Nancy shoots Nigel a puzzled look.
‘What’s the point of a question like that?’ he asks.
Nancy touches his arm, keeping her eyes trained on Sexton. ‘Great, we were all getting along great. Lucy was … is … lovely.’
Nigel turns his face away.
‘But you already told me her adolescence was an issue,’ Sexton reminds Nancy. ‘I could see for myself signs she was cutting herself. And the principal told me about her overdose.’
Nigel shakes his head. ‘Lucy had her moments, like all teenagers do. But it was nothing we couldn’t handle. We were getting on great right before the crash. As a matter of fact, we’d never been happier. Isn’t that right, Nancy?’
Nancy gives a series of little nods.
‘But she must have been acting up to have taken the car without your permission at fourteen years old?’ Sexton presses. ‘Things must have been strained? I mean, you’ve already admitted that much yourselves, right?’
‘She was —’ Nigel hesitates. ‘— is our angel.’ He stands and walks across the room to a dressing table, pulls open a drawer and removes a photo album.
‘I never got lured into this generation’s obsession with the digital,’ Nigel says, opening a page and smiling. ‘Remember this one?’ he asks his wife, carrying it over and pointing out a photo.
‘How could I forget?’ Nancy asks.
Sexton leans over and sees a pretty little girl, aged about eleven, sitting on a pony, grinning under her riding cap in that big-toothed way pre-teens have and pointing at a rosette pinned to her jacket.
In another shot on the page, Lucy is singing on a stage in what looks like a school play. Another image shows her practising piano.
‘Do you mind if I have a look?’ Sexton asks.
Nigel passes the album over.
Sexton turns the pages and glances at the images of a red-cheeked little girl on a bicycle; more of her in a paddling pool. Here she’s blowing out seven candles. There are numerous pictures of her throughout the years, starting with her first day at school, but he can’t find any up-to-date ones. He flicks back through the pages to double-check. Another thing that occurs to him is that Lucy’s extracurricular schedule must have taken up every spare minute. There’s a picture of her dressed in a white tutu, with her back arched, standing tiptoe in pointed ballet shoes, the ribbons crisscrossed up her calves, her arms stretched up over her head. In another, she can be seen concentrating on a sheet of music so intently as she plays the violin that she looks furious. There’s a shot of her running cross-country, even her face lathered in muck as she nears the finish line. Sexton realizes what it is that’s wrong with the photos: not only are the teenage years missing, but there aren’t any at all of Lucy lounging on the couch or lolling about. He spots a picture of her in a wetsuit standing on a beach, her hair dripping with water. He taps it.
‘What age is she in this one?’ He guesses it is relatively recent, based on the spots breaking out on her skin.
‘Twelve,’ Nigel answers.
‘She was clearly an over-achiever,’ Sexton remarks, handing the album back to them.
‘She was good at everything she put her mind to, always,’ Nancy agrees.
‘Very determined,’ Nigel says.
There is a trace of weariness in his voice, which Sexton picks up on.
‘Did she ever threaten you?’ he asks.
Nigel splutters as a mouthful of tea goes down the wrong way. ‘What?’
‘Of course not.’ Nancy is indignant. ‘Why would you even ask something like that?’
‘I’m trying to establish if things were tense between you, if the acts of rebellion might have got worse? If she ever’ – he picks his words carefully – ‘threatened you, or made you feel unsafe?’
‘Absolutely not,’ Nancy says, standing.
Nigel carries his cup over to the sink, and keeps his back to them.
Sexton looks at Nancy. ‘I need to know if Lucy had any dealings with criminals?’
Nancy blinks. ‘Criminals! Lucy had been an A-student up until last year, when other distractions just proved too tempting. She was also a gifted athlete. She excelled in everything she did. She was even starting to talk about which university she wanted to attend.’
‘Was it the first time she’d taken your car without your permission?’ Sexton asks.
‘She was fourteen,’ Nancy reiterates. ‘Of course it was the first time she’d taken the car. Lucy had never even had a driving lesson. She was too young to drive.’
‘Is that a yes?’ Sexton asks, not waiting for a reply. ‘She’d also lied to you about where she was going, told you she was going to the Phoenix Park, but had headed in a completely different direction. Look, it’s what adolescents do. I presume she was rebelling as they all do. I need you to talk to me if we’re going to help Lucy.’
Nigel cracks his fingers. ‘Lucy was a very kind-spirited girl. She’d probably organized to pick someone up.’
Nancy nods. ‘Yes, that’ll be it.’
Sexton runs a hand through his hair. ‘Who?’
Another pregnant pause.
‘Did she have a boyfriend? Was that the distraction you just mentioned?’
‘Of course not,’ Nancy says. ‘She was still just a child.’
Sexton scratches his jaw irritably. ‘One of her friends then? Can you give me a list of their names?’
‘Actually, she preferred her own company,’ Nancy says quickly.
Sexton puts his notebook and pen down on the table. ‘You mean she was a loner?’
‘That’s a loaded word,’ Nancy replies.
‘How would you describe her then?’
‘Kind, sensitive, talented, for starters,’ she says.
Sexton puts his cup on the pristine glass table and pushes it forward. ‘In other words, the perfect daughter?’
‘She had her moments – who doesn’t?’ Nigel says. ‘Look, we indulged her, no question. But Lucy was a sensitive girl. If we were too lenient it’s because we were worried she might …’ His voice trails off.
‘Do you think that’s why she crashed?’ Sexton pushes. ‘I thought your wife’s view was that Lucy was not trying to kill herself? But she had overdosed before …’
‘No, no, no!’ Nancy snaps. ‘Lucy took some drugs, OK? But it wasn’t a proper suicide bid. It was a cry for help. She didn’t really mean it. If she’d meant it, she wouldn’t be here now.’
‘So she could have had criminal contacts,’ Sexton says. ‘Where else would she have got the drugs?’
‘Not those kind of drugs,’ Nancy says. ‘She took pills from the surgery.’
‘Like Serozepam?’
‘Yes, among others. She OD’d on Benzodiazepines … anti-psychotics.’
‘So Lucy was lying, joyriding, self-harming and stealing drugs from you. In other words, she was totally out of control?’
‘You’re twisting our words,’ Nigel says. ‘If you must know, a girl with whom she was friendly had taken her own life …’
‘Amy Reddan?’
‘Yes. Lucy was so upset … she stopped thinking straight.’
Nancy chips in. ‘A lot of the schools have been affected by this blight. We’re not the only ones.’
‘Did Lucy take anything else from you apart from your car, the drugs that she shouldn’t have …?’ Sexton probes.
‘Such as?’ Nancy asks.
Sexton decides to take a punt on the hitman angle. He shrugs. ‘Money? A lot of money?’
Nigel shoots a worried look at his wife. Sexton clocks it.
‘That’s a very specific question, and it suggests you already know the answer,’ Nigel says, his voice breaking.
‘Shut up,’ Nancy blurts.
‘Even if he’s bluffing, he can find out with one phone call,’ Nigel says, tears welling up.
Sexton’s phone trills to life. He sees Jo’s number and declines the call. It goes to message. Sexton leans back in the chair. ‘How much, and when exactl
y?’ he asks.
27
The Channel 4 News jingle is playing on the box when Jo elbows Dan, who has nodded off on the couch, to answer the front door.
‘I didn’t hear anything,’ he says.
‘Someone definitely rapped,’ she tells him. ‘It’s probably Sexton, I asked him to call.’
‘Why?’
‘Sorry, love, I haven’t had a chance to tell you about what I found on Rory’s computer. He was looking up …’
A loud rap cuts her off. ‘I’d better get it before that lunatic rings the bell and wakes Harry,’ Dan answers, heading for the hall.
There is a murmured conversation at the door before Sexton arrives into the room. He walks past Jo and heads straight over to the fire to warm the backs of his legs.
‘It’s freezing out,’ he says stiffly. He has come straight from the Starlings’, after a conversation with a little girl in a communion dress waiting by his car. She must have asked him forty questions.
‘What’s wrong?’ Jo asks. ‘You usually give me a kiss on the cheek.’
‘Will someone tell me what’s going on?’ Dan cuts in gruffly.
‘I asked Sexton to come over to talk to Rory about what he went through when Maura died.’ She indicates Dan should close the door in case Rory overhears.
‘What about Maura?’ Dan asks.
Sexton throws his hands up. ‘Don’t mind me.’
‘What’s wrong, Gavin?’ Jo asks.
‘Both of you, actually. I’ve said it numerous times, but I’ll say it again, because nobody seems to be listening. I do not believe Maura committed suicide. Dan, you think I’ve got the right experience for a report on suicides, because of what happened to Maura, but as I’m the only one in the station who doesn’t believe she topped herself, you couldn’t be more wrong.
‘And Jo, at one stage, I thought you might actually believe me. You offered to help me investigate the circumstances surrounding Maura’s death, do you remember? But clearly you were just humouring me, stringing me along, because that never happened, and now you want me to counsel your son.’
Sexton swallows.
‘Gavin, that’s not true,’ Jo says.
‘Which bit?’
‘I couldn’t investigate anything when my sight went. But, as a matter of fact, I’m looking into it now.’
A tickle starts up in Sexton’s throat and makes him cough. He thumps his chest. ‘You’re what?’
‘I’ll go water the plants, shall I?’ Dan says, heading out.
‘There’s no need to look into Maura’s case any more. I’ve moved on. But for the record, Maura did not commit suicide!’
‘Well, that’s what I’m going to establish once and for all, and the reason I met your mother-in-law today.’
Sexton’s temper rises. ‘You’ve no right to do something like that without clearing it with me first.’
‘What are you talking about? You asked me to look into it, and Esther happened to be in Dublin. Why the sudden change of heart?’
‘What did she say?’
Sexton looks around, heads over to the drinks cabinet, examines a bottle of Scotch, twists the lid and reaches for a glass. He knocks back a drink and pours another.
Jo decides against telling him what she’s found out when he’s this animated. He’s got a track record of flying off the handle. ‘Now isn’t the time to go into it. I need to check on a few things first, if that’s OK with you.’ She pauses, waiting for a reaction from Sexton. He sighs and shrugs, which Jo takes for a reluctant yes. Jo changes the subject. ‘I’m sorry for asking you to talk to Rory. I should have been more sensitive. It was a bad idea.’
‘You driving?’ Dan asks, re-entering the room.
Sexton taps his nose. ‘We need to talk about the bullying case. There’s been a development.’
Dan sighs and paces to the hall door, which can be seen from the room, and holds it open. ‘I told you, I’ll see you in the morning.’
On his way out, Sexton passes Rory padding down the hall in his socks while eating from a bowl of cereal.
‘Hey, kid,’ Sexton says.
‘Dude,’ Rory says, not stopping.
Sexton glances at Jo, who has one hand on her neck, which she is rubbing and rolling.
‘Could we have a word, in private?’ Sexton asks Rory.
‘There’s no need,’ Jo cuts in, stepping into the hall.
Dan puts a hand on her back. ‘Let them talk.’
28
Rory leads Sexton into the kitchen and closes the door.
‘Story, mate?’ Rory asks.
Sexton glances at the door and lowers his voice. ‘I need to find out if you ever heard of a kid called Lucy Starling. She’s a teenager. One of the kids involved in this suicide business. Your mum mentioned you knew one of them. I just wondered if you knew her. Lucy.’
‘My mum what?’ Rory asks, outraged.
Footsteps in the hall outside suggest someone in heels is very close to the kitchen door. Sexton pulls a face for Rory to go along with him. ‘I need some help translating “Teenager” into English,’ he says, louder than necessary.
‘What?’ Rory asks.
‘I can’t keep up with the lingo on Facebook, it’s like double Dutch to me, all the poking and stuff,’ Sexton continues, still talking to the door. He clicks his fingers. “P-M-S-L”, for instance?’
‘Pissing myself laughing,’ Rory answers flatly. ‘I know of Lucy. I don’t know her personally.’
Sexton put a finger to his lips, and points at the door. ‘“P-A-L?”’ he spells out.
‘Parents are listening,’ Rory answers, throwing his eyes up to heaven. ‘Why do you want to know about Lucy anyway?’
‘“R-O-F-L”?’ Sexton practically shouts at the door, lowering his voice to turn back to Rory and adding, ‘There’s a suicide video doing the rounds. Do you know anything about that?’
‘Rolling on floor laughing,’ Rory says. ‘No, that’s the first I heard of a video.’
‘“Y-O-L-O”?’
‘You only live once,’ Rory replies.
The footsteps outside move away from the door.
‘“S-A-D,”’ Rory states. ‘As in sad. My mother’s such a head fuck.’
‘She’s just trying to protect you.’
‘My old dear thinks I’m going to put my neck in a rope like Amy, is that it?’
Sexton takes a deep breath. ‘Where did that come from?’
After a pause, Rory says, ‘Lucy was in a coma, last I heard.’ He clicks his tongue. ‘Imagine the nightmare of ending up like that when life was so bad already you wanted out.’
‘Were you close to her friend, Amy, the one who did manage it?’ Sexton asks, studying him closely.
‘Look, give me a break, will you? I barely know you, dude. I can’t believe my mum told you about this. She might have sent you to do her dirty work, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to let her get away with it.’
‘Jo’s heart is in the right place,’ Sexton says. ‘She thinks I’m in denial about Maura, but we do agree on one thing: it’s a stupid waste of life.’
Rory is indignant. ‘How come they think it’s OK to kill yourself if you’re in physical pain, but not mental? How come it’s called euthanasia if you want to put yourself out of physical misery, but if it’s mental you’re not in your right mind … you’re stupid, adolescent, petulant?’
Sexton crosses his arms. ‘You know, for a couple of years after Maura died, all I could think about was following her. Only I knew that I’d just have been passing my problems on to someone else.’
Rory is defiant. ‘So how far did you go with it when you were thinking about it? Did you drink bleach? Slash your wrists?’
Sexton puts a hand on Rory’s shoulder to make him look up. ‘Would that make you respect me more? Is it a badge of distinction to want to die now? Something to look up to?’ He pauses. ‘Human beings are the only species that commit suicide, did you know that?’
‘You d
on’t think bison stampeding off a cliff, or whales beaching themselves, indicates some form of melancholy?’
‘Touché. You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?’
‘Did you ever hear of Amanda Todd?’ Rory asks.
‘Nope.’
‘She’s like this fifteen-year-old Canadian girl who uploaded her suicide note on YouTube explaining with flashcards why she was about to do what she was about to do. You should look it up if you want to get your head around what’s going on. It’s had like a million hits or whatever. She’d met some stalker video-chatting on the Internet. He made her flash her boobs. And after that she was basically bullied to death. She killed herself last year. If you want to understand someone who was in so much pain that ending it all was easier than living, Google “Amanda Todd”.’
‘OK,’ Sexton says. ‘You said you know of Lucy?’
Rory sighs. ‘The girl I knew, Amy Reddan, she was my mate Darren’s girlfriend and palled with Lucy. But I know Lucy better since she became one of the living dead than I did when she was alive, if you must know. There was a discussion online about whether Lucy had tried to kill herself or not. Amy hanged herself in a wood. Some people want to turn it into like this suicide forest in Japan where everyone goes. They’re saying that’s where you should go if you’re going to do it. I think it’s kind of cool …’ Rory’s voice trails off.
‘Where are they saying this?’
‘A chatroom.’
‘Jesus. They think it’s cool! Really? Do you know how many kids died in Bridgend in Wales?’ A beat pause. ‘Neither do I, but it was needless, unnecessary stuff that caused an untold amount of grief for the families and friends. I think you should talk to someone.’
‘Not you as well!’ Rory blasts. ‘Christ! I don’t want to die. But if I do, that’s my right. I’m just interested in what’s going on, that’s all.’
‘So how did you know of Lucy anyway?’
‘You mean apart from through my friend, Darren? She’s in a private school; so am I. We’re all just a degree of separation.’
‘How does that work in a city this size?’
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