Sunday 25th September – 6 a.m.
It was still dark when Rav heard movement in the farmhouse. He could imagine most people had lain awake, waiting for it to be a suitable hour to get up.
He eased himself out of bed, wincing at the creaking wooden floorboards, and shuffled into the wheelchair, pulling on a jumper. Nell stirred and got up with him, rubbing her eyes and dragging on one of his shirts. As she opened the door, she made Maeve jump.
‘Sorry!’ Nell whispered. ‘Can I make you a coffee?’
‘No. I’m off to see Mammie and Da this morning. They’ll be at church, they’ll want to mention Siobhan’s wake so they can have it straight away.’
Sean walked downstairs. ‘Morning.’ As he passed them, he squeezed Maeve’s arm, then headed into the kitchen. ‘You must eat, my love. I know you won’t want to.’ He rummaged in the fridge, then put something in the Aga. ‘I’ve got the perfect thing to set you up for the day ahead.’
Maeve managed a trembling smile at the kindness.
‘I’ll even feed you before I check on the sheep.’ Sean winked from the doorway.
Within a few minutes, the scent of brewing coffee filled the kitchen and Maeve was pouring drinks while the herby aroma of a warming frittata wafted from the oven.
He cut Maeve a generous wedge. ‘Try and eat if you can. Should be pretty soothing.’
As Maeve nibbled, Sean served some for Nell and Rav.
‘Thanks,’ Rav said, taking his plate and glancing at Maeve. ‘Will you be going back to Ben Portach this morning?’
When she nodded, Sean said, ‘I’ll take care of everything here.’ He stood, leaning against the cupboards as he scooped a forkful of frittata into his mouth. ‘Do you want to be left in peace over there, or would you like me to be with you?’
Maeve winced, shrugging. ‘Come if you have time.’
Sean nodded. ‘I’ll have time.’
After managing half her plate and a good amount of coffee, Maeve stood up. ‘I’ll have to go now, or I’ll miss them. I don’t imagine the ground crew will be there before eight. But I’ll be there by then.’
As Nell placed the crockery into the dishwasher, Rav asked, ‘Can we do anything to help, Sean? So you can get away quicker?’
As Sean frowned, Nell suggested, ‘We could feed the chickens and collect the eggs while you check your sheep?’
With a smile, Sean jerked his head towards the shed. ‘That’ll be grand of you. I’ve some extra hands coming to take care of things, but they can’t start until tomorrow. Then I can spend a little less time on the beasts, and give Maeve more of a shoulder. The feed’s in the storage box in there. There’s a hose to refresh the water, and here’s a box for the eggs.’ He shovelled the last of his breakfast, threw his plate in the dishwasher, then downed his coffee.
Pushing his sleeves up his arms, he pulled on his boots at the door and opened the garage, emerging on a revving quadbike, speeding through the garden and across the fields.
Rav headed to the living room, where the patio doors led out to the level courtyard. Once Nell had strewed the feed and swilled the water, Rav passed her the egg box and studied the side of the chicken coop that the fox had approached.
When Nell returned with a clutch of twelve eggs, of various shades and sizes, Rav pointed at a loose timber. Hearing the chugging quad bike approach, Rav turned and raised a hand to Sean. He pulled up, and switched off the engine.
‘Found the weak spot, Rav?’
‘Yeah. The water drains in this direction, so these timbers are soaking it up, and pulling away from the frame. That’s where the fox can get in.’
‘Thanks, bud. I thought it had to be something like that, just haven’t had a chance for a proper look. Now to get it fixed once and for all – and sort out the drainage so it doesn’t happen again.’ He nodded at Nell. ‘Good yield there! Best yolks in Ireland, them.’
Back in the kitchen, as Sean stowed the eggs, he sighed.
‘I have this dream about making this place a B&B again, but one with a real gastronomic reputation. We could restore the old barn, host events, showcase all the best local, fresh ingredients. It could be great.’
‘I’m sold,’ Rav said. ‘Especially on these rations.’
At Sean’s grin, Rav asked, ‘I may need some tips. Looks like I’ll be head chef in our family.’ He shot a sidelong look at Nell. ‘Fine dining taste, Pot Noodle talent.’
As Nell swatted him, they heard the rest of the household stirring.
‘We should probably head over to Ben Portach,’ Sean said. ‘I want to see if Maeve is OK.’
‘Should we join you?’ Nell asked.
‘If you’d like.’ He nodded and swallowed hard, staring out of the window towards the cottage where his parents were. ‘I’ll have to break this awful news to them first. I’m just not sure what to say about Ciara.’
Sunday 25th September – 10 a.m.
A few hours later, Nell was watching the ground crew’s progress. They’d taped out sections, radiating out from Siobhan’s grave, which was covered with a pinned plastic sheet, and pushed their lawnmower-like radar in steady lines across the bog.
Brandon stood with Finn while everyone else gathered near Maeve. But they were all restless at the lack of any result.
Standing near Sergeant Baptiste, Nell saw the operator approaching him to have a discreet word. ‘I can keep going, but there are no signs yet.’ With a hint of hesitation, he added, ‘I should warn you this isn’t foolproof. It’s possible we could miss the signs of ground disturbance – especially,’ he shot Maeve a glance and lowered his voice, ‘if it’s a small grave.’
‘You’re the best chance we’ve got, and you’re here,’ Baptiste countered. ‘It could be that Ciara was … placed somewhere else. So I’m asking you to carry on. All day. All week. If we have to cover this whole mountain, so be it.’
The operator nodded and returned to the radar. Baptiste fidgeted, as restless as Maeve.
The brothers formed a forbidding wall in dark coats with grim expressions, and the Sergeant visibly braced himself as he beckoned them and Nessa over.
With a glance at Maeve, he said, ‘Since we’ve had no immediate result, it’s clear that this could take a while. So I’ll head back to the station to review the files. I want to warn you and your parents, if you can let them know, that in the days ahead we’ll be asking questions, revisiting statements that were made at the time of her disappearance. And now, we’ll also have evidence to analyse.’
‘Yes. Exactly.’ Maeve urged action.
‘I’ll continue my read of the files. Then I’ll come back if we need to question any of you. So, no trips out of the country for anyone, OK?’
‘Dear God, man! What are you waiting for? Start your questioning now! ’ Maeve cried. She ignored Baptiste’s steadying hand, insisting, ‘At the very least, question Brandon. At the station. Properly. He was her husband. We’ve all thought – all this time – that she’d left him. And he never once denied it. So he either agreed that she had a reason to leave, or he made sure she couldn’t. Either way, he has to be a person of interest.’
‘Jesus.’ Brandon’s lip curled. ‘Not everyone singles me out as enemy number one, Maeve.’
‘We will be questioning everyone.’ Sergeant Baptiste raised his eyebrows at Nessa. ‘And we could start now—’
‘Good!’
‘Righto, Brandon. We may as well get it over with. Will you come with me now?’
‘Don’t bloody ask him like it’s a tea party!’ Maeve raged. ‘Arrest him! Question him under caution.’
‘We’d need evidence for that, Maeve,’ Sergeant Baptiste said. ‘But I’m sure Brandon is as keen as you are to let us know that he’s innocent and to help us find the perpetrator. So I doubt he would refuse a little chat. Even one that’s on the record. Eh, Bran?’
‘Oh, Bran, is it? Like yous twos are best buds.’ Maeve turned on Baptiste. ‘Last time you bastards cocked this right up because you didn’t take any of it seriously enough. ‘She’s not vulnerable,’ you said. ‘She’s not a person of concern,’ you said. ‘People are allowed to leave,’ you said. And now look. If you’d acted with one iota of professionalism, you might have found her sooner. We wouldn’t have lived with this – tried to live with this – for twenty years. And you’d have fresher, stronger evidence to convict my sister’s … killer. What do they say? It’s the first twenty-four hours that are crucial. Not the first twenty-four years! ’
‘We don’t know it’s murder yet, Maeve.’ Sergeant Baptiste held his hands out. ‘She could have fallen, hit her head, drowned perhaps. We’ll know more when we’ve heard from the pathologist. But we’ll proceed … properly, so we don’t lose time. OK?’
But Maeve was shaking her head. ‘Oh, no. Last time it was all excuses. You’re not going to swap the excuse that she just left, for the excuse of an accident.’
The officer turned his hands up. ‘It’s understandable that emotions will run high—’
With a sound that was half scream, half growl, Maeve all but flung herself at Sergeant Baptiste, like she was going to shake him, but Sean caught her.
Nell was astounded that Brandon didn’t add to the drama. Instead he walked away with Sergeant Baptiste as quiet as a lamb. She wondered if the detective and the oldest brother were as pally as Maeve had suggested. There was no sense of threat, or even formality.
As Maeve shoved Sean away from her, he tried to calm her. ‘Easy, Maeve. I know you’re fierce with it. Just don’t make it any worse.’
‘Worse?’ She rounded on him, her eyes reddened, hair wild. ‘My sister’s been dead in the ground. She’s been dead all this time. And I’ve been pretending it’s OK. I’ve been letting her down every day of my life. How, Sean? How can it get any worse? ’
‘You heard him. It might have been an accident,’ Sean said. ‘Or even if she was killed, it doesn’t mean it was … someone who knew her.’
As Maeve stared at Sean, a half-laugh ripped from her, and she shook her head. ‘I should have known where your loyalty would lie, if it ever came to it. No one on earth could make you see the truth about your precious brothers.’
Holding up her left hand, she yanked the diamond ring off her finger. ‘Here.’ She threw it at him and it bounced off his chest, then fell to the muddy ground.
Sean’s eyebrows drew up in devastation, but he made no move to retrieve the ring, or to appease Maeve.
And she was still raging. ‘If you think I’m making the same mistake my sister made, you can think again.’
Sunday 25th September – 11.30 a.m.
James had felt horribly powerless as Maeve had stormed off, then sped away in her car.
He couldn’t disagree with the Sergeant’s measured approach, and he guessed sensitivity would ultimately deliver better results with this tumultuous family, even if Maeve found that frustrating.
No one seemed to know what to say. Finn beckoned Sean and, with an obviously heavy heart, he followed and they drove away. Conor paced, his eyes fixed on the road, where Maeve and his brothers had gone.
Sylvia watched him, her brows creased with worry.
Focusing on the radar work, as if his movement was accidental, James gently moved into Conor’s path. As he’d hoped, Conor stopped and sighed.
‘I don’t always get to see the process from the outside,’ James said, conversationally. ‘Makes me realise how confusing, or frustrating, it could be.’
Conor shot James a sidelong glance, then checked they were far enough from the rest of the company. ‘Can I ask you some advice, James?’ His voice was low and urgent.
‘Of course.’
‘You saw what Baptiste was like. Needing to be told to start the questioning. And bloody useless when I reported Siobhan missing. And naive, too, back then. I must have gone back to beg a thousand times, but they wouldn’t put an experienced officer on her case. I put forward every idea, every reason I could think of to make them take her disappearance seriously. But you heard the excuses Maeve listed. At the time, they refused to even record her as a missing person. They said there was no cause for concern. Can you imagine? It was horrific.’
James wondered why the Gardaí had dragged their feet, but he kept a professional silence.
Conor took a breath. ‘I feel the same as Maeve. I can’t let this go a second time. I need answers. Would you … could I ask you to accompany me to the station?’
‘That’s usually my line.’ James attempted a smile.
Conor echoed it fleetingly before saying, ‘Exactly. I need them to take things seriously. This time, I want to tell them that if they don’t treat this like an official investigation, then I’ll be making a complaint at the highest level possible. I need someone there who knows the system—’
‘It’s a bit different here, Conor.’
‘Not that much. You’ll know the general jargon. And I just need them to be aware that I’d know how to go about it. It’s got to feel like a promise, not a threat. I can’t … I can’t let her down again.’
Something in Conor’s desperate tone made James agree immediately. ‘OK.’
‘Now?’ Conor insisted.
‘Sure.’
Conor strode to his Audi. As they both got in and drove away, James dreaded Conor’s expectations about his influence. This wasn’t his station, or even his country. But procedure was procedure. And he clung to that.
Given how frantic Maeve and Conor felt, James could understand why the seemingly unrufflable Baptiste made them so frustrated. But he knew that the calmest colleagues were usually the most effective. And he hoped Baptiste would be the quietly efficient type.
You could blink and miss the Garda station: a narrow, whitewashed house with its blue lamp over the front door, set along the road curving around the lough. There wasn’t even a car park, although Baptiste’s car, parked out front, didn’t have any company until Conor pulled up. There was no discernible movement inside; the place seemed deserted.
Despite Conor’s plea to help, once they were inside, James barely got a chance to talk.
‘Thought you’d be interviewing Bran? ’ Conor said, as they sat at Baptiste’s desk.
‘Maeve was right that he and I know each other well. I’ll question him with Reserve Byrne, once she’s set the interview room up. Don’t want to be accused of not doing a proper job, do we?’
‘Funny you should say that,’ Conor said ‘Detective Inspector Clark and I are here to lodge a formal complaint.’
James put a steadying hand on Conor’s arm and tried to give Baptiste a smile of solidarity. But he still didn’t get a word in.
‘I understand if you felt the investigation into Siobhan’s disappearance twenty years ago was limited, Conor. If I’m honest, I agree.’
‘You … do? ’ Conor looked shocked.
He was given a moment to compose himself as Nessa walked in. ‘The room’s all ready for you. Oh. Hi.’ She glanced at Sergeant Baptiste. ‘Shall I set up another room?’
‘I don’t think that will be necessary. This is just an informal conversation.’
‘OK.’ Nessa eyed them, then filled the kettle at the small sink.
‘May I use the bathroom?’ Conor addressed Baptiste as he stood. With a nod, the Sergeant directed him beyond the kitchenette.
Wondering if he’d have more leverage with Nessa, James asked, ‘Why did you become a Garda Reserve, Nessa?’
‘Oh, you know. Interesting training. I want to feel like I’m looking after the community in some small way. And sometimes it’s easier to solve the mysteries in other people’s lives than deal with your own.’ She took the milk from the fridge, sniffed it, recoiled and reached for the petty cash box. As she headed for the door, she asked, ‘While I’m getting milk, am I getting biscuits?’
Her colleague shrugged but his grin was wide. As the door slammed behind her, Sergeant Baptiste turned to James.
‘While we have a moment, may I speak candidly, DI Clark? Because I think you’ll understand. I was a young constable when Siobhan went missing, with senior officers who disagreed with my requests to investigate. They wouldn’t even register her as a missing person. I did what I could. All these statements I took in my own time, because I recognised Conor’s concern and the family’s desperation. It nearly got me fired. I was acting outside my orders, and on very thin ice. But at least that means we do have statements to review now.’
James took the opportunity to sow the seed of solidarity. ‘I don’t want to tread on any toes here, Sergeant Baptiste. But I’m like you. Keen to see procedure followed. And I can see this investigation could snowball quickly. I’m at your disposal if you need reinforcements.’
As Conor returned, Baptiste attempted to appease him.
‘I love this place, Conor. Everyone knows each other in a village like this. The sense of community here meant you grew up never locking your doors.’
But Conor wasn’t ready to strike a truce. ‘True. Easy work, I guess. Maybe when there was something to investigate, it was too much of a stretch?’
‘The only troublemakers were domestic disputes and people who drank too much of a Friday night. And you know who topped that list, back then.’
He held Conor’s gaze until Conor flushed and changed the subject. ‘Well, what about getting started?’ Conor jabbed a finger at the newspaper, open on Baptiste’s desk. ‘You said you’d begin reading the files. So you should have perfect recall of all the times I came here to beg you to search for Siobhan. To get you to take it seriously.’
Baptiste nodded. ‘I’m familiar enough with the files. After all, I wrote them. By hand, in those days. This is our local paper that reported Siobhan’s disappearance …’
Squinting, James saw that the mention was a small article and photo on page two. It hadn’t even made the front page. It bore out the picture Baptiste had painted of how his senior officers were handling the case. Maybe they didn’t have the resources to take it any further. Maybe they thought Siobhan was fleeing an unhappy marriage, and thought it better to not find her.
‘… And this,’ Sergeant Baptiste lifted the newspaper, revealing a thick folder, ‘is your set of statements, Conor. You had quite a lot to say, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. Yes I did. For good reason—’
‘I’ve found the statements for your brothers, Maeve, your parents. Plus other locals. But I’ve started with yours. It’s the longest, the most detailed. So what I’d like to know is, why did you – do you – have such a vested interest? In your sister-in-law? ’
‘She was part of my family. We’d been friends since we were small. We ran about as teenagers together, getting into scrapes. We had … a bond. And she’d just upped and left? With a tiny baby? It didn’t feel … right.’
‘So did you have a theory? About what had happened to her?’
‘I believe she wanted to leave her marriage.’ Conor’s swallow made James’s radar twitch. ‘And I believe Brandon would have done everything he could to stop her. So that means it would have been a huge step. It meant leaving the village, leaving her home, leaving her family. But I think she’d have tried. What I couldn’t believe is that she wouldn’t have confided in someone. Maeve, at least. If not me.’
‘Why you?’ Baptiste held eye contact with Conor, who didn’t flinch.
Narrowing his eyes, Baptiste leaned forward. ‘You know, Conor, it’s interesting that you’ve come straight here. It’s been, what, one day since you’ve learned that Siobhan is deceased, and you’re here already, pointing us at your brother. And what’s interesting to me about that is, there were two of you brothers who were alone the night Siobhan went missing. Brandon was one. And you were the other.’
As Baptiste stared at him, Conor shook his head.
James cleared his throat. ‘If this is going to become questioning, Sergeant Baptiste, then Major Kennedy should be offered legal counsel.’
The surge of relief at stopping the officer’s onslaught wasn’t quite enough to quell James’s growing uncertainty.
Conor may have wanted him here, and he might be keen to push the investigation – but he was also hiding something.