Farrell got up early and slipped out without disturbing Mhairi. Driving home to the cottage the dawn chorus was deafening and the world smelled brand new. He inhaled great lungfuls of air through the open window, trying to cleanse himself of the stench of human nature. The new knowledge of where he had come from settled like a brick in his psyche, and he knew that things would never be the same again.
Once home he showered and shaved then selected his usual sober work attire. He checked his messages in the hope there would be one from Clare. Nothing. After a light breakfast and his medication, he locked the door behind him. It was still only 6 a.m.
He turned towards his car and froze. Leaning against it were DS Stirling and DS Byers. He was too late. They had already got to Lind. He remembered to act surprised so that Mhairi wouldn’t get in trouble for tipping him off.
‘What brings you two out here?’
‘DI Farrell, we’d like you to accompany us voluntarily to the station to answer some questions in relation to the murder of Ignatius Boyd.’
‘I see,’ he said. ‘Well, I was heading there anyway. You can follow me in. I’m sure your car can outgun mine if you think I’ve got any funny business in mind.’
Byers and Stirling looked at each other and looked at his car. Stirling nodded imperceptibly. Byers looked annoyed.
They drove in convoy with Farrell further winding Byers up by driving slowly and with exaggerated care. Part of him was raging and humiliated but he knew that he had brought it on himself by playing his cards too close to his chest.
There was no small talk. Minutes after they reached the station Farrell found himself seated across the table from Byers and Stirling, having been cautioned and declined representation. He was fairly sure that Lind was on the other side of the one-way mirror but had no way of knowing for sure.
‘Why did you not reveal that you had a message from the victim waiting for you when you started work?’
‘I threw it away,’ said Farrell. ‘I had no intention of phoning him back and, at that stage, I hadn’t realized anything was amiss. I didn’t mention it because it couldn’t add anything to the weight of the investigation.’
‘How do you account for the fact that your DNA was recovered at the scene?’
‘Two possibilities,’ said Farrell. ‘Either I was sloppy or it belonged to my identical twin.’
‘Your what?’ spluttered Byers, leaning forward in his seat. ‘Are you taking the piss?’
‘My mother admitted to his existence last night in the presence of DC McLeod. And for the record, I ordered her to come with me.’
‘Name? Address?’ asked Stirling, taking over the questioning and warning Byers to pipe down with a look.
‘She doesn’t know. He was adopted shortly after birth.’
‘Do you deny that there was bad blood between you and the victim?’
‘Not at all. I despised the man but not enough to kill him.’
‘Why?’
‘He forced me into leaving the priesthood fifteen years ago.’
‘Do you have an alibi for the night of the murder?’
‘No.’
‘Why did you not let on that you knew Mary Flannigan?’
‘I hadn’t seen her for close on fifteen years. As far as I was concerned it added nothing to the case.’
Byers and Stirling looked at each other. It wasn’t enough to hold him and they knew it. Farrell could see Stirling wavering but he doubted Byers would want to let it go.
They stopped the tape and left the room for a few minutes. Farrell waited motionless for their return.
‘You’re free to go but you’ve to go and see DCI Lind. He’s expecting you,’ said Stirling, avoiding eye contact.
Farrell sat in the chair in front of Lind’s desk and tried not to look defensive. He had just brought the DCI bang up to date with the latest developments and was waiting for the fallout. As anticipated his normally mild-mannered friend went nuclear.
‘Jesus Christ, Frank!’
Farrell tried not to wince.
Lind noticed. ‘And fuck your delicate sensibilities.’
Farrell tried to look neutral as Lind exploded round the room like a firecracker before eventually collapsing back into his chair.
He glared at Farrell.
‘I honestly don’t know whether to lock you up or pat you on the back,’ he said finally.
‘I got results,’ said Farrell.
‘You got lucky,’ fired back Lind. ‘I’ve never heard of such gung ho policing in all my puff.’
‘The ends justified the means,’ said Farrell.
‘You took a young police officer on an unsanctioned undercover operation.’
‘We went to visit my mother, not a drugs baron,’ said Farrell.
Lind glared at him.
‘Did it ever occur to you that if your mother is involved somehow the abductor may have been in the vicinity? That you could have put Mhairi at risk to gratify your own whim?’
Ouch, that one hit home, thought Farrell. He remained silent.
Lind stared at him and his expression softened slightly.
‘Look, Frank, I know it’s been tough, all this family shenanigans rearing its head but let’s not jump to conclusions. I don’t want to close off any avenues of investigation yet. All this stuff about you having a brother might seem a possible fit for the facts on one level, but it might not stand up to closer scrutiny. It might even have nothing to do with the case at all.’
‘I feel it in my water,’ said Farrell.
‘What are you, my Aunt Bridget?’ scoffed Lind.
‘Look, Frank, blue eyes are fairly common. In fact, the woman at the first nursery was clear that the abductor had green eyes, in any event.’
‘Coloured contact lenses, most probably,’ muttered Farrell.
‘When you confronted him you were in a heightened physical and emotional state, having just been stabbed. If the resemblance was that dramatic don’t you think any of the witnesses would have cottoned on?’
‘Not if he was well enough disguised,’ said Farrell. ‘Anyway, now that I think of it, the first boy we found, Jamie, he was afraid to come anywhere near me.’
‘Before this you were certain Jason Baxter was involved,’ said Lind. ‘There’s also the fact that Father Malone’s behaviour has been extremely suspicious of late. Didn’t you say earlier that Boyd was giving him a hard time about his sexuality? It’s as good a motive as any.’
‘For killing Boyd though, not for abducting the little boys,’ countered Farrell.
‘I’m still not convinced that the two investigations are linked,’ said Lind.
Farrell said nothing.
There was a tap on the door. DC McLeod entered and laid a piece of paper on Lind’s desk.
‘Results of the drugs test on the whisky, Sir. It tested positive for benzodiazepines.’
‘Thanks, McLeod. Good work,’ said Lind.
Farrell exhaled in relief.
‘There’s a combined briefing down for 8 a.m. What I’ve got to say should blow away the cobwebs. If you’d rather give this one a miss, Frank, that’s fine by me.’
‘Thanks, but I’ve got to face them all sometime. Might as well get it over with.’
At 8 a.m. Farrell took his preferred seat at the back of the lecture hall as Lind motioned for silence and took them through all the latest developments in both cases, holding nothing back. You could have heard a pin drop. When Lind got to the rape of his mother the bile rose in his throat. The product of a rape. His skin crawled with revulsion, not just for what had been done to his mother but also for the fact that his own DNA was lousy with that animal’s. He felt a lesser man. There was a soft squeeze on his shoulder. DI Moore was behind him. He shot her a grateful look. Mhairi was seated near the front, notebook in hand. Despite their intimacy last night, she had greeted him coolly this morning in front of the others. Sensible lass. Lind got to the end of his spiel and started firing out actions for the day.
‘Stirling and Byers, go bring Mrs Farrell in. Get a name. Then patch it through to me right away and I can get the fiscal to dig out the papers. If she doesn’t cooperate charge her with attempting to pervert the course of justice. See how that goes down in the sewing circle. Lean on her hard about the connection with the priest. What that woman’s been hiding would fill a suitcase. Was he bartering babies for cash or doing it out the goodness of his heart?’
‘DI Farrell, I want you to bring Father Malone down to the station. From what you were saying earlier I reckon he’s holding something back too. Make it as public as you like. Apply maximum pressure.’
‘DI Moore, I want you to get together with Andy Moran and concoct an article for the local paper. Make it something provocative about twins separated at birth. Get Clare Yates on board; she’ll give you some pointers but I don’t want her to front it. Too dangerous. Use a false expert name. It’s time to go on the attack and flush this bastard out from the undergrowth.’
‘DC McLeod, I want you to compile an exhaustive list of every conceivable local organization that might hold records of twins. Concentrate on pre-schoolers, both public and private sector. Check the background of both sets of twins through HOLMES. If there’s a point of intersection I want to know about it. He must be getting his information from somewhere. Fax all the nurseries and childcare agencies again. Warn them to be on high alert and to release no child into the care of someone they don’t personally know without reference to us first. I have a feeling he’s not done playing out his sick fantasies yet.’
Lind strode out and Farrell was quick to follow on his heels. Behind them bursts of excited chatter broke out all over the room. Mhairi rushed out the room behind them; her shirt hanging out of her skirt as though the various factions had each been trying to claim her as their own.
‘Sirs,’ she said formally and marched off down the corridor, head held high.
Farrell looked at his watch. He could just catch the morning Mass at St Aidan’s. It would give him an opportunity to observe Malone’s demeanour before bringing him in.
As Farrell sat surreptitiously studying the twenty or so members of the Catholic faithful, he marvelled at how their white pinched faces all resembled each other. Was it some universal badge of holiness and piety or merely the pallor of those for whom living in this world was a mere prelude to the real life beyond? He became aware that the congregation were becoming restless and shifting in their seats. A few coughs broke out and he heard a loud tut. Where was Father Malone? With a lurch of foreboding, Farrell leapt from his seat and ran lightly up the aisle to the sacristy door. He rapped firmly. No reply. He opened the door. There was nobody there.