The Ruin

by Dervla McTiernan

  ‘I don’t want to hear about sorry. You could have called me forty times since yesterday, and you chose not to.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that. I couldn’t call you last night because my phone died. By the time I got out of Dóchas it was dead as a doornail. And I got back too late. I wasn’t bothered about it because I figured I’d see you this morning and I’d tell you then.’

  ‘Danny, you were sitting at your desk all morning. You could have given me a heads up at any time.’

  Danny grimaced. ‘Hackett was waiting for me when I got in. I’d told Healy that I had to go to Dublin to work on something for her. Look, I’ve no holidays left. I had to take the time, Lorna’s friend hadn’t called me back all week, and no one who knows her knew anything about a music festival. They all thought Lorna was coming home for the weekend.’

  Christ. Cormac blew out a long breath.

  ‘Hackett was all over me, she was going to put me on report. I can’t afford to have her pissed off with me too. You know I’m on the outs with the task force. If Hackett won’t work with me I’m fucked. And I just moved the family to Galway. So I told her about the Collins thing, to get her off my back.’

  ‘Did you find her?’

  ‘Lorna’s friend? Yes.’ Danny’s face was grim. ‘I found her and it was all bullshit. Lorna never said anything about a music festival. She just said she had because when she saw on social media that Lorna’s family were looking for her, she assumed Lorna was up to something she didn’t want to share with us. She lied, stupid bitch, because she thought Lorna would appreciate a bit of cover. It was only when Lorna never called her back, never answered her messages, that she realised something more might be going on, and then she started to freak out. Went to ground.’

  Cormac said nothing. He was still angry with Danny for throwing him under the bus, but at the same time what Danny was dealing with was far more serious than a career . . . what? Blip? Danny should have told Hackett the truth about what was going on.

  Cormac felt an overwhelming urge to hit someone, and it wasn’t just because of the politics.

  ‘Hannah Collins, she’s motivated?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Hackett said she’d tried to peddle information before, but it wasn’t useful. Now she’s selling out an old friend. What’s her motivation?’

  Danny had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘She’s had a baby. While she’s been inside. Baby’s ten months old.’

  ‘Jesus, Dan.’

  ‘I know. But Cormac, I’m telling you, she just came out with all of this stuff. It was too detailed, too fast. It has to be true.’

  ‘And you offered her the deal?’

  ‘I didn’t commit, but I hinted at it.’

  Dóchas, the women’s prison attached to Mountjoy, was overcrowded and underfunded. Drug abuse was rampant. Women who came to Dóchas pregnant, or with a young infant, were allowed to keep their babies with them until they were twelve months old. Then the baby had to be taken from the prison, into the care of a family member, or if that wasn’t possible, to foster care. If Hannah Collins had a baby, and wanted to keep it, she could not have better motivation to lie about what had happened twenty years before.

  ‘Danny, this information is shaky at best. I don’t care how fast she came up with the story.’ Hannah Collins had read Danny, and had played him, Cormac was sure of it. ‘Hackett going straight to Murphy with this was out of line. It was fucking unprofessional.’

  Danny glanced back towards the station. ‘She would never have come to you. I should have copped that from the beginning.’

  There was a sudden bustle at the station door, voices in conversation. It was a group of young uniforms coming off shift. Cormac became aware of his stance, and his expression, and he consciously relaxed his posture. If the uniforms were curious about the conversation they didn’t show it, studiously keeping their attention on each other as they walked to the other end of the carpark.

  ‘Why?’ asked Cormac. ‘Why wouldn’t Hackett come to me?’

  Danny shook his head slowly, looked at him watchfully. ‘There’s a rumour going around,’ Danny said. ‘About you and Maude Blake. Someone saw you leaving her hotel room on Tuesday morning. Very early.’

  Cormac’s mouth fell open. He stood there, gaping, for what felt like minutes. Then the fury barrelled through him.

  ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ he hissed. ‘I got the case on Monday. Went to the pub with you and Fisher, in case you’ve forgotten. But somehow I end up in bed with Maude Blake, someone I first met as a victim, as a child – my fucking suspect – a couple of hours later.’

  Danny shrugged, looked away. ‘I went home early,’ he said. ‘Left you to it.’

  Jesus Christ. Cormac had never wanted to hit someone as much as he wanted to hit Danny in that moment. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

  ‘I’m not saying anything happened,’ Danny said. ‘Personally, I don’t believe it, and I told them that. But people know about you and Emma. They’re saying you have form.’

  Cormac felt the rage burn up through him, a flash of fury so intense that for a moment his vision darkened. He hid it all behind a gentle shake of his head, a sardonic smile.

  ‘Jesus, you must be shy of something to talk about in this part of the world.’ He rocked back on his heels. ‘Where did the rumour start, Dan?’ he asked.

  Danny shook his head unhappily. ‘I don’t know. By the time I heard it half the squad was talking about it.’

  ‘And Emma? Our history? That isn’t common knowledge.’

  But now Danny’s eyes were impatient. ‘Cormac, it’s the bloody Garda Síochána. Half the country probably knew about that after your first date.’

  Cormac’s phone started to ring and he took it from his pocket, checked the screen. It was Matt, calling him back. Maybe with information about Anthony Healy. Cormac muted the call.

  ‘Tell me, Dan,’ he said, keeping his tone conversational. ‘What’s the story with Healy?’

  ‘What?’ Danny looked confused, wrongfooted by the turn in the conversation.

  ‘Don’t bullshit me. I know there’s something going on. Healy’s worried about you. I want to know why.’

  Danny stared back at him. His face was completely blank. ‘Nothing’s happened. He doesn’t like me, I don’t like him. It’s a personality clash, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s not what you said last time we spoke about this. You said you couldn’t talk then for fear of the backlash. But I’m telling you Dan, if you know something, now’s the time to come out with it.’

  Danny grimaced, a tight twist of his mouth. ‘I’m on the outs because Healy has no respect for anyone outside the unit. He doesn’t want locals on the team, doesn’t want us screwing up his good work. That’s it.’

  Danny’s expression oozed sincerity. He was a good liar. If Healy hadn’t been so obvious, Cormac might even have believed him.

  Danny checked his watch. ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I have to meet my parents. Fill them in on what’s being done to find Lorna.’ His expression was bleak. ‘I don’t know if they’ll ever forgive me for getting it so wrong.’

  Christ. Cormac felt completely off balance. He was having a go when Danny was trying to process the fact that the sister he’d thought was on the tear had in fact been missing for nearly two weeks now, was in God only knew what sort of trouble, while he’d been running around doing everything possible to slow the work of the team looking for her. ‘I’m sorry, Danny. If there’s anything I can do, you’ll ask me?’

  Danny shook his head. ‘Do one thing for me, Cormac. Just take another look at your case, will you? The look on your face in there, when you heard about Hannah’s statement. I’m worried that you have blinders on about this woman. Maybe she’s not the innocent victim she was when you met her. Maybe she was never the innocent victim.’

  Cormac said nothing, and Danny shook his head in exasperation.

  ‘Do you know when she came back to Ireland?’ Danny
asked. ‘It wasn’t for the funeral. Her flight landed in Ireland on the thirteenth of March, three days before her brother died.’

  And that hit Cormac, hard. For the first time he realised how badly he wanted Maude to be innocent. How convinced of her innocence he was.

  ‘Just think about it, Cormac, okay?’ Danny said. Then he turned, and walked back into the station. Cormac followed a moment later, returned to his desk just long enough to grab his coat and his notebook, and got out of there.

  He was dialling Emma’s number before he’d gone ten metres from the station.

  ‘Em?’

  ‘Hi. Yeah, hang on just two seconds.’ Then, a moment later, ‘So, what do you think? Will we go?’

  It took him a moment to remember what she was talking about, another to realise that he had called her without thinking, to pour out the story to her, to find reassurance and comfort in her support. Christ. Emma couldn’t fix this, and dumping it all on her would be a shitty thing to do.

  ‘Cormac?’

  ‘Yeah, Em, sorry. I can’t go away this weekend. Just rang to tell you. Things are picking up at the station, I may have to work.’

  ‘Oh. But that’s good, isn’t it? Something’s happening on the case?’

  Cormac was crossing over the bridge, the wind whipped her words away. He cupped the bottom of his phone with his other hand, pressed it to his ear.

  ‘Yeah, lots happening. We’ll go next weekend, all right?’

  Even with the wind he could pick up the relief in her voice, the lightness in her tone when she agreed, and suggested alternative plans for their weekend. A late breakfast together on Saturday, before he started work. If he was going to work then maybe she would too, and then perhaps they could go out to eat afterwards. He agreed with everything, his mind already elsewhere. He said his goodbyes and was about to hang up when she spoke again.

  ‘Corm? Is everything all right, really?’

  He hesitated. ‘Everything’s fine, Em. Got to run.’

  Cormac hung up, and put his phone back in his pocket. It was the first time he had lied to her. Well, the first time about anything that mattered. Was that true? Hadn’t he lied to her about the move to Galway? No. He’d been okay with that, genuinely. Convinced that he’d be able to make it work. How wrong he had been. Someone in the station wanted to take him down, and it went beyond petty professional jealousy, didn’t it? That rumour about Maude Blake, that was dangerous. That was a career killer. And there was fuck all he could do about it. If he responded to it he gave it life, legitimacy. And if he ignored it, it would fester. Cormac stopped, realising that he had walked halfway up Shop Street with no destination in mind. He wasn’t ready to return to the station, not until he’d had a chance to think everything through. He was standing directly outside Elles Cafe. Food might help. Coffee definitely would.

  He went inside, ignoring the queue at the take-away counter. He ordered coffee and a sandwich, and found a seat at the back of the room. The tables were small, the chairs delicate. He settled himself gingerly into a chair not designed for a six-foot-three, one-hundred-and-ninety-pound man. His legs barely fit under the table. The café was busy. Background music and the chatter of multiple conversations blocking out individual voices. Cormac took out his notebook, flicked back through the pages. He thought best with a pen in his hand, a piece of paper in front of him. He had orders to bring Maude Blake in for questioning. But he wasn’t ready. It was too soon.

  Was there a chance that Danny was right? Did he have blinkers on when it came to this case? He flicked back through his notes, following the logic of his investigation so far. No. It was bullshit. If Danny, or anyone else for that matter, thought that he was missing or ignoring evidence because he was convinced of Maude’s innocence, they were wrong.

  ‘How ya.’

  He looked up. ‘Detective O’Halloran.’

  She took the seat opposite him without waiting for an invitation. She was wearing a black rain jacket. Her curly hair was damp and tousled by the wind. She was eating an apple; she took a small bite, chewed and swallowed. ‘I worked with a friend of yours last year, on a sex-trafficking thing. Séan Hegarty. You know him, right?’ She didn’t wait for his response. ‘I called him up, asked about you. He said you’re good at your job.’ The expression on Carrie’s face said she had trouble believing it.

  ‘I’ll have to thank Séan, next time I see him,’ said Cormac. He didn’t say that Séan had said the same about her.

  She took another bite of her apple, chewed, waited for him to fill the silence. Cormac took a bite from his sandwich, chewed and washed it down with coffee. Said nothing.

  ‘You’re good friends with McIntyre, aren’t you?’ Carrie said, eventually. Cormac raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Known him a long time, have you? Old school friends, is that the story?’

  ‘We were in Templemore at the same time,’ Cormac said.

  ‘Stayed in touch over the years? Meet up regularly with the wives, the kids, that sort of thing?’ Her eyes strayed to Cormac’s left hand, where she clocked the absence of a wedding ring.

  ‘I wouldn’t say that, no,’ said Cormac. Her questions had the rhythm of an interrogation. He could tell her to fuck off, but he was curious to see where she was going. She was interesting, too. Something about the brightness of her eyes, the birdlike cock of her head.

  ‘He’s had a bit of a hard time lately, your friend.’

  Cormac laughed. ‘Fair to say you’ve had something to do with that.’

  ‘He’s told you she’s at a music festival, hasn’t he? In Wales.’

  ‘That’s what he thought. Not anymore.’

  ‘Because of the mystery friend, right? The mystery friend that no one else has spoken to, that no one else has ever heard of.’

  Cormac had his sandwich halfway to his mouth. He put it down. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘Only that I tried the number Danny gave me. It was a pay as you go mobile, and it hasn’t been switched on in two weeks. Not a single ping. How many twenty-year-olds do you know who can do without their phone that long?’

  ‘You think Danny made her up. Why?’

  ‘To stop the search for his sister.’

  Cormac shook his head. ‘That’s ridiculous. Why would Danny do that? Even if he . . . there’d be no point to it. The best he would achieve is to delay the search, not stop it.’

  ‘I know.’ She spread her hands wide. ‘It’s a mystery.’

  Cormac sat back in his chair. ‘What exactly do you think happened to her?’

  ‘Lorna’s been living with an aunt in Dublin. She went home for a weekend visit, for Paddy’s Day, never came back. I know Lorna, from an incident last year. When the aunt reported her as a missing person the case came to me.’

  ‘And you’ve run with it.’

  A flash of anger crossed her face and was gone. She placed her apple core neatly on the table, balanced on one end.

  ‘Maybe you should ask him about it yourself,’ she said.

  ‘Ask him what? Danny went to Dublin, he found the friend. Who wasn’t calling him back either, by the way. He found her and she finally told him the truth. Now Danny’s doing everything he can to make things right.’

  She smiled. A quick, happy smile, incongruous to the situation.

  ‘He does seem to be, doesn’t he? Still, he could probably use a friend. Might be best to stay close to him. Might take your mind off your own problems.’ She stood, slapped the table briskly. ‘Enjoy your lunch, detective. And best of luck with your case.’

  ‘O’Halloran.’

  She’d taken a few steps away, but stopped when she heard her name, turned inquiring eyes towards him. She wasn’t what he had been expecting. He wanted to ask her why she’d come to him, what she expected him to do. She obviously had a theory, and he wanted to push her to share it. He wanted to ask too about the tension he’d felt at the station, if she knew what was going on with Anthony Healy. But all of that would take trust, and he barely k
new her. He shook his head, returned his attention to his meal.

  ‘I didn’t believe it, if that’s what you’re wondering,’ she said.

  And she was gone.

  Friday 29 March 2013

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  He had his orders and the clock was ticking. He wasn’t ready to bring Maude in for formal questioning, but he wanted to take her temperature, get a read. First thing Friday morning he called to the hotel, asked for her at the front desk, but there was no answer from her room. He left a message and his mobile number. She might call him. If not he would call back at the end of the day. After that he went to the office, caught up on messages, tried to find Danny, but he wasn’t at his desk and he wasn’t answering his phone. After what he’d found in Dublin he might have taken some time off, might be with his family.

  Cormac drove out of Galway on the Moycullen Road, in the direction of Kilmore. It was a two-hour drive, but there was one person he hadn’t spoken to yet who might be able to provide some answers. Domenica Keane was still alive. Still alive and living in the same house, a bungalow no more than a kilometre from the driveway that led to the old Dower House. In Cormac’s memory, the old house was totally isolated. But then memory played tricks, and perhaps over time his mind had forgotten some details, dramatised others. Based on Katherine Shelley’s description, Cormac thought Keane must be in her seventies at least, and possibly older. A phone call to the local post office – despite the digital age, still one of the best ways of getting information in rural areas – had confirmed that Domenica Keane was still receiving letters at her old address. The postmistress had not been particularly garrulous, and subtle and not so subtle questioning had yielded no more information than that. He didn’t like going in raw, with so little preparation.

  It was after three before he left Galway. He called Danny’s mobile twice along the way, but it went to voicemail. Carrie O’Halloran had started something. He was aware that the part of his mind that wasn’t occupied with the Blake case was nagging away at him, demanding that he give more attention to what O’Halloran had said. She hadn’t hidden her dislike of Danny, but she still hadn’t struck him at all as the woman Danny had described, as someone motivated by personal dislike. He needed to think about that, about what it might mean.