Not all roads should be travelled and this is one of them. Sitting in the back of the police car, sirens blaring, moving us swiftly through the city to where we don’t want to go, I think of Amber. Sweet Amber.
The day she was born was the best day of my life. Her tiny lips, pink skin, eyes like jewels gleaming up in wonder. Amber was a good baby, ate and slept when she was supposed to, not like the boys. It was hit and miss with Cian and Aaron. One sleeping while the other cried for food. One being bathed while the other covered himself in muck. But maybe that was my fault. There was no real routine until they got to the crèche. With Amber, there was more time and I was more besotted by my new job as mammy.
In the weeks coming up to Amber starting school, she would stand at the front door every day with the school bag Ellen had made such a fuss of buying her and practise walking out the door with the bag on her back.
No practice prepared me. I cried the whole way to the school. It was the first time I saw that look, the one she gives me when she wants me to stop embarrassing her.
My eyes are closed. I allow my head to sink briefly against the car seat headrest and pray to God that my little girl is okay. ‘Did you ring Ellen?’ Prayer reminded me of her.
‘No. I didn’t think of her. There’s no point waking her up in the middle of the night now. There’s nothing she can do. Wait till the morning. We may need her to mind the kids tomorrow.’
Outside the house, two more police cars, lights spinning, are parked up on the path. A few neighbours hover by the garden gate, talking, staring at us as the car comes to a halt. Rena from next door is the first to approach me.
‘I’ll take the boys in with me, don’t worry about them.’ She follows me up the garden path. The boys, the boys.
‘But they’re in bed, Rena, they’re okay.’
‘Not anymore,’ Donna says when we reach the hall door. Aaron is flopped over one of Donna’s shoulders and Cian is standing by her side holding her hand.
‘Mammy, Mammy, why are the police here?’ Bending down, I hug Cian, telling him everything is going to be okay, it’s just a little problem that Mammy and Daddy are going to fix. His eyes are wide with confusion. ‘Rena is going to bring you into her house so you can have a sleepover with Owen.’
‘But Mammy—’
My body feels like it could collapse onto the floor in front of me and sleep for a month, but I won’t let it.
‘Sorry, Sal, they woke up.’ I smile at Donna, letting her know it’s not her fault, sirens outside the window and heavy footsteps on the stairs will wake kids up.
Turning around I manage to utter a ‘thank you’ to Rena before walking into the living room where Angela Burke is sitting with some technician guy searching through Amber’s computer. Kenny is still on the sofa.
The police have already searched Amber’s room but found nothing to guide them. I want to scream, tell them to get the fuck out and look for her but my energy is drained and I’m not sure they’d listen anyway. I hope they know what they’re doing.
With a mouth as dry as chalk I walk to the kitchen to fill a glass of water. Outside the window, the moon’s shadows remind me of my brief encounter with that woman.
Does she really believe Kenny is her son? She must, if she’s doing all this. But surely that’s easy to prove, DNA, birth records. Why the madness? And why did she kill Claire McCarthy? There must be something we’re missing.
What if she’s telling the truth?
As the cold water flows down my throat, I picture the moment Amber is back in my arms. The heavy embrace, the tears, the smiles. Her soft hair brushing my face, her scent floating up my nose like cocaine to a junky. I let the vision hang in my thoughts long enough to recharge my battery. I will see her again.
Donna walks into the kitchen. ‘How are you holding out, Sal?’ My tears have dried up but the pain in my heart is piercing every inch of my soul. I turn to answer her but there are no words, so I shake my head. Donna reaches out and grabs my shoulders. Staring straight into my eyes, she speaks in a slow definite tone.
‘You will find her, Sal, nothing bad is going to happen to her.’ Her words stick to me, I won’t let them go.
Back in the front room the main hub of the investigation continues. It’s two in the morning now, still no Amber. Burke is going from phone to laptop to maps to things I know nothing about. Kenny is in his room being questioned by someone else. I have to go, I have to find her.
I throw a rope around everything I know so far, pull It together and try to make sense of what could have happened. How did Amber end up in that woman’s company? She’s no fool. Amber is not going to get into a car with a stranger. Then it hits me like a stray arrow. Maybe Joyce is not a stranger. Maybe Amber has already met her. After all she seems to have met everyone else. If Amber didn’t know this woman, why would she go with her? Get into a car or whatever happened. It’s just not Amber!
‘Kenny.’ I push open the door of the playroom and see a woman in uniform writing in a notebook. Kenny must think he has been dragged into the dark ages. Notebooks that don’t plug in.
‘Kenny, how often did you meet Joyce?’
The woman turns to look at me. ‘Sorry, we’re in the middle…’
‘How often did you meet Joyce, Kenny?’
‘I… I…’
‘Kenny?’
‘Just the once…’
‘Was Amber with you when you met her?’ Tom has come into the room and is standing behind me. Both of us waiting as Kenny lowers his head.
‘Yes.’