyes. Not the rejuvenated soul she expected to be on her return. Everyone else in the queue looked tired and drawn as well. Apart from the woman holding the flowers. Standing a few people behind, Kate watched as she fiddled with the petals, and when she lowered her head to smell the bouquet, Kate noticed her long ponytail beneath her woolly hat. The woman looked as if she’d been walking in the wind.
What was taking everyone so long? There were never enough toilets in these bathrooms.
A couple of ladies were applying powder at the mirror. Another young woman pinched her cheeks. As Kate waited, she unzipped her bag in search of lipstick. She turned to face the mirror, while keeping her position in the queue. As she concentrated, following the curve of her lips, Kate became aware that she was being watched.
No, she was mistaken. It was her imagination. She’d gone into overdrive.
Get a grip, Kate!
No, actually she wasn’t mistaken at all. She was being watched. By the woman with the flowers.
Kate was being scrutinized. The woman with the flowers was directly behind Kate now. There was something else that jarred about her. Apart from the flowers. She was in a long winter coat, muffled up in her woolly hat and matching scarf. As if she’d come in from outdoors.
There was something odd about her.
Kate turned around and froze. She was face-to-face with her now. How sleek and shiny and perfect her ponytail was. The woman kept staring at Kate. She didn’t lower her eyes. Not for a second. She looked Kate up and down, slowly, lingering on Kate’s hands, her rings. Kate froze.
In a sudden burst of panic, Kate skipped the queue, past the gray-haired ladies and the whining child, colliding with a woman exiting a cubicle. Kate slammed the door loudly and firmly slid the bolt in place. Darts of adrenaline shot through her body.
That was really weird.
Over the rush of blood in her ears, Kate heard the indignation of those outside.
“Disgraceful! Did you see that?”
“No manners, and a little one waiting as well . . .”
Kate was embarrassed. But more than that, she was petrified.
Was it her?
Was that Joanne Collins?
Was she still outside?
Oh God! What should she do now? Kate was trapped. But would Joanne Collins be stupid enough to come to the airport? When the gardaí were looking for her? And then it occurred to Kate that the woman probably had no idea the gardaí were looking for her. Joanne Collins thought Mannix loved her. In her sick and twisted mind, what she had done was in the name of love. Why would Mannix even go to the gardaí?
As Kate leaned against the door, thinking, thinking, thinking, she knew what she should do. There was one person who would know if it was Joanne. That was Mannix, and he was outside. Kate frantically unzipped her bag again to get her mobile phone.
“Mum! Mum, are you in here?”
That was Izzy’s voice!
Izzy was out there with that woman. She could be in danger! Dropping the mobile in the bag, Kate slid back the bolt and swung the door open.
“There you are,” muttered Izzy. The other faces in the queue were looking strangely at her now. Kate quickly scanned the washroom. But she was gone. The woman with the flowers was gone.
“Mum? Are you all right?” asked Izzy, looking concerned. “Dad sent me, because you were taking so long.”
“I’m fine, Izzy,” Kate said, trying to still her beating heart. She would really have to get this under control. She couldn’t transmit her anxieties to Izzy or Fergus. The woman was gone now. All she’d done was stare at Kate, and Kate had gone into a tailspin.
“Come on, Dad’s going mad.”
Kate’s days of pandering to Mannix were done. She took her time washing her hands and splashed cold water on her face. She wiped a moistened paper towel over the back of neck.
“Mum, come on,” said Izzy, as warm jets of air from the hand dryer ran over Kate’s hands.
“Ready,” Kate said as the machine clicked off. Kate suddenly felt a shiver run down her back. There was something there in the wastebasket at her side. She looked closely. A cello-wrapped bouquet of flowers. Freesias, lilies, and carnations. Discarded, dumped, headfirst into the waste bin.
“Let’s go,” Kate said, linking Izzy’s arm to steady herself.
What kind of woman discarded a fresh bouquet of flowers?
• • •
“Mum, you’re hurting me . . .”
Kate squeezed Izzy’s arm as they walked back out on the concourse. She felt afraid again. Mannix, Spike, and Fergus were only feet away.
“You doing okay?” asked Spike gently. She let him give her a hug. After the unsettling incident in the washroom it was a relief to see a familiar face. He looked genuinely concerned.
“I’ve been better,” she replied.
“You were a long time in there,” remarked Mannix.
“Yeah?” replied Kate with complete disinterest.
“Mum isn’t talking to Dad, Uncle Spike. She says she is, but she’s not,” piped up Fergus.
Spike looked from Kate to Mannix and back again.
“Your mum is tired and she’s had a shock, Ferg,” said Spike.
Kate just wanted to get out of the openness of this airport. She was frazzled. Everyone was looking at her, staring at her. Even now, someone else was headed in her direction. Another woman, headed straight for her, making a beeline for her. A serious woman. The woman was picking up her step. Kate reached out to grab Spike’s arm. She felt a scream forming in her throat. But the woman was upon her . . .
“Mrs. O’Brien? Kate O’Brien?” the woman was asking.
Kate breathed out.
There were two other people with her. Two men.
“I’m Mannix O’Brien.” Mannix held out his hand to the woman. “Special Branch, is it?”
“That’s right, sir,” said the serious woman, directing attention away from Kate, who remained mute, the blood drained from her face. Feeling stupid.
“I’m Detective Maria Nagle. And this is Detective James O’Rourke and Detective Shane Dwyer. Let’s get you all home first, guys. And then we can have a little chat.”
“Do you have the squad cars outside? Is the Armed Response Unit there?” asked Fergus excitedly.
“My son, Fergus,” Mannix said, smiling at the detective.
“Let’s get you home, young man. I’m afraid we just have unmarked cars today,” she said officiously.
Ten minutes later, all the O’Briens were in one car, Spike driving. The unmarked garda car with plainclothes detectives followed. Fergus was disappointed but he still held out hope that the Armed Response Unit would greet them at Curragower Falls.
• • •
There was a funereal feel to the convoy journey back to the house.
“The driveway to the house is still taped off but I’m sure we can use it now,” said Spike, closely following the car in front as advised. “The forensics guys were there for ages. They must have everything they need by now.”
“Are we going to be on television?” asked Fergus.
“I don’t think so, Ferg. The TV crew moved out a few hours ago.”
“Really?” said Ferg, sounding disappointed again.
“Where are the Harveys now?” asked Izzy.
God, that poor family. Kate didn’t want to think about the pain they must have been going through. Those poor children. That poor man. Kate tried to block it out. She had so much pain of her own.
“I helped them move up to the Strand Hotel late last night,” said a somber Spike.
“How are the Harveys doing?” asked Mannix. He sat next to Spike in the passenger seat.
How the hell did Mannix expect they were doing? They were in hell. He had swung a wrecking ball through all their lives.
“Yeah, in shock, you know,” said Spike. “The kids are very quiet. Some relative arrived over from the States to look after them. Not in great shape, to be honest . . .” His voice drifted off.
Mannix said nothing.
“Are my Man U bedclothes washed?” asked Fergus into a long silence.
“It doesn’t matter, Fergus,” said Kate. “I’ll wash them later or tomorrow. We can put another clean set on before you go to bed.”
“Okay.”
She hoped Fergus wasn’t going to fret.
Pulling up outside the terrace house, Kate’s stomach lurched as she saw all the police tape at the side of the house. Two uniformed gardaí stood at the gate. Detective James O’Rourke got out of the car in front and exchanged a few words with them. Moments later the tape was taken away and they were ushered into the driveway. One of the unmarked cars stayed out front on the main road and the other drove away.
“Can you see any blood?” she heard Fergus whisper to Izzy as they dragged their suitcases over the loose gravel.
“I’m not looking,” replied Izzy seriously. Kate was not looking either. She was not going to let herself think about what had happened here.
“Here, let me take that,” said Spike, taking her suitcase as Mannix turned the key in the front door. Exhausted, and happy to let him help, she glanced down at the welcome mat on the small step outside. They had been so full of excitement and joy leaving this house less than a week ago. How the world had changed in such a short space of time.
• • •
“So where is Joanne Collins?” Kate demanded after the detectives went outside. “Where the hell is this woman?”
The kids were unpacking. Out of earshot.
“I don’t know, Kate,” Mannix said. “Really, I don’t. Don’t you think I’d say if I knew? There haven’t been any more texts.” He looked at her with his newfound hangdog expression. “You heard Detective O’Rourke. She’s cleared her flat in Pery Square. They don’t know yet. Give them a chance. I’m sure they’ll find her.”
“Mannix is right, Kate,” added Spike. “They’ll find her. Don’t worry.”
Kate walked to the window and looked out over the falls. She looked at the water coursing over the rocks and boulders. She loved this view. But there was no way she could ever feel safe here until Joanne Collins was caught. The woman had cleared her flat and had vanished. No sign of her. No sign of her child. She wasn’t answering her mobile phone and it wasn’t even registering on any mobile location registers. But she was out there somewhere.
“It shouldn’t be too long, Kate,” said Spike, joining her at the window. Mannix was propped up against the breakfast counter staring into space. “I was talking to one of the lads earlier,” Spike continued. “You’ll be confined to the house for a day or two, just until they find her. And then you can go back to normal.”
“Back to normal.” Kate looked at him.
“No . . . no . . . not back to normal . . . obviously . . .” Spike stumbled. “But you know what I mean . . .” he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
Was Spike trying to act as peacemaker here? Be the honest broker? She’d never figured him as that. Kate was grateful for the support, but if he wanted to offer practical support, there was one thing he could do for her. It had come to her in the car on the way from Shannon. It was the obvious solution. Better to tackle this sooner rather than later. A long drawn-out parting would be worse. For Fergus especially. Better to do it now. One clean cut.
“You really want to help?” she asked Spike.
Mannix listened as well.
“Sure.” Spike nodded.
“Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen . . .”
Kate outlined how Mannix was going to leave. She would not have him in the house. He was going to Spike’s. As far as Izzy and Fergus were concerned, their dad was going to help Spike with yet another electrical problem in his flat. They’d tell them that it shouldn’t take long to fix and that if they wanted to, they could call around to the flat. But it would probably be better to wait until the mentally ill lady was found.
“Kate, please . . .” said Mannix, coming toward her now. “Please don’t do this.”
“But, Kate, are you sure?” said Spike evenly. “Are you sure you want to be the only adult in the house—now?”
“I won’t be the only adult here, Spike.”
Both Mannix and Spike raised their eyebrows.
“No?” said Spike.
“My mother is coming to stay, just as soon as I ring her.”
Mannix sat on the arm of the sofa.
“Don’t do this, Kate.”
There were tears in his eyes. And for one split second, she felt herself waver. She saw his hurt. And confusion. Like he really didn’t understand what he had done. It would be so easy to give in now. To cave in again. She wasn’t used to seeing Mannix like this.
“Please don’t do this to us.”
A flare of anger suddenly welled up deep inside her. Her sympathy evaporated instantly. How could he think any of this was her doing? Spike interrupted before she could vent that anger.
“Manny, leave it for now. Maybe it’s for the best, bro. Just for a couple of days. Come on, buddy. Throw a few things in a bag. Kate needs a bit of time to herself.”
A short half hour later, they were gone. There was a lump in her throat and her heart felt like it had been ripped in two by a jackhammer. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life.
• • •
“Granny’s here!” said Fergus, looking out the window. He was still waiting hopefully for the Armed Response Unit to arrive. Two gardaí flanked the pillars to the driveway and the plainclothes detective sat in the car outside. Again, Fergus had surprised her. She’d thought he’d be more upset at his father’s leaving, but Mannix’s explanation had sat quite well with him. Of course his dad had to help out his uncle Spike.
Izzy knew that something more was afoot, but Kate would tackle that later. Much later. Dealing with Izzy was going to be a whole other project and she still hadn’t decided how she was going discipline her daughter over Frankie Flynn. One step at a time, she told herself. Just one step at a time.
Over the course of the next three days, the outside world became suspended. “How much longer are we going to have to stay in the house?” asked Izzy. She had enjoyed baking scones and making cupcakes with her granny but Kate could see she was feeling cooped up and anxious to see her friend Fiona. Kate’s patience too was wearing thin. But there was still no news of Joanne Collins. She had simply disappeared.
Alice Kennedy did her best to distract them all, and indeed, for the first few days it had the desired effect. She baked. She played cards with Izzy and Fergus, and Fergus in particular discovered that he was good at them. He remembered cards that were played. He remembered the shapes and numbers. More often than not it was her mother who would call a halt to the games, needing respite enough to boil the kettle for her endless cups of tea.
Her mother had listened quietly as Kate explained how the tragedy had come about. She listened and she never once made any judgment. There was no suggestion of gloating or “I told you so.” Nothing but a heartfelt concern for Kate and the children.
When Kate asked about the Harveys and their welfare, Detective O’Rourke told her that the Harvey children had left for New York with their aunt. Oscar Harvey was still in the Strand Hotel, hoping for news of an arrest. They didn’t know how long he would stay.
Kate was conflicted. She should really contact Oscar Harvey to extend her sympathy. Yet when she suggested this to Detective O’Rourke, she got the impression that it might not be advisable. The shock was beginning to wear off and he was now pretty confused and very angry. Perhaps it might be better to wait until Joanne Collins was apprehended. If she was apprehended.
Kate felt permanently on edge. It had been days and yet there was no progress. Not a sniff of anything. The kids were due back at school in a couple of days and Kate sensed that even though they were distracted by their granny and the comings and goings of the gardaí, they both needed some sense of normality. As did Kate. Her mother had just about washed every item of linen in the house. She’d be taking down the curtains next. As it was, she was out there now, pegging sheets on the line outside as she chatted to the young garda who’d just come on duty. She’d struck up quite a rapport with the gardaí, bringing them regular cups of tea with a side plate of scones and butter.
“Any chance of a cream cracker?” asked Detective O’Rourke, who’d come in from the car to pay her a courtesy call.
Kate looked at the kitchen clock. “It’s nearly lunchtime. I was going to have an omelet. Will you join me?”
His eyes lit up.
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble, Mrs. O’Brien, but if you’re having one yourself . . .”
They both sat on either side of the breakfast counter to eat.
“Wants to be a detective, then?” said the detective, his mouth full. “Your young lad, Fergus. That’s what he tells me anyway. He wants to be a detective when he grows up.”
“Really?” Kate smiled. She’d noticed Fergus’s fascination with the armed detectives. He accompanied her mother anytime she brought them tea. But it was the first time he’d ever voiced what he wanted to be when he grew up.
“It’s a tough life and I’m sure you see lots of stuff,” said Kate.
The detective looked up from the plate but didn’t respond.
“Where is she, Detective?” asked Kate then. “Where on earth is she? It isn’t as if it’s a huge country. We live on an island, for God’s sake—she’s got to be out there, somewhere . . .”
Detective O’Rourke looked up again from his lunch. He shrugged. “She’s giving us the runaround, all right, Mrs. O’Brien. We’re pursuing a number of lines of investigation.”
Kate wished he wouldn’t call her Mrs. O’Brien. It made her feel ancient.
“And she never came to your attention before? Never before the courts on any charges?”
Detective O’Rourke looked thoughtful as he chewed his last mouthful. Slowly and deliberately, he put his knife and fork together in the center of the plate. And then adjusted them slightly so that there was an equal semicircle on either side of the cutlery. He looked at her, expressionless.
“I really couldn’t say, Mrs. O’Brien. I really couldn’t say.”
Couldn’t say or wouldn’t say?
“But you must have something to go on! She can’t have disappeared into thin air. You mean there’s been absolutely nothing since Halloween? No one has spoken to her, been in contact with her, nothing at all?!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that exactly,” he said, taking a sip of water. “Very tasty, by the way.”
“You wouldn’t say what exactly?”
“Mr. O’Brien didn’t tell you?”
“As you are aware, Detective, Mr. O’Brien has moved out of the house for a few days.”
“Oh, yes, well . . . sorry, yes, of course . . .” The detective flushed slightly. The gardaí and Special Branch were by now aware of the personal circumstances behind the tragedy.
“Tell me what?” Kate continued.
“Well, there has been one sighting of Joanne Collins . . .”
“What?” Kate was stunned.
Why did nobody think to tell her?
“Yes,” said the detective, looking directly at her now. “In Shannon Airport. She was caught on CCTV the morning your flight arrived into Shannon. We got your husband to verify the sighting. And it seems that it was her, all right. Filmed near arrivals. We weren’t sure at first because a lot of her face was hidden from view.”
“Hidden from view?” Kate repeated.
“Yes. In most of the clips we saw, she was carrying quite a large bouquet of flowers . . .”
• • •
Detective O’Rourke had left. Gone back outside to his car. Kate still felt nauseated. She stood up from the table, afraid that her stomach would not hold down the egg that she’d just eaten. But her legs shook too much to hold her. She slumped back down on the chair. This latest news had left her reeling. So her instincts had been right. She had been right about the woman in the washroom.
A cold chill descended on Kate. So this is what it feels like to be stalked. What had the woman intended to do? Had Izzy’s arrival in the washroom disturbed her? And where was she now? Did the gardaí know more than they were letting on? All of a sudden Kate felt like she was a sitting duck, sitting here like bait, waiting for a sick and twisted killer to show up.
And yet what could Kate do? All she could do was wait. Kate was not in control. She desperately needed to feel in control of something. She wanted routine. She wanted her old life back. She needed to think about something that made her happy. She needed to immerse herself in something she enjoyed, or else she felt she might go crazy.
“Mum?” Her mother was in the garden, checking the washing. “I’m just going to go up to the study for a while. There are some of my students’ portfolios I’ve been meaning to look at for ages. Is that okay with you?”
“Of course, pet. You go ahead. The children want me to show them how I make my breakfast muffins.”
“Thanks, Mum. Oh, and remember, no raisins. Fergus doesn’t like them.”
“I remember,” mumbled her mother, a peg in her mouth.
Even though the study was a bright room with its large window, Kate put on the angled silver lamp over the study desk. The November light was fading fast. She looked at the sheaf of portfolio folders that had lain there for weeks. Some of the work and the proposals were mediocre, but Kate did have some very talented students. Students whose work excited her. She’d made a mental note to personally put in a good word for one or two of them with an advertising agency she knew in Dublin. She was sure she’d be able to secure at least three decent internships.
For the next two hours, Kate went through the proposals, and looked at completed multimedia projects on the student Web site. Some of the animation clips even made her laugh. The animation companies she’d dealt with in the past would love this stuff. She could certainly forge much stronger links between the department and her old college friends who now worked in graphic design companies both in Dublin and in London. She sat back in the chair and stretched her arms. That was all very well, she thought, but these things were time consuming. She was limited in what she could do.
It was fully dark now and she could see lights over the river at the Hunt Museum and the white trellis bridge all lit up. A warm cinnamon smell of baking wafted up the stairs along with the pleasant sounds of chatter. Kate got up to stretch her legs. As she looked over at the lights of King John’s Castle, the outline of an idea came to her and she began to think.
That night after the children had gone to bed, she put her newly hatched plan to her mother. Again, Alice Kennedy was only too delighted to help. In fact, she seemed more than delighted.
“Of course you should do this, Kate,” she said. “You’re a capable woman. You’ve always shortchanged yourself.”
“Well, it all depends, Mum. I could try calling him this evening. But it may be too late. It just depends on what he says . . .”
That night, alone in the double bed, Kate tried to think positively about the future. She did her best to block out all the disturbing images of Mannix, naked, making love to that woman, that killer. As on previous nights, Kate slept until four and woke with her heart racing, climbed out of bed, and peeked through the curtains to make sure the gardaí were still outside.
She was in the kitchen the following morning when the doorbell went. Her mother was reheating the breakfast muffins and they smelled good. Next, she heard her mobile ringing. Kate’s heart skipped a beat. Izzy was answering the door. The sound of the door shutting again. No talking. Two sets of footsteps coming up the stairs. Izzy’s and someone else’s . . .
It was Detective James O’Rourke. This time she knew by his face.
“We have some news, Mrs. O’Brien . . .”
“Yes?” Kate’s heart was in her mouth.
“Look, I know I shouldn’t really be telling you this.” He paused. “But a woman and young child fitting the descriptions of Joanne and Grace Collins were just detained a couple of hours ago trying to board a ferry in Larne, up north.”
“Oh, thank God! Thank God!”
Kate slumped against the pillar at the breakfast counter. She was beginning to wonder how much longer she could carry on. Kate suddenly felt as if she had been cut free of a giant boulder that was threatening to pull her under. They had her! They had had Joanne Collins, at last! They were safe!
Detective O’Rourke was smiling as he patted Izzy on the shoulder.
“Yeah, our colleagues in the PSNI tipped us off. A few lads from Pearse Street in Dublin are already on their way across the border. I’m leaving shortly myself to meet them on their return to Dublin and I’ll be escorting them down here to Henry Street to make the formal arrest.”
“Did something happen?” A bleary-eyed Fergus appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was in pajamas and not yet wearing his glasses.
“Yes, Soldier! The police in Northern Ireland have caught the very sick lady. So we can all relax again. We’re safe.”
Kate’s mother hugged her tightly.
“Does that mean you’re all going away now?” Fergus asked Detective O’Rourke. He sounded disappointed.
“Well, son, I need to be on my way, but the gardaí outside will swing by throughout the day until a formal arrest is made.”
Fergus nodded.
“Does Oscar Harvey know?” asked Kate quietly, over her first rush of elation and relief.
“Yes, Mrs. O’Brien. I’ve just come from the Strand Hotel.”
The detective looked about the kitchen, his eyes coming to rest on the tray of muffins that just came out of the oven. “Great smell,” he said.
“Here, I’ll wrap a few for your journey,” Alice Kennedy offered.
Five minutes later Detective O’Rourke was gone.
It was a happy breakfast. Relief came over Kate in huge waves. As each wave washed over her, she felt herself relax a little more. Her shoulders felt less hunched. The knot in her stomach had slackened and the tight feeling across her chest was easing off.
“So the gardaí are gone now,” said Ferg. He sounded disappointed.
“That’s right, Ferg,” said Kate.
“And Dad? When is he coming back from Uncle Spike’s?”
All eyes turned to Kate.
“We’ll see, Fergus. I’ll have to talk to Dad today. I don’t know how things are going in the flat. We’ll just see.”
Kate was clearing up after breakfast, alone in the kitchen, when her mobile rang again. It was Mannix.
“Hi, Kate, it’s me. You’ve heard the news?”
“I have,” she answered.
“So that’s a relief, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Mannix. More than you will ever know . . .”
“Kate, I’m sorry I put you through this. If I’d had any idea.”
“Let’s not go over old ground, Mannix. It’s over. They have her. I’m okay. The kids are okay too.”
“Can I come over? I’d love to see them. I really miss them.”
Kate thought a moment.
“You know what? Okay. They need to see you too. But not today. Mum is here just now. Come tomorrow. Come tomorrow for lunch.”
Mannix sighed but he sounded grateful.
“Okay, Kate. See you tomorrow. About one.”
“Fine.” She hung up.
Kate went out to the garden, where her mother was busy hanging out socks.
“Oh, don’t bother with that, Mum. I put them in the tumble dryer.”
“A bit of fresh air is lovely, though, don’t you think?”
“I suppose. Listen, that was Mannix on the phone. He’s coming over for lunch tomorrow.”
“That’s fine, pet. I’ll make myself scarce. In fact I may go home in a while. I’d better check my post.”
“Of course, Mum. Absolutely. You do that.”
“By the way, did you make that phone call last night?”
“Oh, I did, Mum.” Kate smiled now, remembering.
“And what did he say?”
“He said that they hadn’t had any luck with their recruitment campaign, and no, they hadn’t appointed an assistant head of department yet.”
“So the job’s yours, then?” her mother said excitedly.
“On one condition.” Kate smiled again.
“What’s that, then?”
“That I join him for a steak and a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape!”
“That’s wonderful news, Kate.”
For the second time that morning, her mother threw her arms around her.
An hour later, Kate waved off her mom, who was accompanied by Fergus and Izzy. They were looking forward to playing with the old train set in the attic of their granny’s Ennis Road house. A warm feeling came over Kate as she watched the three of them leave. Kate had been to hell and back. But she had her kids. It looked like she had a new, if more demanding, job. Her mother would help out with Fergus and Izzy. It might all just work out.
Kate had another brain wave. She knew exactly what she was going to do with Izzy. Exactly how she’d teach her the lesson the child so desperately needed. With Alice Kennedy’s help it was all falling into place. It was the ideal way to teach Izzy that actions had consequences. As Kate went back upstairs to the study, her step felt lighter on the stairs. Things might just turn out okay.
• • •
It was early afternoon before Kate cleared her in-box of all the e-mail that had piled up in her absence. Even though Kate wasn’t due back in the Art College until Monday, she wanted to have a clean slate before starting her new job. She also sent a few e-mails to Simon Walsh to show him that she was already thinking about her new position. As far as Kate knew, Simon wasn’t aware of the recent upheaval and tragedy that had visited her. He certainly hadn’t mentioned anything. Kate wasn’t surprised in the slightest. Simon lived in a dilapidated Georgian house by the river in Castleconnell with his Irish wolfhound. He brewed his own heavy-duty beer, listened to classical music, and liked his own company.
Looking up from the desk, Kate rubbed her eyes, and noticed that a gentle rain had started to fall outside. Better get that washing that her mother had pegged on the line. Running down the stairs, she stopped off at the tall cupboard in the hall to grab the washing basket. She jammed the door open with the doorstop, so it wouldn’t slam behind her in the wind.
The wind had really picked up and Kate thought the better of pairing the socks as they came off the line. She could do that later. There were Fergus’s T-shirts with the transfers of the Empire State. Izzy’s Hollister sweater. And so many sheets! Where had her mother found all these sheets to wash? As she dragged the Manchester United duvet cover off the line, a stray gust of wind caught the fabric and it billowed over her head. Kate wrestled with the yards of fabric, flailing to free herself. She eventually managed to drape it into a manageable rectangle over her arm before laying it on top of the basket.
A pocket of dry and shriveled leaves had blown into the hallway as she entered the house again. And there on the stairs were more leaves. And also smudges of mud going up the stairs. How did they get there?
Kate’s pulse quickened as she continued up the stairs. Was Mannix back? Why could the man not wait until tomorrow, like she’d asked?
The sound of the radio came from the kitchen. Her mother had left it on. And Kate could hear the sound of the kitchen clock as she stood outside the kitchen door. But nothing else. Slowly, she walked in, tightly gripping the plastic washing basket.
The cane swing chair. Someone was in the cane swing chair in the window.
Swinging back and forth.
Back and forth.
Kate’s breath stopped in her throat. It was someone with her back to her. Someone in a long coat and jeans. Kate could see a ponytail and a woolly hat. A long sleek ponytail.
Slowly the chair twisted around.
It was her.
“Hello, Kate,” she said.
Kate could no longer hold the washing basket. She felt it slip. She heard a thud as it hit the floor and turned over.
It was her.
The woman from before.
She had something in her hand and she was smiling.