Broken Silence: A tense psychological thriller

by Fran McDonnell

  “Go on, say it.”

  “Look, Isobel, I’ve spent a lot of time talking to Malcolm.” She glanced at Isobel. “He sends his love by the way.”

  Isobel smiled. Malcolm had been a great help to them in London when they were investigating the husband who had murdered his wife. It was Malcolm, with his dog Bella, who had helped Isobel uncover proof of what she suspected.

  “Malcolm has talked to me about setting up an investigation agency together.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. He thinks that with his old police contacts and also the retired policeman’s network we could do a lot of work and have the benefits of having police contacts but not be under the same constraints as the police are.” Patricia glanced at Isobel. “You know, like we did in London. We found out all that we did because we weren’t the police.”

  Isobel nodded.

  “Well, I think it’s the same here. There probably are more crimes but they haven’t been reported.”

  Isobel spread out her hands. “Loads of rapes aren’t reported and with the threat that rapist was giving to the women, not to mention the way the system can treat rape victims in court …”

  “Exactly.”

  “So, we need to find out if there are more victims. I’ve been thinking about that.” Isobel looked towards the Castle.

  “Me too.” After a pause, Patricia said, “I was wondering if any of your therapist colleagues would be prepared to help us.”

  Isobel made a face.

  “I know, I know, confidentiality issues,” said Patricia.

  Isobel nodded. “I’ve been thinking too. I have a feeling that the woman I met in the Rape Crisis Centre reacted to something that I said.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, she was at work but when I was talking to her it was like something really hit home – like, it hit a personal note or upset her personally.”

  Patricia looked a little dubious.

  Isobel frowned. “When I’m working as a psychotherapist that’s what I do. I notice – when I’m talking, or someone is talking to me – where or what they emotionally react to. Usually in the therapy session that’s the place I would come back to. That point of emotion is where the most important things are and where I can try to get things to open up. I could feel that intensity with the lady from the Rape Crisis Centre. It usually means that I have hit on something important.”

  “So what was it you said?”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t remember – but I know that she reacted to it.”

  “Was she not just reacting to the gruesome details of the rape and murder?”

  “But, you see, I didn’t mention the murder at all and only spoke in a very general way about the rape. Yet I’m sure something I said resonated with her personally.”

  “Is that not a bit of a jump?”

  “Maybe.”

  “And, anyway, she isn’t going to break a confidence.”

  “I know but there was something going on. Let’s call to see her. I wonder if the Rape Crisis Centre is open.”

  Even as she spoke Patricia was pulling out her phone. “Open until five o’clock.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Isobel drove up the treelined driveway to the Rape Crisis Centre.

  “It’s well hidden away, isn’t it?”

  Isobel grimaced. “Yes. I suppose it’s more private this way.”

  Inside the décor was bright, with prints of Monet on the wall. There was a vase of lilies on a table wafting their fragrance into the air.

  Fiona Carr stepped from behind the desk.

  “Hello, again.”

  “Fiona. This is a friend of mine – Patricia. I wonder if we could talk to you for a few minutes.”

  “Of course.”

  Fiona gestured to a closed door on the right. They followed her into a sitting room with an empty fireplace and two sofas.

  “Please, sit down. How can I help?”

  Isobel took a deep breath. “I called to you on Wednesday. That was the day after I found the woman who was raped and murdered in Corbally – Michelle Cavan.”

  “Oh, it was you who found her!”

  “Yes.”

  “That must have been very traumatic.”

  “It was. When I was here before, I mentioned my friend’s daughter to you.”

  “Oh yes.” Fiona looked towards Patricia.

  “Not Patricia, it’s someone else. That young woman has been depressed and agoraphobic for the last six months. When she heard about me finding the body, she insisted on speaking to me. She told me about being raped and strangled. Obviously, she survived but …”

  Fiona shifted in her chair. “That’s the young woman you came to get information for?”

  “Yes. She was raped in January. I’ve spoken to another woman who is also reclusive and has attempted suicide. She described a similar rape and strangulation crime. She was attacked in September. Both young women were threatened by their attacker to remain silent or something would happen to family members.”

  Fiona paled.

  “When I told the gardaí about these incidents …”

  “You went to the Gardaí? You broke their confidentiality?” Fiona stood up, agitated.

  Isobel looked up at her until she stilled. “No. Of course not. I merely told them in general about two crimes that had occurred without giving any names. But the gardaí did share with me the fact that there was very little forensic evidence at Michelle Cavan’s murder. And the stories the two women gave me explained why. In fact, the forensic lab had hypothesised exactly what I was describing. It appears that the same man, using the same modus operandi, has raped and strangled at least three women, one of whom is dead. I suspect, and so does Patricia, that there are more.”

  “I can’t believe you broke their confidence.”

  “I didn’t break their confidence. I shared with the gardaí the possibility that there was a serial rapist out there. Some of the gardaí agreed with me. My friend’s daughter, realising that this is someone who has attacked other women, agreed to record her story and I have handed it to the gardaí as an anonymous tip.”

  “I’ve never heard of that before.” Fiona sat back down again.

  “That was the only way to preserve the young woman’s anonymity and still disclose information that might help the police find and stop this man. We believe that Michelle Cavan died accidentally. Part of the modus operandi is threatening the women if they talk to anyone. It is only through coincidence that I even heard of these cases, otherwise Michelle’s murder would be treated as a once-off crime. In fact, because the rapes are not officially reported, only some of the gardaí know about this line of enquiry.”

  “Why are you telling me all of this? You can’t expect me to break confidentiality. And you know as well as I do that ‘the system’,” here Fiona used air quotes, “doesn’t deal kindly with women who have been raped. Going to court is like another abuse. Look at what happened with that case in Cork recently.”

  “I know. I know. I agree with you.”

  “The way some of the more recent cases have been dealt with would put anyone off reporting a rape.”

  Isobel held up her hands and gently moved them in a soothing gesture. “What I’m saying is that this rapist is intimidating and threatening the women he rapes into silence. They’re afraid he will hurt their families if they talk.”

  Fiona swallowed.

  “Obviously he didn’t want anyone to know about what he is doing,” Isobel said. “If Michelle Cavan hadn’t died we still wouldn’t know anything.”

  Fiona straightened in her seat. “Again, I have to ask why you’re telling me all of this? I think it’s awful and I hope you catch him but …”

  Isobel made a dismissive gesture with her hands. “When I was here before, I told you very little but you reacted to something I said. And you did it again just now. I’m guessing that you’ve heard that story of being threatened into silence before? It means that, as we su
spect, there are other victims. I’ve told you all of this to show you how tenuous the information we have is. Despite the fact that some of the gardaí believe that this is a serial rapist and, even though there are no other crimes on record, they want to pursue it as that. To find this man we need more information. I’m telling you all of this, telling you how we’ve used the recordings to alert the gardaí to what is happening, because I’m asking you if you will let me put up a notice here in the centre asking women to talk to me, to let me use any information they can give me to help the gardaí. Anything they say will be confidential, just as in the case of my friend’s daughter. I’m not asking you, I’m begging you. Please let the women decide if they want to confidentially give the gardaí any information that they have. Please let me put up a notice.”

  Fiona sat back on the sofa. She looked at Isobel. “You think this man has been operating for some time?”

  “The spread of the crimes we know of is from September to June. If, God forbid, he raped one woman a month there are seven possible victims that we don’t know about.”

  “And if he attacked more frequently, then, that number is higher,” Patricia said. “We don’t know enough. Any information we can find is going to help.”

  Fiona rubbed her forehead. “I’m not in charge here so this decision is not mine to make.”

  “Well, tell us who is,” said Isobel, “and –”

  Fiona held up her hand. “There are certain things that I am prepared to do and others that I’m not.” She stood up and paced towards the window. “I’ll need your phone number, Isobel. I also want to talk to the garda you are liaising with.” She nodded. “I’ll need some assurances from them before I’m even prepared to discuss this with the board.”

  Isobel stood too. “You know that time is of the essence here.”

  Fiona swung around to face her. “No, the priority here is that the women who have come to us are safe and feel confidence in the service we provide.”

  Isobel nodded. “Of course, but I’m also concerned for the women who are at risk because this man is on the loose.”

  “The police know about him now. They need to do more to protect women. It’s not the responsibility of these women to do anything. They have enough to be coping with.”

  “That’s true,” Isobel acknowledged. “They do. All we want to do is ask for their help, completely confidentially, if they want to give it.”

  Fiona nodded. “I believe you. I don’t want to, but I do.” She sat down. “Let’s talk to that garda.”

  Isobel nodded. She stood up and walked out of the room into the hall. She called Alanna Finnegan.

  “Hello, Isobel. What can I do for you?”

  “Alanna, I’m talking to a woman who may have access to more victims.”

  “Great.”

  “I say may. She needs to establish some safeguards first. She wants assurances that if any woman comes forward, it will be treated as an anonymous tip.”

  “Hold on, Eoin’s here. Let me fill him in and I’ll put him on speaker.”

  “Hi, Isobel,” Eoin said, “I would rather have official statements but if this is the only way to get information, I’m prepared to go for it. As you know forensics is a bust so unless we can find a pattern somewhere in this, we have nothing to go on. The Assistant Chief Constable has organised a profiler. That is how desperate he is to find some direction.”

  “Are you at the station?”

  “Yes.”

  “OK. I’ll get this woman to ring Henry Street and ask for you, Alanna – then she can see how official it all is.”

  “OK.”

  Isobel walked back into the room. “If you ring Henry Street now and ask for Detective Sergeant Alanna Finnegan, she’ll talk to you.”

  Fiona pulled out her own phone and walked out of the room.

  “What do you think?” Patricia said.

  “I think we’re lucky to get even this far but I wouldn’t hold out much hope of the notice going up. I think that’s going to be a bridge too far.” Isobel shrugged. “But we have to try.”

  Patricia frowned. “We can’t put a notice in the paper because that will alert this guy that we are aware of his pattern.”

  “I know. I’m struggling to come up with any other way of getting more information. This guy definitely seems to be in it for the long haul and he leaves no evidence and no clues. All we have is what these two women have told us.” Isobel sat on the edge of her chair and rubbed her face. “It all seems so hopeless. I feel so powerless. There is a very dangerous and ruthless man out there and, apart from knowing he exists, we have nothing.” She could feel tears prickling at her eyes. “Sorry, Patricia. I don’t mean to be so negative.”

  “It’s OK.”

  “I feel like that most of the time,” Fiona said as she walked into the room and sat down again, facing the two women. “I can hear how worried you both are about this situation.”

  “We are,” Patricia said.

  “I’ve spoken to Sergeant Finnegan and she has confirmed that you are liaising with them in investigating Michelle Cavan’s death and other incidents. I will speak to the board about your notice and I’ll let you know.”

  “When will you speak to them?” Patricia asked.

  Fiona stood. “As I said, I’ll let you know.”

  Chapter 16

  “Well, what do you think?” Isobel asked as they drove towards Sarah’s house.

  “I think we need to think of other lines of enquiry.”

  “Me too.”

  “You’re not very hopeful about Sarah letting you record her story, are you?”

  “Not really. She’s very traumatised. The attacker actually sent her a photo of her children.”

  “Oh, yes, that’s right, after she was in hospital.”

  “I think that really finished things for her. I’m surprised she even talked to me.”

  Patricia looked out of the window. “He was really determined that she wouldn’t say anything.”

  “I know, that’s why I don’t really expect her to let us record her story.”

  Isobel parked outside Sarah’s house. “I don’t know how she’ll feel about …”

  “I know. She may not cope with a new face. Don’t worry. If she can’t I can wait here and call Peter and catch up on my emails.”

  There was no car in the drive. Isobel rang the doorbell, waited, and tried again. She couldn’t hear any sounds from the house. She turned back towards the car shrugging her shoulders. Then the house door cracked open to the extent of the safety chain.

  Isobel swivelled round. “Hi, Sarah. I hope you don’t mind me calling again. I was hoping to talk to you for a few minutes.”

  Sarah closed the door. Isobel heard the chain rattle and then it was opened wider. Sarah looked out and took in the passenger in the car.

  “That’s my friend Patricia who is visiting me for a few days.”

  Sarah sucked in her lips. “Come in.”

  Isobel stepped forward and followed Sarah into the sitting room. They sat down.

  Isobel wondered how she could broach the subject.

  “Sarah …”

  “I saw …”

  Isobel smiled. “You first.”

  Sarah rubbed her fingers along the edge of the cushion on the couch. “You said the last time that something happened to you that made Emer think that you could help her. What was that?” As she asked, she looked up.

  Isobel returned her gaze and said, “I found the body of a woman on Tuesday morning.”

  “The lady in Corbally.”

  “Yes, Michelle Cavan.”

  Sarah swallowed. “It said in the news she was raped and murdered.”

  “She was.”

  “Raped, like me.” Her voice was a whisper.

  Isobel nodded and bit her lip.

  “Why are you here?” Sarah asked.

  “I was wondering if you would let me record you telling your story.”

  Sarah bunched up her hands. “Y
ou want me to tell it again?”

  Isobel lowered her voice. “I came to ask you if you would let me give an anonymous recording of what happened to you to the police.” She moistened her lips. “To help them find the man who did this.”

  “How is that going to help them? It’s the other side of the city. It’s just another rape to them.”

  Isobel rubbed her hand across her lips.

  Sarah’s eyes were locked on her. The silence lengthened. She whispered, “Oh my God.” She wrapped her arms around her body. “It’s not just another rape. You think it might be the same person. Oh my God! And now he’s killed someone!” Her face was devoid of colour, her lips white and pressed tightly together.

  “I’m sorry, Sarah. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  Sarah remained wrapped in tension.

  “I understand,” said Isobel. “It’s too much.”

  Sarah rubbed her hands along her arms as if to warm herself. She took some deep breaths. “How many women do you think he has attacked?”

  “We don’t know.”

  Sarah stared into Isobel’s eyes and said, slowly enunciating each word, “How many women do you think he has attacked?”

  Isobel blew out through her lips and met Sarah’s eye. “Three.”

  “Three?” Her gaze was penetrating.

  “That we know of.”

  Sarah pushed herself out of the chair and started pacing up and down in front of the window.

  “That you know of? Oh my God, you think there might be more!”

  Isobel stood up. “Sarah, please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stress you. I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have upset you like this.”

  Sarah stopped pacing and looked at her, her face red. “I told myself that it was just me, that I was unlucky. But you’re saying that it wasn’t just me.”

  Isobel raised her two hands and patted the air. “We’re trying to gather evidence.”

  “And you thought I might tell my story as part of that evidence?”

  Isobel looked in Sarah’s eyes then bowed her head. “Yes.”

  “You think it’s the same person who did this.”

  Isobel took a deep breath. “Yes, I do. I think it’s the same person. And if you were attacked here and the other attacks were in Corbally then …”