The Doll's House (38 page)

O’Connor wasn’t about to allow him to take over the questioning. ‘Did he fancy driving anywhere else, Steve?’

‘Sometimes he’d park down by Sandymount Strand, a regular water lover he was.’

‘Sandymount?’

‘Yeah. The Hamiltons had a house on the strand, a fine big one. Not everyone grows up with a view of the sea, do they?’ A note of bitterness had crept into McDaid’s voice.

‘No, they don’t, Steve. Would you care to share an address?’

‘Sure. It’s no skin off my nose.’

‘Lovely.’ O’Connor smiled at him, then heard a double tap on the door.

Lynch opened it. ‘A word, sir.’

‘Hennessy, will you wrap up the interview?’ O’Connor got up from the table.

‘No problem.’ Hennessy walked over to take O’Connor’s place.

Before leaving the room, O’Connor leaned down and whispered in Steve McDaid’s ear, ‘Don’t go anywhere, Steve. I’m not finished with you yet.’

Outside the room, Lynch was the first to speak. ‘We have the search warrant.’

‘About time. Anything on Dominic Hamilton or Martin McKay?’

‘That’s the bad news, sir.’

‘What?’ O’Connor was waiting to hear that one of them had croaked it.

‘The unmarked car picked McKay up when he returned home. He didn’t stay long, but shortly after he left the house, they lost him again.’

‘Shit.’ O’Connor paced the corridor. ‘Right. I want you to take a team over to the McKay house. You’re in charge, Lynch. But keep me posted. I’ll need to set up another recon.’

‘Where?’

‘The Hamiltons’ old family home in Sandymount. It’s on the strand. No doubt it’s been lying empty since the mother’s death. I’ll need to talk to Robinson too, get some more house-to-house done and fast. Find out if the neighbours have seen anything out of place over the last while.’

‘Okay, sir. I’ll check back with you.’

‘And, Lynch …’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Make sure you have Hanley’s crew on standby too, should anything ugly raise its head at the McKay house, especially on that motor of his.’

‘Okay, will do.’

I have no idea where I am. It’s dark, and my body hurts from lying on a hard surface. I reach out, spreading my fingertips along what feels like a wooden floor. It’s dusty, and I sneeze.

My head hurts too. I reach up, touching the wall beside me. Parts of the plasterboard come away in my hands, half rotten. I use my eyes next, scanning the room from the floor upwards. I see boxes on shelves, and an old rope hanging from the roof beams, thick and dirty with age, the ends separated into loose strands. Twisting, I turn around, looking above me. I see the outer ring of the old dartboard, and above it, the dark feathered wings of an eagle. I’m in the attic at Seacrest.

I think I’m alone. There are no sounds other than those coming in from outside, the faint hint of the world beyond this attic room. I crawl towards the door. I listen for noises from downstairs, but I hear nothing. When I look through the gap under the door, I can see no movement. It’s still daylight, for there is light coming in from the landing.

I have no bag, coat or mobile phone. My shoes are in the corner. They must have fallen off my feet. I can’t remember how I got here. The last thing I remember is being in the car with Dominic. Where is he? The pain in my head is getting worse. I reach up again and tentatively touch the back of my head. I must have fallen, or was I knocked unconscious?

The only way out of here is through the door into Dominic’s old bedroom. The latch is off at the top, so I drag myself upright. I reach for the upper handle and hold it for a couple of seconds before I attempt to open the door, hoping I won’t make a sound. Even though I have no idea what is going on, I know something is wrong.

I turn the small handle as far as it can go and pull the door towards me. It doesn’t budge. The latch is closed over on the other side.

‘Hello,’ I call. ‘Hello! Is anybody there? Dominic, are you out there? What’s going on?’

I wait, not knowing what else to do, until I realise I’m banging the door hard. I need to think. I need to work out why the hell I’m here. Just for a moment I wonder if I’ve gone completely mad, if I’m imagining all of this. Until I hear a noise downstairs. It’s the sound of the front door opening, and then, seconds later, closing again.

I hold my breath and wait, looking around the room for something to defend myself with. I pick up an old baseball bat that belonged to Dominic, sitting on one of the boxes on the low shelves. I can hear the creaking of the floorboards on the hall staircase, and count them one at a time, the way I counted them with Gerard Hayden, each step bringing me closer to the unknown. At the top of the landing, the footsteps stop. I think about shouting again, but realise my only hope is that whoever is out there may think I’m still unconscious on the floor.

Then I hear the footsteps on the attic staircase, the person on the other side of the door getting closer to me all the time. When the door edges open, it hardly makes a sound. I can hear my own breathing, loud and deep. As the door opens further, I lunge forward with the baseball bat, hitting out as hard as I can, as the man, whose face I cannot see, sniggers in response, overcoming me and my futile attempts at defence.

‘Clodagh, dearest, gentle, delicate Clodagh. There’s no need for such melodrama, is there?’

I pull away from him but he keeps a firm grip on both my arms. His hands hurt, closing tight around me, hurting me like Martin does. Using his foot, he slams the door shut behind him, before shoving me to the floor. Then I look up and see his face.

Kate tried Clodagh McKay’s mobile phone for the third time and still had no luck. Then she rang Valerie Hamilton’s landline. This time, she was answered.

‘Mrs Hamilton, my name is Dr Kate Pearson. I’m assisting the police, and I was wondering if I could have a quick chat with you about your husband, Dominic. I know this is difficult, talking over the phone, but—’

‘What’s going on? I can see a squad car outside.’ The woman was panicking.

‘There’s no need to be alarmed, Mrs Hamilton. Try to keep calm. It’s just a precaution. The police would like to talk to your husband. I’m sure everything is fine, but if you could let me know a couple of things, it might speed up finding Dominic.’

Kate waited, hoping Valerie Hamilton would decide to talk.

Finally she did. ‘What do you want to know?’ she asked, her voice shaking.

‘Valerie, I understand you were concerned about Dominic, about him being depressed. Can you tell me how his low moods affected him? Did he have any problems sleeping?’

‘Yes, and he’s been worse over the last couple of weeks.’

‘In what way?’

‘He’s been getting barely any sleep, walking around the house at all hours of the night. It’s been impossible for him to go to work.’

‘How long has he been out of work?’

‘He took time off when his mother died, but it was difficult for him when he went back. I told him he was working too hard. He needed to take a break.’

‘How long, Valerie?’

‘About a month, I guess. We didn’t tell anyone other than his office. Dominic didn’t want attention drawn to it. He said he’d handle it in his own way.’

‘In what way was it difficult when he went back?’

‘It’s hard to talk about.’

‘I understand, Valerie. I’m a doctor. I know how hard the grieving process can be.’

‘At first I didn’t pay any attention to it, hoping it would pass.’

‘Hoping what would pass, Valerie?’

‘He hasn’t been himself.’

‘Valerie, are you okay?’

‘I don’t know, Dr Pearson. Will you tell me what’s going on?’ Her voice was becoming shakier by the second.

Kate softened her tone. ‘Kate, please call me Kate.’

‘Is Dominic in some kind of trouble?’

‘You say he hasn’t been himself, Valerie. Can you tell me how?’

‘The last couple of days he thought people were watching him, following him.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘He kept looking out of the window, checking the front and back of the house.’

‘Was there any other behaviour that worried you?’

‘He’s been distant.’ Valerie Hamilton drew in her breath.

‘How has he been distant?’

‘Leaving the house, not telling me where he’s going, shutting me out every time I try to talk to him.’

‘Apart from thinking someone was watching him, were there any other feelings of paranoia, thinking people might be out to get him, or any delusional behaviour?’

‘He’s been finding it hard to concentrate on things.’

‘What kind of things?’

‘He stopped reading, not even a newspaper. He couldn’t bear to
watch television or listen to the radio. He kept making excuses, saying he had a headache, or that he was too tired, or that his mind was …’ she stalled.

‘His mind was what, Valerie?’

‘Skipping. He was finding it hard to think.’

‘Valerie, I want you to try very hard to remember. Was there any point at which Dominic mentioned hearing voices?’

‘Do you mean inside his head?’

‘Yes.’

‘No, not that he told me. But he hasn’t been telling me very much. Kate, I’m very worried about him.’

‘I know you are, Valerie. Now, I’m sure the police have asked you about his movements over the last few days. What did you say to them?’

‘I told them he wasn’t sleeping well, which he wasn’t. Sometimes he’d go out to clear his head in the hope that when he came back he’d feel better.’

‘Did he ever take the car?’

‘A few times.’

‘Have you spoken to anyone else about Dominic, members of his family, his sister, perhaps?’

‘Clodagh?’

‘Yes, Clodagh.’

‘Dominic doesn’t like me bothering her. She has always been a bit …’

‘A bit what?’

‘A bit delicate, edgy, over-sensitive, if you get me.’

‘Dominic and Clodagh, are they close?’

‘I suppose.’

‘You say Dominic hasn’t been the same since his mother’s death. How did Clodagh take it?’

‘Hard, I guess. Clodagh and Lavinia were never that fond of each other.’

‘Clodagh and her mother?’

‘They had a somewhat strained relationship. Dominic was always caught in the middle.’

‘Valerie, have you spoken to Clodagh today?’

‘No.’

‘When was the last time you spoke to her?’

‘Not for a few days.’

‘When exactly?’

‘She rang me, I don’t know, late last week. We were out for dinner the night before. She wanted to know if I could recommend someone to her.’

‘What kind of someone?’

‘Look, I don’t think this means anything.’

‘Tell me anyway, Valerie.’

‘It sounds daft.’

‘It’s okay. Go on.’

‘Well, if you must know, she wanted me to recommend a hypnotist.’

‘A hypnotist?’ Kate kept her tone controlled.

‘Yes, she’d heard about regression through hypnosis. I think she wanted to try and go back to her childhood.’

‘I see.’

‘She made me swear not to tell anyone, not even Dominic. I think she felt a little silly.’

‘And the hypnotist you recommended, you trusted him?’

‘Of course I did. Otherwise I would have never given Clodagh his details.’

‘Can I have them?’

‘Hold on. I’ll see if I can find his card. He’s very nice, I understand.’

‘I’m sure he is.’ The phone was clattered down. Kate wasn’t sure how this was fitting into things, but it didn’t sound as if either sibling had been coping well with their mother’s death.

‘Dr Pearson, Kate …’

‘I’m still here.’

‘It’s fifty-one Tycon Avenue. His name is Gerard Hayden.’

‘That’s great, Valerie, and don’t worry, I’m sure everything will turn out fine.’

‘I hope so.’ And with that Valerie Hamilton hung up.

Kate’s next call was to O’Connor. ‘It’s Kate, I’ve just been talking to Valerie Hamilton.’

‘There’s still no sign of Dominic Hamilton, and Martin McKay is also conveniently missing.’

‘That’s not good, O’Connor. Did you have any luck with Clodagh McKay? I’ve tried to get her by phone, but there’s no answer. Do you have a landline?’

‘There’s no one at the McKay house. We got the search warrant. Lynch and the team have just arrived.’

‘According to Valerie Hamilton, her husband has been under a lot of duress. I’ve asked her a number of questions around psychosis, and although there wasn’t anything definitive, other than him feeling someone was following him, she told me enough about his behaviour patterns to trouble me.’

‘I’ve been chatting with a guy called Steve McDaid.’

‘The guy Hennessy pulled in for the Susie Graham attack?’

‘I don’t even want to know how you know that. According to McDaid, Becon had him keep an eye on Dominic Hamilton and, believe me, there’s plenty going on to trouble me.’ His voice had a hardened edge. ‘I’ll be talking with Alister Becon again.’

‘Look, O’Connor, I’m going to head over to an address Valerie Hamilton gave me. It’s not far from here. It seems Clodagh McKay has been seeing a hypnotist.’

‘Jesus bloody Christ, what next?’

‘He may give us an insight into what’s going on.’

‘Okay, fine.’ Although he sounded anything but. ‘If he happens to have a crystal ball, Kate, the way things are looking right now, it might come in bloody handy.’

I recoil into the corner of the attic, the one furthest away from the door, wanting to put as much distance between us as possible. If he’s aware of my deep-rooted fear, he’s ignoring it.

‘I can see you’re surprised, Clodagh. Didn’t expect me, did you?’

He stares at me as if I’m something to be pitied. It’s not his face that frightens me the most, it’s how his body moves, his sharp tone, and his hands, chunky, the hair on the backs now grey.

‘Why did you bring me here, Alister? Where’s my brother?’ I pull my knees close to my chest. ‘That’s who you are, isn’t it?’ I know I sound nervous, despite my attempt to hide it.

‘Always curious, aren’t we, Clodagh? You were the same as a child, sneaking around as quiet as a mouse, happy to stay in the background while you took it all in.’