Crying in the Dark (23 page)

Through the yellow filth of the window I saw her leap over the wall and vanish into the field. Olwyn was holding Larry, who was sobbing inconsolably.

‘I'm sorry, Larry,' I said to him, squatting down beside them. ‘You never said not to talk about the cat. I didn't mean to make her mad like that.'

He didn't answer, just buried his face in Olwyn's shoulder.

‘Go and get her,' Olwyn said through her own tears. ‘She can't have gone far.'

I left them.

Francey was in the tree they'd been in earlier. I stood at the base and gazed up at her. She hadn't climbed very high, just a little above my head. She watched me approach, and I saw that the rage had mostly burned out already.

‘You leave me 'lone,' she said sulkily. ‘I don't wanna talk 'bou' it.'

‘I'm sorry I upset you, Francey. I don't know what I said that made you so mad, but whatever it was, I apologize. I'd like you, when you're feeling a bit better, to say sorry to Larry too. He's really sad, and I know you don't like it when he's unhappy.'

‘He shouldn't telled you 'bou' tha' cat! It was our secret and he telled!'

‘What's so terrible about playing with a cat?'

‘
I'll tell you what's so awful! They found out and they killded it!
'

She screamed the words at me, the ejaculation followed by a string of shrieks that left her hoarse. I waited until she'd finished, then climbed up beside her. As an adult, I always feel stupid up trees, and this time was no different. I sat a little away and said nothing. She was crying softly now, beating her fist gently off the branch. Finally she said: ‘We used love tha' cat. We din' have no friends, but we had him. He likeded us an' ev'ry time we was in tha' shed he'd come and keep us comp'ny. He teached us to feed ourselves.'

‘Larry told me. That was pretty smart of you.'

‘It nearly wasn' so bad bein' left ou'side when he was wit us. We was like a li'l fambly of our own. Sometimes we'd let 'im in t'rough the board and snuggle up t' him at nigh', an' he'd be rale warm. Tha's how she found ou' 'bout 'im.'

‘Are you sure you want to talk about it, Francey? It's been a tough afternoon for you.'

She nodded, tears running in a steady flow, but her voice firm now.

‘We'd letted 'im in one nigh' when it was rale cold. We was never gived no blankets or anyt'in', so we bringed him in for the heat and went t' sleep. I wakeded up and she was standin' there, lookin' down at us, an' she had 'im. He was a big ol' cat, but he just hanged there from her hand, like he knowed he was gonna die and there wasn' nu'in he could do 'bou' it. He prob'ly could've fighted her, but he din'.'

‘Cat's are funny sometimes. You just don't know what they'll do.'

‘She kicked Lar till he wakeded up, then she tole us to folla her, an' she went into th' kitchen. She tooked a knife.'

She choked then, and couldn't continue for a time.

Finally: ‘She tole Daddy to hold the cat, an' she tooked the knife, and she sticked it into his belly, and she cut him so's all his guts comed out. He made a awful noise when she done it, then he din' make noise no more.'

‘That must have been terrible for you to see,' I said, scarcely able to imagine the horror they must have felt. ‘It was a very cruel thing to do.'

‘She made us watch while Daddy pulled all the skin off of our cat, an' then she tooked the chopper, and she … she cutted off his legs and his head an' cut his body up into li'l bits.'

I knew what was coming, but I hoped I was wrong.

‘Then she put on a big burner, an' she filled it up wit water an' she cutted up vegetables an' she put all the bits of him in there. “You is always sayin' how you is
sooo
hungry,” she says. “Well here bes a special dinner, and I wants you to eat it all up.” ‘

Francey sighed a deep sigh.

‘We eated it, alrigh'. We was always hungry, an' he would've wanted us to. I tried to on'y eat the vegetables, but she kep' hittin' me 'till I eated the bits of him, too.'

It was mid-afternoon. The sun shone down on us from a sky dotted with clouds. Swallows darted here and there, chasing insects. In a neighbouring tree a blackbird sang its beautiful warbling song. And, in the midst of this idyllic summer's day, was a child trapped in a nightmare of unwavering evil and sadism from which she could not awake.

It was dark when the call came from Devereux. He asked me to meet him outside The Sailing Cot, and half an hour later I was standing with him below the swinging sign. I was almost hopping from foot to foot in my desire to get going, but he was calm and immutable, as always.

‘The man's name is Terence Fields. I have been informed that those who wish to contact him come here. I was unsuccessful in ascertaining his home address by my usual means.'

‘Shit,' I said, kicking the kerb in frustration. ‘They don't like me in there. There's no way they'll tell us anything.'

Devereux allowed himself a smile. ‘They may tell me.'

I shrugged. ‘Well, it can't hurt to try. Let's go.'

The pub was busier than I had ever seen it, the crowd at the bar several people deep. The landlord was serving, along with one of the ‘bouncers' he had called for that first evening I had been there and found Fields with Mina. Devereux moved through the throng like Moses parting the Red Sea. People just seemed to naturally move out of his way. When we got to the front, he called to the proprietor: ‘Mr Murphy, I require some information.'

The older man glanced at him, then at me, and whispered something to his large compatriot. The bouncer lumbered over and leant in close to Devereux. ‘The management would like yiz to leave. Now get out of here before there's trouble.'

I was standing right next to Devereux, and never saw him move. But he must have done something, because one moment the thug behind the bar was leaning in to him, trying to look threatening, the next he was sprawled against the taps, trying to staunch the flow of blood from his nose. It happened so quickly and quietly that the crowd around us didn't even notice, the bleeding man receiving a few funny looks.

‘Jesus, Johnny, you'd want to get that looked at,' someone said to him.

Devereux reached over and grabbed the bigger man. He weighed probably twenty kilos less, and was nearly half a metre shorter, but this difference in size seemed not to faze him one iota. It looked as if he was patting the bruiser on the shoulder, but I could see he was not. He pulled him up so that he could speak quietly into his ear. ‘I wish to find Terence Fields. He has something I need returned. Now, you and your employer should know that I can cause a good deal of upset, and I will keep coming back here until I receive the correct information. So, why don't you go and tend to that nosebleed, and while you're on your way to the Gents, tell your boss to write the correct address on the back of a beer-mat and pass it over to my friend here?'

Holding his nose in a cupped hand, the injured bouncer whispered something to the landlord, then went out the back. The older man cast us a filthy look, but took a biro from his breast pocket and wrote something on a scrap of paper. He thrust it across the bar at me.

‘Take it and get the fuck out of my pub,' he hissed at me. ‘Take your pal and don't come back.'

‘Thank you,' Devereux smiled. ‘Let's hope we don't need to.'

The address given was for a tenement flat on the waterfront, not far from where we were. As we walked, Devereux cast regular glances back over his shoulder to ensure that we weren't being followed. He needn't have worried.

The front door was ajar, and we climbed four flights of stairs until we were standing outside the correct number. I could hear
Dire Straits
playing quietly inside. I raised my hand to knock, but Devereux caught it.

‘We don't know what we'll encounter behind that door,' he said. ‘She may be in there, she may not. We have no idea what condition she'll be in if she is inside. We lack any knowledge of how many men we'll find, or if they'll offer any resistance to us taking her. If it goes bad, grab her if you can, and get out. Don't concern yourself with me.'

I nodded, my heart pounding, sweat soaking the back of my T-shirt. He grasped my arm and winked.

‘It'll be fine. Just stay behind me until we see what the story is, then do what you have to. Ready?'

I nodded again. He rapped loudly on the door. At first all we could hear was Mark Knopfler regaling us with tales of private investigations. Then shuffling footsteps.

‘Who is it?'

‘Gardaí.' Devereux's voice was usually unaccented, but now he spoke with thick West of Ireland inflections. He sounded just like a big, country guard. ‘We had a complaint about noise. Could I have a few words with the man of the house?'

A key rattled in a lock. Devereux stepped back, balancing on the balls of his feet, and as soon as the door opened a crack, he planted a kick right below the handle. The door crashed in, knocking the person behind it aside, and Devereux slipped through, followed by me.
Two counts of assault. One count of impersonating a police officer, one count of forced entry,
I thought.
Even by my standards, this is a bad night.

A short hallway led to the main living area. I was immediately aware of the smell of marijuana, but there was cigarette smoke and alcohol also.

‘Hey,' the man Devereux had knocked aside shouted, ‘ye can't just barge in like this. I know my rights.'

‘Shut up,' Devereux said, and the tone of his voice quelled the man immediately.

There were six of them in the living area, sprawled on two long couches and a couple of armchairs. They were all middle aged, most of them in their underwear, all obviously drunk, stoned or both. Cans of cheap lager littered the floor, two hash-pipes and an ashtray full of butts were on the table. Lying across the lap of one of the men, wearing an open shirt and nothing else, was Mina. I spotted Fields among the group. He recognized me, as I did him, and he began to sit up.

‘Stay where you are,' Devereux said quietly, and Fields stopped moving. I went to Mina. The man she was draped over was so out of it, he barely noticed me. She seemed to be asleep, and I shook her gently. Slowly, her eyes opened and she saw me.

‘Mina, I'm taking you home,' I said. ‘Come on, love. It's okay.'

Tears came to her eyes, and she nodded, reaching out to me. I looked about the mess on the floor and found a jacket, which I wrapped around her, and got her standing up. As she moved across the room, I noticed she was limping.

‘What did you do to her?' I asked, realizing that I was crying too, but not caring.

‘Nothin' she didn't want done,' Fields said, starting to roll a joint. ‘Take 'er. We're done with 'er anyway.'

Anger came over me in a great wave. Mina was leaning on me, breathing hard with the exertion of simply standing. I looked back at the vermin sitting among the detritus of their tenement room. If I'd had a can of petrol, I would gladly have torched the place.

‘Shane, we have the girl. There's nothing left for us here.' Devereux steered me towards the door. ‘There will be other days to follow up on what we've just seen. The child needs a hospital.'

We got her to the Austin and I lay her on the back seat. She was shivering now, and I was worried that shock had set in. I turned to Devereux. ‘Thank you, Karl. I couldn't have done that without you.'

He nodded, patted me on the shoulder, and strolled away into the night. On my way to the hospital, I added
breaking the speed limit and running five red lights
to the list.

Ben Tyrrell shook me awake at six thirty the following morning. I had fallen asleep in a chair in the corridor outside Mina's room. They had made her comfortable, given her something to help her sleep, and she was to see a doctor later that day. Her parents were in with her. I knew they'd have questions, and had stayed around, but it seemed that fear of the answers that would follow had, as yet, prevented them coming out to me.

‘How about that cup of coffee I owe you?' Ben asked.

‘Throw in some breakfast and you've got a deal.'

‘Come on. The canteen here needs to be shut down for health reasons. There's a good place across the road, though.'

‘You're on. Just let me tell Dirk and Molly, and I'll be with you.'

I knocked and stuck my head round the door. Molly was asleep on a camp-bed next to her daughter. Dirk was standing with his back to them, staring out the window.

‘I'm popping out for half an hour, Dirk. I'll be back, though.'

His back remained to me.

‘Of course, Shane. I'm sorry, I forgot you were still here. I'll talk to you later.'

‘Okay, then.'

We got a table among the medical staff who were the diner's main trade.

‘So, tell me what happened,' Ben said.

I did.

He asked no questions and made no comment until I had finished.

‘You found her. Well done. I don't think there's anyone else on the team, myself included, who could have done it.'

‘I didn't find her. Devereux did.'

‘True. And that was a … creative approach, calling him in.'

‘You don't approve?'

‘You've been doing this work long enough to know that there is very little black and white. Most of what we do is a sea of sludgy grey. I think Devereux is on the side of the angels now. If you'd asked my advice, I probably wouldn't have recommended him, but I'm glad you sought him out. It got the job done.'

‘What are we going to do with the Henrys? They've been to hell and back. I only gave them a cursory picture of what happened, but I reckon they've been able to fill in the blanks themselves.'

‘They can afford private counselling. I'll put them in touch with someone good.'

‘They need more than counselling. I think some long-term family support may be necessary.'

‘I agree. But I believe they're out of the woods. It's a great pity it had to come to this, but you did as much as you could to prevent it.'

‘I pray to God she's okay. Those bastards took turns on her. Goddammit, they had her for days …'

I felt tears returning and squeezed my eyes shut, willing them away.

‘They won't walk away from this unscathed,' Ben said. ‘I know Devereux, and you will probably find that they'll all pay a price in one way or another.'

I nodded, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands.

‘Ben, I need a favour.'

‘Certainly. If I can help, I will.'

‘It's personal.'

‘Shoot.'

I told him about Sylvie. He listened gravely.

‘You should have come to me with this a long time ago, Shane.'

‘I know.'

‘You put yourself and the child at risk.'

‘Can you help her?'

He relit the butt of his cigarette. ‘The father hasn't returned?'

‘No. She doesn't think he will. I've given her a mobile phone and enough credit to do her for a while. My number is set on speed-dial, so even if he does come back, all she has to do is hit the number one, and I'll know she's in trouble. I believe he's gone to ground, though.'

‘We can't depend on that.'

‘Is there somewhere she can go where she'll be able to keep the child? I don't think she'll survive if they take the baby away from her.'

‘I'll see what I can do. You went rogue on this one, Shane. It's a tendency you have, and I don't like it. This is a team sport, and we cannot afford to have any soloists. In future, you come to me and we sort it out together. Are we clear?'

‘Yes. I'm sorry, Ben.'

He looked me directly in the eye. ‘You lost one, during your last job, didn't you?'

‘Yes.'

‘Gillian, wasn't it?'

‘Yes.'

‘You thought if you could save Sylvie, all by yourself, it might cancel that failure.'

The tears came and I couldn't stop them this time. I was tired and sick and my head ached with the pain and sorrow that was all about me. I hadn't asked for this. I had tried to avoid it, in fact. How the fuck had I ended up back here? I thought that I'd run far, far away from all the mixed emotions and confusion. Somehow, they had caught up with me again.

‘I don't know. Probably.'

‘We'll save Sylvie. It sounds like you already have, pretty much.'

‘She got beaten to within an inch of her life.'

‘But he's gone. Grey areas, Shane. There are often trade-offs. That was one of them. You made a judgement call. In the back of your mind, you knew when you confronted him that there was a possibility he'd take it out on her. He did, but, in the long term, it has paid off. He's gone, and we can now
really
help these two children.'

‘I'm tired, Ben. I don't know if I can keep this up much longer.'

‘Go home. I'll stay with the Henrys. Get a few hours' sleep in a bed. Have a shower. You and I have a meeting at three this afternoon with a psychologist, regarding Bobby and Micky Walsh.'

‘Excellent. That's positive.'

‘I hope so. I tend to be a bit dubious about shrinks, but I think it's a step in the right direction. But then, I've been waiting for three months for this chap to return my call, so anything's better than that.'

I stood up.

‘I'm going home. Call me if there's any news about Mina. I'll see you at Last Ditch House later.'

‘That would be good.'

I got to the office a little early. Ben and the psychologist were in the meeting room, and I took a seat at the table with them. I was feeling much better after five hours' sleep and a pot of coffee. Now, with this man ready to help us with Bobby and Micky, it seemed things were taking a turn for the better. Ben introduced us.

‘Shane, this is Dr James Kilshannon, Head Psychologist with Child and Adolescent Psychiatry for the City Health Executive.'

The good doctor was maybe thirty, with a nice haircut, clean-shaven, wearing sensible yet fashionable square-lensed glasses and a neatly tailored grey summer suit with a wine-coloured tie. Ben and I looked like a pair of out-and-out hippies beside him. Which, in fairness, we were.