When the clamour subsided, the whimpering and wailing became unbearable. Shay’s mouth was stuck together like gum when he tried to breathe. The noise was coming from Megan, Taylor’s sister. She was sitting on a bed. All he could see was part of her back. Jig had told him who the girls were. He’d said Taylor was a friend. That’s all he’d managed to say.
He went with Jig in the ambulance, leaving all the dogs behind, barking frantically. Shay told a passer-by the boy’s address and asked her to tell the parents what had happened.
He looked down at Jig. He was trembling under the sheets. Shay recoiled as images of the girl elbowed their way into his mind: her small body contorted on the path, her legs twisted, her jaw and mouth ripped apart, replaced by a mess of bones and blood.
He watched a nurse and a doctor as they walked over to Megan. The nurse threw her arms around the girl; the doctor placed her outstretched hand on the girl’s shoulder. Shay’s chest crunched at the sound from the girl: it was like that of a dog run over by a car, lying on the cold ground waiting to die. The staff held the girl up and brought her down to a side room. She was bent over, her feet dragging on the polished floor. Some of the gardaí in the ward held hands to their faces. Others shuffled their feet, their heads bowed. Their colleague had been brought to surgery when they all came in. Still no word yet on him.
Shay felt a presence behind him. Turning, he saw that female detective, Crowe. Her face was a grey-white colour, her lips a watery red. She looked anxiously along the corridor, then back to him and down to the bed. Behind her was a tall, lean man. Her boss, he guessed. After giving Shay a cursory glance, he walked down to one of the uniformed officers. The silence dragged, before Crowe spoke.
‘So, you’re one of the witnesses?’ she asked, a hint, it seemed to Shay, of disbelief in her voice.
‘I was running along the canal at the time,’ he replied.
‘And?’
‘I heard a loud bang and sprinted down.’ He turned towards Jig. ‘And he was in the water beside the girls there and . . .’
Shay looked at her boss as he came back.
‘This is Detective Inspector Tyrell,’ she said. ‘This is Shay. He coaches a local football team. He’s the witness you were talking about.’
‘We need descriptions of those in the car,’ Tyrell said, his voice betraying little, but his eyes now scrutinising Shay.
Shay turned to Jig and nodded to the doors. He was still in his running gear. His legs, chest and arms felt stiff and groaned when he moved.
As they walked out the doors, Tyrell’s phone went.
‘Where? . . . Yeah, go on.’
He turned to Crowe.
‘You deal with this,’ Tyrell said, striding away. ‘Anything you get, ring me straight away.’
Crowe nodded after him and turned back to Shay.
‘How are the guards?’ Shay asked, before she could say anything.
Crowe blinked, then shook her head.
‘One is,’ she coughed, ‘dead, the second is –’
Shay nodded. ‘He was already in surgery when we arrived.’
Crowe flexed her shoulders, steadying herself.
‘Shay, we need any description of the car you can give us, and the people inside.’
Shay watched her root in her bag and take out a notepad. Her hands were shaking.
‘I couldn’t see much,’ he said slowly, conscious that she was struggling to write. ‘The car was tearing up the road as I was running down. But it was a BMW 95 reg, 3 series maybe, red. It looked fairly battered.’
Crowe scribbled away. Shay paused. She nodded for him to continue.
‘Looked like three males. Guy in the back was wearing a green hoodie. Other two, I couldn’t really see. The driver seemed to be a big fella, but youngish. Front passenger had something on his head, a cap, I think.’
Crowe noted the descriptions.
‘Good. You ever see any of them around?’
Shay bunched his mouth. ‘Don’t think so. Didn’t get a good enough view.’
He knew she was studying him for any sign he was holding something back.
‘Where they go?’
‘Didn’t keep track. I was running down to the bodies. Think I heard a screech as if they might have turned off the road.’
‘Anything else?’
He thought hard, looking for something more to give her.
‘Afraid not, sorry.’
Crowe took out her phone and walked away a bit. He saw her reading out from her notes. She came slowly back towards him.
‘Who’s the boy inside?’
‘Jig.’
‘You’re joking me,’ she said, her eyes jumping. ‘What the hell was he doing there?’
‘Don’t know. He was in the canal when I got to the girl. He must have been beside the girls.’
‘Bit of a coincidence he was at the scene at the time of this?’
‘Not really. He’s always hanging out on the canals.’
She’s stretching here, he thought.
‘He suffer any injuries?’
‘He banged his head falling in. They’re keeping him overnight for observation. He’s in shock.’
‘Is he?’ she said. ‘Where are his delightful parents?’
‘On their way.’
Crowe walked back into the ward; Shay followed her.
‘Jig?’ she said, as she got to the bed.
The boy didn’t stir.
‘Did you see who was in the car?’
Nothing.
Crowe walked around to the other side to face him.
‘We need to find them. You see them?’
Jig shook his head.
Crowe straightened up and smoothed down her clothes. She took a short intake of air, and pulled loose hair back behind her ear.
‘We desperately need any description of the car or who was inside,’ she said. ‘Jig?’
No response.
‘Detective, maybe . . .’ Shay said gently, trying to reel Crowe back.
‘I’ll repeat myself: did you see who was in the car?’
‘Detective,’ Shay repeated, a bit firmer this time. ‘You need to ask the doctors first if it’s okay to talk to him. And his parents should be here as well.’
Crowe shot him a look. The look cops give when someone has crossed a line in their eyes. Shay had seen it before. She took out her pad.
‘Shay, what’s your full name, address and contact numbers?’
He filled her in. She took out her wallet and handed him two cards.
‘Give one to Jig’s parents when they stumble in here. Tell them to ring me. I know I gave you one already, but take another.’
And with that, she left.
Shay held the cards for a while, considering his options.
There was a commotion from the corridor. A woman burst through the doors. She rushed forward, arms up in the air, keys jangling from one hand, a mobile clasped in the other.
‘Where’s my baby?’
Nurses emerged and took either side of the woman. They held her up as her legs began to buckle.
‘She was supposed to be home by half six for dinner,’ the woman said, her eyes pleading at the nurses in desperation.
The door at the end of the corridor opened. Shay looked at Megan: she was a pitiful sight. The front of her pink tracksuit was blotched in blood. Brown curls hung limply by her puffy red face.
‘Ma!’ she roared, holding out her hands.
‘Megan,’ her mother cried, half running to her, ‘where’s Taylor?’
The girl collapsed before her mother could get to her, her fall broken by the nurses.
Shay stood there motionless as the staff carried them into a room and shut the door. But they couldn’t block out the terrible sounds from within.
He turned to Jig, who was now facing him. He saw tears on the boy’s face before Jig had time to turn away. Shay leaned over and placed his hand on Jig’s shoulder.
‘You alright?’
He expected Jig’s shoulder to tense, to pull away, but it didn’t. He was shaking again.
He held his shoulder for a while, swiping his hand away when the doors swung open.
‘There he fucking is.’
‘And what the fuck are ya doing here?’ his mother said, scowling at Shay.
Jig turned onto his back. Shay could see he was putting on a brave face.
‘He helped me out of the water, Ma, and came with me.’
She twisted her head dismissively.
‘He okay?’ Hunter asked, looking at Shay.
‘He banged his head. He’s in shock. He was beside the girl, a friend of his, who was shot. She’s dead.’
‘It was Taylor, Ma,’ Jig said. ‘She got shot. In the face.’
‘Yer okay. That’s what matters.’
Shay looked at her.
What a fucking horrible woman.
‘Cops were here,’ he said, after a moment, ‘talking to Jig, and me.’
‘What the fuck about?’ his mother demanded.
‘They wanted to know did we see the guys in the car involved in the shooting.’
‘And ya let them do that?’ Hunter said. ‘They’re not supposed to talk to a kid without their parents. That’s abuse of power, that is.’
Shay felt like telling them to go fuck themselves.
‘He told her that, Da,’ Jig piped up.
‘Anyway,’ Shay said, ‘Jig said nothing. Here’s the garda’s card.’
He handed it to Hunter, but the mother grabbed it.
‘That cop bitch,’ she said, flinging the card away, ‘she can go fuck herself.’
Shay nodded to Jig and left. As the doors closed behind him, he heard Jig’s ma.
‘I don’t trust that fucker,’ she said. ‘There’s something about him.’