Darkhouse

TWENTY-SEVEN

Joe stepped out of the shower, focused, reeling from the fright he had given himself with the pills, shocked by the control he had felt slowly slip away from him. He wrapped a towel around his waist and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked tired, but his eyes were clear. He was shaken by his recklessness – leaving the house, leaving Shaun alone, driving with his head spinning. He barely remembered getting to Waterford. He went into the bedroom and grabbed a lime green LV8 from the dresser. He used it to knock back four hits of Fuel It. Then his mobile rang. Anna’s number flashed across the screen. His knees buckled.

‘Thank—’

‘Rise and shine.’

Joe went rigid at the sound of the Texan drawl.

‘Hello?’ said Duke. ‘Hello?’

‘Do you have Anna…my wife?’

‘I know who she is. And what do you think?’

Joe’s heart thumped. Shards of pain exploded inside him.

‘Please,’ he said. ‘Please don’t hurt my wife.’

Duke laughed. ‘Only if you promise not to shoot my partner dead.’

Joe hesitated.

‘Let’s talk about that some other time,’ said Duke.

Joe jumped in. ‘You need to know…’ He thought of those two words from the Gray file and the battle began – should he tell Duke Rawlins what he knew or was it better to hold back? ‘…uh, that my wife…’

‘What?’ snapped Duke. ‘Is a diabetic? Needs sugar, doesn’t need sugar? Needs medication or she’ll die? You know, like the movies?’

‘No,’ said Joe slowly. ‘This is a very real situation. I know that. This is important for both of us. We both need something here and what I need is Anna, my wife, home safe.’ A slight tremor shook his voice. ‘What do you need…Mr Rawlins?’ He stared up at the ceiling and waited.

He heard a rattle as Duke put the phone down and started to clap. After several seconds, he picked it back up.

‘You know your shit. Mr Rawlins – I like that. But I wouldn’t have taken your wife if I was just gonna bring her right back. Where’s the sense in that?’

‘Is Anna OK?’ said Joe. ‘Have you hurt her in any way? Let me talk to my wife. Please.’

‘She said to say hi,’ said Duke. ‘Except no, she didn’t.’

‘Please tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you,’ said Joe. ‘I can promise you that.’

‘What I need? That’s my business. What you need? Now that’s a lot more interesting. That’s my priority here, with all this.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Joe.

‘When it’s all over, it won’t matter a good goddamn what you understand or don’t understand, detective. It’ll be over. A dead end. It doesn’t matter how the hell you find yourself there when it’s the end of the road.’

‘Let me talk to my wife.’

‘No.’

‘Can I see her?’

Duke snorted. ‘Come to the parkin’ lot at that big high cliff by the harbour in five minutes. What are those things again? Oh yeah, lemmin’s.’

The phone, slick with sweat, slid through Joe’s palm and clattered onto the floor.

Frank Deegan was halfway down the path when Nora shouted after him.

‘What I was trying to tell you the other night…I may have done something stupid.’ She walked out to him. ‘I let Anna Lucchesi see that picture that Joe gave you. The mugshot.’

‘How did you manage that?’

‘I’m sorry. It was an accident. It had slipped in among my papers. She seemed a bit shaken by the whole thing. I thought maybe she was angry that Joe hadn’t let her in on it, whatever it was.’ She paused. ‘But now that I think about it, she actually seemed quite nervous.’

‘How do you mean nervous?’

‘Well, I thought I saw the page shake when she took it. Then she put her hand to her mouth. She was sort of looking around, a bit panicky.’

Frank was familiar with that reaction. It usually ended with, ‘That’s him. That’s the man.’

Joe ran for the Jeep and pulled out of Shore’s Rock. He drove towards the village, his mind racing, the caffeine high kicking in. He had taken in the equivalent of eighteen spoons of coffee.

He thought about Hayley Gray. He remembered her parents waiting, powerless, because they’d called the police. Gordon Gray had sat on the sofa, reading the newspaper. Joe thought he was cold and detached. But then the man had bolted upright, shouting, ‘What do I do here? What am I supposed to do? Do I watch TV, do I work, what the hell do I do when this is going on? Someone has taken my child!’

This powerful businessman had collapsed against a police officer, sobbing, ‘This is torture, this is torture – why is this happening?’ Then he stopped suddenly. In the silence that followed, his quiet words sounded roared.

‘I did this.’ His eyes were wide and blinking, his mouth open. ‘Oh God, this is my fault. All of it.’

Joe stared ahead. He knew now exactly how Gordon Gray felt. This was his fault. This was payback for Donald Riggs. He might have been wrong about Katie, about the women in Texas, but he was right about one thing: a man called Duke Rawlins had him in his crosshairs.

He wondered what to do with the information from the file. The thought of making a call on it made the panic surge again. He clenched the steering wheel and floored the accelerator. He thought about calling Frank Deegan. He even reached out for his mobile. Then he was jolted back to the last seconds of Hayley Gray’s life…and realised that Duke Rawlins could be safe in the knowledge that he was never going to call the police.

‘Who do you love most, your husband or your son? If you had to choose,’ Duke said suddenly.

‘My son,’ said Anna calmly.

Duke laughed. ‘Just like that?’ he said.

‘Yes. I’m leaving my husband.’

‘You bullshittin’ me?’ said Duke.

‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s over.’ Her heart thumped. Duke studied her face.

‘You better not be bullshittin’ me.’

‘I’m not. Please don’t touch my son.’

Duke stared, then reached back and slapped her hard with the back of his hand. Her bottom lip split wide.

‘Nice fuckin’ try,’ he said, brushing her hair from her face to look into her eyes. She was crying.

‘Don’t you dare fuckin’ lie to me,’ he said. ‘You’d never be able to choose between them. It’s written all over your skinny little French face.’

‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’

Duke shrugged. ‘Too late,’ he said. ‘Plan B, just for the holy hell of it.’

Barry Shanley was on his way to school punching a text message into his phone when he felt someone grab the back of his knapsack and wrench him to the ground. The phone spun out onto the road. Barry lay on his back on the path, struggling to find his feet. He managed to turn on his side, but Shaun pulled on his bag again, dragging him backwards. Barry’s hands scraped across the stone.

‘Fucking get off me,’ said Barry, trying to stand up.

‘Fuck you,’ said Shaun. ‘You sick fuck. Sending me emails like a fucking psycho.’

‘Got you there, Lucky, didn’t I?’

‘Are you nuts? My mom was—’ Shaun had to stop. He squeezed his eyes shut.

‘Oh, your mom!’ said Barry. ‘You pussy.’

Barry let his bag slide off his shoulders and dumped it on the ground. He started moving on the balls of his feet in front of Shaun, his arms raised. Shaun snorted.

‘You’re scaring me, Karate Kid.’

Barry reached out and tried to chop Shaun across the neck. Shaun grabbed Barry’s wrist and twisted it behind his back, pulling it up until he cried out. He pushed him forward onto the ground.

‘I’m not going to bother fighting you,’ said Shaun. He bent down and picked up Barry’s phone. He scrolled through the message on the screen. He read it out loud. ‘“Tape Home and Away for me. I’ll be back at 7. Kiss Kiss.” Now, who are you sending that to? Oh yeah, here we are: Mom. Fuck you, Shanley.’

Joe frowned. Up ahead, a woman was standing by the side of the road.

‘What the?’

She was swaying back and forth like a drunk, trying to flag him down with heavy arms. He frowned and checked the clock. He had three minutes to get to the car park. He looked around, hoping someone else would drive by and help this woman. Then he saw the blood, dripping from her arm. He looked for signs of a crash or another person, but she was alone and the closer he got the more hysterical she became. She suddenly started flailing wildly.

‘Shit,’ he muttered, pulling in beside her. She grabbed at the handle, missing it several times before the door finally opened and she could heave herself up onto the passenger seat. Something about her made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He watched her as she sat back in the seat. ‘Thanks so much for stopping, sir, thank you,’ she said. Her face was flushed and slick with sweat. Her breathing was heavy. She pushed back her hair and tried to smooth it down, catching a wiry strand in one of three tiny gold hoop earrings.

‘What happened?’ said Joe.

‘Some maniac attacked me! I was going for a walk and he just came out of nowhere.’ She stared at him with wide eyes. ‘I think he was going to rape me,’ she added. Joe took in her bulk. The seats of the Jeep were wide, but she was filling hers and almost spilling over. Only a very large man would try to tackle her down. Maybe that’s why she’d got away.

‘I need to get to a hospital. He stabbed me. With a knife.’ She looked amazed. Then a strange flash of anger passed across her face as if she was about to finish with, ‘The asshole.’

‘Show me,’ said Joe, nodding at her arm. She hesitated. ‘I’m a police officer,’ he said.

She pulled back the sweater wrapped around her arm and he saw a deep slash stretching diagonally across her fleshy forearm. It was a clean slice, delivered – Joe imagined – with quick downward force as she was raising her arm to deflect it. He started the engine and turned to her.

‘You’re gonna be just fine,’ he said. ‘But I can’t take you to the hospital. I have a meeting—’

‘A meeting? You’re a policeman!’ she said. ‘You can’t just—’

‘I’m off duty,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. What I will do is leave you at the garda station and the sergeant in there, Frank Deegan or the guard, Richie Bates, will take you to the hospital. Tell them Joe Lucchesi left you off.’ He glanced down at the clock. He was already three minutes late as he turned onto the main street and pulled up outside Danaher’s.

‘It’s over there,’ he pointed. She didn’t get out of the car. He couldn’t ask her to, so he climbed out and ran around to her side, opening the door and guiding her gently by her left arm.

‘Everything’s gonna be OK,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘I’m sorry about what happened to you. I’m sorry I have to leave you here.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You’re very…kind.’ She looked like she was going to cry. He hopped back into the Jeep, did a swift U-turn and headed for the cliff. Four minutes late. Adrenaline surged through him. His hands started to shake. He stepped out of the Jeep and looked at the empty space around him.

D.I. O’Connor sat at his desk with a row of files open in front of him. Everything he read was irritating him. There were six members in the Drug Squad and it was clear that nothing they had done over the previous year had amounted to anything. He knew this already, but reading it now – in one sitting – for the first time in months made him wonder. Since he had left them, where did it all go wrong?

‘Uh-ohhh,’ said Duke. ‘Who’s showed up late for the party?’ Joe’s heart sank.

The call didn’t sound like it was being made outdoors. Joe looked around, but the car park was empty – no cars, no people.

‘You can’t just—’

‘I can do what I like, buddy,’ said Duke. ‘I’m the one with the little froggie here. She’s cute too. Ribbit. Ribbit.’

Joe was at a loss. ‘I…c’mon, man. I’ll give you whatever you want.’ He paced up and down in front of the car.

‘I wanted you to be here at three-thirty.’

‘It’s just three-thirty-five.’

‘Uh-huh, which is why I’m telling you YOU ARE LATE FOR THE PARTY. You shouldn’t have stopped for the girl, you fuckin’ sucker.’ He hung up.

Joe tried hard to slow his breathing. He focused on the view. From high on the cliff above the harbour he could see just a small part of the village. And the road to Shore’s Rock was invisible after the first curve it took out of town. Joe frowned. From where he stood, it was impossible to see the place where he had stopped for the girl. All Rawlins could have seen was Joe’s car driving toward Danaher’s, but he wouldn’t have been able to make out a passenger. Unless Duke had never intended to bring Anna here and was watching him from an entirely different location. Joe jumped into the Jeep and drove out of the village, stopping at intervals along the route he had taken. He ran along the trees that bordered the road, looking for any sign that Duke Rawlins had been there. He didn’t want to think that Anna could have been metres away from him all this time. But he couldn’t see how. He took the turn into Shore’s Rock and drove cautiously up the lane. When he got into the house, he dialled the station.

‘Hi, Frank? It’s Joe. I was just checking in with you, wondering if that young girl got to the hospital all right.’

Silence.

‘Frank?’

‘What girl?’

‘The one I left outside Danaher’s. With the stab wound. I told her to go into you. She, she needed an ambulance. I had to – Jesus, I hope she didn’t collapse…’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joe. I’ve been here all morning, no-one has been in and no-one has collapsed outside Danaher’s. I think I’d have heard about it. Are you OK? Joe?’

Joe pictured the girl lying on the pavement bleeding out. Then he imagined Frank standing at the counter in the station thinking he was out of his mind. And then it hit him.

‘Gotta go,’ said Joe.

He ran to the den, grabbed the Harris’ Hawk book, scanned the index, then flipped to the page he was looking for. His finger moved under the words as he read; ‘hunt collaboratively’, ‘working in pairs’, ‘observing from a height’, ‘one flushing out, the other attacking’. He picked up the phone and put another call into Frank.

‘Sorry about earlier,’ said Joe. ‘Total confusion. Just wondering…you know your missing girl from Tipperary? She’s on your bulletin board? Big girl?’

‘Yes,’ said Frank. ‘Uh, Siobhán Fallon.’

‘That’s the one. Can you check the photo and give me the distinguishing features bit?’

‘Well, we have large mole on left shoulder, pierced navel, three gold hoops in right ear.’

Joe felt a surge of heat to his face. Nausea swept over him. Then anger. Then rage.

He managed to thank Frank and hang up before he asked any questions.

Frank turned to Richie. ‘I’ve just had the strangest phone call. Joe Lucchesi wanting to know the distinguishing features on that Fallon girl.’ He pointed to the missing person poster. He frowned. ‘Can you explain that?’

Shaun came home for lunch and didn’t want to go back to school. He was hoping Anna would be there but the house was empty and cold. He sat in the kitchen, too numb to fix something to eat. He looked up when the doorbell rang. There was no way he could answer it. He was under orders. It rang again. Then someone knocked loudly on the door.

‘Mrs Lucchesi?’ He spoke in a thick Dublin accent and was pronouncing the name Le Chessy. Shaun moved towards the voice, debating what to do. He could see a man standing at the glass by the front door. He was waving a clipboard and pointing at it. Shaun almost laughed. There was no way this chubby delivery man was anything other than harmless.

Shaun slid open the door. ‘I’m here with your balloons,’ said the man.

Shaun looked shocked.

‘Jaysus,’ said the man, looking at his clipboard. ‘You’re not the bloke the surprise is for, are you?’ He read his sheet. ‘Oh no, you’re not.’ He glanced at Shaun. ‘You definitely don’t look forty to me.’ He laughed.

‘Uh yeah, it’s my dad. They’re for him.’

‘I hope you’re not going to look that miserable when you’re giving them to him.’ The man laughed and Shaun thought again how strange it was that life for everyone else goes on, no matter what is happening in yours.

‘Are these paid for?’ he managed to ask.

‘Luckily for you they are,’ said the man, ‘judging by the panic on your face there. Don’t worry, your mother covered it.’

‘Is she here?’ asked Shaun, excited. He craned his neck around the porch to look down the lane.

The man frowned. ‘Eh, no. It was by credit card, over the phone.’

‘Today?’ asked Shaun, his eyes wide.

‘No,’ said the man. ‘Last week.’

‘Oh,’ said Shaun.

‘You must be very close,’ said the man, frowning. He nodded to the van. ‘Where do you want them?’

Shaun looked around as if he’d find his answer in the trees.

‘The lighthouse over there,’ he pointed.

The man contemplated the walk. ‘Eh, I think you can handle it yourself, bud. There aren’t that many.’ He went out to the van and grabbed three clear plastic covers, tied in a knot at the bottom, each one covering a bunch of five helium balloons. They were weighted down with a small navy balloon filled with sand. Happy 40th was written across them.

‘Thanks,’ said Shaun.

‘Hey?’ said the guy as he walked away. ‘Cheer up!’

‘Your wife lied to me,’ said Duke. Joe could hear a loud slap down the phone line. ‘So I taught her a lesson.’ Slap. ‘Your wife tried to tell me she was leaving you, so’s I wouldn’t hurt little Shaun.’ Slap. ‘Your wife insulted my intelligence.’ A final slap.

Joe’s tone plunged ice-cold. ‘Enough about my wife, Rawlins. Let’s talk about yours.’