SEVEN


Joe could feel the alarm pounding in his chest. His heart beat wildly. He realised it was the phone when Anna reached across him to answer it.

‘’Allo?’ she said. She listened, confused.

‘No, Martha. He came in about eleven-thirty on his own. Unless…I don’t know. Let me go check.’ She handed the phone to Joe.

‘Hi,’ said Joe. He let her talk. ‘I’ve no idea,’ he said eventually. ‘I’m sure there’s—’ Anna walked back into the room, shaking her head. Shaun bounded in after her, frowning.

‘What?’ he asked, looking at both his parents. ‘What?’

‘She’s not here, Martha,’ said Joe. ‘What time did you leave her?’ he asked Shaun.

‘About eleven thirty, quarter of twelve,’ said Shaun. They all turned to the clock. It was four-thirty a.m.

‘Oh my God,’ said Shaun, his eyes wide.

‘What would you like us to do? Is there anyone we can call?’ said Joe into the phone. ‘OK,’ he said, then put it down. ‘Martha’s gonna call some of the girls from school.’

‘But she wasn’t with any of the girls from school,’ said Shaun.

‘It’ll be OK,’ said Joe. ‘She could have met one of them on the way home. Why didn’t you walk her home?’ He hesitated. ‘Did you have an argument?’

When Shaun saw the concern in his father’s eyes he had to look away. There was no way he could tell him what happened tonight. Katie would kill him.

‘No, we didn’t,’ he said. He looked like he was about to cry. ‘She just wanted to walk home on her own.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Joe. ‘She’ll show up.’


For the past two hours, Frank Deegan had been staring at the ceiling. He had nodded off on the couch earlier, but a phone call had jerked him too wide awake to handle his regular bed time. It had been a hang-up, to make matters worse. He turned to look at Nora, asleep by his side. Raising himself up on one elbow, he lumbered out of bed, pausing to sit on the edge before standing. He tightened his navy pyjama pants and headed for the kitchen. He stopped at the counter, his short fingers hovering over a shiny foil bag of coffee grounds.

Nora had to be different, a coffee addict in a generation of tea drinkers. She would complain when she visited friends’ houses that they’d use the same instant coffee that they offered her a year beforehand, its granules in damp clumps against the side of the jar. Only the teabags were replaced regularly in most Mountcannon homes.

‘Vile,’ she would say to Frank, afterwards. ‘Vile.’

He looked up at the clock, heard the rumblings of his ulcer and ignored the call of caffeine. Instead, he put a small saucepan of milk on the stove and sat down at the table with the newspaper. He reached for his reading glasses with their thick magnifying lenses. He’d bought them from a stand in the pharmacy. Nora loved to poke fun at him and his super-sized eyes. He reminded her of something she could never remember. Sometimes he would look up from his book or paper just to make her laugh.

As he settled back into the chair, the phone rang.

‘Hello,’ he said as if it was ten o’clock in the morning.

‘Frank, it’s Martha Lawson. Katie didn’t come home last night.’

‘You mean the night before last?’ asked Frank.

‘No, well, tonight I mean. She should have been home at midnight.’

‘It’s five a.m., Martha, the night is still young for a teenager. Especially at the weekend.’ He rubbed a hand through his hair. ‘Was she in one of the discos in town?’

‘No,’ said Martha. ‘She’s not allowed. She was in the village with Shaun. She wanted to walk home on her own for some reason and now she hasn’t shown up. Oh, hold on, Frank. There’s someone at the door.’

‘Well, there she is now,’ he said, rolling his eyes.

She came back on the line, her voice shaking.

‘It was just the Lucchesis,’ she said.

‘Oh, OK. Well, I’ll come over to you, so,’ said Frank. ‘Sure I’ll probably pass Katie by on the drive.’

‘Thanks, Frank. I appreciate it.’

Frank took the milk from the stove and reached for the Colombian roast.


Martha Lawson lived with her daughter in a small white bungalow with a large garden – a suburban home on a country road, a ten-minute walk from the harbour, a thirty-minute walk from the Lucchesis. Inside, the house was a blend of different woods, carpets and fabrics; a mahogany dresser with varnished pine coffee table, floral carpet with Aztec print drapes. Every surface was spotless.

Frank sat to Martha’s left on a brown sofa, his body turned towards her. She had a plain face, but most of the features that made Katie beautiful. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her eyelashes wet from tears.

‘I’m sure Katie is fine,’ said Frank. ‘I don’t know what she’s up to, to be honest, but whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll have a good explanation when she walks through that door.’

‘No, Frank, I really don’t think so. Please. I know Katie. It’s not like her at all. God knows, she could be dead in a ditch somewhere. You hear about these hit and runs…’

‘Don’t be worrying about things like that,’ said Frank gently.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘This is just, I’ve never…’ she trailed off.

‘It’s OK,’ said Frank, patting her hand.

‘Shaun called here for Katie at eight,’ she said. ‘She didn’t stick her head in to say goodbye, she just hopped out the hall door to him.’ She thought about this for a while. ‘I didn’t even say goodbye to her,’ she cried.

‘We don’t know anything’s happened to her,’ said Joe, who had been standing at the fireplace opposite. ‘And if we all got up to say goodbye to our kids every time they went out the door, we’d be up and down all day.’

Martha smiled, wiping her nose with a pink tissue.

‘Shaun said they had been hanging around the harbour, but she wanted to walk home on her own or something, so he let her.’ She glanced over at Anna and Joe. ‘She was supposed to be home at midnight.’

‘Where is Shaun?’ asked Frank, frowning.

‘He wanted to stay at home,’ said Joe. ‘And wait by the home phone. He figures she could call him on that because he doesn’t get a great signal on his cell.’


Shaun stared at his bedroom wall. His heart was thumping. He moved around, trying different positions to get a signal on his mobile, but he knew nothing would work. He used the portable phone to dial his message minder. There were no new messages. He tried his private line in the bedroom. It rang. He hung up. He checked the answer phone. There were no messages. He picked it up, pushed buttons, turned it over, put it down again. Still no messages.


There was a knock on the door. Martha looked around at everyone. They all stood up at the same time, but left her to answer it. Low muttering came from the hallway. Richie Bates, in his pristine navy uniform, bent his head to get through the door and nodded when he saw Joe and Anna. He was pale, but alert. His hair was still damp from the shower. He turned to Frank.

‘Howiya, Frank,’ he said sombrely, nodding again.

Martha walked in behind him, disappointed and exhausted.

‘Will you have a cup of tea, Richie?’ she said.

‘I’ll get it,’ he said.

‘You will not,’ she said. ‘Sit down there.’

She brought him out a plate of plain biscuits and tea in a china cup that looked lost in his big hands.

‘Thanks,’ he said.

After a long silence, Frank spoke up.

‘Sorry to have to ask, but was there anything wrong with Katie?’ He pulled out his notebook. The formality of Frank Deegan, out of context, sitting on her sofa as a policeman made her cry.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Martha.

‘Did you have an argument or anything?’

‘No, no, everything was fine,’ she said defen sively.

‘Was she fighting with anyone in school?’

‘She wouldn’t tell me if she was.’

‘You know with young girls, they could have been jealous or there could have been something—’

‘No. I know a bit of bullying goes on at the school, but she’s never been part of it.’

Frank searched for questions that wouldn’t alarm Martha at this early stage, but would reassure her that she was being taken seriously.

‘I’m trying to think,’ said Martha, ‘did I do something that annoyed her?’

‘Tell me what she did during the day today.’ ‘She went to school and was home straightaway afterwards. She didn’t have any homework, so she went out to meet Shaun. She didn’t change out of her uniform. She came home on her own for dinner, then went upstairs and had a shower. She spent a good while getting ready. She had a lot of makeup on, which she normally doesn’t. I might have told her that she could have taken some of it off. I think that annoyed her.’ She looked up at Frank.

‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ he said.

‘I went into the kitchen then and I presume she took a jacket from the hall, because then she just shouted “See you later,” and off she went out to Shaun. I went into the hall after her, but she was gone.’ Tears welled in her eyes. ‘I don’t know why I had to say that about her makeup. She looked beautiful.’

Richie Bates stayed silent throughout the interview, but took notes every time she spoke. The bones in his hand were rigid. Frank wondered if the pen was going to snap.

‘Maybe she hated me and I didn’t know,’ blurted Martha. Everyone looked at her.

‘No,’ said Anna, rushing to her side. She patted her arm. ‘She loved you. We all know that. She’s just late home.’

The questions continued until Frank was satisfied he had enough information. But that didn’t mean he had any idea where Katie Lawson was.


The cottage, at the end of a damp, mossy lane, was five miles from Mountcannon and had lain derelict for fifteen years. Wooden boards crisscrossed the fractured windows, protecting the place from people less determined than Duke Rawlins. His hands tore at the rotting frame, pulling free parts of the brittle timber. Within minutes he was climbing through the back window into a dark, cramped kitchen. He breathed in the stale air, then worked on the rusted door latch, finally pushing the door open to the breeze.

He moved through the house, shining his torch over mahogany furniture, ragged net curtains and religious pictures, crooked on floral walls. The bedrooms were small and dark, barely lit by the tiny windows. A tarnished picture frame lay upturned on a sideboard. A strip along the centre of the photograph had been bleached white, where a gap in the boards had let shafts of sunlight through the window. He picked up the frame and slid out the photograph, letting it float to the floor. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out one to replace it. Uncle Bill stood in a faded XL denim shirt and jeans, his right arm extended. The sun was setting behind him and glowed orange, catching his brown hair and full beard. His left thumb was hooked into a brown leather belt that was too tight for his vast stomach. His smile was broad. Solomon sat on a bow perch next to him, one foot raised. Sheba was swooping through the air, poised to land on Bill’s gloved hand and collect her prize.

‘Solomon was majestic,’ said Duke, holding the photograph to his chest. ‘He truly was.’ He stretched out his arms and looked into the shadows. ‘But Sheba, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.’


Anna pushed aside plates, bottles, cutlery and mugs to add a jug of maple syrup to the breakfast table. Joe looked at the waffles, juice, croissants, bacon, sausage, coffee and tea. ‘Whose room will we charge this to?’ he asked. Anna laughed and looked to Shaun for a reaction. He had none. Tears were dripping onto his empty plate.

‘Do I have to sit here?’ he said. ‘I feel sick.’

‘No, no, you go,’ said Anna, tilting his chin up. He looked away, then left the table.


Frank stood quietly in the doorway, smiling at Nora. She never let him down. He knew she would have got out of bed as soon as he left. There was something about her and that navy satin dressing gown that always touched his heart. She hadn’t heard him come in. She sat in a corner of the sofa, her legs stretched out and resting on the low table in front of her. One hand was flicking through a book telling her how to de-clutter her life. The other was reaching out for her coffee mug. She missed the handle, but grabbed it back before it rocked off the side. Frank laughed. She jumped.

‘You’re dreadful,’ she said, smiling. She put down the mug and turned around to him.

‘Well?’ she said, closing the book.

‘There’s still no sign of her.’

‘Really?’

Frank nodded.

‘How was Martha?’

‘Very upset. God love her, though, she’s very innocent. I asked her a few questions, but I think it scared the life out of her…and I hadn’t even gone near the serious ones.’

‘Ah, it’s hard for someone like Martha. She’s from another era.’

‘God knows, Katie could have got fed up with how strict she is and run away to make a point.’

‘Maybe. And who knows? Martha’s never got over Matt’s death, maybe her moping around the house all the time made Katie feel guilty for getting on with her own life.’

‘Could be.’

‘Or maybe it just suffocated the poor girl.’

‘Possibly,’ said Frank.

They looked at each other. They knew they were already sounding desperate.

‘Either way, we’ll know soon enough,’ said Nora. ‘Good kids like Katie don’t last too long away from home. She’ll be back before lunch, probably.’

‘I feel guilty even saying this, but I called the hospitals and a few of the other stations, but nothing.’

‘I don’t know whether that’s a good or a bad thing,’ said Nora.

‘Hmm.’

‘And what about Shaun?’

‘I don’t know what’s going on there,’ said Frank. ‘He didn’t walk her home even though he was out with her. We’re always seeing him walking her home, that funny walk they do, wrapped around each other.’

‘I know,’ said Nora.

‘And he didn’t come with Joe and Anna to Martha’s.’

‘What was he doing?’

‘Waiting for her to call him, says Joe.’

‘That’s a bit odd,’ said Nora. ‘You’d think he’d want to be around everyone. And surely, if she didn’t get hold of him, she would have called her mother, let her know she’s all right.’

‘I had a chat with him after Martha’s,’ said Frank, ‘and the poor lad definitely seems out of it.’

She studied Frank’s face.

‘You’re worried.’

‘Yes I am, actually.’ His eyes were tired and sad.

Nora was about to ask another question, but he held up a finger.

‘I can’t really stop,’ he said. ‘I’m going to have to talk to some of Katie’s friends, maybe have a look around the harbour and the strand and out towards town, see if I can see anything. If she isn’t back after that, I suppose I’ll have to call it in to Waterford, make it official.’


Shaun walked for a mile past Shore’s Rock along the scenic route from the village. He climbed the iron gate into Millers’ Orchard and jumped down onto the path. John Miller was hunched in the corner, shovelling leaves into a smoking pile, far enough away not to notice Shaun run along the wall to the opposite side and slide down behind the trunk of an apple tree. He closed his eyes and was still in the same position ten minutes later when footsteps behind him made him jump.

‘Hi,’ said Ali.

‘Hi. What’s up?’

She sat down beside him and took out an empty soda can. It was bent forward at the bottom and pierced with nine tiny holes. She pulled some grass out of a plastic bag.

She turned to him. ‘Where do you think she’s gone?’

She put the grass over the holes and held the opening of the can to her mouth. She held her lighter to the grass and sucked in hard. She tried to pass it to Shaun. He shook his head.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’ve spent the whole morning wandering everywhere…’

‘I went into town to look for her around the shops. Which I know was a bit stupid.’

‘It’s just not like her to—’ ‘I know.’

‘This was my last resort.’

‘Me too.’


Nora and Frank locked eyes when the phone rang. He was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to eat a sandwich. He slowly reached across to answer it.

‘Frank, it’s Martha. She still isn’t back.’

‘All right,’ he said firmly, looking at his watch. It was twelve o’clock. ‘What I think I’m going to have to do now is call Waterford.’ Waterford Garda Station was the district station over Mountcannon.

Martha gasped at the other end of the phone. He could barely hear her when she spoke.

‘OK. Thanks.’

‘So I imagine a Detective Inspector will be out to see you later on this evening. Do you have someone with you, Martha?’

‘Yes. My sister, Jean.’

‘All right. I’ll let you know what’s happening.’ He put down the phone and dialled Waterford. He was surprised at how his heart had started racing. He never suspected the worst of anyone or any situation, but he was now hit with a fear he tried to tell himself was irrational.


Joe bent down and looked at the four pieces of steak under the grill. The butter had barely melted on them. The Worcestershire sauce wasn’t sizzling.

‘Get away from there,’ said Anna.

‘Come on. Steak sandwiches. You never say no.’

‘The only problem is that you know none of us are going to eat. And the last thing you need is something to chew.’ She tapped the side of her face. He looked under the grill again. She sighed.

‘I hope I’m wrong,’ said Joe. ‘But I think there’s something Shaun’s not telling us.’

‘What? But he would have said something to Frank earlier.’

Joe straightened up, turned off the grill and slid the steaks into the bin.

‘I’m not so sure,’ he said. ‘I think it’s something he doesn’t want to tell anyone. He wasn’t even being put under any pressure and…I don’t know…he looked kinda scared.’

‘Worried, probably. I think it was because we took him by surprise, arriving back with Frank like that. I don’t think he thought Martha would have called the police that soon.’

‘Maybe.’

She stood up. ‘I’m making you one of your shakes. You can use a straw. And it will be better than that LV8 energy stuff, full of caffeine.’

‘It’s pronounced “elevate”.’

‘I don’t care,’ she said. ‘All I know is anything that comes in bright colours like that is not good for you.’

He rolled his eyes. Anna went to the fridge for the ingredients. She pulled the liquidiser out from the wall and threw in a sliced banana, two scoops of ice-cream, two teaspoons of peanut butter, a spoon of honey and filled the rest up with milk, whizzing it until it was creamy. She put in a straw and handed it to Joe.


The Garda station at Mountcannon was small and neat, with grey floors, cream walls and bulletin boards with posters on awareness of everything from drinking and driving to using machinery near overhead wires. There was no cell; just a main office, Frank Deegan’s office, a kitchen and a bathroom. Frank leaned back in his chair, his light blue shirt straining across his armpits. Detective Inspector Myles O’Connor had driven fifteen miles from Waterford city and was sitting on the edge of his desk with a stylus in his hand, punching text into a slim silver PDA. He was the first person Frank had seen who looked comfortable with one.

Every guard had heard about O’Connor – at thirty-six, he was the youngest D.I. in the country and the first in Waterford. Frank couldn’t define it, but there was something about O’Connor that didn’t say guard.

‘Were you on holidays?’ asked Frank, noticing his fading tan.

‘Yes,’ said O’Connor, without looking up. ‘What was the name of the girl’s boyfriend again?’

‘Shaun Lucchesi. Where did you go?’

‘Portugal. And did you say she’d been at a nightclub that night?’

‘No,’ said Frank. ‘Out with the boyfriend around the harbour.’

Frank saw that O’Connor’s eyes were bloodshot. Every now and then, he would raise his hand to his face as if he was about to rub them, then stop himself before he did. Frank wondered was it from squinting at the small screen. Then he thought maybe he was tired, but he showed no other signs.

‘OK, fill me in on the rest of it,’ said O’Connor.

Frank went through all the details. O’Connor listened, then took notes when he had finished.

Richie barged in, breaking the silence.

‘You’ve met D.I. O’Connor before,’ said Frank. ‘Waterford’s going to be handling Katie’s disappearance from here on in. Superintendent Brady is on his way over.’

Richie flashed O’Connor a quick smile, squeezed his hand, then hovered in front of him, enjoying the six-inch height difference.

O’Connor didn’t have the insecurity to make it worthwhile.

‘Hello, Richie. Good to see you.’ He smiled and held eye contact with him until Richie looked away.

‘Right. What’s your take on all this?’ asked Superintendent Brady as soon as he walked in. He was almost entirely bald, with a narrow band of soft white hair around the base of his skull and a thick white moustache.

Frank opened his mouth to answer.

‘Ah, I’d say leave it for now,’ said O’Connor. ‘She’ll turn up later. It was Friday night, she’s young—’

‘Frank? You know the girl, the family…’ said Brady.

‘She was on her way home,’ said Frank. ‘It just doesn’t ring true that she’d—’

‘We’ve all been on our way home,’ said Richie.

‘You were there for all that this morning with Martha,’ said Frank, annoyed.

He turned back to Brady. ‘I’ve a bad feeling about this,’ he said. ‘There’s not a thing about Katie Lawson would have me believe she’d run away. And, yes, I’ve known the family for years. I don’t think we can ignore this.’

O’Connor sighed. ‘In fairness, she’s got no money, no passport…’

‘I think this is fairly serious,’ said Frank, nodding.

‘OK,’ said Brady. ‘We’ll get a search team in for tomorrow morning if she doesn’t show up in the meantime.’

‘Will you act as liaison officer with the family, Frank?’

‘I’d say Richie would be the man for that.’ Frank felt Richie could learn something about handling a delicate situation.

Superintendent Brady nodded at the men.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said. ‘We don’t all want to land in on the mother and scare the life out of her. I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Right,’ said O’Connor, turning to Frank, ‘I suppose we’ll call in to Mrs Lawson.’

‘She’ll be worn out going through everything over and over,’ said Richie.

Both men looked at him.

‘Well,’ said O’Connor, ‘she might be doing it all over again tomorrow with the Chief and Superintendent Brady. You never know what you might miss the first time.’

‘What an asshole.’ said Richie later.

‘Well, you better get used to dealing with him,’ said Frank.

‘“You never know what you might miss the first time”. What a load of shite.’

Frank didn’t bother responding. Everything was always shite in Richie’s world.


Joe sat at the table thinking about what Shaun could be hiding. His first guess was alcohol and drugs, but it was a half-hearted one. He knew Shaun had smoked dope back home, but he didn’t think he still did. And the worst he would do was sneak a beer or two when he went out. All kids did that.

And Katie – she didn’t drink or smoke. She was more innocent than the girls Shaun dated in New York. They had a predatory look that wasn’t restricted to Shaun. Katie had a twinkle in her eye, but it was more about intelligence and wit than bad behaviour. Was Shaun protecting her from something? Did something happen that made her want to avoid home? Was she making a statement? Was she pregnant? He didn’t want to think about it any more. An uncomfortable sensation – almost as physical as the dull ache in his jaw – was rumbling inside him.


O’Connor sat in Martha Lawson’s kitchen in a stiff wooden chair that pressed into his spine. The radiator behind him was turned up high. He shifted forward. He had already shaken off his suit jacket and hung it on the chair beside him. He ran through the same gentle line of questioning as Frank had, but quickly moved on.

‘Does Katie suffer from depression?’ he asked. The question hung in the silence.

‘She’s sixteen years old!’ said Martha. ‘Of course she doesn’t suffer from depression!’

Frank and O’Connor exchanged glances. Between them, they’d been to the scene of four suicides in the previous five months, all of them teenagers.

‘Depression can start even younger than sixteen,’ said Frank gently. ‘You may not even have realised that’s what it is.’

‘Was she sleeping a lot?’ said O’Connor. ‘Emotional? Irritable?’

‘Isn’t that every teenager for you?’ said Martha.

‘Do you think she was feeling negative or hopeless? Or could she have been worried about anything?’ said O’Connor.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Martha muttered. ‘I don’t think she would have told me.’ She bowed her head and let the tears fall.

Frank’s eyes moved over the family photographs on the sideboard. The biggest one was Katie in her white communion dress, her hands clasped around a prayer book and a white satin bag, her parents standing proudly behind her. In the second, she was dressed in pink trousers, a white top and big white trainers, sitting on a bench laughing with her father.

‘Do you think she was badly affected by Matt’s death?’ asked Frank.

Martha followed his gaze. ‘She was devastated. She adored him. But she was young when it happened. She’ll always miss him, I know that, but I wouldn’t have thought it was something that would trouble her at this stage.’

When she turned away, O’Connor leaned down slowly and turned the dial on the radiator. His face was red and his eyes looked dry. He kept blinking.

‘Does she drink or do you think there’s a chance she could be involved with drugs?’ he asked.

Martha looked back at him, confused. She glanced at Frank for support. His look was apologetic.

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘No, she does not. She isn’t allowed. I don’t keep drink in the house. And where would a girl like Katie get her hands on drugs?’

Frank was saddened by her reaction. Did Martha really think she would only get drink from her own house? Or that drugs were hard for a teenager to come by?

‘To be honest, I’m getting very nervous about these questions,’ she said.

‘Don’t worry,’ said O’Connor. ‘For us to do our job properly, we have a list of standard questions that we ask people in a situation like this. We’re not judging you or Katie or anyone. I don’t know Katie, so I’m trying to get a handle on her. That’s all. It will help us to look in the right places for her.’ Frank nodded.

‘OK,’ said Martha.

‘Is there anything else we need to know about her that you think would help?’

‘She’s a wonderful girl.’ She started to cry.


Joe jerked awake on the sofa and glanced around the empty living room. He checked his watch. It was five to four. He ran to the kitchen, grabbed a banana, two Fuel It energy tablets and a shiny purple bottle of LV8. He peeled the banana against the steering wheel on his way into the village, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he heard a crunch. He decided instead to pop the Fuel It and sip his drink until he felt the familiar buzz kick in. When he got to the school, he parked outside the playground where a crowd had gathered. He saw Shaun standing alone by the wall. He jogged over.

‘You finally made it,’ said Shaun.

‘Sorry. I fell asleep on the couch.’

‘Then you probably forgot all about it.’

‘No I didn’t. Shaun, I apologise. But you’re going to have to stop beating me up about this shit.’ He rubbed his face. ‘Sorry. I’m too sore to talk right now.’

‘Sure you are,’ said Shaun.

Joe was about to say something, when someone gave two short claps and everything went quiet.

‘We’re all here today for Martha Lawson,’ said Frank. ‘And she’d like me to thank you for your support. You may have seen searches like this on the news. Everyone moves in a straight line across their assigned search area. These lines are also made up of members of the gardai, who will be numbered for easy identification. As most of you know, Katie is five feet six, slim, with shoulderlength dark hair. A photo is being passed around the group. She was last seen wearing a pair of wide denim jeans with the brand name Minx, a pair of pink running shoes, a pink hooded sweatshirt with the word cutie written across the front and a white T-shirt. She would possibly have been carrying a pale blue nylon wallet and a silver mobile. During the course of the search, if you think you see any of these items, don’t move. Notify the garda closest to you and they will call out their number, blow a whistle and shout “Find”. If you hear this, stop immediately, whether you yourself have found anything or not. Do not move again until you hear the word, “Forward”. Keep any chat to a minimum, but if you must speak, do it quietly. I don’t need to tell you not to leave anything of yourself behind during the search. So keep sweet wrappers, cigarette butts or any other litter in your pocket until you get to a bin. Thank you.’

Shaun went over to Frank, his eyes pleading. Frank shook his head and put a hand on Shaun’s shoulder.

‘I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ he said. ‘Maybe you should wait at home in case she rings. I bet you’ll be the first one she rings.’

‘I have my cell phone,’ said Shaun.

‘That’s not a huge amount of use to you, with the coverage once we head out of the village,’ said Frank.

‘Go home, son,’ said Joe, coming up beside him.

‘I don’t know what you’re all so worried about,’ said Shaun, his voice rising. ‘What do you think we’re going to find?’

‘Probably nothing at all,’ said Frank.

‘But it’s just best that you’re not around,’ said Joe. Shaun walked away. Frank turned around to talk to D.I. O’Connor.

Joe took the chance to search his pockets for painkillers. He had nothing. He considered his options. He couldn’t walk away in front of all these people. Then he felt someone squeeze his arm. He vaguely recognised one of the elderly women from outside the village. Joe waited for the question. He was more patient than he used to be. The intrusion had amazed him when they first moved.

‘How’s the young lad?’ asked the woman, nodding towards Shaun. Her face looked more accusing than concerned, but he suspected it had set that way years ago. The best he could do was nod through the pain, trying to let her know Shaun was doing OK. She still waited for him to speak.

‘Is there any word on the little girl at all?’ she asked.

He shook his head and murmured a ‘Mm-mm,’ his usual refuge at times like this.

The woman tutted in disgust. He had seen it all before.

‘I’ve said a prayer to St Jude,’ she said as she walked away. He frowned, irritated. He knew St Jude was the patron saint of lost causes.

He turned back to Frank who reached into his pocket and without looking, handed him some ibuprofen. Joe knocked them back with purple fizzy caffeine.

Frank turned and faced his group, which included Joe. ‘Right, we’re taking the central part of the village, from Seascapes, around by the shops, back down to the harbour and up again toward Shore’s Rock.’

About forty people moved into rows and walked slowly up to the holiday homes. In the bright afternoon, the densely packed trees cast black shadows across the drive. Joe was at the edge of the line and almost fell over a little boy crouched behind a sycamore. His eyes widened when he saw Joe.

‘I’m hiding,’ he said in a loud whisper. He put a finger up to his lips and pointed towards his parents who were packing up a station wagon in front of one of the houses.

‘Oh,’ said Joe. ‘But that might really scare your mom and dad. I’m sure they’d be real sad if they couldn’t find you.’ He looked through the trees and noticed a light on in the landing of the last house, the odd glow of a bulb in daylight. There was no car in the drive.

‘I don’t want to go home,’ said the boy sadly.

‘That’s a real pity,’ said Joe. ‘I’m gonna go over and say hi to your mom and dad. Do you wanna come?’

The boy shook his head furiously. Joe told the man next in line to him that he had to check something.

He walked up to the couple. ‘Don’t look now, but your little guy is in the trees right behind me. I’ve been sworn to secrecy.’

The parents looked at each other and rolled their eyes. ‘We’ll kill him.’

‘Have you been here all weekend?’ said Joe.

‘Yup,’ said the woman. ‘But it’s still not long enough for Owen.’

‘You didn’t happen to see anyone in that last house, did you?’ asked Joe, pointing.

‘No. You actually notice the cars coming in and out here. It’s so quiet,’ said the man.

‘Or you’d see the headlights,’ added his wife. ‘We’ve been in every night.’ She nodded towards their son.

‘OK. Just curious,’ said Joe. ‘Safe trip. Good luck getting him into the car.’

Joe rejoined the group for the walk through the village towards Shore’s Rock. Every now and then, the whistle would blow, everyone would stop and a guard would collect whatever had been found. Then the line would move along again in silence until they reached the gate to the lighthouse.

‘It’s getting dark,’ said Frank. ‘And the forest is dark enough as it is, so we’re going to have to postpone the rest of this. Thank you all for taking part.’


Richie’s group had returned earlier and he was at the station when Frank walked in.

‘Did you find anything?’ he asked.

‘Not a thing,’ said Frank. ‘Certainly nothing I think will amount to anything. What about yourself?’

‘No,’ said Richie. ‘Mind you, every scrap of rubbish that has been dropped anywhere along the way was pointed out to me. Sweet wrappers I hadn’t seen since I was a kid. Kitty Tynan spiked a used condom on a stick and waved it in my face. How far did you get?’

‘We stopped at the lighthouse.’

‘I can organise a posse to do the forest tomorrow or whenever.’

‘Check with O’Connor, but that sounds good to me.’

Frank shook his head. ‘Poor Katie will probably be back tonight, laughing at all this, mortified that the whole village was traipsing around looking for her.’


Shaun lay on the sofa in front of the TV, the remote control in his outstretched arm, speeding through the channels over and over.

‘Were you working this weekend?’ said Joe.

‘Not since Thursday night. Why?’

‘Were any of the houses booked?’

‘Just three. For the weekend.’

‘Which ones?’

‘Why are you asking?’

‘You left a light on.’

‘What?’ Shaun’s heart started to pound.

‘The one at the end. Unless someone’s in it. But I guess you wouldn’t have been working on it unless it’s being rented out.’

‘There’s no-one in it. But I didn’t leave the light on.’

‘Well, it’s on, so somebody did. Is Mrs Shanley still away?’

‘Dad, who cares?’

‘Would you mind taking a look?’

‘I’ve got other things on my mind right now.’

‘I can go.’

‘I’ll go. It’s my job. But there’s no light on.’

‘I’ll take a walk with you.’

‘Look, I’m fine. I’ll go on my own, OK?’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘Well, I’m going to have a shower first.’

‘That’s OK. Let me know when you want to go.’

Shaun rushed to his bedroom, picked up the phone and called Robert.

‘Rob, I need you to do me a big favour.’

‘No problem.’

‘No questions asked. And you can’t tell anybody.’

‘OK. What?’

‘Can you get over here and stand under my window, so I can throw you down something?’

‘Okaaay. Why? Is this about Katie? Do you know where she is?’

‘No, I don’t. It’s just I need you to sort something out for me. I’ll drop you down the keys to Seascapes and if you could go in to number fifteen, the one at the end, turn off the light and bring me back the keys.’

‘OK. Why?’

‘Mrs Shanley’s away. I left a light on on Thursday night, the next guests might be charged on the meter. I don’t want her giving out to me. I’m too fucked up about Katie to do it myself.’

‘That’s fair enough.’

‘Just don’t let my dad see you.’

‘What’s he got to do with it?’

‘You know parents.’

‘Yeah. What time?’

‘Right now.’


Ray rang the doorbell at the house. Anna eventually came out.

‘I didn’t want to bother you, but it’s just about the lantern house, the rust and stuff. I don’t know are you interested in having a look or, you know…’

‘Just one second,’ she said and reached in to grab her jacket.

She jogged across the grass and walked up the lighthouse steps, climbing the ladder into the lantern house. The walls had been completely stripped back to bare metal. Some of it was badly rusted.

‘It looks so different,’ said Anna. ‘Very dark.’

‘I know,’ said Ray. ‘The stuff really worked. It got all the layers of paint off, no problem. Now we can repaint the whole thing white, brighten it up. But we really need to get rid of a couple of the panels. You can see the rust. So, will I go ahead and replace them?’

‘That would be great,’ said Anna. ‘Thanks so much. I really appreciate all the hard work. Tell Hugh, too. I’m sorry I’m too tired to be more enthusiastic.’


‘Weird,’ said Joe. ‘I could have sworn.’ He was in the hall, leaning against the banister looking up at the landing light he knew had been on in the house at the end of the Seascapes cul-de-sac.

‘It could have been the sun,’ said Shaun. ‘You know the way.’

‘I’m not buying that,’ said Joe. ‘I saw it, on.’ He walked up the stairs and flicked the light on and off. ‘So you definitely haven’t been here since Thursday?’

‘I was out on Friday, Dad. And that was with Katie. And now she’s gone. I was in all last night worrying about her. You saw me. So that’s what I’m thinking about. Not about answering stupid questions from you that make no sense. So what if there was a light on?’ He opened the front door. ‘C’mon, Dad, this is retarded.’


Petey was pushing his mop awkwardly back and forth along the floor of the canteen, his first job every Monday morning. Frank came up behind him.

‘Hello, Petey. I just have a few questions for you if you have a minute. I’m doing the rounds.’

Frank saw the fear in Petey’s eyes when he noticed the clipboard with his name and details across the top of a questionnaire.

‘It’s about Katie Lawson.’

Petey flushed and stared at the ground. He rocked the handle of the mop back and forth.

‘I heard she’s gone missing,’ said Petey. He shook his head. ‘It’s awful.’

‘Yes,’ said Frank. He waited. ‘What do you know about Katie?’

‘That she goes out with Shaun Lucchesi and she’s in the school here.’

‘Yes, well the last time she was seen was on Friday night just gone. You didn’t see her or anything on Friday night, did you?’

‘No,’ said Petey, looking down and blushing. ‘I was at home. I don’t really go out.’

Frank felt a surge of pity.

‘Look at me,’ he said. ‘Was your mother with you in the house?’

‘No. She was out at bridge. Then she came back home very late with her friend, Mrs Miller. She stayed the night at our house.’

‘What were you doing when they were out?’

‘Watching TV. Watching Discovery. An amazing programme. About the Fastnet race disaster of 1979. Between August 13 and August 15, a force eleven—’

‘Petey, tell me about Katie. Did you like her at all?’ Frank struggled to get eye contact with him.

‘She was a nice girl. I got on well with her.’ Petey turned his head away and blinked back tears. Frank patted him on the back. Petey flinched.

‘It’s OK,’ said Frank. ‘Thanks for your help. We’ll get back to you if we need to.’ He stopped around the corner to write a note across the bottom of the page.


Richie stood stiffly on the stage, his legs spread, his arms folded across his chest. He looked out on the small group of teenagers that made up the secondary school. Frank slipped in the side door.

‘Good morning, everyone,’ said Richie. One of the boys from the football team stifled a laugh, then followed it with a loud cough. Anger flickered briefly across Richie’s face.

There was a part of Frank that thought Richie would be more respected because he was younger, closer to the kids’ ages. But another part of him understood how he wasn’t. Richie had never been able to strike a balance between authority and severity.

‘I came in today to talk to you all about Katie Lawson,’ Richie continued. ‘As you know, Katie is a fifth year student here. She went missing last Friday night and we haven’t heard from her since.’

Nervous energy ran through the crowd. They looked around for a reaction from Shaun, but he had been excused for the day.

‘So if any of you know anything,’ said Richie, ‘anything at all, however insignificant or irrelevant it may seem, please talk to myself or Frank.’ He nodded towards the wall where Frank stood. Some of the students smiled over at him. A few waved. Richie paused, then went on. ‘As well as some detectives from Waterford, we’ll be calling to houses around the area over the coming day or two, so you can catch us then as well. And, of course, anything you tell us will be treated in the strictest confidence. Thank you.’


Joe was standing in Tynan’s buying USA Today when a stack of Evening Heralds landed on the floor beside him. For a moment, he was confused by the familiarity of the face under the front page headline. NO CLUES IN SEARCH FOR MISSING TEENAGER. He broke the binding and slid out the second copy. Kitty Tynan wouldn’t take any money for it. ‘They don’t waste their time, do they?’ she said. ‘They even have a photo of the search. I didn’t even know they were there.’

‘Yeah, I saw the guy,’ said Joe. ‘And a journalist asking questions. Some people talked to him.’

‘But it’s never the ones closest to the families,’ said Kitty.

‘Never is,’ said Joe.

Joe went to a bench by the harbour and read the article about the tragic disappearance of schoolgirl Katie Lawson and the concern of anonymous neighbours.


Anna stood in the kitchen at the chopping board, with a pile of sliced onions in front of her. She had stopped to watch the sun set.

Joe walked in, frowning, pressing his jaws with his thumb and middle finger. Then he used both hands to massage the area above his eyebrows.

Anna turned around. ‘Not again.’

He nodded and pulled open the medicine drawer.

‘That can’t be right,’ said Anna, pointing to the decongestants. ‘No-one takes those for that long.’

He shrugged, then knocked back the decongestants with two prescription painkillers and a glass of water. He tapped his watch and pointed towards the sitting room. He lay down on the sofa and waited for the effects to hit. The pain had intensified in the last year. He had seen doctors in New York that between them had diagnosed sinusitis, earache and the standard stress they threw out when they read his job description. One young doctor suggested yoga. Joe would have laughed out loud if he thought his jaw wouldn’t shatter. He was happy to walk away with a script for painkillers. Anna was putting him under pressure to see a specialist in Dublin, but he hadn’t got around to it and he used the breaks from the pain to slip into denial.

After half an hour, he walked back into the kitchen. ‘I forgot to say to you – what the hell is wrong with that guy, Miller?’

‘John Miller?’ said Anna, throwing the onions into a hot pan.

‘Yeah, the alco.’ He slid his lower jaw back and forth.

‘Why do you ask?’ she said, going back to the window.

‘He was saying some weird shit to me in Danaher’s the other night.’

‘Like what?’ she said, slicing into a red pepper.

‘He was giving me a hard time, saying stuff about you. Have you met him or something?’ Anna looked at him.

‘He’s John,’ she said patiently. ‘I told you. The John I went out with when I was here the first time?’

‘Oh,’ said Joe. ‘What happened there?’

‘I left for New York, he ended up in Australia,’ said Anna. ‘You were grinding your teeth during the night, by the way. I tried to wake you up, but you just turned over and kept going.’

‘How long were you and this Miller guy together?’

‘Eight months.’

‘Oh. Must have been pretty intense.’

Anna said nothing. She kept chopping.

‘So was it you who drove him to drink? My baby break his heart?’ asked Joe, standing behind her, wrapping his arms around her, kissing the back of her neck.

Anna smiled.

‘I don’t think so, somehow,’ she said.

‘Could have,’ said Joe, teasing.

‘Can you bring up a Merlot?’ she said.

‘Sure,’ he said, walking out the door and down to the cellar.

Anna put down the knife, closed her eyes and breathed out.


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