‘Shit, shit, shit!’ Tom slammed his hand against the wall in the corridor. ‘We have nothing. They won’t let us near him again today.’
Michael shook his head.
‘Richard Holland keeps ringing headquarters,’ he said, his voice brittle. ‘He thinks we’re hours away from finding his daughter. He thinks his family’s nightmare is nearly over.’
Tom closed his eyes and massaged his temples, trying to keep the stress headache at bay.
‘Okay. We’ll go back to HQ and get everybody together. We’re missing something. Another house, a burial site, something. We’ve a serial killer trying to convince us he suddenly has a conscience. He wasn’t displaying any of it with Laura last night.’
‘Does it happen?’ Michael asked. ‘Is there any possibility this is a coincidence? I don’t believe he would have stopped, whatever he’s telling himself – but is he telling the truth about Fiona?’
Tom shrugged.
‘Stranger things have happened. But we’re dealing with a pathological liar. Never forget that.’
Joe Kennedy was waiting for them back at headquarters.
‘Tom – can I have five minutes?’
The inspector looked at his watch impatiently.
‘I’m under pressure, Sir.’
‘Please?’
Tom wavered, then nodded at Michael to start proceedings.
‘I just want to check in with you,’ Kennedy said, closing the door to his office. ‘You’ve been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. Can I get you something? A tea or coffee?’
Tom shook his head and sat upright in the chair. He’d cottoned on to his new chief’s method – reel you in with concern and platitudes, then try to manipulate the situation. He would be alert for whatever was coming, this time.
‘I’m fine,’ he replied. ‘Just eager to conclude this investigation.’
‘Are you sure you’re able to continue?’
‘Are you doubting my abilities?’ Tom asked, sounding far more relaxed than he felt.
‘Well, look at it like this. You’ve done a superb job in tracking down and arresting Lane. Saving your detective in the meantime – nobody can deny that was excellent police work. Although, people will probably wonder why she was allowed to go out to his house alone in the first instance.’
Kennedy paused.
‘They might,’ Tom interjected. ‘Of course, luckily for Laura, we knew immediately something wasn’t right and launched a full-scale investigation into her disappearance. Otherwise, I can’t imagine what might have happened. If we’d assumed, for example, that she just hadn’t been arsed to turn up for work …’
Kennedy pursed his lips and pushed his glasses up his nose.
‘As I said,’ he continued. ‘It was very good police work. And I will ensure that you are commended for it. I am concerned, though. The Hollands are desperate to find their daughter and we might need fresh eyes at this stage. You don’t look like you’ve slept and I know you’re dealing with a loss, too. You were close to Sean’s wife, weren’t you?’
Tom nodded brusquely. He wasn’t prepared to give this man anything of his private life.
‘That’s a lot to deal with. Then there’s your conduct in the hospital just now. I’ve had a complaint from the hospital administrator that you threatened to arrest him and then you nearly had to be forcibly removed from Lane’s room. Is that true?’
‘They were trying to prevent me interviewing the only man who might know where Fiona Holland is. I don’t have a crystal ball. If that girl is in danger, we have no way of finding her unless he confesses.’
‘And did he tell you where she was?’
Tom stared down at the table.
‘No.’
Kennedy sighed.
‘We’re only having this conversation because I have your best interests at heart, Tom. All the good you’ve achieved in arresting Lane will be lost if you fail to find Fiona. And other things might come to the surface then.’
‘Like what, exactly?’
‘Well, like you casting aspersions on members of the force – and making accusations against Sergeant Healy.’
Something inside Tom snapped.
He was exhausted and he was grieving, and all of that he had to leave to one side while he concentrated on finding Fiona. But to be expected to cope with this arsehole and his self-serving agenda as well? No. That was too much.
‘I don’t want to argue with you, Sir,’ he said, his voice low. There was an edge to it that even he didn’t recognise. It sounded quite calm, but incredibly dangerous. ‘But I am going to leave this room now and return to my investigation.’
‘And if I stop you?’ Kennedy said.
The words came out of Tom’s mouth before he could censor them.
‘If you try to stop me, you’ll leave me no option – I will phone Assistant Commissioner Bronwyn Maher. I’ll start by telling her my concerns regarding some of our colleagues around the country and their responses to missing women who fit a certain profile.
‘And then, Sir, I’m going to tell her that I’ve reconsidered. That, in light of the success of this investigation, I’ve decided I am happy to be promoted. I want to ensure this force continues in the progressive vein pursued by the likes of Sean McGuinness and Bronwyn herself. And I’m not sure that there’s anybody better than me to do that.’
Tom looked up and straight at the chief.
‘Now, what job do you think she’ll want to promote me to?’
Kennedy met his gaze, unblinking, but the colour had risen in his cheeks. Tom had hit on a sore point – the possibility of Kennedy being shunted out of his role to make room for the first choice for the job.
The inspector was expecting the other man to rage and threaten. Perhaps warn Tom he’d made a serious enemy. That sort of thing. But it was in his reply that Tom realised what the man’s real talent was – an ability to see the writing on the wall and to adapt. Kennedy was clearly not yet as close to Bronwyn Maher as he’d like to be. And maybe he knew Tom had the backing of An Taoiseach himself.
It was too soon for him to go all out in a head to head with the inspector. He’d pushed too far, too early.
‘I think you’ve misread this situation and are over-reacting, Tom,’ Kennedy said, coolly. ‘It’s my job to assist you and make your role easier. I understand you’re tired and feeling the pressure. Against my better judgement, I’m going to let you resume your role in this investigation. Afterwards, though, we will need to have a conversation about our professional relationship. If you do not respect me in this role, Inspector, that is an issue.
‘And I want to leave you with this. I believe you have vastly underestimated the assistance I have provided in order for you to run this investigation unimpeded. Not once have I asked you to deal with the media during what has proven to be one of the most sensational cases in the history of our force. I’ve ensured you’ve had all the resources necessary at a time when budgets across other departments are hanging on by a thread. And not once have you thanked me for any of that. I promise you, we will return to this at a later date.’
‘Let’s do that,’ Tom said.
He was trembling from the anger coursing through him. And more – he knew he’d given Kennedy what he wanted. The inspector had allowed the chief to provoke him into showing his best hand.
But he also felt chastened. Kennedy had thrown stuff back at him that Tom hadn’t been prepared for. What he’d said was true and the inspector was annoyed that he hadn’t even considered that side of things.
Worse still, Tom might have just created a situation where the only way he would be able to deal with this man was to actually take his job.
As good as that threat had sounded, it really wasn’t what he wanted.
They went over everything again. Lane’s financial details. His work record with the Hollands. They were in the middle of compiling a full list of all his deliveries in the last few years – no easy task considering the man travelled the country every other week. But Tom’s team was looking for patterns. Lane might be renting somewhere with cash payments which would require recurring visits.
‘We’ll have to release his identity in the morning, if we make no progress,’ the inspector told the team. ‘See if anybody comes forward with information. A landlord we don’t know about, hopefully.’
‘Could he have been in league with Vincent Carney?’ Bridget asked. ‘Should we search his house again, see if there’s something we missed?’
‘It was a thorough search the first time and I can’t see the two of them being in this together,’ Tom answered. ‘But we can’t rule anything out so, yes, get a team out there first thing.’
‘Are we still considering her boyfriend and, eh, the other person of interest we dealt with?’ Michael asked, meaning Healy. His involvement still wasn’t widely known.
‘Yes. We will have to speak to them again tomorrow. Is there anything more from Emmet’s team?’
‘He’s still working through the DNA,’ Ray informed the room. He’d returned from the hospital earlier and got straight back into it. ‘He’s managed to isolate two unknown groupings. One of them could be Fiona’s. He says his team will keep going through the night.’
‘Good. Well, even though I’m inspired by their dedication to work, I think we need to call it a night ourselves, folks, and come in fresh in the morning. Go home and get some rest.’
There were grateful sighs around the room from the exhausted officers.
Ray approached Tom as the room was emptying.
‘You’re planning to stay, aren’t you?’
‘You know me so well.’
‘Yep. Of all of us, boss, you need the rest the most. Why don’t you tell me what it is you need done and I’ll do it? I owe you one.’
‘How’s that?’
‘You figured out Charlie Lane yesterday. If you hadn’t …’
‘One of you would have.’
Ray shrugged.
‘I don’t know. I think that’s why you get the big bucks.’
Tom smiled.
‘Okay. But I don’t really know what it is I’m trying to figure out. My head is all over the place.’
‘Wouldn’t you feel better if you slept on it?’
The inspector rubbed his jaw.
‘I don’t know how to explain it, junior. It’s just … there.’ He reached out his hand like he was trying to touch something he couldn’t see. ‘I won’t be able to sleep until I put my finger on it.’
‘I get it. But where are you going to begin?’
Tom bit his lip.
‘Come with me,’ he said, throwing on his suit jacket.
Natasha McCarthy was still at her desk.
‘Congratulations,’ she said, standing up to shake their hands when Tom and Ray came in. ‘That was some police work.’
‘Thanks. Sorry to be disturbing you. Are you in the middle of something?’
‘Paperwork. Yet another watertight file for the Director of Prosecutions. I really hope this one cops it good. He was raping both his daughters. Since the age of eight.’
‘Jesus. Do you want us to leave you alone?’
‘Shit, no. It’s horrendous. Come in and distract me with something for a few minutes. A bit of serial-killer gossip, that’ll be nice. What can I help you with?’
‘Well, you probably know the score on our guy. He claims he didn’t sexually assault his victims, he was just recreating what was inflicted on him as a child – forced captivity. He’s swears Pauline O’Hara’s death was accidental but that he killed the rest to emulate the feeling of calm he had after her murder.’
‘Okay. Sick puppy. It’s not really my area this, though. Would you not be better talking to Linda?’
‘I spoke to her earlier. Lane fits the serial-killer persona perfectly. A complete split personality and serious mental instability with violent tendencies. Linda reckons he even truly believes that he wanted to stop. But he wouldn’t have, of course. He’d have just kept going, getting more reckless each time. Maybe he did dig up Una to lead us to him, or maybe he just needed to increase the thrill factor.
‘It’s your area of expertise I want now, though. Sexual offences. We discovered in the course of the investigation into Fiona’s disappearance that she was in a number of unhealthy relationships. One of her boyfriends was handy with his fists. The other – well, he’s a guard.’
Natasha frowned.
‘Hmm.’
‘Are you surprised?’
‘That there’s a guard out there with a penis and no sexual moral compass? Can’t say I am. It’s not like he’s the only one. Guards, believe it or not, are members of the human race. There are plenty who abuse their positions for power trips and sexual gratification. The key thing for us is having the resources to weed out those who do and respond appropriately.’
Tom nodded.
‘I agree. There’s another player in the Fiona case. That guy whose name you got for Ray, the one with previous. Vincent Carney tried to attack her before and is a registered sex offender. What concerns me is that Charlie Lane is absolutely adamant that he didn’t take Fiona and there are certain elements to his story that have me wondering if he’s actually telling the truth. He claims he didn’t go after women in his home area because it nearly came back to bite him in the Mary Ellen case. And he seemed genuinely bewildered by the letter we received.’
‘I see. So you’re wondering if Fiona was taken by somebody else – perhaps with a sexual motive?’
Tom shrugged.
‘It’s always possible, Tom. The abusive boyfriend might have gone too far. She may have been about to out the guard, so he silenced her. Neither of them have form for sexual assault, but that’s not a prerequisite. And, let’s be honest, the guard would know how to dispose of her body without being caught. Carney, though – well, he’s your strongest suspect, I would have thought. Given he has prior convictions.’
‘I’ve just thought of something, boss,’ Ray said.
‘Go on.’
‘We searched Carney’s property for somewhere he could have been hiding her. But what if he’d already buried her on his land? Maybe Healy was in on it – maybe he murdered her and got Carney to bury her so he could point the finger at him. Who’d believe the local – what did he call him, a simpleton, wasn’t it – over a guard?’
‘The village idiot. That was the term he used. After his passionate defence of people with disabilities.’
Tom considered Ray’s theory. It was plausible. They could start a search of the land around Carney’s house tomorrow with that in mind. Bring in the dogs.
‘Thanks, Natasha,’ he said, shaking her hand again.
‘For all the use I was to you,’ she smiled. ‘And now I have to get back to this appalling case. Families, huh? Completely screwed up. It’s either love or hate, there’s no in-between.’
‘Wanna grab a quick dinner?’ Ray asked. ‘I can see your head is still buzzing. Louise won’t thank me if I send you home in this state.’
‘She’s over in Sean’s,’ Tom said, glumly. ‘I’m barred from joining her. She said I’m to go straight home to bed after here.’
‘Well, then.’
‘Don’t you have a new girlfriend to visit? Those flowers are probably wilting in that hospital heat at this stage. Or there could be a handsome doctor chatting her up. With the amount of hits and misses you’ve had in this little love saga to date, I’m surprised you’ve left her on her own this long.’
It was Ray’s turn to look down in the dumps.
‘They won’t let me in again. I already rang. Her family were there all day and they said she needs her rest now. I got the shop to send her up one of those giant “Get well soon” balloons.’
‘Oh, she’ll be thrilled with that. So I’m second choice, am I? Go on then, you can treat me. Let’s go to the Italian in Blanchardstown. I can just about keep my eyes open for their vesuvio pizza and a glass of Barolo.’
They met Willie in reception and told him the plan. He gamely offered to join them, moaning that his wife was driving him to distraction.
‘I got a bit teary over June McGuinness,’ he said, ‘and she’s been trying to mollycoddle me all day. Turned up here with my lunch! How’s about we leave the car, lads, and get a taxi down so I can have a few pints?’
‘You don’t want to drive?’ Tom feigned horror. ‘I’d always assumed we’d have to surgically remove those pedals from your feet if we ever suggested going somewhere and you not driving. But perhaps you’re too traumatised after having your human rights breached today. Imagine, your wife bringing you lunch. The nerve of her.’
Willie raised a scornful eyebrow.
They didn’t need to phone a taxi. Ian Kelly was down at reception and offered to drive them, Blanchardstown village being on his route home.
It was an offer he wouldn’t be repeating. He spent the short journey being hectored and dictated to by Willie, the worst backseat driver in history.
‘Never again,’ he whispered to Tom, as the inspector closed the passenger door. ‘He makes me nostalgic for Sunday drives with the missus.’
Tom waved him off and turned to catch up with his colleagues. The meal was a good idea. He was glad of the camraderie and the light relief after nothing but tension and pain for the last few days. It didn’t make the fact of June’s death any easier, and Tom felt a stabbing pain in his gut wishing Sean was here with them and June safe at home. But it was a little reminder that, as his old friend said, the world kept turning.
Sean still had his sons and daughters and grandchildren to hold himself together for and of course, he had Tom and Louise, who were almost as close as family. They would all be there for each other in the coming days and weeks.
Besides, if Tom had gone straight home, he’d have spent the evening in morose solitude, unable to sleep anyhow.
The inspector caught up with Ray and Willie as they were climbing the stairs to the restaurant. He was still ruminating on the conversation with Natasha and was distracted. An idea had planted itself in his head and he was trying to think it through.
The owner showed them to a table, bantering with Ray and Willie as he offered them the wine list.
‘Tom knows what he wants, don’t you?’ Ray said.
His boss didn’t answer.
‘Tom. Hello?’
The inspector looked up.
‘Sorry, what?’
‘What wine were you after?’
‘Oh. Sorry. The Barolo, please.’
‘A pint for me,’ Willie said.
‘I only have Guinness or bottles of Italian lager,’ the owner explained.
‘Jaysus, nothing foreign. Guinness will do.’
‘You’re in an Italian restaurant, what do you mean, “nothing foreign”?’ Ray quipped. ‘What are you planning to eat?’
‘They do steak, don’t they?’
Ray shook his head.
They perused the menu.
‘What are you thinking, boss?’ Willie asked.
‘Ah, it’s probably nothing.’
‘I was referring to the menu, but normally when you say that, it’s something.’
Tom smiled.
‘Well, just there I was thinking about those markings that Emmet found indented on the letter we got, allegedly from Charlie Lane. I feel like their meaning is on the tip of my tongue. It’s like I’ve a bloody crossword clue stuck in my head.’
‘Now, gentlemen, your wine and one Guinness. Who’d like to try it?’
‘He’s the expert.’ Ray pointed to Tom.
The wine was perfectly drinkable, but it left a bitter taste in Tom’s mouth.
Because as he sipped, it came to him as clear as day.
There was no hope of finding Fiona Holland alive.
They’d been idiots thinking that letter had come from Lane.
And it hadn’t been from a crank.
Her killer had sent it.