The Exile

by James Patterson

  Bridie was at his side, staring down at the half-open eyes, the blue lips, the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

  O’Grady straightened up, holding the mask. He turned towards Bridie. “Justice for your sister. At last.”

  Bobby had woken, and now stumbled through the door, searching for his mother. Behind him Vera ran to catch him, crouched down next to him to prevent him getting any nearer, enfolding him in her arms.

  “Mammy,” he called, and Bridie went to him, and held him. “Everything’s all right,” she said. She turned to Vera. “I’m calling an ambulance. One of them is still alive.”

  She went into the house. Bobby looked up at O’Grady, at the mask he was holding in his hand. He broke away from Vera, ran to O’Grady and reached up to it. O’Grady handed him the mask. Bobby studied it, holding it in his small, steady fingers. Then he passed it back to O’Grady. He shook his head. “This wasn’t the one in my dream,” he said. “The one I saw was a special one, a magic one, like a real tree. This is just a silly one.”

  Chapter 25

  The ambulance came. Hawthorne was stretchered away, his consciousness fading from blood loss, but still uttering threats of vengeance.

  The ambulance drove away into the night. Then came the police, DS Driscoll and DC Laverty again. “Getting to be a habit hanging around the Salter residence,” O’Grady said to them. DC Laverty gave a thin smile. DS Driscoll took out a notebook. “There are quite a lot of questions I need to ask you, Mr. O’Grady,” he said.

  O’Grady led them into the house. They sat in the dim light of the front room.

  “Yes,” O’Grady said. “I fired. Three times.”

  “You killed two men,” DS Driscoll said.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  DC Laverty was trying not to stare.

  “You injured Chief Super Hawthorne,” Driscoll went on. “Did you mean to kill him?”

  O’Grady shook his head. “I didn’t want him dead.”

  “But the others—you shot to kill?”

  O’Grady looked at DS Driscoll. “They’d come armed. They wanted me dead. It was self-defense.” He leaned back in his seat. “And I shall argue that in court. Am I under arrest?”

  The two young officers glanced at each other.

  “You can arrest me now,” O’Grady said, “or you can come back whenever you like. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Bridie had appeared from upstairs. He saw her flicker of a smile.

  The two officers got to their feet. “We are instructing you to report to Garda HQ first thing in the morning. Is that clear?” DS Driscoll looked firmly at O’Grady.

  “Yes, officers. That is perfectly clear.”

  He showed them to the door. They left with a breath of relief.

  Vera came downstairs. “He’s asleep,” she said to Bridie. “He seems perfectly calm now.”

  Bridie made a pot of tea. They sat at the kitchen table in the warmth of the range.

  Once Vera had gone to bed, Bridie and O’Grady sat in silence. Outside it was still night. She stirred her spoon around in her mug, then turned to him. “Justice for my sister,” she said. “At last.” She reached across and took hold of his hand. She raised it to her lips, kissing each finger. She looked across at him, her eyes dark with yearning. “Justice,” she said again. “And now I’m free.”

  Chapter 26

  O’Grady lay awake next to Bridie. He felt himself very much in love with her. Like at the beginning, he thought. As if the years between had simply faded away.

  She was fast asleep, the sheets draped across her naked form. He watched her soft breathing, the curves of her body, her silky skin.

  Outside, the dawn was just beginning to break, a blur of pale blue at the edges of the sky.

  He looked up and stared at the ceiling. He was aware of feeling anxious, a sense of dread.

  But why? he thought. Why this feeling that the story isn’t over?

  He got up, restless, went out onto the landing in the early dawn light.

  The door to Bobby’s room was wide open.

  O’Grady ran into the room. The bed was empty, the covers pulled back. The window was flung wide, the curtains twitching in the breeze.

  He went to the window. A ladder led down from it into the garden.

  He ran to Bridie, shook her. “He’s gone, Bobby—”

  She was bolt upright in terror. “Water,” she said. “Oh, my God. Water.”

  “But they’re dead,” O’Grady said. “O’Connor, MacAteer. And Hawthorne’s in hospital—”

  “Water,” she said again. “Don’t you see? This is the real Green Man. I was right.”

  “I don’t believe in ghosts,” O’Grady said. “Come on.” He dragged her downstairs, draped a coat around her, pushed her in front of him outside to the car.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to the only place that makes any sense,” he said. “While there’s still time.”

  Chapter 27

  The weir was a sheer drop, falling away from the old red-brick mill, its foaming water rushing downwards against the stones.

  They could see him, Bobby, a tiny figure in the gray dawn light, standing apparently alone, inches from the edge.

  Then they saw, behind him, a ghostly figure. A green robe, a mask of leaves and branches, an interweaving of greenery. Fiery eyes seemed to peer out from the foliage. The figure was singing, a low, guttural song.

  Its arm was extended, as if about to push Bobby into the weir.

  “Bobby!” Bridie shouted.

  The boy turned and saw her. He appeared unafraid. Behind him the Green Man’s hand darted outwards. At the same moment, O’Grady fired. The monster crumpled to the ground.

  Bobby screamed and fled into his mother’s arms.

  O’Grady ran to the wounded figure, which even now was stumbling to its feet. O’Grady could see that this Green Man, unlike the clumsy giant of Kiley MacAteer, was really very small.

  “You are no ghost,” he said, his hand reaching out to the mask.

  Before he could touch it, the figure put its hand up and took off the mask. Standing there, shaking with shock, bleeding heavily, was Vera Joyce.

  Bobby looked at her, tears streaming down his face. “Nana Vee said we’d go and see the cogwheels. She said it was a treat.…” He looked up at O’Grady. “Why did you hurt her?”

  Chapter 28

  Bridie held her son tight in her arms as he sobbed. O’Grady went to Vera and helped her to sit down, putting his jacket around her shoulders.

  Bridie began to speak, her voice weak with shock. “Why?”

  Vera was pale but her words were clear. “The end of the Salters,” she said. “My singing will see them out of this world and into the darkness.”

  “But…” O’Grady shook his head. “You’ve loved the Salters.…”

  “Richard,” she said. “But even Richard was too weak to overcome the evil of his father. I was only fifteen when I started working for James Salter,” she said. “I knew nothing about life. A country girl. I knew it was wrong, but who could I tell? The priest would tell me I was sinful. I thought I was sinful. James would tell me it was my fault for being a temptress, even though it was him forcing me, hurting me, time after time.…” Her voice weakened. O’Grady adjusted his coat around her shoulders.

  “Then he got ill and old, and it stopped. And then he died. By then I knew…I knew the harm he’d done. I knew I couldn’t have children. And my mind…it was as if he’d put thoughts there, devil’s thoughts, like threads of badness woven through my thinking.…” She stopped, breathed. “But Richard was kind, and gave me work, work that followed my own passions, about singing and dance and the old stories. I was happy, in a way. The devil threads, they lessened, diminished. I was happy to see Richard married to Ellen, I was happy when his children came along, although it was true that James was present still in the behavior of the boys. But Bridie here…” She smiled at Bridie, a brief glow of war
mth in her eyes.

  “But…” Her face shadowed. “The demons were always there. I was so harmed, so angry…those times with—with him, when I was so young, so confused, sometimes those memories would appear in my mind as if they were happening now, right now, that hurt, that shame, that pleading for him to stop, please stop, and his voice, mocking, abusing, saying words, nasty devil words, what he was about to do…” She stopped, a breathing sob, then continued.

  “I might have done nothing. Nothing at all. I might have taken all that evil to my grave. Even when that terrible harm came to Maura, that brought it all back, even then I did nothing. But then I overheard Sean one day, out near the estate, talking to that evil MacAteer man, and they were worrying about ghosts. Funny how people can be. They were worrying about the land beneath those new houses, and the old stories about it being cursed. They asked me about holy water. And so I told them about the Green Man, the spirit of the earth, who will always rise again. I saw it in their eyes, their greed. What they would be willing to do. And so I planted a seed, a germ of an idea, about hauntings and revenge, and how the Green Man will claim his land for himself. And sure enough, some days later, Sean came to me and asked me lots of questions—what did the Green Man look like—and I told him. I told him about the singing, I did some for him, the ancient chant, and he recorded it on his phone. I had this mask, a Green Man mask from my research with Richard.” She touched it as it lay at her side. “He’d brought it from Canterbury or somewhere. I got it out, and Sean stared at it, studied it. I think it frightened him.…” She gave a small smile.

  “After Sean had gone, I sat there, thinking and thinking, and it was like my mind was allowing all that pain to fill the space, and all I could think was, it is justice at last, the end of the Salter line. I knew what they were planning—Sean had let slip about ghosts and lineage. I knew what he meant, though I don’t think he realized what he’d betrayed.…That night I took the mask, and I tried it out—that’s when Bobby saw it. And then I sat back and waited. All I had to do was wait.” She managed another smile, although she was chalk white and trembling now. “They made their plastic Green Man mask. They copied my song. They sang it very badly. Sometimes I would hide nearby and sing it for real. It frightened them.” She gave a weak laugh.

  “We must get you an ambulance,” Bridie said.

  Vera glanced at Bridie, at Bobby curled in her arms. She spoke again. “He would take me here, your grandfather. To the old mill. I didn’t know how to argue with him. I’ve never told anyone about this before, ever. He would say I was bad, he’d tell me it was my fault, that I deserved it.…After a while I didn’t know how else to think about it. And now, when I bring little Bobby here, and I watch him playing with the machine, so happy…” She reached up, her hand touching her hair. “My thoughts all go wrong. Your grandfather did such bad things to me here.…” She took a breath, went on. “Your sweet, innocent boy there, your dear son…I wanted him dead. That’s how evil I am.”

  “Vera—you need help,” Bridie said.

  Vera shook her head. “There’s one part of the story you don’t know,” she said. “Six months ago, I was told I had cancer. It started in my brain. It’s everywhere now. I don’t have long to live.” She lurched unevenly to her feet. “I don’t want to die that way.”

  She stood, looking down at Bridie and Bobby. She limped over to him and stroked his head. “I used to look at this sweet boy here and think, if there was a God, He would not have allowed this. I was deprived of motherhood. That wicked man stole my faith, my hope, and he left devils lurking within me. He forced me to carry his guilt and yet had none at all himself. It gave me anger, like an illness—I couldn’t contain it, all that hatred, that shame. But now…” She took a step away. “It’s funny,” she said. “It’s all gone. I look within my heart and I feel only peace.”

  She surveyed them all. “For all these years, I’ve been unable to see clearly. I’ve looked at this child, and all I’ve been able to see is the evil that was done to me by that man. But now…Now all shall be well.” She smiled. “I am guilty of one crime only, and that is a crime against the Green Man himself.” She picked up the mask, leaned it against the wall behind her. “I warped his story when I told it to the O’Connor boy. I made it a story of vengeance and killing, when the truth of the Green Man is about renewal and hope, and the warmth of the earth allowing life to live once more. But I’m sure he will forgive me that. In fact, I know he has…”

  She took a sudden rush of steps towards the mill race. O’Grady lunged towards her, grabbing at her green skirts as they floated out behind her like a sail. But she slipped through his grasp and disappeared, down into the depths.

  Chapter 29

  Bridie turned to O’Grady. “What do we do now?” she said. “Do we walk away?”

  He watched the tumbling stream. “There’s a woman down there.…”

  “Finn—we can’t help her. Not now.”

  He pulled out his phone.

  “The police?” she said. “What if they take you away from me?”

  He punched in a number. “Don’t worry,” he said. “They won’t.”

  She heard him speak into his phone. He clicked it off. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll wait. We can watch the cogwheels.”

  Bobby stared blankly towards the water. Bridie bent, cradled him in her arms. Then she went over to the mask and picked it up.

  “What are you going to do with that?”

  She looked at it. “He’s coming with us. It’s what Vera said. The Green Man is a story of redemption and hope. And God knows we need it now.”

  The sun was high in the sky when they saw the cars arriving at the watermill. Two cars, a yellow-striped Mondeo patrol car, and an unmarked black Volvo. The Volvo slid silently to a halt. The doors opened. A figure got out, a broad, tall man in a dark suit and thick boots.

  He took a step towards O’Grady. He held out his arm. “Didn’t I always say, if you need me, call.”

  O’Grady went to greet him, grasped his hand. “Fallon,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”

  “And it’s taken till now.” Ryan Fallon laughed.

  “Guess we had to wait until HQ was ready for you,” O’Grady said.

  “Ready for the two of us. Let’s go.” He turned towards the cars.

  O’Grady hesitated, looking at the river. “Miss Joyce,” he said.

  Fallon followed his gaze. “The rivers team are on it, after your call. They’ll be trawling further downstream. He glanced at O’Grady. “I don’t hold out much hope. Come on, fella.”

  Bobby and Bridie were led to the patrol car. Bobby was less tearful now, and cheered up even more when he was allowed to play with the radio and switch the sirens on and off.

  Bridie walked over to O’Grady. She took him in her arms, then turned to Fallon. “Look after him,” she said.

  O’Grady sat next to Fallon in the unmarked car.

  “HQ are expecting me,” he said to Fallon.

  “They’re expecting me too,” Fallon said. “Hawthorne was questioned in hospital. He’s saying nothing, of course. It’s up to us to tell them the truth. And this time they’ll listen. They rang me at HQ, asked me to come in. Reckon they need a safe pair of hands.”

  “They’ll get it with you,” O’Grady said.

  “And you?” Fallon stared at the road ahead, waiting for his answer.

  “I can’t see they’ll be in a hurry to invite me back, Fallon.”

  “All you’ve done is put two villains out of the way. And one out of his job. What’s not to like?”

  O’Grady laughed.

  “It’ll be a breeze, fella. They’ll sit you down in the recording room, and you’ll tell them the whole story. End of.”

  They drove to HQ. Fallon left him in a windowless room with two officers, one male, one female. Microphones were set up, recording devices switched on. They sat opposite him, notebooks poised.

  He began to talk. He began at the end, with Vera disappe
aring into the water. He talked about finding Bobby missing, the race to the weir, then, working further back, he told them about the ghost estate, Kiley MacAteer, Sean O’Connor, the inheritance of the land, the need for a water source. He told them about the rape and killing of Maura Salter, and the cover-up at the highest levels. He told them about his investigations when he was still a sergeant, how his work was ignored, overruled. He told them about the death of Gregson Elliott, and that the only fingerprints on the pistol that killed him would be Brian Hawthorne’s. He told them where to find the DNA samples he had secretly stored.

  They sat, wrote, listened.

  He quietened, stopped.

  They looked up at him. “And Miss Joyce?” they asked. “We still don’t understand. How was it that this upright, moral, elderly lady had intended to kill a six-year-old boy?”

  O’Grady took a deep breath. “This is what she told me,” he began. And so he went on, told them all about the Green Man, Richard Salter’s research, Vera’s recreation of the myth.

  “But why?” the male officer said. “I still don’t understand.”

  O’Grady hesitated. In his mind, he saw her standing there in the pale dawn light, injured, bleeding, owning her past, telling her pain. He began to speak. “It was like this,” he said. And he retold Vera’s story, trying to be true to her words, trying to recall all that she’d said, how as a young girl her trust had been so evilly betrayed, how her life had been destroyed.

  The two officers sat, listened, scribbled.

  At last he got to the end. They looked up from their notes. The woman officer breathed a sigh. “Sounds like a fairy tale,” she said. “Except fairy tales have happy endings.”