Hurt (DS Lucy Black) (21 page)

‘Nothing, I’m afraid,’ Richard said. ‘I can give you the name of the solicitor who handled the deal for him, but I’ve no address recorded for him.’ He grimaced, as if imparting this news caused him physical pain.

‘That’s fine,’ Lucy said, trying to hide her disappointment. ‘Thanks anyway.’

She stood to leave, but Richard remained in his seat, staring at the screen in front of him.

‘Wait a bit,’ he said. ‘Now I think about it, I did price his parents’ house for him too.’

‘What?’

‘After he sold his own house, he asked me to value his parents’ house. I think his mother had died a few months earlier and he couldn’t decide what to do with the house. He asked me to give him a valuation for it.’

‘Did he sell it?’

‘No. I don’t think he thought the money he’d have got was worth it. The house was in a bit of a state from what I remember. It needed new windows, central heating, roof fixed, the whole bit. In the good days he’d have managed ninety plus for it, I thought, but with the crash, he’d have been lucky to have passed thirty-five.’

‘Do you remember where the house was?’

Richard shook his head. ‘I’m trying to think. It was past Dungiven. Up on the Glenshane. There was a circle of trees round it. I remember that. Bleak, like.’

‘Would you have the address?’

‘I should have somewhere. I have a diary I keep valuation stuff in, in case someone comes back to you. I’ll need to dig out the old ones and take a check through it. It was a few weeks after we finalized sale of the one in the city, so it should be easy enough found.’

‘Could you check now?’ Lucy said, a little more impatiently than she intended.

Richard shook his head again, the skin beneath his chin wobbling with the effort. ‘I’ve my old diaries in my office at home. I can take a run out and get it for you. I’ll call you as soon as I find it.’

‘Is home close?’ Lucy asked. ‘I could run you there.’ She glanced at her watch. Karen Hughes’s funeral was in three quarters of an hour.

‘Ballybofey,’ Richard said. ‘I’ll head up myself in a bit. I’ve a light morning anyway.’

Lucy knew that the journey there would take the guts of an hour. ‘I have a funeral at ten,’ she said. ‘Would you be able to call me with the address when you find it.’

Richard nodded.

‘The missing person case we’re investigating?’ Lucy added. ‘The missing person in question is a child.’

The comment had the desired effect.

‘I’ll go now, then, so,’ Richard said, pushing back his seat and standing.

A guard of honour, comprising a group of Karen’s classmates, lined the pathway up to the church. Lucy passed along them, nodding at one or two as she did so. At the top of the walkway, Karen Hughes’s mother, Marian, stood, supported by two older men, both bearing a strong familial resemblance to her. They held an arm each, as if the woman was physically unable to remain upright unaided. Her face was slick with tears as she nodded her head in acknowledgement of the condolences offered to her by two passing mourners.

Lucy approached her, her hand extended. ‘Ms Hughes,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

The woman stared at her, trying to place her perhaps, and Lucy could see in the glaze of her eyes that she had obviously taken something to help her make it through the morning.

‘Thank you,’ she said, having failed to recognize her. ‘These are my brothers.’

Lucy smiled grimly as she took the hand of each, one after the other, and offered her sympathies on their loss. She reflected that, in the entire time she had known Karen, she had not once seen or heard of either man.

Across from where they stood, she caught a glimpse of Robbie and moved over to him. They hugged briefly, Lucy breaking away from the embrace first.

‘What the hell happened to your face?’ Robbie asked, holding her at arm’s length as he examined her injuries.

Lucy moved out of his grasp. ‘Nothing. They look worse than they are.’

‘They look pretty bad. Who hurt you?’

‘How are you?’ she asked in reply.

‘OK,’ Robbie commented, reluctant to allow the subject to be changed. ‘Considering.’

Lucy nodded.

‘You?’

‘OK,’ she returned. ‘Considering.’

It was Robbie’s turn to nod. ‘Apart from someone having beaten you up,’ he added, a little bitterly.

‘I wasn’t beaten up,’ Lucy remarked. ‘How’s Gavin?’

Robbie hesitated, clearly aware that Lucy didn’t want to discuss her injuries further, but reluctant to let the topic drop. Finally he said, ‘Not so good. He’s inside already. He’s hurting.’

‘For Karen or his dad?’ Lucy asked.

‘Both,’ Robbie said.

At that moment, a blue, unmarked car pulled up at the foot of the pathway and Eoghan Harkin stepped out, before the car drove away again. So close to his release, he would be allowed to attend the funeral unaccompanied. Still, Lucy could tell by the bulge around his ankle that he was wearing a tracing bracelet, just in case he had thoughts of not returning to finish the final days of his sentence. Having made it this far, it seemed unlikely he would risk his early release for the sake of a matter of days.

As he approached her, Lucy could see he recognized her from the night she had broken the news of Karen’s death. He barely glanced in his wife’s direction, save for a curt nod to the two brothers, never raising his head enough to make eye contact with either. No love lost there, Lucy guessed.

‘Inspector,’ he said, as he drew level with Lucy.

‘Sergeant,’ she corrected him. ‘I’m sorry again for your loss, Mr Harkin.’

The man acknowledged the comment with a slight raising of his chin. ‘How are you doing?’ he added, addressing Robbie.

‘I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Harkin,’ Robbie echoed.

‘This is Robbie McManus,’ Lucy explained. ‘Karen’s key social worker.’

‘Thanks for all you did for her,’ Harkin said. Lucy could see that Robbie was looking for any hidden meaning in the comment. ‘What happened to you?’ This time, he was addressing Lucy herself. He lifted one nicotine-yellowed finger and rubbed at the side of his mouth.

‘Nothing,’ Lucy said, then, realizing the response did not satisfactorily explain the injuries she bore, ‘I had an incident with a suspect,’ she lied.

‘I thought maybe it was that Cunningham boy. I heard on the jungle drums that he hit a copper a few smacks last night for staking out his house.’

Lucy reddened enough for Harkin to know he’d hit a nerve. He smiled wryly. Lucy turned her head slightly, keen to avoid Robbie’s gaze.

‘Had Cunningham anything to do with Karen?’ Harkin said quietly.

Lucy shook her head. ‘His brother killed a child and her mother a while back, then did a runner. I’d heard he might be back in Derry. You didn’t happen to hear anything about that did you? On your jungle drums?’

Harkin shook his head. ‘Alan? He’s a horrible wee bastard. That would be his form all right, killing women and kids.’

‘It’s a pity no one else shares your assessment. I can’t get anything concrete on his whereabouts. No one will talk.’

‘Somebody must be protecting him then. Someone with a bit of clout in the community,’ Harkin reasoned. ‘By the way, I heard you were there when the guy that killed Karen got it.’

‘Gene Kay or Peter Carlin?’

‘I was told Carlin,’ Harkin said. ‘Who’s Kay?’

‘He may have been involved too,’ Lucy nodded. ‘Did you know Peter Carlin?’

Harkin shook his head. ‘Not until I heard about it inside. One of the guards told me.’

‘But you knew Gary Duffy?’

‘The guy who killed the Gant girl?’

Lucy nodded. ‘They appear to have been working together.’

‘I remember Duffy all right from years back,’ Harkin commented. ‘He was bad news. A real hawk. Jackie Logue is the one who could tell you about him. Jackie took over from Duffy after he went inside. Except Jackie wasn’t as hard line.’

‘Did he and Duffy know each other?’

Harkin shrugged. ‘I’m not too sure. I never heard of this guy Carlin before all this though.’

Lucy gazed down towards the roadway, long enough to see Chief Superintendent Burns arrive. He made straight for Karen’s mother, his hand outstretched.

‘Did he suffer?’ Harkin hissed suddenly. ‘Carlin?’

Lucy glanced at him. ‘He drowned. Make of that what you will.’

Harkin snorted derisively. ‘It’s a pity you let him die. If you’d kept him for me, I’d have made sure the world became a much lonelier place for Alan Cunningham as a thank you.’

‘You know where Cunningham is?’ Lucy said, quickly turning to face him.

Harkin shrugged. ‘Not necessarily. But, as I said, someone with clout in the community could do all kinds of things. I’d have made sure he wasn’t protected no more. You’d have had to find him yourself, of course.’

Lucy felt her breath catch in her chest, felt herself unsteady on her feet.

‘’Course, it’s a moot point now, isn’t it?’ Harkin added, then moved on into the church, where his daughter lay.

‘You went after Cunningham,’ Robbie said suddenly, gripping Lucy by the arm. ‘Jesus Christ, Lucy! You’re going to get yourself killed, you know that?’

Lucy pulled her arm away. ‘What should I do? Forget about her?’

‘You don’t need to forget her, but ...’

‘But what?’ Lucy demanded.

‘But you need to let it go, Lucy.’

‘I don’t let things go,’ she snapped.

Robbie swallowed dryly. ‘You let me go,’ he muttered.

Lucy was caught by surprise by the tenderness in his voice. The regret. She struggled to respond.

‘Is that why you wanted the child’s address? To reopen your wounds?’

‘I wanted to make sure he’s OK.’

‘You know, he’ll not even remember what happened, Lucy. Nor should you want him to. You’re the only one still carrying that with you.’

Lucy nodded. ‘That suits me fine. Someone has to give a shit.’

‘People do give a shit,’ Robbie whispered urgently, as the people around them began moving inside the church for the funeral service. ‘We just don’t forget to live, too. I’m sorry I ever gave you that address.’

Lucy felt a vibration in her pocket. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said, pulling out her phone. ‘I’ll not tell anyone where I got it from.’

‘That’s not what I’m worried about,’ Robbie managed, before she stepped away from him, putting the mobile to her ear. It was the estate agent.

‘DS Black? Richard O’Dowd here. I’ve got that address for you.’

Lucy made her apologies to no one in particular and ran to her car.

The Glenshane Pass, cutting through the Sperrin mountain range, was named after the eighteenth-century highwayman, Shane Crosagh O’Maolain, who had operated there before being caught and hanged with his brothers in the Diamond in Derry. His name, Crosagh, referred to the pockmarks on his face which were a feature of his family. Ironically, the name applied equally well to the topography of area where he had lived, the thick bogland of which undulated along the valley.

The house that O’Dowd had valued was situated on the outer edge of the Glenshane Forest, just under ten miles beyond Dungiven. The Pass itself was heavy with traffic heading from Derry towards Belfast. The mountain area around it, though, was sparsely inhabited. The land was primarily peatland, the grass and scrub being grazed upon by a few hardy sheep, yellowed and wiry. The soil beneath, however, was black, meaning the runoff water from it was like stout as it cascaded down the rock face bordering the roadway on one side. To the other, Lucy could look down over the valley of the Pass beneath, where the River Roe began to gather strength as it cut down through the mountains.

Lucy had entered the address of the property in Google Maps, but it had not been recognized. Instead, she had taken a series of directions over the phone from O’Dowd. She had passed the entrance way to the abandoned quarry, which had carved into the sides of the mountain, its rusting equipment seeming to breathe dust with each gust of wind carrying up the valley. Further along the road, she passed the Ponderosa bar, a sign outside proclaiming it the highest public house in the country.

Finally, as the road began to flatten after the climb from Dungiven, she saw the roadway to her right that O’Dowd had said she should take. She pulled off the main Glenshane Road onto this narrower one and drove parallel to the main flow of traffic for a few hundred yards, before the road cut sharply to the right and took her down, into the valley, towards the dark mass of the forest.

O’Dowd had warned her to look out for a further turning, this time onto a laneway. In fact, she had already passed it by the time she registered its presence and had to reverse several hundred yards in order to take the turn.

The laneway was narrow, the hedging on both sides scratching against the doors of her car as she progressed along it. Up the centre of the lane, the tarmac had risen in a central ridge from which thick tussocks of grass had grown.

After a few minutes on the laneway, Lucy finally saw the house that O’Dowd had visited, standing enshadowed by a circle of trees surrounding it. While the building was not as ramshackle as Lucy had expected, it was, without doubt, in need of repair.

Still, as she pulled into the driveway, she noticed the two-tone effect of the roof slates where the newer red ones stood out against the moss-thick russet ones with which the roof had originally been tiled. There was no doubt that someone had been at the house more recently than O’Dowd’s valuation visit. That didn’t necessarily mean that Doherty hadn’t managed to sell it to someone else, without O’Dowd’s help, since then.

She drew up outside the house and, reaching across, unlocked the glove compartment and removed her service gun. Fitting it inside her coat pocket, she got out, leaving the car unlocked lest she needed to make a quick getaway. She realized that she should have brought support but, with Fleming suspended, there were few alternatives. Besides, there was no guarantee that the house was even occupied.

She moved across to the door, passing the main window that carried a single thick crack running across the width of its pane. The glass itself was coated with dust so she was unable to see anything in the gloom beyond.