One Night Only (128 page)

Hi
s
nam
e
wa
s
Simo
n
McGuinnes
s
an
d
h
e
wa
s
from Letterkenn
y
.
Sh
e
like
d
Simo
n
no
w
,
eve
n
i
f
h
e
ha
d
arrested he
r
.
Sh
e
fel
t
saf
e
wit
h
him
,
familia
r
almost
,
an
d
no
w
that h
e
ha
d
gon
e
an
d
lef
t
he
r
i
n
th
e
cel
l
al
l
b
y
hersel
f
whil
e
he followe
d
u
p
o
n
paperwork
,
sh
e
wishe
d
h
e
woul
d
come
bac
k
an
d
tal
k
t
o
he
r
.
I
t
wa
s
sor
t
o
f
lik
e
a
patien
t
clinging
o
n
t
o
thei
r
docto
r
eve
n
thoug
h
h
e
ha
d
jus
t
tol
d
the
m
they ha
d
a
termina
l
illness
.
O
r
a
grievin
g
mothe
r
wh
o
turn
s
to Go
d
fo
r
answer
s
a
s
t
o
wh
y
h
e
too
k
he
r
son
.
Sh
e
needed someon
e
t
o
tal
k
to
.
Sh
e
couldn
’
t
jus
t
si
t
her
e
al
l
o
n
her ow
n
lik
e
–
lik
e
a
criminal
!
Mayb
e
sh
e
woul
d
b
e
allowed t
o
mak
e
tha
t
phon
e
cal
l
now
?
Bu
t
t
o
whom
?
Polly
!
Y
es,
sh
e
wante
d
t
o
cal
l
Poll
y
.

Sh
e
walke
d
toward
s
th
e
heav
y
cel
l
doo
r
an
d
looked throug
h
th
e
letterbox-styl
e
peephole
.
He
r
to
e
ache
d
when
s
h
e
walked
,
eve
n
thoug
h
i
t
ha
d
b
y
no
w
bee
n
wel
l
bandaged up
.
I
t
wa
s
broke
n
alrigh
t
an
d
sh
e
kne
w
al
l
abou
t
i
t
w
it
h
ever
y
ste
p
sh
e
took
.

“Hello!
”
sh
e
calle
d
out
.
“Hello
?
Simon
?
Constabl
e
Simon
o
r
whateve
r
you
r
nam
e
is
?
I
mea
n
Gard
a
Simon
?
Officer?
Anyone?
”

Sh
e
hear
d
footstep
s
alon
g
th
e
corrido
r
an
d
he
r
heart skippe
d
a
beat
.
Sh
e
fel
t
lik
e
sh
e
wa
s
trappe
d
o
n
a
desert islan
d
an
d
tha
t
he
r
smok
e
signal
s
ha
d
bee
n
answere
d
b
y a
shi
p
i
n
th
e
distance
.
Y
es
!
The
y
hadn
’
t
totall
y
abandoned her
!
Someon
e
wa
s
comin
g
t
o
he
r
rescu
e
a
t
last
!

“Simon?
”

“Gard
a
McGuinnes
s
i
s
bus
y
,
”
sai
d
a
strange
,
olde
r
face.
“What
’
s
up?
”

H
e
glare
d
a
t
he
r
throug
h
th
e
peephol
e
an
d
sh
e
could
smel
l
hi
s
breath
.
H
e
looke
d
lik
e a
tedd
y
bea
r
wit
h a
blond
e
moustach
e
an
d
hi
s
breat
h
smelle
d
lik
e
coffe
e
and mints
.

“I’
d
lik
e
t
o
mak
e
m
y
phon
e
cal
l
no
w
,
”
sh
e
said
,
he
r
lip
tremblin
g
wit
h
fea
r
an
d
anxiet
y
.
“
I
nee
d
t
o
tal
k
t
o
my
siste
r
.
I
nee
d
t
o
tel
l
he
r
t
o
brin
g
m
e
shoe
s
whe
n
I’m
allowe
d
ou
t
o
f
here
.
I
nee
d
t
o
tel
l
he
r
I’
m
oka
y
even
thoug
h
I’
m
no
t
oka
y
.
I’
m
s
o
scared
,
office
r
.
An
d
m
y
to
e
is
s
o
sore.
”

Th
e
ma
n
glance
d
downwards
,
lookin
g
a
t
hi
s
watch. “
Y
ou’r
e
statemen
t
i
s
schedule
d
fo
r
3
a.m.,
”
h
e
said
.

“
Y
o
u
ca
n
mak
e
you
r
cal
l
afte
r
that
.
No
t
lon
g
t
o
g
o
no
w
.” H
e
droppe
d
th
e
shutte
r
o
n
th
e
peephol
e
an
d
she
listene
d
a
s
h
e
walke
d
awa
y
,
clip
,
clop
,
clip
,
clo
p
echoing
alon
g
th
e
corrido
r
.
The
n
h
e
bega
n
t
o
whistle
,
jus
t
lik
e
Joe
th
e
Bounce
r
di
d
whe
n
h
e
had
beate
n
he
r
i
n
their
argument
.
Sh
e
hate
d
whistlers
!
I
t
wa
s
suc
h
a
smug,
arrogant
,
irritatin
g
sound
!