by Alan Gorevan
Joe shook his head. “I had to take a phone call. I wasn’t paying attention. When I was done on the phone, I went into the park and found Kavanagh dead.”
“Oh my god.”
“First I thought it was Christopher who was hurt. I mean, I was worried about him after what he did with the pills. Then I saw it was someone else. I thought Christopher must have done it. So I…” He swallowed. “I hid the body.”
Lisa’s eyes widened. “You hid the body?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s crazy. Why did you do that?”
“To protect Christopher.”
“You care that much?”
“He’s a good kid.”
“You don’t cover up a murder just because someone is a good kid.”
Joe shrugged. He said nothing.
“So that’s why the body hasn’t been found,” Lisa said. “Where is it?”
“Not far from here,” Joe said, and looked towards the back of the car.
It took a moment for her to catch his drift.
She put her hand to her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
And she was. She flung open the door and vomited on the road.
Joe passed her a bottle of water. “Did anyone see you leaving the park?”
Lisa rinsed her mouth out. “Aside from you? No.”
“No one saw you? No one could identify you or Christopher?”
“No, because of the rain. There weren’t many people around. We were both wearing raincoats, with the hoods up.”
Joe leaned back in his seat and sighed.
“But someone saw me. And they have photos to prove it.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. I went to Christopher’s school and asked him about Kavanagh. He said he didn’t harm Kavanagh, and I believed he was telling me the truth. Then I started to wonder if Barry Wall murdered Kavanagh, to get revenge on me. And then tried to blackmail me, while he was at it.”
“I don’t follow. How would killing Kavanagh be revenge on you?”
“It would be, if he thought he was killing Christopher. I thought it might be a case of mistaken identity. Wall killed the wrong boy. But now I know he didn’t kill Kavanagh.”
“This Wall guy? You really think he would hurt Christopher to get back at you?”
Joe nodded slowly. “Yes. We have to find him fast.”
Lisa made a small sound of despair. He knew it was a lot for her to take in.
“Wait a minute. You said someone is blackmailing you.”
Joe rubbed his eyes. “That’s right. They saw me putting the body in the boot.”
“Did this person make any demands?”
“They asked for money.”
“Is that why you asked me those questions earlier? You didn’t explain anything!”
“I know. Forget it. I borrowed some money, and made the drop.”
“Jesus. I think my head is going to explode. Now what?”
“I’m tracking the person who collected it. The blackmailer.”
“Then maybe you’re tracking whoever has Christopher.”
“It’s possible.”
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go. Let’s find this person. Call backup.”
“I can’t call backup.”
“What? Why?”
Joe thought of the bag of cash, stolen from evidence. The illegal tracking. The fact that the blackmailer had evidence implicating Joe in a murder.
“It’s a delicate situation,” Joe said. He started the Honda’s engine, and got moving, pointing the car towards Lisa’s house. “I’m taking you home,” he said.
“What? No. We need to track the blackmailer.”
“I’ll do that, but you’re not coming. It’s too dangerous.”
“Bullshit, Joe.”
“I have something I need you to do. I want you to hack into Ken Wall’s company. Can you do that? I’m trying to see if his company owns any property where his brother might be hiding out.”
“But you have the tracker.”
“The battery is very low. About to die if it hasn’t already. You need to work this angle in case I lose the signal.”
Which was true. But Joe also wanted to give her something else to put her mind on. He pulled up in front of Lisa’s house and waited as she got out of the car. She closed the door, then bent down. Joe rolled down the window.
Lisa said, “Promise me you’ll find Christopher. That you’ll bring him home safe and sound.”
“I promise you I’ll do everything I can. I need you to focus on the properties.”
He told her the name of Ken Wall’s company, gave her a wave and dug out his phone. He was still getting a signal from his old phone, located in the blackmailer’s backpack. It was no longer moving. And it had stopped at an interesting location.
Joe hit the accelerator and got going.
Chapter 82
Lisa’s hands shook as she slipped the key into the lock of her front door. This was the time to be strong. Her son needed her, and she was damned if she was going to let him down. Once inside, she went up the stairs to her home office.
She ignored her main computer and went straight to the laptop which was loaded with the Kali Linux operating system, perfect for an attack machine.
This was the computer she used to test the websites she built for clients, and for penetration testing on other sites, where clients were worried about security.
She booted it up and went straight to Ken Wall’s company’s website, where she began digging.
Chapter 83
Though a new hotel, the Melford on Stephen’s Green had already established itself as exclusive, about as exclusive as Irish hotels got, with its elegant canopy and rotating door, its concierges in designer uniforms and its focus on detail. For the last couple of years, some of the richest and most famous visitors to Dublin had stayed there.
Despite having passed the place dozens of times, Joe had never once been inside, not even to the bar. He’d always imagined the prices were eye-watering, and he didn’t feel like sitting at the bar with a cup of tea and an empty wallet for company.
He parked around the side of the hotel. After stepping out of the car, he grabbed his Sig, slipping the gun into the holster at his hip. Joe untucked his shirt a little so it would conceal the gun. Then he checked his phone. The GPS signal was definitely coming from inside the Melford.
Was Barry Wall living it up in a luxury hotel between murders?
Joe went in the side door and cut through the bar. The signal wasn’t coming from there. He dodged a waiter with a tray of cocktails and continued to the lobby, where an elegant staircase rose above him. He started up the stairs.
He looked at the phone while he climbed. There was no way to tell what floor the signal was coming from. He only knew that it was coming from somewhere to his right. On the first-floor landing, he headed down the corridor to the right, with its vivid red carpet and sparkling chandeliers overhead. Joe’s pace slowed as he approached the place where the signal was coming from.
Looking at the map, it seemed like he was in the right place – close to the blue dot that marked the location of his phone. But in reality, he was staring at a bare wall. There was no entrance to a guest room. Joe wondered what was on the other side of the wall. Maybe a staff area.
He retraced his steps to the stairs and headed up again. On the second-floor landing, he set off in search of the blue dot again.
This time the GPS led him to room 206. That might have been the source of the signal, or it might not. Joe pressed his ear to the door and listened. When he heard nothing, he rapped on the door and waited. No sound came from inside. The occupant might have been out. Joe knocked again.
He decided to check out the floor above, so he made his way back to the stairs and headed up again.
Laughter was coming from room 306. Joe rapped on the door.
A man’s voice came from within. “What is it?”
“It’s your co
mplimentary champagne, sir,” Joe said.
“More?” said a woman. “I won’t say no to that.”
Giggles. Footsteps. Joe stepped to the side of the doorway.
The door swung open.
A man leaned forward. His head extended out into the corridor like a turtle peeking out of its shell. He looked to his right, down the empty corridor, then flicked his head to the left and looked right at Joe.
It was Graham Lee.
Joe grabbed his head and shoved him sideways, so that the right side of his skull smashed into the door frame. Graham bounced off the doorframe and fell backwards into the room. Joe followed him in.
Lying on the expensive navy carpet in his boxer shorts, Graham looked dazed and confused.
A woman who looked to be in her twenties lay under the covers in the huge bed. She squealed and pulled the sheets up to her neck.
Joe closed the door behind him and stepped into the room.
The woman said, “What are you doing? Get out.”
Joe took out his gun. That shut her up.
“What’s your name?”
“C-Crystal.”
He turned to Graham, who was now halfway to his feet. “What does she know?”
“I don’t know anything,” she said.
“I didn’t ask you.”
Graham said, “Nothing. She knows nothing.”
“Tell her to scram.”
“Go on, get out of here,” Graham said, adjusting his boxers. He picked up a Hawaiian style shirt from the floor and put it on.
Crystal slipped out of the bed, wearing only a t-shirt and a thong. She pulled on her jeans and slipped her feet into a pair of shoes with sky-high heels.
While she was dressing, Joe took her phone off the nightstand.
“Hey!”
Ignoring her, he looked through her messages, the photos in her gallery, and her e-mails, but he didn’t see anything relevant. He handed her the phone.
“Bastard.”
Graham stood watching from the other side of the room.
“Keep your mouth shut,” Joe said. “Or I will find you and shut it for you.”
He pushed her toward the door, opened it and watched as she trudged out. She gave Joe the finger, then set off down the corridor.
As soon as Joe had closed the door, he turned around to see that Graham had come up behind him. He looked like he was about to make a grab for him.
“Not so fast, asshole.”
Joe hit Graham in the face with the butt of the Sig. Graham stumbled back until his ass hit the writing desk at the side of the room. It was a beautiful writing desk and a beautiful room. It must have cost a fortune.
Joe slipped the Sig into his holster, walked over and grabbed Graham’s throat. He sized up the soft area in Graham’s side, just under his ribcage, and pounded his fist into that spot. Graham shouted in pain and surprise. Joe hit him again, and again, and again, harder each time, until Graham crumpled to the floor, wheezing and pink-faced.
“I’m done playing nice,” Joe said. “Where’s Christopher?”
Chapter 84
In the passenger seat of the van, Christopher clutched the borrowed violin close to him. His school bag sat in the footwell. He squeezed it nervously between his feet. The car smelled like chewing gum, and the detective was chewing gum as he drove. He offered Christopher a stick. Christopher thanked him and popped it in his mouth. He scrunched up the wrapper and held the little ball of paper in his hand.
The man said he worked with Joe. He was going to take Christopher to the station, because they thought he was in danger.
“So it’s him? That Wall guy? He’s the one who wants to hurt me?”
The man nodded. With his shiny cranium, strong cologne, and unblinking eyes, he looked more like a fashion designer than a cop.
“We believe so.”
“Just because Joe is my dad?”
“Afraid so.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You got that right, son.”
Christopher watched as the car drove past the station.
“I, um, I thought we were going there.”
Christopher glanced back at the station, receding behind them. The man put a thoughtful finger to his chin as Anglesey Bridge flew by.
“A safe house might be, well, safer.”
“A safe house?”
The man nodded. “Wall might have help. Maybe even someone in the station.”
“You mean a corrupt Garda?”
Christopher felt his chest constrict. He’d never even thought of such a thing. The man turned his head sideways and smiled sadly.
“It happens once in a while. You get a bad egg. But don’t you worry, son. I’m going to take you somewhere no one will ever find you.”
Chapter 85
“Where’s Christopher?” When Graham didn’t reply immediately, Joe pulled him to his feet. No easy task, given his size. But Joe did it all the same. He pushed Graham back against the writing desk. “Where is he?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t mess me around.”
“Okay, okay,” Graham said, holding up his hands. “Take it easy.”
“Where’s Christopher?”
“Is he missing? I don’t know anything about that. I swear.”
Was he telling the truth? Hard to tell.
“What do you know? I’m running out of patience.”
Joe formed a fist and drew back his hand. Graham flinched.
“Wait, I know about the kid. The one who died.”
“What do you know?” Joe shouted, shaking him.
“It was Lisa.”
“What about her?”
“That day, she must have realised a knife was missing from the kitchen. I guess she thought that Christopher took it, that he might harm himself again. God knows why he’d want to do that. Anyway, she ran off into the rain. She didn’t know I was in the house at the time. I decided to see what she was up to.”
“Why?”
Graham shrugged. “I was curious.”
“You mean she seemed upset so you smelled an opportunity. What happened?”
“I followed her to the park. It was pretty wet so I couldn’t see much, but I saw Lisa go up to Christopher and that other boy. They struggled.”
“And you didn’t help.”
“I was too far away.”
“I bet.”
“I saw Lisa struggling with the kid, saw the kid go down. Christopher and Lisa ran off. I walked a little closer, trying to see what had happened. And then you came along, so I hid.”
“And, again, you didn’t offer to help. Instead, you decided to exploit the situation.”
Graham shrugged. “I’m sorry. I was annoyed at you. You’d been pretty nasty to me at Lisa’s house the day before. I wasn’t in any mood to do you a favour.”
“So you took out your phone and started snapping pictures.”
“Well, yeah. You were putting the body in your car. I thought I might as well take a few photos.”
Graham shrugged as if his behaviour was the most natural thing in the world.
“Then what?”
“The next morning, I bought a phone. I texted you from the new number. I thought you might be able to find some money. Maybe from Lisa or her parents. They don’t like me much. They seem suspicious that I’m a gold digger.”
“How unfair,” Joe said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Yeah, well. That’s all.”
“When I dropped off the money, you said you had three snipers watching me.”
“Obviously, I didn’t. It was just me.”
Joe said, “Now Christopher is missing, and I guess you don’t care about that at all.”
“Sure, I do,” Graham said. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”
What a mess. Joe tried to figure out what to do. He looked around the fancy hotel room.
“How much money did you spend, Graham?”
“Nothi
ng. I just booked a room and ordered some refreshments.”
“How much, asshole?”
“Only about two thousand.”
Joe whistled. “Fast work.”
He walked to the bed, where Graham’s jacket had been flung. He found two phones in the pocket, plus a wad of cash.
“Where are the photos stored?”
“Just on the phone.”
Joe looked through each phone. He found five photos from Herbert Park on what he took to be Graham’s main phone. He deleted them and checked Graham’s e-mails and online storage, but he didn’t seem to have backed them up on the cloud. The second phone had the photos too, plus the text messages exchanged with Joe earlier.
Joe deleted the photos and texts, then did a factory reset on each phone, wiping the memory. After that, he took out the SIM cards and smashed them to pieces with the butt of his gun.
He slipped the phones into his pocket, together with the cash. Then he went over to the backpack and checked that the rest of the cash was still there. It seemed to be.
Joe took his own spare mobile phone out of the backpack and brought the screen to life. 1% battery remaining, it said. And then a message appeared, saying that the phone was shutting down. It had done its job, just about.
He still had no idea where Christopher was, but he’d least got rid of those incriminating photos. There was still the problem of what to do with Graham.
Joe said, “I’m going to make this real simple.”
“Alright.”
He took out his Sig and forced the barrel of the gun into Graham mouth.
“You didn’t see anything. You don’t know anything. Nod if you understand.”
Graham nodded.
“You certainly didn’t see me in Herbert Park, and trying to blackmail me was a stupid mistake.”
Graham nodded again.
Joe said, “I played along with your demands just to see who was trying to blackmail me. That’s all. Now I know it was you. You’re not going to talk about this to anyone.”
An eager nod.
Joe forced the barrel to the back of Graham throat. He heard the awful sound of metal on teeth, and Graham started to gag.
“You’re never going to see Lisa or Christopher again. You’re not going to text, phone or e-mail them. You’re not even going to collect your belongings from their house.”