All the Lost Girls

by Bilinda P Sheehan

  "I don't know," he said. "She said Clara was upset. But Clara never told her jack shit."

  "Well," I said, climbing to my feet. "Thank you for coming in Mr Donnelly. I think that's all the questions we have for this time. If we have anymore, we know where to find you."

  He pushed up from the table, the sound of the metal chair legs scraping back against the floor.

  "Just one last thing," I said as he made his way to the door. Liam paused to look back at me.

  "Do you know anyone in the area who owned a white van around the time of Clara's disappearance?"

  A flicker of unreadable emotion flitted through Liam's eyes as he stood framed in the doorway. "No," he said. "Sorry. I don't."

  "Well if you can think of someone," I said. "I'd like you to let us know."

  "Why are you looking for a white van?"

  "Because when Clara was abducted, Alice remembers seeing her getting bundled into a white van."

  Liam nodded. "Sure," he said. "Anything I can do to help."

  "We'd really appreciate that."

  I let Ronan escort him out as I sat back down at the interview table once more. There was something he was keeping back, that I was certain of. The only problem was, I couldn't put my finger on just what it might be.

  When he returned a moment later, I turned to face him. "Any luck with digging up something on the missing files?"

  He shook his head. "I tried to contact the Garda who initially led the investigation but I keep running into a brick wall."

  "Any particular reason?"

  Ronan's expression was a grim one. "The best I can figure is that Liam's uncle is a county councillor."

  "And that would be enough to make his interview files disappear?"

  Ronan shoved a hand up through his hair. "It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?"

  I nodded. It was hard to believe that anyone would compromise an investigation for something so small. Not unless they were ultimately trying to hide something much bigger. If Liam was truly innocent, then why hide his involvement in the case at all?

  "Sergeant Mills worked the case then, didn't he?" I said, noting the way Ronan's shoulders stiffened.

  "You don't think he'd have anything to do with this?"

  "I think it at least warrants another visit to him," I said. "He won't like it but what choice do I have?"

  "I can come with you, if you'd like."

  I shook my head. "I can handle this. It's time I started getting some answers here. How can I run an investigation if at every turn I get stonewalled."

  "Well just watch your back." Ronan paused in the doorway. "Listen, about last night, I just want to say I'm sorry if I made things awkward."

  "It's fine," I said. "Don't worry about it. I'm not."

  He searched my face before nodding. "Good. Great. I'm glad. I was worried there might be some weirdness between us."

  "It's all fine, Ronan," I said. "We're work colleagues. And that's all."

  He gave me a tight smile before he turned and left the room. I'd lied. It was awkward. It shouldn't have been and yet it was. I couldn't put my finger on why it was so weird. I'd been telling the truth when I'd said we were nothing more than work colleagues. There was nothing but the case between us.

  So then why did I feel like I'd stepped up to my neck in crap?

  Pushing up from the table, I sucked in a deep breath. There wasn't time to figure out the intricacies of my relationship with Ronan. The case needed my full attention and right now that attention needed to be fully focused on Sergeant Mills.

  He'd dismissed me far too readily yesterday and I'd let him. Well not anymore. This case wasn't going to solve itself, no matter how much I might wish it would. And if Liam Donnelly and his family were somehow involved then I intended to get to the bottom of it.

  "I'm not questioning your integrity, Sergeant," I said, fighting to keep my temper under control. The moment I'd entered the room, he had been on the defensive. And no matter how hard I tried to keep things running smoothly his anger was making it almost impossible to get a straight answer from him.

  "It certainly sounds like you're questioning it," he said. "Do you know how long I've worked here? Do you know how many years of excellent service I've put in here in this area? The number of cases I've worked? And you to march in here and accuse me of tampering with evidence in an ongoing investigation..."

  "I'm not accusing you of anything, sir," I said. "I'm merely asking you if you know what happened to the files. They're nowhere to be found. The records of their existence are still in the file room but no actual files."

  "And you think I should know where every little thing in this station is?"

  With a sigh, I tried to let the tension ease out of my shoulders. My body was coiled tighter than a drum and I could feel the beginning of a tension headache starting in the base of my skull. Confrontation was definitely not my strong suit. In fact, I hated it.

  "I have a good mind to call your superior and inform him just what you've been doing down here."

  "Go ahead," I said, my stomach flipping over. It was the very last thing I wanted to have happen. "Perhaps then you can tell him how evidence from an open case is missing and that you have no idea where it might be."

  Sergeant Mills paused with his hand on the telephone. His shrewd grey eyes observed me coolly, as though he were assessing me. And in a way he was. He was looking for a chink in my armour, something that would clue him into my true thoughts on the matter. But I was determined to give him nothing at all.

  He withdrew his hand slowly and folded his arms across the front of his chest as he leaned back in his chair.

  "You're not worried that they'll think you're the problem in all of this?"

  "Honestly," I said. "I just want to get this case solved, no matter the cost."

  He looked away, his gaze studying the pictures along the walls. "You don't understand the politics involved in cases like these, now do you?"

  "I know there are girls being murdered. The politics don't really factor into my thought process."

  He sighed. "The Donnelly's have deep pockets. The files you're looking for just simply don't exist."

  I stared at him in shock. "What do you mean, they don't exist? They have to.”

  "The interviews were all conducted off the record. Liam's uncle and father didn't want his name getting dragged through the mud. Especially in the beginning, when everyone thought it was just a runaway."

  "How could you have done that?"

  "I didn't," he said sadly. "The Sergeant in charge at the time thought it was the right move. The rest of us had no choice but to go along with it all."

  "And the other leads?" I asked. "Did anyone bother running them down?"

  He kept his gaze trained on the wall. "I did my job," he said. "If that's what you're asking. I chased up the leads I was asked to. But by the time we realised there was a case it was too late."

  "So you did nothing," I said, dropping back into my chair like all the air had been knocked out of me. "She was taken and you lot did nothing at all because you were what? Worried the Donnelly's might not like it?"

  "Liam Donnelly had nothing to do with her disappearance," Sergeant Mills said, sounding more than a little irate. "I've told you this because I know you won't leave it alone until you push things too far."

  "We're digging girls up out of the ground," I said. "Have you even looked at the pictures? The autopsy results, the suffering they endured... And you lot shut down lines of enquiry without checking to make sure everything was above board?"

  "I've told you this for your own good, Detective. The Donnelly's are not involved in this case. And if you can't manoeuvre the political minefield this creates then you'll leave me with no choice but to contact your superior."

  Pushing up from my chair, I clenched my hands into fists. "If I find out that Liam Donnelly had anything to do with Clara or the other girl's disappearance, I will hold you personally responsible."

  "You're here b
ecause I asked for the NBCI's input. Don't push it." His voice was icy and I had the distinct impression that he would do whatever it took to cover his involvement in the cover up they'd so obviously done.

  Without another word, I stalked out of the office, leaving him to call after me.

  42

  October 1st 1996

  Part of me wished it wasn’t true, that Liam wasn’t such a prick. But there’s another part of me, a much bigger part, that’s glad it’s done.

  If he wants to be a part of this baby’s life then he’s going to have to earn it.

  Sarah’s been off these past few days.

  I’ve seen the bruises and she keeps on down playing it all but she’s not as clumsy as she says she is.

  Her dad is a mean drunk.

  I wish I could help her but I think even if I could, she wouldn’t let me.

  43

  I spent the day keeping my head down. My mother still hadn't spoken to me after her outburst the day before and I wasn't particularly in the mood to forgive her for her behaviour. I thought about calling Detective Geraghty and giving her the meeting she wanted. But I needed some time to think and getting stuck in an interview room would be too much like taking a step backwards.

  Since Clara had gone, I'd done my fair share of time in an interview room, sitting across a table from someone who had no real interest in anything I had to say.

  The media circus was in full swing and I'd caught a glimpse of the front page of the Independent, which Imelda had tried to hide from my mother. The headlines gave a rundown of the case and its progress. Or lack thereof.

  Whoever was doing this, was too good at staying hidden.

  Imelda kept giving me pitying glances and in the end I just needed to escape. The atmosphere in the house was suffocating me. Luckily, I had a very willing accomplice in the form of Declan.

  "I didn't think they'd let you out so soon," he said, his voice heavy with concern.

  "You can stop being so worried," I said, touching his arm lightly as he fussed over me as I got into his truck. "I'm not going to break."

  He scrubbed the back of his neck with the palm of his hand, looking more than a little disconcerted. "I can't help it. Seeing you hit the deck like that last night."

  I started to shrug and cut myself off at the last moment. My arm was still too stiff and sore to go making any kinds of sudden movements. "You've got to know I'm tougher than that," I said. "Remember when we were in fifth year and I really wanted an apple so I decided to climb that tree overhanging the river?"

  "Except you'd never successfully climbed a tree in your life and ended up getting dunked." He finished for me. "Of course I remember. I was the one who went in after you."

  "But I got my apple," I said. "I hung onto it the whole time."

  Declan shook his head but the smile on his face was genuine. "You were so stubborn."

  "I don't suppose I've changed a whole lot."

  "No," he said. "You've definitely not changed." He reached across me and clipped my seatbelt into place. "What were you thinking last night?" Declan searched my face as though the answer he was seeking was written there, he just needed to look hard enough to find it.

  "It's hard to explain," I said. Feeling suddenly foolish. I had behaved like an idiot the night before. In the cold light of day, I'd found it difficult to justify my actions. Sure grief could do a lot of things to the human mind but my behaviour had been utterly irrational.

  Even if I had managed to slip past the Guard somehow, just what had I been expecting to find up there?

  Deep down, I knew the truth about Clara. I knew she was dead, I'd known it for a long time. I'd watched her get taken and if she'd somehow managed to get away, Clara wasn't the type to stay away from us. She would have come home, if she could. Or at least let us know she was okay.

  "Try me," Declan said, climbing into the driver's seat next to me.

  "I guess I thought she was up there," I said, refusing to meet his incredulous expression. "Yeah, I know it sounds mad but it is what it is. I know she's out there somewhere, alone."

  "Look," he said, "I can't begin to understand the kind of pain and grief you and your family have suffered. But don't you think if she was up there the Guards would have told you by now?"

  "I know I'm being irrational," I said, turning in the seat to face him. "I can't explain it."

  Declan gave me a small nod. "I know," he said. "Love makes us do crazy things." There was an odd hitch in his voice as he spoke. "Now come on, I owe you a drink and you owe me a story about that arm of yours."

  "I thought you'd forgotten," I said grumpily dropping back against the car seat.

  "What, forgotten that you'd been shot? Have I hell!" He started the engine and reversed out of the drive.

  His enthusiasm brought a smile to my face. It was nice to have someone I didn’t feel the need to explain myself to all the time. Someone who would just let me be. It soothed the guilt I felt over the situation with Clara, I’d forgotten how easy it was just to be myself around Declan. And as he pulled out onto the road and I watched him from the corner of my eye, I realised I’d missed the ease of our relationship.

  I’d been lonely since Clara was taken, but Declan made me feel a little less alone in the world.

  Declan pulled the door to the pub open, gesturing for me to move in ahead of him. The bar was a lot busier than the first night. Certainly not packed but there was definitely more of an atmosphere.

  Reaching the bar Declan dipped his head toward me. "The usual?"

  I nodded and jumped as an arm clamped over my elbow. "Alice!" Sarah's familiar voice saw my heart sink.

  It wasn't that I didn't like her; I just hadn't planned on spending the evening with her. Plastering a smile on my face, I turned to face her.

  "I didn't know you were going to be here," I said, maintaining the pleasant tone in my voice.

  "It's so weird, I wasn't supposed to be here but Dick and Rob talked me into it, so I thought why not." She shrugged her thin shoulders and grinned at me. In the low lighting of the bar she looked younger, almost girlish and pretty. And when she smiled it caused her face to light up in a way I hadn't remembered her doing when she'd been friends with Clara.

  "Dick is your husband, right?" I asked, surreptitiously scanning the bar.

  "You need to come over and say, hi," she said excitedly wrapping her arm through mine. The sleeve of her cardigan rode up exposing a dark ring of bruising around her wrist. Although I couldn't see any higher, I could tell the bruises extended all the way up her arm.

  Sarah's gaze met mine, her laughter nervous as she practically ripped the sleeve in her haste to cover the marks. "I'm such a klutz," she said. "I got my arm trapped in the door of the car yesterday when I was bringing in the shopping. Hurt like hell but what can you do?" She shrugged, the expression on her face a poor attempt to mask the panic currently swirling beneath the facade of her smile.

  "Sarah, you know you can—"

  "And who have we got here?" The booming voice cut me off mid-sentence.

  "This is Dick," Sarah said. "My husband." She gestured to the tall man standing in front of us.

  He wasn't exactly unattractive, but my mother would have described him as a little rough around the edges. His hair was salt and pepper, his eyes dark and unreadable and despite the ready smile he wore, there was a cruelty in the curl of his lips.

  He was definitely older than Sarah and I found myself glancing between the two of them and wondering just what had caused her to fall for him.

  As much as I wanted to rid myself of my judgemental thinking, I couldn't. My dislike of Dick was instantaneous. Whatever he saw reflected in my eyes broadened his smile as he wrapped a possessive arm around Sarah's shoulders.

  He jerked her in against his side, his hand sliding down past her waist as his eyes locked onto mine.

  "Not here, Dick," Sarah said with a giggle that curdled my stomach.

  He laughed again and released her but the
mirth from his laughter never reached his eyes as he kept them trained on my face.

  "Don't think we've ever met," he said, holding his hand out towards me. I had the sudden urge to deny him a handshake but I forced myself to take his sticky palm in mine. His grip was unrelenting and my eyes drifted down to his dirty fingernails.

  "Alice McCarthy," I said. "I knew Sarah from way back."

  "It was your sister that disappeared," he said gruffly, his expression shifting. "I was sorry to hear that. She was a good looking girl."

  I attempted to jerk my hand back but he held on, his thumb forming small circles on my skin.

  "Dick met Clara a few times," Sarah said by way of explanation. "We'd started seeing one another a couple of months before she was taken."

  Dick released me almost reluctantly as Declan appeared at my elbow.

  "Everything all right?" he asked, giving me a sideways glance.

  "Yeah, everything's fine," I said, taking the drink he offered to me. I found myself wishing that there was ice in the glass. The sweating glass would at least give me the excuse I needed to scrub my palm on my jeans without looking like I was completely without manners.

  I took a swig of the drink, relishing the sensation of the whiskey as it burned down the back of my throat. Warmth washed through my chest and I felt the tension in my shoulders slowly releasing.

  "You should come and join us," Sarah said suddenly. "Rob would love to see you again, Alice."

  I glanced over at the table and caught sight of the serious young man watching from the corner booth. His right eye was ringed with a dark and unsightly bruise. The purple and red mark stood out against his pale face, making it appear fresh but the cut that adorned his bottom lip was beginning to take on the yellowish tinge, suggesting it was an older injury and had started to heal.

  Nodding, I followed Sarah as she led me back to the table. Having Dick at my back made the skin covering my spine crawl, the feel of his eyes pressed against me almost as though he'd touched me. But the grip Sarah had on my arm left me with no choice but to traipse after her.