Kill Me Twice: Rosie Gilmour 7 (22 page)

Rosie stood up and took him by the shoulders. ‘She saw it all, Dan. The woman wasn’t well herself, she was depressed, and was actually going to take her own life. That’s why she was on the roof.’

‘What? Who is she?’

‘She’s a British woman. You’re going to meet her shortly. But don’t be accusing her of not helping Bella. There was nothing she could do, and that’s not going to help anyone right now. I want you just to put that out of your mind. She’s quite fragile, so try to understand that,
okay? But I need you to listen to her, and I want you to know the truth. I also need you to identify a photograph of someone.’

Dan nodded, tears spilling out of his eyes. ‘I knew Bella didn’t kill herself. Please, Rosie, we have to find out who did.’

‘That’s why we need your help. Now, I know this is hard for you to take in, and I’m so sorry I had to break it to you like that, but you need to know where we are now. You need to be strong.’

He wiped his tears with the back of his hand. ‘I’m all right. You know something? There’s a part of me that feels a bit better because Bella didn’t kill herself.’ He swallowed. ‘But she didn’t have to die. She shouldn’t have died. It’s – it’s not fair. After everything that happened to her! She wanted to live. For both of us.’ He broke down and sat on the bed.

Rosie watched him for a long moment, then reached out and stroked his hair.

She sat beside him.

‘Come on, Dan. You need to be strong.’

He threw his arms around her and sobbed on her shoulder.

*

Rosie saw something like panic flash across Millie’s eyes when she walked into the restaurant with Dan. She was already seated with Matt and Bridget at a secluded table, away from the other few diners. Rosie had gone to Millie’s
room earlier after breaking the news to Dan: she knew she would be equally shocked to meet him. She’d been upset, but more nervous than distraught, the way Dan had been.

Millie stood up, and Rosie was surprised to see her make her way towards them. She stopped and all three of them stood still, Millie trying to control the tremor in her bottom lip.

Rosie broke the silence. ‘Millie, this is Dan Mason. Bella’s brother.’

Dan looked from Millie to the floor, then finally looked up again.

‘Hello, Dan,’ Millie said softly. She stretched out her hand. ‘I . . . I’m so sorry for what happened to your sister.’ Dan took it, and she covered his with the other, holding it for a few seconds. ‘I saw her only briefly, twice on that day, and I can see now that you were the image of each other. She was very beautiful.’

‘Sorry,’ he sniffed. ‘I miss her. Bella was all I had. We had a lot of plans.’

Dan was handling it better than Rosie had hoped. ‘Come on,’ she interjected. ‘Let’s have a seat and we can talk over dinner.’

She went to the table and beckoned Dan to sit next to her, Millie opposite. Matt gave her a so-far-so-good look. The waiter arrived alongside them and Rosie turned to everyone. ‘I think we could all do with a drink.’ She ordered some wine and beers.

Over
dinner, with a couple of beers inside him on top of his methadone, Dan was more talkative than depressed and spoke animatedly about himself and Bella as young children. How their mother had been a single parent and had put them into a home when he was only five. He still remembered the day that had happened. Bella had taken on the role of his protector; though she was a skinny little thing, only four years older, she was fiercely protective of him when they were placed in care. She had refused to eat when they’d split them up because of Dan’s age, and the home had to allow them to have beds next to each other. It was only for the first few weeks, Dan said, until he’d stopped crying for his mother and Bella had made him understand that the boys had to sleep in another dormitory. But most of the time they’d been inseparable. He talked of how everyone spoke of Bella’s beauty and the boss of the home said that, with a face like hers, she could have anything she wanted in the world. It was when Bella was almost thirteen, Dan said, that they’d taken her. Some guy from showbiz or modelling said he could put her on the front page of every magazine.

Rosie let him tell the story about how Mervyn Bates had arranged for a couple to foster Bella. They’d wanted only one child, so Dan had been abandoned while they carried Bella off, kicking and screaming. He didn’t see her after that until she tracked him down twelve years later. Millie listened, fighting back tears, and Bridget sat shaking her
head and telling them about how children being split up happened all over Ireland on a daily basis for decades. It was a shame, she said, that would haunt the country for ever.

Rosie was pleased with how the conversation was going, and decided it was time to bring out the photograph that had been faxed to her. She placed it on the table and turned to Millie.

‘Millie, is this the man you saw on the roof that night?’

Millie pulled it closer to her, peering at it. ‘Yes. It was dark, but although I was in the shadows, I could see him. It was the arguing I heard first, which made me realize who it was coming from. It was him.’

Rosie turned to Dan. ‘You know this guy, don’t you, Dan?’

Dan nodded. ‘Fucking Mervyn Bates. Merv the perv. I know him. I remember him from when I was just a wee boy coming into the home. But it was Bella he was always fawning over. I met him with her one time after she found me. He’s a fucking creep.’ He looked at Millie. ‘He killed Bella? Is that what you’re saying, Millie?’

‘He was the one who was doing the shouting. He was in charge, but then he disappeared and left Bella with the two other men. It was they who . . .’ Millie trailed off and she looked at Dan, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I wish I’d had the courage to do something, Dan. I’ll never forgive myself.’

Dan shook his head. ‘They’d have killed you too.’

‘I
went there to kill myself. But when I realized what they were doing to Bella, all thoughts of my own suicide were gone, and I just wanted to get away so that I could be the person who witnessed it. If they knew I’d seen it, you’re right, they’d have killed me.’

Dan nodded, but said nothing.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Something
woke Rosie from a restless sleep. She opened her eyes, blinking in the darkness, and lay there, holding her breath, just listening. There was a rustling sound, and at first she wondered if it was the tall trees outside her window, but her eyes, now getting used to the dark, shifted to the door. She thought she heard a click, like a door handle being turned or opened softly, and sat up in bed, focused on her own door. Then silence.

Instinct told her something wasn’t right. Before she could even think it through, Rosie was out of bed, pulling on her jeans and a T-shirt. She stepped towards her door, but suddenly there was another sound. This time a thud, then what sounded like muffled cries. Then nothing.

Every nerve in her body stood to attention. She knew Millie’s bedroom was on the other side of the landing facing hers, and in between there were two other rooms. Rosie had noted earlier that the rooms next to her were
unoccupied, so if she wasn’t imagining this noise, it must be coming from Millie’s room. She eyed her mobile on her bedside table, considering for a moment whether to phone Matt or Millie, or even Bertie. But what if she was just panicking? These old houses always had cracks and noises. It could be anything. She found herself slowly turning the handle on her door, and pulling it gently towards her.

The landing was in darkness, but by now her eyes were used to the blackness and she could make out Millie’s bedroom door at the other end. It was closed. She stood there, barely breathing. She should go back to bed, but she had to check, just listen at the door. She tiptoed out of the room on bare feet and padded along the corridor, holding onto the banister. In a few seconds she was at Millie’s door, her heart pounding.

She was about to turn the handle, when the door opened. She barely had time to register her surprise before a hand reached out and dragged her into the room, another hand covering her mouth. The door behind her closed and the key was turned. Someone was holding her tight and she could feel the solid body behind her, the hand squeezing her mouth so hard she couldn’t breathe. She made muffled sounds as she struggled. Another hand punched the side of her head and she felt dizzy for a few seconds. But she recovered quickly and saw Millie sitting on the side of the bed, gaffer tape over her mouth and her hands tied behind her back. In the darkness she could see Millie’s eyes, distraught
and terrified. A man was standing over her, a handgun with a silencer pointed at her head. He wore a black ski mask. Rosie kept struggling and the man behind her freed her, but stuck tape over her mouth. Then the gunman came towards her, and she could smell cigarettes and alcohol on his breath.

‘If you want to stay alive, you’ll keep your mouth shut,’ he whispered. ‘It’s not you we’re here for. But if you get in our way, you’re fucking dead. Am I clear?’ He pushed the gun into Rosie’s temple.

She nodded, trying to peer at the eyes through the narrow holes in the mask. She felt her hands being roughly bound behind her, and the man holding her pulled her arms back so hard she squeaked in pain. He slapped her again and her eyes burned. Her legs buckled but she kept her balance as he pushed her against the wall. He took a step back, then suddenly, before Rosie could stop herself, her foot went up and kicked him hard between his legs. It was madness, and she knew it as soon as she heard him grunt and bend double.

‘What the fuck!’ The gunman was across the room in a second and grabbed Rosie’s hair. He pushed the gun into her bruised face. ‘You want this, you stupid bitch?’ Then he hit her on the side of the face with the gun and she fell to the floor. She was conscious of movement in the room, the stifled cries of Millie, who was being dragged out of the door. The man Rosie had kicked was on his feet now,
gasping. As he left, he landed a swift kick to her ribs, forcing the breath out of her. She curled up in agony in the doorway, as she saw them rush across the landing and haul Millie downstairs towards the front door. Rosie crawled on her belly to the landing, then heard the unmistakable click of a gun, and the lights were suddenly full on. She blinked in the glare.

‘Just stop right there.’ Rosie recognized Bertie Shaw’s voice. ‘Put your gun down and let the lady go, if you value your life.’

His voice was calm, matter-of-fact, as though he did this sort of thing every week. He went to the beefy guy and pulled the mask off his face. Rosie peered down at him. She’d seen him at a table on his own earlier in the restaurant. He’d been a guest. It had all been planned. Christ almighty! Right in front of their eyes! She couldn’t believe they’d tracked them down to here. It must be somebody’s phone.

Suddenly Matt was standing over her in his jeans, chest bare, his mouth open in shock. His camera was by his side. He pulled the tape off Rosie’s mouth.

‘Get a picture of him, Matt.’ she said.

Matt dropped to the floor and lay beside her. He aimed the camera at the scene in the hallway. ‘You okay, Rosie? Christ! Your face! You’re bleeding.’

‘I’m all right.’

‘Leave the lady alone.’ Bertie’s voice again. ‘Then walk
out of here and nobody will be any the wiser. Just go to your boss and tell him you failed.’

Suddenly the gunman pulled Millie to his chest and grabbed her in a stranglehold. He held a gun to her head.

‘Your call, big man. She dies in the middle of a robbery in your hotel, it’s not good for business. Now fuck off and let us get on with our work. We’re taking her with us.’

Rosie could see Bertie stand his ground, but she knew he would have to put down the gun. Those bastards were on a mission, told to bring her back or kill her. They didn’t give a damn what they did.

‘Now, I’m opening this door and I’m walking out of here. Have you got that, big man? Just go back to cooking. This is not your fight so butt out.’ He pressed the gun harder to Millie’s chin and she whimpered.

Bertie lowered his gun. The man opened the door and they backed out into the darkness. Rosie lay there, while Matt rushed into his bedroom to take pictures from the window. A moment later she pulled herself up to a sitting position and touched her face. It was swollen and her eye was almost shut. There was a searing pain in her ribs, and she groaned. Bertie looked up from the hall.

‘Rosie, are you hurt?’ He took the stairs two at a time.

‘Just slapped around a bit. But I’m okay.’

‘I’m sorry, Rosie. Fuck! I couldn’t stop them. They were obviously told to bring her back alive if they could, but if they couldn’t then just to kill her. I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t
be, Bertie. Honestly, it’s not your fault. You risked your life there. Thanks.’ As Rosie sat up, she felt a little tearful.

Bertie gently lifted her to her feet. ‘Come on, let’s get you sorted. You hurt anywhere else apart from your face?’

‘Yeah.’ Rosie grimaced, her breath catching. ‘He kicked me in the ribs. I think he cracked one at least. Can barely breathe.’

‘Let’s get you to your room.’

A bedroom door opened and Bridget came out, clearly bewildered. ‘What’s happened Rosie? Where’s Millie? I just heard the commotion.’ She rushed towards Rosie and helped take her weight as they limped to her room.

‘She’s gone, Bridget,’ Rosie said. ‘They took her. Chambers must have sent them.’

Chapter Twenty-Four

Matt
loaded Rosie’s bags into the boot of her car, as she limped up to him. The sharp pain when she took a breath had been confirmed as a cracked rib, by Bertie’s GP friend. The doctor had dropped in as a favour to him and, to Rosie’s surprise, he didn’t ask any questions about how she’d been injured. He prescribed painkillers and a couple of weeks’ rest. Fat chance, Rosie thought, as she thanked him while he put a couple of butterfly clips above her eyebrow where the fat man’s punch had opened up the flesh. ‘You’ll live this time,’ the doctor said, as he gave her a stern look, and she couldn’t help but smile, wondering just how much Bertie had confided in him about his hotel guests.