Tell Nobody: Absolutely gripping crime fiction with unputdownable mystery and suspense

by Patricia Gibney

  ‘What is it?’ Gilly said.

  ‘Emergency services are on the way to Duffy’s. A body has been found.’

  Hope kept her eyes fixed on the shaft of light seeping through the jamb of the door. She was parched dry from thirst, but she didn’t care about that. She just wanted to know that Lexie was okay.

  Why had she been taken? She couldn’t figure it out. The pain in her uterus was unrelenting, the bleeding uncontrollable. She should have gone back to the hospital. She should have done a lot of things. But everything she’d done so far in her life had been wrong. Everything, that is, except little Lexie.

  She remembered the day Lexie was born, and wrapping the pink blanket around her little body. Telling no one who the dad was because that was her secret. She sat up straight. An image flashed in her memory. Something to do with the birth of her baby. No, not Lexie. The baby she’d given birth to a few nights ago. She scrunched her eyes. Trying to remember. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

  She was no wiser as to what had happened or why she had been taken to this place. The only thing she did know was the identity of her abductor.

  Seventy-Five

  The ambulance arrived at the same time as the gardaí. Leaving Gilly to park the car, Lottie jumped out and ran as fast as she could through the gates and around the side of the house.

  She pulled up short when she saw Victor Shanley walking in circles, a body on the ground at the edge of a clump of bushes. Slowly, she moved towards him.

  Victor was crying, wringing his big hands together.

  ‘I was too late,’ he cried. ‘He just died. In my arms. He died. Just like that.’

  ‘Who … who is it?’ Lottie said.

  Victor didn’t answer. She held her breath, dropped to her knees beside the body. Thank God. It wasn’t Sean. She exhaled in relief. But as she stared at the bloodstained face, she couldn’t figure out what was going on.

  Somewhere high above her head, a bird was cawing loudly. Too loud. She wanted to shout at it to get the hell away. Another breath and she inhaled a modicum of calm.

  ‘You can take your time,’ she told the first paramedic to reach her. ‘He’s dead. Get someone to call the state pathologist.’

  Running her eyes over the body, she tried to spot the fatal wound. But it was difficult. She took a pair of nitrile gloves from her bag and pulled them on, then lightly traced her fingers over the hair and neck. McGlynn would go berserk. Let him. She didn’t have time to wait.

  The victim’s hands bore evidence that he had fought back. Scrapes and bloody scratches criss-crossed the knuckles. The white shirt was saturated with blood, buttons torn from it. Why was he here? Lying dead in the Duffys’ back garden.

  ‘You know who he is, don’t you?’ Victor said.

  She’d forgotten he was standing behind her. She needed to get him out of here. Standing up, she took him to one side. Steered him towards Gilly, who was standing with her mouth open and her face green.

  ‘Garda O’Donoghue, take Mr Shanley to the station. He needs to make a statement.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ Shanley protested.

  ‘You found the body. We need to eliminate you from our inquiries.’

  ‘Okay, but I need to go home soon. Sheila … she needs me.’

  ‘Of course. Garda O’Donoghue will look after you.’

  He shook his head as if trying to make sense of everything. ‘Why did this happen?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I will do my best to find out.’ Lottie watched the man being led away and wondered if she was past her best at her job. Things were spiralling out of control and she had no idea how to reel it all back in.

  As the area was being cordoned off, she phoned Boyd, then studied the body at her feet. Something was clutched in the man’s hand. Still wearing her gloves, she reached down and opened the clenched fist. Two things lay there. A torn piece of white paper, and a key.

  * * *

  Boyd arrived at the same time as the advance SOCO team.

  ‘Who is it?’ he said.

  ‘Rory Butler.’

  ‘What the hell? Someone stabbed him, did they?’ He stared at the body.

  ‘What do you think, Sherlock?’

  ‘Why? Who?’

  ‘I don’t know, and we can’t waste any more time here. We need to find Sean and Toby.’

  ‘Sean? What are you on about?’

  Lottie shook her head and pressed her fists into her eye sockets, trying to squeeze back the tears. When she felt composed enough, she said, ‘He never came home last night; as far as I know, he stayed here, with Barry. Any word on the Duffys’ whereabouts?’

  ‘Kirby and I liaised with all units. No sight of either of the cars.’

  ‘Where is Rory Butler’s car? He must have driven here.’

  ‘I’ll get the traffic lads to check.’ Boyd turned to find someone.

  ‘I’m going inside. Warrant or no warrant, we now have cause to suspect a murder has occurred on these grounds. Are you coming?’

  ‘Sure. But let’s suit up first. Just in case … Sorry.’

  ‘Just in case there are more bodies inside? I know that’s what you were about to say. If there are, let’s just hope my Sean isn’t one of them.’

  * * *

  Boyd organised a cordon around the house and an inner one around the body. With trembling hands, Lottie pulled on the protective clothing. She felt ill, bile rising up her throat and falling back down into her stomach, nestling there like stale alcohol. But she couldn’t start thinking that something awful had happened to her son. No. She had to stay strong and search and find him. For all she knew, he was at home right now. She checked her phone. Nothing. She knew her mother would contact her if he had turned up. Where on earth was he?

  ‘What do you think the key is for?’ Boyd asked as they neared the back door.

  ‘The one in Butler’s hand? I don’t know. Possibly his own house? We can head there after we’ve had a look around here.’

  A uniformed officer ran up to them.

  ‘We found Butler’s car. Parked up a lane about a kilometre away. It’s empty.’

  ‘Why not park closer to the house?’ Boyd said.

  ‘No idea, sir.’

  ‘Secure it for SOCOs.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Lottie watched the officer hurry away. ‘Butler didn’t want to be seen or heard driving up. This gets weirder.’

  She tried the back door. It was locked. Boyd went to his car and returned carrying the enforcer.

  ‘Stand back.’ He braced his legs and swung. The door shattered.

  Inside, Lottie stepped over the debris and listened. All was quiet. She was standing in a utility room bigger than the kitchen of the house she would soon be inhabiting.

  ‘There’s no one here, Boyd.’

  ‘I’ve damaged my shoulder as well as that door, so it had better be worth it. Let’s take a good look around.’

  She agreed with his enthusiasm, but her heart was filled with dread.

  When they had determined that the downstairs was clear of life, she took the lead and headed up the staircase. She pushed open the door nearest to her, the first of five, then ran from room to room.

  ‘Will you slow down. What’s the mad rush?’

  She rounded on him. ‘My son is missing. He could have been here … could still be here. You don’t have children. You have no idea what it’s like.’ She knew she sounded irrational. Well, she was. Tough, Boyd.

  ‘I do have some idea. Remember Grace.’

  She did. Boyd’s sister had disappeared a few months ago, only for a short period, but in that time, he had developed serious panic attacks. Maybe she was being a bit harsh on him. But she had no time for apologies.

  ‘Stay with me,’ she said.

  Gilly had seen the mutilated body of Rory Butler and it screamed at her to do something. After she had Victor processed and a DNA sample secured, she drove him home.

  Sitting in the squad car
outside his house, she recounted in her head all that had happened over the last few days. One thing niggled at her. No one had yet determined where Kevin Shanley had been abducted from. She looked at the green area in front of the house. If it had been from here, someone would have seen him, surely. So where else would an eleven-year-old boy go? Who would he trust? His mates? Of course, but Mikey was already dead by then. He had to have gone somewhere. Somewhere he could be alone and mourn his friend.

  She got out of the car and went back to the house. Knocked loudly. Victor opened the door.

  ‘Mr Shanley, can I have a word?’

  ‘Come in.’

  She followed him into the kitchen, where Sheila was sitting at the table.

  ‘I know you’ve been asked this over and over, but on the evening Kevin went missing, do you have any idea where he might have been taken from?’

  ‘I don’t know. I was out. Sheila was here all day.’

  Sheila looked up. ‘It’s like I told the other guards. Kevin and I had had a row. He ran out the door with his football under his arm. I thought he’d come back later, but he never did.’

  ‘You saw him, did you? Out on the green, playing football?’

  Sheila shrugged. ‘He had the ball with him. I assumed that was where he was. But he had to have gone off somewhere else. Otherwise he would’ve come home, wouldn’t he?’

  Gilly knew she had to ask the right questions, but she wasn’t at all sure what they should be.

  ‘You told detectives that he was friends with Toby Collins. Was there anywhere in particular Toby and Kevin liked to go? You know, a hideout, or a den?’

  ‘They played on the green at the back of Munbally when we lived there. And sometimes they messed around at the old tyre depot on the industrial estate.’

  ‘Okay.’ Gilly knew Toby wasn’t there. They’d had it cordoned off since she’d found Lexie.

  Sheila said, ‘I wouldn’t trust that brother of Toby’s, though.’

  I wouldn’t either, thought Gilly. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Max was into hard drugs a few years ago. I can’t prove it, but I heard rumours he sold his body for sex. To make money for his drug habit.’

  ‘Where did you hear these rumours from?’

  Sheila shrugged. ‘Perhaps I heard it on the estate when I lived in Munbally. Everyone gossiped there. Much better living here.’ Then, as if she realised the irony of her words, she began to sob.

  Gilly noticed the glass in the woman’s hand. Possibly the drink talking, she thought. ‘I’ll have another chat with Max Collins.’

  Sheila took a mouthful from her glass. ‘And that Hope one, the cleaner at the school, she was into him too.’

  ‘Hope Cotter and Max Collins?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Gilly was thinking hard and fast. Could Max Collins have abused the boys? Was he involved with the death of the baby at the canal?

  Sheila started to cry.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Shanley.’

  Gilly ran to the car. She had to talk to Max Collins, and quickly.

  Seventy-Six

  Rose was wary about opening her front door, especially after her encounter with Leo Belfield yesterday. But she was worried about Sean. Maybe he’d forgotten his key. Chloe and Katie had gone into town and she was minding the baby. She hefted her nine-month-old great-grandson onto her hip and went into the hall.

  She opened the door tentatively and sighed with relief.

  ‘Sean! Where were you? You had me worried to death. Come in. Come in. And who is this?’

  Sean was looking at her with a strained expression on his face. His voice was a higher pitch than usual. ‘This is Barry. He’s leaving right now.’

  ‘I’m coming in. That game, Sean. The one you wanted to lend me. Can I get it now?’

  Rose stood to one side as the teenager shoved Sean through the door in front of him then paused to tickle Louis under his chin.

  ‘That’s one cute baby you’ve got there, Granny. Anything to eat?’ he said. ‘I’m starving.’

  ‘Where were you, Sean?’ Rose said, ignoring the other boy.

  ‘It’s okay, Gran. I’m fine. Just put Louis in the buggy. Go for a walk.’ Sean was giving her that funny look again.

  ‘This is my house, Sean Parker. I’m not going anywhere. Speak up or I’m ringing your mother.’

  ‘You’re not going to ring anyone,’ Barry said.

  Rose looked on in horror as the boy produced a knife from his trouser pocket.

  ‘Put that down now,’ she said, in a voice she didn’t recognise as her own. ‘And get out of my house this instant.’ Her phone was on the counter beside the refrigerator, where she’d left it before she went to answer the door. How could she get a message to Lottie? The teenager was approaching her. Why wasn’t Sean doing something to stop him?

  ‘Oh no, Granny,’ Barry mocked, ‘you’re going to do things my way.’ He walked over, picked up her phone. ‘Unlock it.’

  ‘Barry,’ Sean said, ‘leave my gran alone.’

  ‘You shut your face and sit down. I told you what’d happen if you crossed me. One call and he’s dead. Okay?’ He pointed the knife towards Louis.

  ‘Okay.’ Sean sat down in the nearest chair.

  Barry held the phone out to Rose. There wasn’t much she could do with Louis in her arms, so she put in her code and handed it back.

  ‘Now let’s get the detective over here,’ Barry said.

  Rose watched as the teenager opened up her messages and started to tap out a text to Lottie.

  ‘Can I put the baby down in his cot? He needs his nap.’

  ‘Here, let me hold him,’ Barry said.

  Backing up against the wall, with a pain banging like a drum behind her eyes, Rose held on to Louis as tightly as she could. As Barry approached her with the knife, she felt the blood drain from her body and a lightness spread though her brain. Don’t faint, she warned herself. But as the boy wrestled the baby from her arms, she sank to her knees and the world turned black.

  Seventy-Seven

  The Duffys’ master bedroom was dark with the curtains drawn. The only brightness in the room came from a massive painting hanging above the bed, which was unmade.

  ‘This picture is like the one they have in the living room, and both are similar to the one in Rory Butler’s house.’ Lottie walked closer, trying to see beyond the abstract lines and colour. ‘I think it has a signature.’ She leaned over the bed to get a closer look. ‘I can’t make it out, can you?’

  Boyd drew back the heavy curtains and a stream of light highlighted dust swimming in the air. He joined her and they both squinted at the signature.

  ‘Looks like a D,’ he said. ‘Could it be Duffy?’

  Her phone vibrated in the back pocket of her jeans before she could reply. Her fingers were clumsy with the protective gloves as she tried to swipe upwards to unlock it.

  ‘It’s a text from my mother.’ She read it quickly. ‘Shit, Boyd, we’d better get over there. Something’s not right.’

  ‘Why? What does she say?’

  ‘I don’t think she’s the one who sent it. I think someone’s got her phone and is pretending to be her.’

  She was already running past him, out of the door, and was almost at the bottom of the stairs when she realised he wasn’t following. ‘Come on, Boyd!’

  ‘What did the text say?’

  ‘I’ll tell you in the car. Something about Sean being home and needing me. It’s signed “Mum”. Rose never refers to herself that way. I always call her Rose or Mother, even though she isn’t—’

  ‘All right, I’m coming,’ Boyd said. ‘No need to go over that old ground.’

  With Maria Lynch sitting beside her, Gilly faced Max Collins in the interview room. The boy looked wired. Withdrawal symptoms, worry or just belligerence? She had no idea, but she needed answers.

  She was glad Lynch had allowed her to take the lead, mainly because she hadn’t had time to explain anything to the detective.
She supposed subconsciously she looked on it as a chance to progress her career, but most importantly she knew Toby’s life was at risk, and possibly Sean Parker’s, and that she might be their only hope.

  ‘What was in the message Toby got? The one you referred to.’

  ‘I don’t know. It was just something on his PlayStation chat.’

  ‘Did it tell him to go to the tyre depot? Is that why you turned up there looking for him?’

  Max was silent.

  ‘Did you know your little brother was being abused?’ Gilly didn’t know if this was actually true, but she needed to rattle Max into giving her something.

  ‘What? You’re a stinking rotten bitch. He was not. That’s a fucking lie.’

  ‘Were you abused?’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  Gilly studied his bodily reactions. Eyelids flickering. Fingers drumming on his folded arms.

  ‘How young were you when it first happened? Not much older than Toby, I’d guess. Then you got into it for money. For your drugs. Now you’re afraid the same person has Toby. That same person abused your little brother. Is that right?’

  He shook his head. ‘No one touched Toby. He’d have told me.’

  ‘Do you think so? I imagine he might be terrified to tell you anything. I know I would be.’

  Max’s eyes filled up and he sniffed. ‘The boys hung around the depot sometimes. I didn’t think there was any harm. Gave them somewhere to go other than that kip of an estate.’

  ‘And did they go there often?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘What did they do there?’

  ‘Used it like a den, I imagine. They’re only kids. They need their own space.’

  ‘It’s likely then that Kevin Shanley was there the night he was abducted and murdered?’

  ‘Is that a question?’ Some of the arrogance had returned, but Gilly could see his heart wasn’t in it any more.

  ‘Who else knew the kids hung out there?’