Fergus walked Tom and Ray back out to their car.
‘By the way, your lot were on looking for a list of all our employees,’ he said. ‘I’ll email it. What do you want it for?’
‘We want to gather the names of all those who know Fiona closely or would have had reason to interact with her,’ Tom answered.
‘None of them up here know her. She never did anything for the business.’
‘Still. She’s the boss’ daughter.’
‘S’pose. Here, I’ll write you out directions for Carney’s place. It’s impossible to find if you don’t know what road to take.’
Fergus scratched some notes on the back of a leaflet picked up at the door of the garden centre. Tom accepted the paper gratefully and offered his hand. The young man looked at it like it was a strange object, then shook it, his grip firm.
He stood by the truckload of fertiliser bags outside, watching them as they got into the car.
‘He’s an oddball, that one,’ Ray said. ‘Are we going or what? Fergus still has his beady little eyes on us.’
Tom cursed. He’d already turned the key in the ignition twice and got nothing. He was almost embarrassed to tell his deputy.
‘You’re having a laugh,’ Ray said, figuring it out. Fergus began to walk towards them, the still-falling rain not bothering him in the slightest.
‘Did you leave the radio on when we got out or something?’ his deputy asked.
The young Holland man knocked on Tom’s window. The inspector opened the door, unable to lower the electric pane.
‘Not starting?’
‘Not a gig.’
‘Pop her open. I’ll get some jumper leads.’
They spent the next ten minutes trying to bring the Citroёn to life without any success.
‘If it’s not your battery, it might be the starter cable,’ Fergus said. ‘You in the AA?’
Tom nodded. He had them on speed-dial.
He went through the rigmarole with the lovely Lisa, who remembered him from last time. When he hung up, his face was as dark as the overhead clouds.
‘She’s sending somebody out, but it could be an hour,’ he said.
Ray swore at the open heavens.
‘I’ll drive you.’ This was Fergus.
The inspector frowned.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, son. Not with your history with Carney.’
Fergus shrugged, as though it had been a casual offer, but the inspector knew he was peeved.
‘Fine. Just trying to be helpful. I’ll get one of the lads to run you up. When you get back, your car should be fixed. Charlie!’
He roared at the man still unloading the bags of fertiliser. He was a little distance away but the inspector could see the man tense and mouth something unpleasant.
‘Yes, Fergus?’ he answered, wearily, as he crossed the car park.
‘Give these two a lift, will you? They’re going up to Carney’s.’ Charlie nodded, seemingly relieved to be escaping the garden centre.
‘My work jeep is over here.’
He led Tom and Ray to a black vehicle parked amongst several others. ‘Don’t mind the mess. I had to do a delivery this morning, haven’t had a chance to clean it up. Charlie Lane.’
He extended his hand and the inspector and Ray took turns to shake it. ‘Don’t worry about that,’ Tom reassured him. ‘We’re just glad of the lift. Sorry to be putting you out.’
Charlie unlocked the jeep and they climbed in.
‘Jesus, you’re not putting me out at all. I’m thrilled to be driving ye up. Get a break from Little Lord Fauntleroy there. He’s always been a shit, but it’s gone right to his head now his father has left him in charge. You’d think, wouldn’t you, that he’d be a bit more concerned about his sister? I wouldn’t be able to eat, let alone put in a working day. All the lads are saying it.’
‘You know where this chap lives, do you?’ Tom asked.
‘Sure, everybody around here knows where Vincent lives, Inspector. I’m going to take us the scenic route, though. There’s a quicker road to Carney’s but all it needs is a centimetre of rain and the thing floods.’
‘You’re from the area, are you?’
‘Born and raised. Had to emigrate to Britain for a while to get work. I came back here when the Hollands were advertising jobs in the area. I was looking for a way to come home. You miss the place, you know. I’m living in the house my grandfather grew up in. It’s the way it should be.’
‘I’m a home bird myself,’ the inspector said. They were driving down a narrow road under a fairytale canopy of intertwining trees. Every Irish generation had been cursed by emigration and Tom knew that the country became greener and more beautiful the further away her children were forced to move. His family had been very lucky in that regard. So far.
‘When you say everybody knows where Vincent lives, I assume you mean he has a reputation.’
The inspector glanced at their driver. He had sideburns, giving him an Elvis-like profile, especially with his lip as it was now, raised at the corner in disdain.
‘Yep. That’s putting it mildly.’
‘But he’s harmless, surely?’ Tom decided to try Sergeant Healy’s tack.
Charlie threw him a sharp glance.
‘Who told you that?’
‘Just heard it on the grapevine.’
‘You heard wrong. He might be a bit touched, God love him, but he’s not a gentle soul. Vincent is a dirty little bastard. Women aren’t safe around him. He’s barred from every pub in town for harassing female customers. The man is a menace. I wouldn’t want any girl of mine left alone with him.’
The inspector looked over his shoulder and met Ray’s eye. Their driver had no axe to grind with Vincent Carney. He was just an ordinary local man and what he was telling them was a far cry from Bart Healy’s account. Why had the good sergeant spun a different line?
‘There are rumours,’ Charlie continued, ‘going about the village.’
‘Concerning?’
‘Carney and Fiona Holland. Apparently he gave her some grief last year. And now she’s gone missing and all …’
‘Has he always lived around here?’ Tom asked, neatly side-stepping the loaded statement. Their driver was fishing for gossip, but he wouldn’t get it from them.
‘He’s from here, but he comes and goes.’
‘Does he work?’
‘Not that I know of. Not regular work, in any case. He might have something on the side, cash in hand, that sort of thing.’
They drove on for another few minutes, the inspector mulling over what sort of casual work Carney could be doing that would lend itself to travelling. Taxi driving was a clear contender.
‘This is his place,’ Charlie said, turning the jeep down a narrow, pot-holed lane, the untended hedging on either side scraping the sides of the vehicle.
He came to a halt outside a grey pebble-dashed, farm-style bungalow. The property had been built onto, but in a higgledy-piggledy way; there was no real strategy to its various offshoot rooms and the sheds surrounding it. They were ugly, functional buildings, with dirty windows and doors and a general air of neglect.
‘Does he live here alone?’ Tom asked.
‘Yep. Parents left it to him. They died about ten years ago, I’m told. There was speculation about that, too.’
‘What sort?’ Tom asked.
‘They’d built up debts against the farm. It’s gone now – Vincent sold it off, but mainly just to pay what was owed. He made a few bob, though, and kept the house and a bit of land behind it. Anyhow, his folks had a bad end. They got into a car in the garage, shut all the doors and turned the engine on.’
‘They killed themselves?’
‘Apparently. People thought it was convenient that Vincent wasn’t home that night. Otherwise, he would have noticed, surely? Your parents going off into a locked garage, then the sound of an engine running. I’ll hang on for you out here, if you don’t mind. I can’t imagine you want me doing your interview with you, and this place gives me the creeps.’
It was starting to give Tom the creeps, too.
He and Ray jumped out, straight into the sodden mud that served as the man’s driveway.
They crossed to the front of the house, ducking under the small porch to get out of the rain. Ray rapped hard on the off-white aluminium door. They waited a minute, then knocked again.
Charlie lowered the window.
‘He’s in,’ he called over. ‘I can see his van parked at the side.’
Tom waved an acknowledgement.
‘Let’s head around the back,’ he said to Ray. ‘He won’t be able to ignore us if we’re peering through a window at him.’
‘I hope he doesn’t have dogs,’ Ray said, nervously. He’d been attacked by a dog as a boy and had never recovered his nerve. It was ridiculous, he knew – a grown man over 6 foot tall, and even a yapping terrier could send him into a panic.
They’d just rounded the side of the house when a deafening bang sounded to their right. Stone splintered from the wall of a nearby shed and debris flew in all directions.
‘What the …?’ Ray started. He didn’t get to finish. The inspector, reacting swiftly, pulled him to the ground as another explosion erupted against the side of the house.
Tom covered his head as the fragmenting plaster and stone grazed his hands.
‘Back!’ he roared at Ray and pulled him to his feet. Both men ran towards the front of the house, where Charlie was revving the engine. To his credit, he hadn’t sped off when the shots were fired.
They jumped in and their driver put his foot to the floor and tried to reverse at speed out of the drive. The wheels slithered on the wet mud, slowing the car enough to give them time to see Vincent Carney stroll nonchalantly around the side of the house, his shotgun pointed at the windscreen.
‘He’s going to shoot at us,’ Ray yelled and all three men ducked. Mud from beside the car sprayed in all directions as the shot missed its target. The wheels finally found solid ground and the car jolted into action. Charlie kept his foot on the accelerator as they sped backwards a hundred yards. He sat up, pushed the gearstick into first and turned the car, just as another shot rang out, again wide of its target.
‘Make for the main road,’ Tom ordered. He pulled out his phone and dialled dispatch. ‘Detective Inspector Tom Reynolds of the NBCI. Immediate assistance needed. Shots fired at officers and a civilian. Where the hell are we? Charlie, give them directions.’ The inspector put the phone on speaker as Charlie shakily issued their exact location.
‘We need the Emergency Response Unit,’ Tom ordered, when they had the coordinates. ‘Suspect is armed with a shotgun.’
They’d arrived back out on the main road. Charlie crossed it, spun the car through one hundred and eighty degrees so it faced the lane, and slammed on the brakes. They sat there, all three of them watching the road they’d just come down, breathing heavily.
‘Is there another way out of the property?’ the inspector asked, his heart racing.
Their driver shook his head, too shocked to speak. He’d had enough adrenalin pumping through his veins to get them out of there, but now they were clear of immediate danger, he was almost paralysed with fear. The inspector gripped his shoulder.
‘You’re safe, man. We’ll see him coming.’
It took a moment for Charlie to find his voice.
‘Shit. I can’t … Who knew he had it in him? He could make a run for it on foot, over the fields at the back. But there’s nothing that way for miles.’
Tom turned to Ray.
‘Are you armed?’
His deputy nodded.
‘You?’
‘Yep. Not sure what use a Walther P99c will be against what he has, though.’ The inspector turned back to Charlie. ‘We have to watch for him, in case he tries to leave. Is that okay? We’ll need your vehicle, to give chase if he does. Is there a nearby house you could go to?’
‘I … I live n-near here,’ Charlie stammered, as red blotches broke out on his face. He shook his head. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that. Can you handle the jeep?’
‘We’ll be grand. Try to stay off the road and if you hear any vehicles speeding towards you, take cover, okay? We’ll get the car back to you.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ the other man said. He shook Tom’s hand. ‘Good luck.’
With that, he jumped out of the car and broke into a sprint.
‘Jesus, who knew Usain Bolt was driving us?’ Ray said. He climbed into the front and familiarised himself with the jeep’s controls. ‘Not being funny, Tom, but I’ve never been so thankful for your dodgy car. If that chap hadn’t been with us and kept this car running we’d never have got out of there alive.’
Tom kept his eyes focused straight ahead. His hands were covered in cuts and grazes, the only damage sustained in the attack.
‘Didn’t you find anything odd about what just happened, Ray?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, he’s either a terrible shot or he was just firing to scare us. He missed four times.’
His deputy snorted. The shots had been close enough for him.
‘Tom, if he doesn’t come barrelling down this lane and we resolve this without either of us copping it – I’m asking Laura out on a proper date.’
‘Your life flashing before you, is it?’ the inspector said, but he was only half-joking. He’d have been happy himself to be home with Louise right now.
They heard the first siren after twenty minutes, with no sign of anyone or anything emerging from the Carney property. The cars started to arrive – the Emergency Response Unit and the regional support teams. Joe Kennedy had already rung Tom in full support mode. The inspector was short with him, his memory long. He knew how much Kennedy would enjoy all this excitement and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He’d turn up when the situation had been brought to a conclusion and none of the viewers of the Six One news that night would know that the chief superintendent had been cosy and safe in his office when Tom and Ray and some innocent bystander were being shot at.
The inspector was engaged in conversation with the head of the ERU, Jim Knowles, when Sergeant Healy turned up.
‘Harmless, you said,’ Ray snapped, as the man approached.
Healy held his hands out in a conciliatory manner, his face wan and worried.
‘I’m sorry. I truly am. I’d no idea he was capable of this. Can I help at all?’ he addressed this to the ERU chief. ‘I know him.’
‘Is he likely to talk to you? We’d prefer a family member if possible.’
‘He has no family left.’ Healy shook his head.
Knowles looked to Tom.
The inspector shrugged.
‘We can’t assist. Last time I went in there, he tried to shoot me. Sergeant Healy might be your best chance.’
‘Are you confident to approach the house?’ the ERU chief asked. ‘We can get you kitted out and there’ll be full support from all sides.’
Healy nodded, clearly anxious to provide aid.
The rain had stopped and Tom and Ray sat resting against the bonnet of the jeep. They had the frustrating job now of waiting. There was nothing else they could do.
‘Do you think it’s him?’ Ray asked.
‘I hope it is,’ Tom said. ‘It’s the only reason I can think of for his reacting like that. And I hope he hasn’t done a runner.’
His phone rang. It was Louise.
‘I’m safe,’ he said immediately upon answering. He’d texted her to tell her where he was so she wouldn’t be alarmed when she heard the news.
‘Are you still there?’
‘Outside. The ERU have gone in.’
‘Can’t you leave?’ she asked. ‘Why are you hanging around?’
‘It’s my job, pet. The lads will get it sorted.’
‘Tom Reynolds, you are to come home safe tonight. Do you hear me? I’m packing the car and we’re on our way back to Dublin.’
‘We’ll be fine,’ he answered. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
Ray looked at his own phone, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
‘What has you so happy?’ the inspector asked.
‘I sent Laura a text. I’ve three missed calls and a message asking if I’m okay. You’ve fallen off the map, you don’t even get a look-in. Who knew getting shot at could generate such good luck?’
‘Ring her back, you silly bugger.’
He watched as Ray slinked off, phone to his ear, beaming.
Jim Knowles signalled and the inspector walked over to the ERU command post, set up in the back of one of their vans. The communications radio was issuing static as the back-up officers waited for information from the scene.
It crackled as it came to life.
‘Sergeant Bart Healy is in situ and approaching. He’s calling out to house … he’s announced himself.’
There was silence, each of those present holding their breaths and all praying they wouldn’t hear gunfire. The inspector was unsure about Healy, but he didn’t want the man to come to any harm. Especially considering the bravery he was displaying.
‘Somebody is shouting back. Yes – suspect is in the house. He’s engaging with officer.’
Silence again.
‘Hold steady.’
Silence.
‘Officer is speaking. Suspect is quiet.’
Static.
‘Okay, lads. Keep alert. Officer has asked suspect to emerge. Suspect has confirmed he is coming to the front door.’
Tom could feel his heart thumping.
‘Door opening … suspect in frame. He’s empty-handed. I repeat, empty-handed. All eyes stay trained.’
Static.
‘Suspect allowing officer to approach person. He’s … turning around … has offered wrists. And he’s cuffed. Stand down, lads. Good job.’
Knowles gripped the inspector’s shoulder.
‘Thank God, hey?’
Tom nodded, feeling bewildered.
What the hell had just happened? Just over an hour had passed since Carney had pulled his stunt. Then Healy turns up and the man walks out of the house and offers himself up for arrest in minutes? Tom had thought they were on course for a siege of some sort.
This wasn’t right. Something was very off about the whole scenario.