Hidden ( CSI Reilly Steel #3) (27 page)

Fr
om the Google Earth images and soil profile maps they had looked at, it was clear that this particular area was perfectly located for anyone wanting privacy.  There was only one track leading in and out, and no other dwellings nearby.  The lake, which protected the western side, was only accessible via a rambling path, which skirted the opposite shore of the lake. It was about a half-mile climb in from the road, enough to deter anyone except keen hikers.

The
route was wet and muddy from recent rainfall, and Chris soon found himself sliding about in his slick shoes. Reilly set a fast pace, stomping along in her hiking boots, seemingly oblivious to the mud underfoot or the rain overhead.

She
had the iPhone in a weatherproof holder, but she didn’t need to refer to the GPS – she had a good idea where they was going from her research. The path crossed a rocky field, then skirted another, before crossing a small ditch, half hidden in a thick hedgerow. On the other side of the ditch the land climbed slightly, obscuring their view of the lake until they were almost upon it.

As they rounded the corner
, they heard a rustling in the bushes. Startled, they both stopped and looked at each other. Chris moved past Reilly and edged slowly toward the noise. Before he could react, a man with wild hair and dressed like a mannequin from an outdoor pursuits store strode into the path in front of them.

‘
Ah
guten morgen
, lovely day for tramping, yes?’

‘E
rm, hello, good morning to you too,’ Chris stammered.

‘
This is the way to Roundwood, ya?’ the hiker enquired.

‘
Yes, just back that way,’ Reilly confirmed.

‘
Danke.
Auf wiedersehen
.’ The man smiled as he confidently marched past them.

‘Holy shit
…’ Chris turned to Reilly with his hand on his chest. ‘He frightened the crap out of me.’

She smiled
. ‘C’mon, Bear Grylls, let’s attack that hill. Looks like we should get a good view down to the lake from it.’ She pointed in the direction of a hill covered in granite rock, heather and tough mountain grass.

As they made their way to the top, the misty rain seemed to be coming from every direction as the wind forced the air upwards against the steep cliff face that fell away down into the lake.

The lake itself was shrouded in fog, but parts became visible from time to time as the air swirled around, giving glimpses of the inky blue water below.

To the left was the sandy shoreline that they had seen on the satellite images, and in the field beyond several
visible buildings.

Chris slipped and slithered along behind Reilly, the misty rain falling more steadily now,
and he felt his damp jacket stick to his shoulders and his hair plaster itself to his forehead. He wished he’d been more prepared as right now he felt like a idiot while Reilly took off like some kind of girl-scout leader.

The lake was roughly oval shaped, and on three sides
was bordered by  boulders and rocks that had been slipping down the steep sides since the last Ice Age.

On the other side the river had carried sediment into the lake, creating the beach and fertile flood plain where the fields were.

‘What do you think?’ he asked her.

‘
It’s within a ten-mile radius to where both of our girls were found, and it certainly matches Conn’s description. Also, I checked the soil analysis reports, and the samples we have are consistent with this area,’ She began biting her lip. ‘I’d so love to get some samples from that beach though,’ she added, straining her eyes through the thickening mist.

‘
Agreed, but unless you’ve got a handglider in that kitbag of yours there’s no getting down there from here.’ Chris wiped a water droplet from his nose. ‘I don’t want to jump the gun but this feels right to me too. Let’s let O’Brien know what  we’ve got and take it from there.’

Reilly went to work taking some soil samples from the grass verge as well as some other gravel and rocks for trace comparison
. It wasn’t ideal; what she really wanted was some samples directly from the beach and farmland to compare with the trace they’d taken off the old shoes and from beneath Sarah’s toenails, but for now this would have to do. ‘How do you think O’Brien will approach it?’

‘With kid gloves
, I’d imagine. The last thing we want is some kind of Waco-style standoff,’ Chris said as he tried to retrace his steps without looking like he was going to fall on his backside at any second.

They continued to speculate on tactics as they made their way back to the car. As they approached,
they could see that the driver’s window was open and cigarette smoke was escaping.

‘
Anything interesting?’ Kennedy asked, as they both climbed in.

‘
Bad enough that we’re wandering around in that weather and then having to come back to a bloody smoke-filled car,’ Chris moaned.

‘
Jeez, what a nag…’ Kennedy turned the ignition key, so the electric windows would work and let his down fully. Reilly left the door open on her side to let some fresh air in.

‘
It looks interesting,’ she told Kennedy as she peeled off her wet jacket.

‘Yeah,
I’ve been looking at the map,’ he said, taking a folded OS map from the dashboard. ‘Looks like there’s only one road in and out of that property.’

‘
Did you talk to the locals about it?’ Chris asked.

‘O
wned by a local family according to the guy I spoke to. They’re not terribly well known or active in the community though. Interestingly, a squad car called and spoke to the owner when they were investigating the hit and run. He said he’d seen nothing but would let them know if anybody else in the house had.  There was no answer at the front gate on any of the follow-up calls.’ He looked at Chris. ‘The local guy said they reported it to Harcourt Street but had heard nothing since.’

‘Jesus, w
hat’s the point of wasting man-hours canvassing if the reports don’t come back to us when alarm bells should be going off?’ Chris said, frustrated.

‘What about
Land Registry?’ Reilly asked.

             
‘Slow as a funeral. I rang base and asked them to call a solicitor, see if we can get them to use their online system to get a quicker response,’ Kennedy said, winding up the window now that the smoke had cleared. He switched on the ignition.

‘
Could we just take a quick ride up to the gate before we go?’ Reilly asked. ‘We’ll just drive down and do a U-turn like lost tourists so as not to spook anybody. I’d really like to try and sneak in some samples.’

‘
We could chance ringing the bell for a chat while we’re there,’ Kennedy said as he maneuvered back onto the narrow road.

‘Chances are if there was no answer for the local officers there will be none for us either, and the last thing we want to do is throw a cat amongst the pigeons if we have indeed found our
Tír na nÓg,’

‘Cat amongst the swans, you mean,’ Kennedy quipped.

The gates to the property were tall and imposing, hung on impressive granite pillars with granite stone-clad walls in each direction making access to all but the invited very difficult. A wooden pole rose up behind the wall with three CCTV cameras on top spanning 360 degrees.

‘Seems
a bit excessive if it’s just an ordinary family living there,’ Kennedy commented. ‘If it’s the gateway to a mystical land, however …’

‘It’s not actually that rare for large country estates to have such a high level of security,’ Chris
said. ‘I’ve seen it before; people out in the sticks often feel more of a need to take self-protection into their own hands.’

‘Fair enough but all those cameras?’ Kennedy reversed the car around
, trying not to linger too long and risk arousing suspicion. ‘It’s way OTT and weird. A bit like
Jurassic Park
or something. These people are either trying to keep somebody out or somebody in – or both.’

‘Well
, either way, the local boys better sit tight on this place,’ Chris said. ‘If things ends up going pear-shaped I’d hate to be the one explaining to an internal investigation how it was called on four bloody times. Hey, where are you going?’ he called out, as Reilly opened the door and stepped outside.

‘Trying to get a sneak peek inside paradise.’

She approached the entrance, and looked through a crack between the pillars and the gates. Inside the first set of gates was a second set
– an intermediate zone between the entrance and the property itself.

Then looking through the gap from a side perspective, she immediately understood its purpose – to her left was a huge tank for fuel oil and a generator house.  She could hear the generator rumbling away inside its small shed.

Follow the breadcrumbs,
Reuben had said. Her mind racing, she turned and walked back to the car.

But as
she made to leave Reilly stopped in her tracks. She’d just noticed something else. Delicately sculpted into the stone on the pillars was an elaborate Celtic-style pattern with a winged horse at the center of the design.

The
gateway to Tir Na Nog?

Chapter 2
6

Much later, back at the GFU,
Reilly slumped into her office chair.

Various
items of post were stacked on top of her desk. There were some familiar external envelopes, and a couple of jiffy bags she did not recognize but no doubt heralded more items for her ever-increasing to-do list.

One piece that
did catch her attention was an inter-departmental padded envelope marked as being from Phoenix Park HQ.

              Unsure as to what headquarters would possibly be sending her, she ripped open the seam and slid the contents out onto the desk.  A green bulging file was bound together with an elastic band, and written on the front of the cover were several pieces of information, but catching sight of a name she soon realized exactly what this was.

[1 line break]

File Number: IIRGSmk24

Name: Grace Olivia Gorman

Date reported: 14/8/1997

[1 line break]

Reilly felt a pang of guilt. She’d ordered the file a couple of days ago and in the middle of all the drama surrounding the current investigation, she’d almost forgotten her promise to Lucy.

She looked closer at the folder
. It was covered in small notes and official stamps that represented its removal and resubmission to file storage at headquarters in the Park. There had been plenty of activity with this file, she noted, although not surprizing given it related to the daughter of a senior member of staff.

Reilly removed the
elastic band and opened the folder.  Removing the order of contents sheet she was immediately drawn to the last entered record, a printout from the online missing children’s website.

Most modern
missing person cases were now listed online, which enabled click-through from independent missing person websites or social networking pages, and thus easier access for anyone with a potential sighting or useful information.

The
printout that Reilly was looking at was a relatively updated version compared with the original report paper-clipped to the inside cover of the file. Grace’s case had originated at a time when investigations were far less interactive.

Her gaze
fixed on the first of two photographs, a smiling image of a happy teenager in her school uniform, and immediately she felt a lump in her throat. If she didn’t know better she would have sworn it was Lucy as a child staring back at her.  The resemblance was striking.

Reilly tried to
put aside any background knowledge she’d already gleaned from Lucy; she wanted to have a clear head as she looked through the file.

The second
photo was a computer-generated image of what Grace would possibly look like today, similar to the one they’d recently created of Sarah Forde.

              The image was haunting, surreal. Reilly wondered about Lucy and Jack Gorman – did they ever look up the missing person website? What did they think when they saw the CGI version of Grace? Had fourteen years of not knowing dulled the pain, made it any easier? She read through the initial case notes.

[1 line break]

Name: Grace Olivia Gorman

Case Type: Missing From Home

Missing Date: 14-Aug-1997

Missing City: Dublin

Missing County: Dublin