Red Ribbons (4 page)

I lean farther back in my chair and he stares at me like he knows I am about to say something. I suddenly like this about him, noticing the small things probably makes him a good judge of people.

‘Do you have children, Dr Ebbs?’ I ask this as I turn away from the framed photograph of his children on the desk. They look about eight and ten years old. The girl is the younger one. I know he has caught me looking. I don’t care.

‘Yes. I have two, a boy and a girl.’

‘A gentleman’s family. You should mind them well, they won’t always be around, you know.’

‘Indeed.’

I can tell he feels uncomfortable with someone else setting the agenda. He says nothing about me looking at the photograph. He is being polite, no point in upsetting the lunatic too soon. Perhaps I should feel guilty about taking advantage of our meeting, of him wanting to put me at my ease, but there are always pros and cons on both sides. I know the protocol better than most. He will talk to
me
on first name terms, but if I were to call him Samuel, it would be overly familiar. He knows he is in charge of the questions and that it is my expected duty to answer them. He will try to make me
better
, but I don’t want to be
better
. I am fine as I am, history-less.

‘Your bouts of depression, it says here, Ellie, they started not long into your marriage?’

Picking up his pen, he clicks down the top, like he’s pressing the Play button on a tape recorder, as if now I should open my mouth and speak so that he, being the good doctor, can write it all down diligently. The fact that I remain silent does not unnerve him, merely initiates a change of tactics.

‘Ellie, I know this will be slow. It will take time for you to learn to trust me, but I do intend to help you. Little by little, we will work through things together.’

All this is said with sincerity, the lines on his forehead deepening, his eyes looking straight at me as he leans back in his chair, every movement designed to put me at my ease. If I cared enough, I could humour him, give him some encouragement, but I don’t care. Soon, he won’t either.

‘I want to go.’

‘But, Ellie, you’ve only just arrived.’

‘So?’

‘So now that you are here, it might be good to talk a little longer. I won’t delay you, Ellie, just a few more moments of your time.’

I almost laugh out loud, to hear him talking to me like I’m some busy person. ‘Do I have a choice?’

He leans forward again, his physical proximity requesting a more intimate response.

‘Didn’t think so,’ I say under my breath. I can see my smart remark is a disappointment to him.

‘Ellie, I’m going to talk straight with you. I’m new here at St Michael’s, but I’ve been involved in psychiatric care for a very long time.’

This is supposed to make me feel confident, happy to spill the beans, to trust him. But I am too long at this game for stupidity like that.

‘You look tired. How have you been finding the medication?’

‘Fine, tired is good.’

‘You enjoy sleeping?’

‘It passes the time.’

‘Which is a good thing?’

He is starting to annoy me now, bad enough sitting here answering his questions without them being completely stupid. I say nothing. He’ll learn.

‘For now, let’s say we keep you on the same medication but that we can review it later.’

Again he plays the game. We both know he decides on the medication, it is not and never will be a joint decision.

‘Ellie, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, to putting a face to the file, as they say.’

He laughs at this. I don’t. My lack of reaction does not unnerve him. The good doctor is showing distinct possibilities.

‘Next time we meet, Ellie, we can really get things rolling, how does that sound to you?’

‘Just dandy.’

Standing up, he walks me to the door, guiding my movements with his extended arm as if somehow I might have forgotten my way out.

‘Till next time, Ellie.’ He shakes my hand like I’m a normal person. It surprises me. I don’t expect touch. I don’t expect anything. Not any more.

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR O’CONNOR WAS ONLY moments away from an early-morning meeting in the squad room at Rathfarnham Garda Station when he got the call about the missing girl. She hadn’t been seen for two full days – never a good sign for a Category 1 high-risk disappearance. Although O’Connor’s district was based in Rathfarnham, it also covered Templeogue, Firhouse and had jurisdiction over the southwestern side of the Dublin Mountain zone. O’Connor had investigated his fair share of murders and missing persons over the years, and he knew more than anyone that for every case solved, many others remained open.

The C1 disappearance had been the talk of the Dublin district. That morning, when Chief Superintendent Nolan’s number lit up his hands-free set, O’Connor took the call and listened, grim-faced.

A sheep farmer had found freshly dug up soil. The storm from the previous night had brought down a fence on his land, and caused his sheep to ramble. When his dog refused to leave the area where the stray animals had been retrieved, he was forced to walk farther in. It was then, just as dawn was breaking over the sprawling city of Dublin, that the grave – suspected to be of Caroline Devine – had been discovered.

O’Connor turned his car around and headed straight to the location of the suspected burial site. Driving towards the mountain road, O’Connor rapped the steering wheel in frustration. He was
only too aware that the first forty-eight hours of an investigation were critical. One of the first pieces of information his team sought to establish in any missing person case was the last known sighting of the subject. Caroline Devine had last been seen after finishing school, waving goodbye to her friend Jessica Barry on Rathmines Bridge at the canal. Her family in Harold’s Cross had expected her home shortly afterwards. All the potential routes Caroline could have taken home had been examined, but nothing had turned up so far. A diving team from the Underwater Unit had already dragged the base of the canal, from both the Rathmines and Harold’s Cross ends. The canal didn’t have a major water flow. If the girl had fallen in, accidentally or otherwise, they would have found her.

Nolan had told him that he had already advised Mick Rohan, the Chief Press Officer at Garda HQ, about the site location and possible finding, but no official statement had yet been released. O’Connor knew he had a number of calls to make, one of which would be to DI Frank Gunning, who had been heading up the missing person’s enquiry from Rathmines. Gunning wouldn’t be happy about O’Connor taking over the case, but if it was Caroline Devine’s body up in the mountains, it was O’Connor’s murder now and not Gunning’s – the investigation always follows the corpse.

‘Hiya, Frank, it’s O’Connor here.’

‘I’m on my way up there. Where are you?’

‘At Bohernabreena Cemetery,’ O’Connor replied. ‘I should be there in less than ten. A couple of uniforms are already in situ from the first call in.’

‘Right, I’ll see you shortly, turning at Kiltipper now.’

‘Frank, just to tell you, Nolan has already advised Rohan about the possible outcome, but nothing official is going out until we know what we’re dealing with. I’m getting a full squad in place, and I have Morrison on standby in case we find anything.’

‘Where
is
our talented state pathologist today?’ Frank asked.

‘Golfing in Blessington, it will take him no time to get over.’

‘How much of an area are you going to cordon off? It’s a bitch of a place.’

‘As much as I have to – I’m not about to lose a step in this investigation and not be able to recover it.’

‘I’ll make a call to Shelley Canter,’ Frank offered. ‘She’s assigned as the family liaison officer.’

‘Good – just tell her to keep the family calm and informed. As of now, this could turn out to be nothing. There is no point in upsetting them unnecessarily.’

‘She knows that, and she also knows what the parents will be thinking no matter how this ends up.’

‘Just once we’re all working from the same sheet, Gunning.’

O’Connor hung up and made his next call – to Robert Hanley. Hanley would be heading up the technical team and he had a reputation, even by techie standards, of having something of a Midas touch.

‘Hanley?’

‘Good morning, Detective Inspector.’

‘Are you on your way?’

‘Yes.’

‘Me, too. First priority will be cordoning off the area. I’ll have a better idea of just how much when I’ve seen it, but it could be large.’

‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

‘You know the drill, Hanley, if it does turn out to be the missing girl up there, I may be the one in charge, but as far as protection of the crime scene goes, you are God Almighty.’

‘Rest assured, Inspector. I won’t even let Nolan pass if it risks compromising things.’

‘Right, let’s get digging so.’

Turning up the mountain road, O’Connor’s Avensis negotiated the steep climb on the narrow winding road that was barely able to take
one vehicle. He took all the bends at speed. O’Connor knew this area like he knew its surrounding suburbs and as he reached the point on the road where the city was behind him, he got that familiar sense of being right smack in the middle of nowhere.

≈

Once the decision on the size of the area to be cordoned off had been made, a slow and methodical extraction of the ground began. There was no guarantee they would find Caroline’s body, but based on the knowledge of her disappearance, the proximity of the location to the centre of the city and the remoteness of the site where the recently dug soil had been found, there were enough things telling O’Connor that they were dealing with either a secondary or primary crime scene. Search teams were on hand to sweep the area, together with the community police and the guys from Tallaght, who often worked side by side with the Rathfarnham squad. Although Gunning was someone O’Connor neither liked nor had much time for, right now he was the man with most of the information, and O’Connor wasted no time getting as much as possible out of him.

‘Okay, Frank, fill me in. The dig will be slow, so we’ll be here for a while.’

‘Missing Persons were notified two days ago. Right now, they are just monitoring the information as we feed it to them.’

‘Go on.’

‘We’ve pulled the girl’s PC and mobile phone. She wasn’t allowed take her phone to school, so both it and her laptop were still at home. The IT guys are combing through them now. We have a number of contact points/sites being examined, but it’s too early to tell if they’ll be of any use. Buccal swabs have been taken from all members of the close family, along with the girl’s toothbrush and hairbrush, both bagged and tagged. If it is Caroline down there and the body isn’t
clearly recognisable, we can check the DNA comparisons with what we have already.’

‘What about the house-to-house?’

‘It’s been intensive around the area she lived in – her school, local swimming pool and the last sighting. We have CCTV footage from some of the local businesses, quite a lot down from where she waved goodbye to her friend. Checkpoints monitoring movements around the area have been constant since she was first reported missing. Teachers, friends and family members have all been interviewed. The parents and family are finding it tough, needless to say, but at the moment the girl’s father seems to be the one with the cool head. Shelley Canter has been working with both the parents, and the girl’s only sibling, a sister.’

‘Right,’ O’Connor said, taking charge, ‘assuming it is Caroline down there, I want a complete list of everyone who’s been interviewed. I presume you have pulled listings from everywhere.’

‘Of course, and cross-checked with the names we have from the house-to-house.’

‘Anything on known paedophiles close by?’

‘Nothing yet, but I got a call just before I headed up here. We might have a possible sighting of someone interesting from a checkpoint set up the day after she went missing. I’ll know more soon.’

O’Connor looked at his watch. ‘I’ll want it for our first briefing at 10.30. Nolan’s been in touch again. He says you’re to stay involved. As of now, you are the man with most of the information, so stay close.’

Frank Gunning raised an eyebrow, but O’Connor couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Probably delighted to be considered important, arrogant bastard.

‘Don’t worry, O’Connor, I’ve no intention of going anywhere.’

I WATCH THE SUN CREEP THROUGH THE SMALL window in my room. There’s just a hint of it now, catching the bottom of the sill. It enters the darkness as it does every day, climbing grey walls and pink chipped window frames; revealing itself discreetly, like some virginal bride. It has a confidence in the unveiling, a confidence that, day after day, says it can be renewed. If it could be amazed, it would be amazed by its own wonder, the determination to come back again and again, with little in the day changed from what went before.

Soon the sunshine will reflect on objects that through the night had no life at all. The twelve-inch square mirror I use when washing my face is alight with sun spots and dust particles drifting in and out of its delicate world. The light blasts against the metal door lock, shooting rays across the room so vibrantly it’s as if they could break open a hole in the opposite wall. I, too, feel amazed; amazed that the sun is here again, touching, reaching all parts of everything that is dull or half-deadened, bringing its teasing presence to rest and slide along the floor beneath my bed.

It moves as it does most mornings, tentatively at first, testing and finding resting places in all that was once in darkness. Today the sky is cloudless, so the sun is free to dazzle my face with a white brilliance that should please me. If I was another person, a person out in the real world, someone filled with hopes and dreams, it would be enough to make me wake and rise and go visit the sunlight and explore all its wondrous temptations. But I am not out in the real world, and I have
little desire for its teasing. It belongs to memory, a time long past. Now the darkness suits me better.