The Kindness of Psychopaths

by Alan Gorevan

  “Mr. Donnelly?” Joe said. He kept the Sig trained on the figure. “Are you Aidan Donnelly?”

  Nothing.

  Joe leaned forward and kicked the man’s arm. He shifted, then sat up quickly.

  “What’s going on? Where am I?”

  “You better tell me where Valentina is.”

  He squinted as if he didn’t understand. “What?”

  Joe looked around the van but there was definitely no one else there.

  “Where’s Valentina?”

  “Where am I?”

  “Get up,” Joe snapped.

  Donnelly got to his feet. Unsteady, he staggered towards Joe, who grabbed him to stop him falling. Up close, Joe could smell the gin on his breath.

  A flash of turquoise lace poked out of the pocket of Donnelly’s jeans. Using a pen, Joe slowly pulled the lace out. Donnelly didn’t move. It was a pair of ladies’ panties.

  Joe was shaking with rage.

  “I’m going to find her,” he said. “And I’m going to make you pay.”

  Chapter 10

  Christopher O’Malley paced from one end of his bedroom to the other. The floorboards under the carpet creaked with every step.

  Not eating dinner was weird, but anger had ruined his appetite. Mum had lied to him his whole life, and she’d only admitted the truth because of a chance encounter in the coffee aisle. Christopher couldn’t believe it.

  He had tried to play a computer game, but couldn’t concentrate. He hadn’t even known that was possible.

  He wanted to break something, but he wasn’t sure what. His laptop? The window? Footsteps came down the hall. Christopher heard three knocks on the door.

  “Go away.”

  Mum said, “Can I come in?”

  “No.”

  “Please?”

  “No.”

  She opened the door. “We should talk.”

  “Why did you ask if you were going to come in anyway?”

  She stepped inside. Her voice became stern. “Don’t talk to me like that. Now calm down.”

  “Why should I? I thought you told me the truth, for all those years, and now I find out you’re the biggest liar in the world.”

  She sighed and sat down on the edge of Christopher’s bed.

  “Maybe I could have handled things better. I was trying to do the best thing for you.”

  “Telling me my dad is some American guy is the best thing for me? When actually it’s literally a complete lie?”

  “Sit down.”

  “No.”

  He wouldn’t sit down with her and be nice. Not after what she did, the way she betrayed him.

  “Sit down, Christopher. Now.”

  He scowled, then dropped his ass onto the bed.

  “I’ve asked you a million times who my dad is.”

  “I know,” Lisa said. “What I told you had a grain of truth in it.”

  “He’s not American. He’s from Dublin.”

  “Don’t use that tone.”

  “You care about my tone, but you don’t care about me.”

  Mum massaged her temple like she had a headache.

  “Of course I care about you. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  She patted his leg.

  “Okay, Joe’s not from America. He’s from around here. We met at university.”

  “Great.” Christopher injected as much sarcasm as he could into his voice.

  “Do you want me to tell you or not?”

  A long pause.

  Christopher said, “I guess. What’s his name?”

  “Joe Byrne. We dated for a while. When I found out I was pregnant, he was in America.”

  Christopher looked up for the first time.

  “Why?”

  “He got a place on a student exchange programme and went to New York for a year.”

  “Was he training to be a police officer there?”

  Mum smiled. “No. He was studying philosophy.”

  “Why did he go there, if he was your boyfriend?”

  “I insisted. I thought it would be a good opportunity for him. I didn’t know I was pregnant.”

  “Oh my god. I have grandparents somewhere?”

  “Joe’s parents are dead.”

  “Both of them?”

  Lisa nodded. “It was a hit-and-run many years ago.”

  “Whoa,” Christopher said.

  Mum took a breath. “Anyway, Joe always said he didn’t want kids. Then I found out I was pregnant and he was away in another country. Seemed like the best thing was to… cut him loose. I didn’t want to put pressure on him to do something he didn’t want to do.”

  “Wait. You mean he doesn’t even know I’m his son?”

  The idea seemed so incredible that Christopher laughed out loud. But Mum wasn’t laughing.

  “I stopped talking to him. When he returned to Ireland… well, he was upset. He went and joined the force, like his dad. His father had been a detective too.”

  A surge of anger returned. Christopher got to his feet. “All this time, you could have told me, but you didn’t. And you could have told him.”

  She stood up too. “I did what I thought was best – because I love you.”

  “That’s a weird way to show it, Mum.”

  Christopher felt tears streaming down his face. Not knowing what else to do, he sat down again. He felt so angry and betrayed. But he could also see that his Mum was upset, and he hated that. She wrapped her arms around him. She held him in silence until the tears stopped.

  “I’m sorry,” Christopher whispered.

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry too.”

  He pulled away so he could blow his nose.

  Mum said, “I know it’s a lot to take in. We can talk about it more tomorrow, okay? I think that’s enough for one night. We’re probably both a bit overwhelmed.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “You want to look at something on TV? Maybe an action movie? We can pig out on Haagen-Dazs.”

  “I’d just like to be alone for a while.”

  “Okay. If you want to talk, you know where I am.”

  She kissed him on the forehead before leaving the room. Christopher thought for a moment. Then he began to form a plan.

  He had a better idea than watching TV.

  Chapter 11

  Christopher waited in his room until Mum phoned Granny. When she was deep in conversation with her mother, Christopher slipped downstairs and let himself out the front door as quietly as he could.

  He hurried down Morehampton Road. The sun was low, but still bright and strong. It was a beautiful evening.

  And Christopher had a father.

  He couldn’t contain his excitement. He wanted to learn everything there was to know about Joe.

  He passed the old cemetery and turned in at the gate of Donnybrook Garda Station. When he went up to the entrance, he found the door closed. But there were lights in the station’s windows. He went up to the door and knocked. When that achieved nothing, he banged on the door. Then he went back out onto the street and knocked on the window there.

  There were people inside. He was sure of it. He returned to the door and was about to bang again when it opened suddenly. A big man in a uniform appeared in the doorway.

  “What’s this?” he shouted. Christopher melted back, unable to speak. The garda’s expression softened. “Was that you banging on my window?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “Um, yeah. I need to talk to Joe Byrne.”

  “Who?”

  “Joe Byrne? I thought he works here.”

  “I don’t know any Joe Byrne. Do you mean the new lad?”

  “I guess so.”

  “He’s busy.” The garda made to close the door. “You might catch him tomorrow.”

  “Wait, please, it’s an emergency.”

  “What sort of emergency?”

  “Um – a family emergency.�
��

  The man gave an exaggerated sigh. “Come in, then. I’ll see if I can get him for you.”

  Christopher followed the officer into the reception area. There was a counter on the right with a door leading off into a room behind. That must have been where this man was working when Christopher disturbed him.

  There was another door beside the counter, leading in the same direction. The garda ignored both of those doors and turned to a third door. Like the others, it was protected with an electronic code.

  “Stay here,” he said, and disappeared through the doorway.

  Chapter 12

  Interview Room 1 at Donnybrook Garda Station contained two small, square tables and four hard chairs. A barred window looked out onto the car park at the back of the station, so at least you could keep an eye on your car while you grilled a suspect.

  In the corner was a large box containing the recording device. The rest of the world may have moved on from DVDs, but not here. Legislation specified that interviews be recorded on DVDs, so DVDs it was.

  Joe sat at the table on the right side of the room. Aidan Donnelly was opposite him. There was a space in the centre of the room between the two tables. Anne-Marie Cunningham sat at the other table, her chair turned to the side so she could face Donnelly.

  The fourth chair was empty. Donnelly had waived his right to a solicitor, which was fine with Joe.

  But he still hadn’t said a useful word, and that wasn’t fine.

  Donnelly couldn’t explain why Valentina’s jumper was in his van or why her panties were in the pocket of his jeans. He couldn’t explain why he had a scratch on his arm, or why he’d been found where he was.

  Joe didn’t believe a word of it.

  “Where is she?” he asked again.

  “I couldn’t tell you. I hope she’s alright.”

  “You were the last one to see her. If she’s not alright, I suspect you’re responsible.”

  “I didn’t touch her.”

  Donnelly had no criminal record, not even a parking ticket. But that didn’t mean he was innocent.

  Joe said, “Alright. Tell me again what happened.”

  “I… finished the painting.”

  “And then?”

  “I woke up in the back of a van to find you lot arresting me.”

  “You missed a few hours. What happened between you leaving her house and us finding you?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing.”

  “Clearly something happened. Valentina went missing from her home. Someone cut her fingers off and left them in her garden.”

  Aidan Donnelly shuddered. “That’s horrible.”

  “What do you think happened to her?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Humour me. If you had to guess, what would you say?”

  He hesitated. For the first time, a thoughtful look passed over his face.

  “You wouldn’t believe me.”

  Joe leaned forward. “Try me.”

  “Nah,” he said.

  “Go on. I’ll hear you out.”

  He stared at Joe for a moment, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

  “Alright, but it’ll sound mental.”

  “Go on.”

  “They must have wanted her. The ones up there.”

  Joe glanced at Cunningham, but she seemed equally confused.

  “What do you mean?” Joe asked.

  “They’re trying to find out how she works, or putting something inside her. Maybe cutting off her fingers wasn’t to hurt her. Maybe it was a test. That might be how they do it. Or putting a tracking device in there?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Donnelly flicked his eyes towards the ceiling. “You know.”

  Cunningham said, “Her neighbours?”

  Donnelly scowled. “No. Above.”

  “Her boss?”

  Donnelly shook his head. Cunningham glanced at Joe.

  “God?” Joe said.

  “They’d be like gods to us. The ones up there, because they’re so far ahead of us.”

  Joe groaned and dropped the pen he’d been fidgeting with. He’d remembered the choice of reading material found in Donnelly’s van.

  “Are you talking about aliens?”

  Donnelly shook his head. “I told you it would sound mental.”

  “How else do you explain what happened to me? I finished painting. I went outside. There was a flash of white light and I woke up hours later. Missing time. You know what I mean?”

  He’d become animated while he spoke, waving his hands. Cunningham rolled her eyes.

  Joe said, “Was there a bar on the spaceship?”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  Donnelly had refused to be breathalysed, but Joe knew gin when he smelled it, and Donnelly had stank of it when Joe took him into custody. However, he wasn’t acting drunk. He was acting insane.

  “Maybe the gin was part of the testing.”

  “Get real,” Joe shouted. “A woman is missing. She’s probably lost a lot of blood by now. Tell us where she is so that we can help her.”

  “I didn’t do anything. Maybe the ones above are still working on her. With the technology they have, maybe they can put her fingers back on.”

  Joe felt like reaching across the table and smacking Donnelly. As he was considering doing just that, four hard knocks rang out on the door. Joe turned to find a uniform standing in the doorway.

  “Sorry to interrupt. You’re needed, Detective Sergeant Byrne.”

  “Let’s take a break,” Joe said.

  He followed the garda out into the corridor, thinking O’Carroll must want him for something.

  “What is it?”

  “There’s an emergency,” the garda said.

  “Another one?”

  “Not a crime. A family emergency.”

  “Whose family? I don’t have one.”

  “Well, there’s a lad who wants to speak to you and he seems to think different.”

  Chapter 13

  Christopher leaned against the counter while he waited. Coming to the station had seemed like a good idea earlier, but, now that he was here, he could feel the blood pounding in his ears and he wanted nothing more than to leave. Suddenly, a door swung open and Joe Byrne stepped out.

  Christopher stood upright. He wondered how to address this man he didn’t know. Should he call him Joe, Mr. Byrne, Detective Byrne… or dad?

  “What’s the problem?” Joe said, taking a step closer to Christopher.

  Christopher swallowed a lump in his throat. He hadn’t expected Joe to be so brisk. He didn’t even seem to recognise Christopher.

  “I was in the shop earlier. My – my name is Christopher?”

  “Do you want to report a crime?”

  “I was with my – my mother?”

  “I’m very busy.”

  “I was with my mother, Lisa O’Malley… in Tesco earlier…”

  Joe’s eyes narrowed. Christopher had his attention now. When he spoke again, his voice was colder.

  “What do you want?”

  Christopher swallowed. It was a struggle to make the words come out. His hands were shaking and so was his voice, but he’d come here for a reason, and he didn’t want to leave without making his point.

  “I – I just found out – when you saw my mum – she was, well, she forgot most of our shopping and – you know, we had a fight. Well, not actually a fight, but—”

  Joe sighed. “What are you babbling about?”

  Christopher took a breath.

  “I think you’re my dad.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I mean, you are my dad.”

  Joe didn’t hold out his arms and say, Come here to me, son. He didn’t smile and say he’d known the truth the moment he saw Christopher. He didn’t get angry and blame Christopher’s mother for lying for all those years.

  What he did was drop a firm hand on the back of Christopher’s neck and push him t
owards the door.

  Joe opened it, pushed Christopher out, and said, “I don’t have a son.”

  Then he slammed the door.

  Chapter 14

  Joe squeezed his eyes shut and leaned against the wall. Why did the teenager want Joe to think he was his father? Did Lisa say that? While Joe had been dealing with Donnelly, he’d managed to put her out of his mind. But that kid coming here tore the wound open.

  It had been a long, long day. Joe still hadn’t eaten. He’d left the chicken wrap in Tesco. The coffee too. He really needed them, along with half a dozen painkillers for his headache.

  Joe hadn’t seen Lisa in fifteen years, but she still had a strong hold over him. Even after what she pulled when he was in New York. How she stopped returning his calls.

  Joe remembered complete sentences from the letter he wrote her, when he couldn’t get through to her on the phone. He had thought of throwing himself in the Hudson when she cut him out of her life, but he’d been too much of a coward.

  When he got back to Ireland, she’d avoided him. He heard that she had a baby. She’d dumped Joe and got knocked up. That was when Joe decided he’d follow his father’s career path. He figured the force was a good place for a young man who wanted to be dead. He’d thrown himself in harm’s way more times than he could count.

  But here he was, still alive.

  Joe pushed away from the wall.

  Valentina was out there somewhere. For better or worse, he was the one tasked with finding her. That was what he had to focus on. Not ancient history.

  He keyed in the door code, and walked down the corridor. Anne-Marie Cunningham sat at her desk in the DDU office.

  “Donnelly is batshit crazy,” she said. “Right?”

  Joe slumped in his chair and looked at her. “I don’t know.”

  “You think he’s just lying?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Jesus, I don’t fucking know.”

  Joe leaned back in his chair and sighed. He was about to apologise to Cunningham when she stood up and walked out of the room.

  What a day.

  But it was about to get worse.

  Joe’s phone rang. It was Barry Wall. Joe had given Wall his number and the man had already called seven times to see if there had been any progress.

  “I told you I’d advise you when there were developments,” Joe said.