The Game Changer (17 page)

With more people passing her in the corridor, Kate stepped to the side, leaning against the wall, bringing her mind back to her last
memory. At the time, her head had been full of silly notions, a mix of pre-adolescence and early pangs of attraction. Her twelve-year-old self had idolised the teenager. She even remembered walking by his house, hoping he would come out to say hello, imagining what it would be like when the two of them were older, and she wouldn’t be an ugly duckling. He would fall in love with her. She had imagined the two of them talking about that day, the one when she’d spotted him from the window, when there was something about the man and the girl that had frightened him. What had he been afraid of?

No matter how hard she tried, nothing more would come, and when Kate stepped outside into the fresh air, she realised something else about that memory. She wasn’t sure whether it was an instinct, or whether her subconscious mind was playing tricks on her, but something told her that finding out who that man and girl had been was going to be important.

A VISIT TO THE ISLAND WAS REQUIRED, BUT A reflection on Kate’s progress was also necessary. Kate liked to meddle, and an inquisitive mind needed to be tied in knots. People would soon doubt her judgement, and she’d become further entrenched and isolated, her obsession a form of weapon that could be used against her. Kate was a
maximiser
, and one with very high standards. A maximiser goes out of their way to make the right decisions, and because of this they’re plagued with endless questions. It’s Kate’s desire to maximise that fuels her constant journey as a seeker. She makes a decision, but continues looking. She falls in love, but still questions. The more effort someone puts into reaching the right choice, the higher their expectations are, and the harder it is for those expectations to be fulfilled. Ultimately, dissatisfaction increases, and they reach a kind self-fulfilling prophecy.

People were like stacks of cards: the older they got, the more levels they built. Apply the right pressure, and they are easily reduced to a four-year-old child, with all the fears and uncertainties that irk them most.

The island visit would happen soon enough. The group members were all individuals with potential benefits for the Game Changer. A mix of nationalities, who by and large were also people with money. Those who had reached leadership status would manage fine for the next few days. By the time anyone started digging up graves, or anything else on the island, the Game Changer would be long gone.

Placing the laptop on the old desk, in what used to be Kate’s parents’ bedroom, the Game Changer began another report,
pondering on how useful it was to have members of the police force as part of the group. It was an organisation in which trust was paramount, officers putting their lives in danger every day. Each member needed to know that their group was strong, and although made up of many individuals, they saw themselves as a single entity. Within this, a certain level of blindness was inevitable, and this form of blindness could be easily manipulated.

AS ADAM WAITED FOR THE SEARCH WARRANT FOR the O’Neill garage, he began trawling through media footage from the eighties, examining cases of convicted paedophiles. As yet, he hadn’t found anything remotely connected to Michael O’Neill, Valentine Pearson, Tom Mason or Malcolm Madden. It was early days, though. These things took time. If there was something to be found, he needed a lucky break, enough for PIU and the Domestic Violence Unit to play ball. It was standard to make enquiries via both departments, as history dictated the two often overlapped.

With the longer timeframe for Kate’s disappearance now in the mix, based on what she had found in O’Neill’s notebooks, Adam was prompted to check if a missing-person report had been filed in 1988. If she had been missing for an hour or so, there would be nothing, but with the disappearance being longer, he wasn’t surprised that a file existed. Although there wasn’t anything too unusual in the statements taken at the time, some parts were interesting.

Kate had separated from her friends. Her parents had become concerned when she hadn’t returned by six o’clock. According to her mother, they contacted the parents of each of her girlfriends, assuming Kate had gone to a friend’s house. It didn’t take long to establish that she hadn’t, and that it was at least four hours since any of her friends had seen her. The alert was sent via Rathmines police station, and a search by locals had ensued. By morning, with no sign of Kate, the worst was feared, but then at ten past one that afternoon, Kate had arrived home. She claimed she couldn’t remember what had happened to her, other than something about
being grabbed from behind. Her mother’s statement was one of relief that her daughter had returned home safe and sound. Her father’s was more official and reserved, stating that both he and his wife were relieved to have Kate back, and what had probably been an attention-seeking stunt on his daughter’s behalf had ended without anyone being hurt. It wasn’t surprising that no more was made of it. A missing person, even if it was a child, wouldn’t have warranted a criminal investigation. Once Kate had returned home safely, that would have been the end of it. Also, it seemed that Kate’s limited memory of the events was overshadowed by her father’s view about it being an attention-seeking exercise, and the police investigation was closed.

Depending on how they got on in the O’Neill garage, and considering how Kate had lost it with him, he would have to tread carefully. He also knew that keeping her in the dark might prove to be a decision he would regret. She wouldn’t stop digging, even if her close association to the case made her the worst candidate for reaching clear and logical conclusions. Nevertheless, she could also be the key. A lot depended on how she handled this emotionally and, from her angry outbursts in his office, he had his concerns that her normally rational thought processes would win out.

When the all-clear came through from Fitzsimons on the warrant, Adam thought about what Kate had said about the newspaper cutting of the Cronly case in the back of the notebook. It was certainly a curveball. Why was it in O’Neill’s garage, and why at the back of the 1988 notebook? Kate was certainly right about one thing: this case felt as if someone was playing games with them.

ONCE ADDY AND SARAH REACHED HIGHER GROUND, they could see the main commune building, with a series of linked whitewashed cottages. Aoife must have been watching out for him because, within minutes of reaching the upper level, he saw her leave the main building, waving to them. She was with another guy. Don’t jump to conclusions, he told himself, but when they got closer, even though it had been only a short while since he’d seen her, she looked different.

She seemed older, more conservative, with her flat shoes, black trousers and white blouse, like something his grandmother would have worn, buttoned up to the neck. Her hair was different too, flying loose around her face, as if she was some wild woman of the islands. It unsettled him, but he didn’t say anything.

When Addy reached out to hug her, she put her hand out instead, shaking his before she did the same with Sarah, as if they were polite acquaintances, not boyfriend and girlfriend. Then she introduced Stephen, who, with his short blond hair and clean-shaven face, looked to Addy like one of those holier-than-thou nut-jobs, who knocked on your door wanting to convert you to the good life. Addy took an immediate dislike to him, especially when he rested his hand on Sarah’s shoulder.

Walking towards the commune house, Addy kept in line with Aoife, and even though there was a good distance between Sarah and Stephen further up the footpath, he kept his voice low: ‘I’m not going to have to change my designer wardrobe, am I?’ he asked, half joking.

‘No,’ Aoife replied. ‘You’ll be different.’

‘How do you mean different?’

‘You’re one of the helpers.’

‘So?’

‘You can wear whatever you want.’

‘And you can’t?’

‘Of course I can, but my choice of clothing is part of the programme.’

‘You look like something out of a convent.’

‘I don’t care. What matters is how I feel inside.’

‘I preferred you the way you were.’

She stopped walking. ‘Addy, I don’t expect you to get it, but I have my reasons.’

‘Try me.’

‘The clothing is a statement. It frees me from the social pressures of how other people think I should look.’

‘Like attractive, sexy?’

‘Yes, something like that,’ she said coldly. She continued walking.

‘Look, Aoife, I want to understand. Honest, I do.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Addy, I’m not altogether sure why you came here.’

‘You asked me to come, remember?’

‘I did, I know, but a lot has changed very fast.’

‘Like what?’

Again she stopped walking, and so did he. ‘The way I used to dress wasn’t about self-expression. That’s part of the lies they feed you, and the more you think that stuff is important, the more you’ll strive for something unattainable. You don’t need twenty pairs of shoes, you need one. It’s commercial brainwashing, nothing more.’

‘And dressing like my granny is what exactly?’

‘It’s my choice, and part of my progression in the group programme.’

‘But as a helper I don’t need progression – is that it? What does that make me? A group leper?’

‘Why are you so angry, Addy? I never led you to believe you’d be anything other than a helper. Your contribution will be valued.’

He decided to change tactics, add a bit of humour. She always liked his jokes. ‘I hope this helper lark doesn’t require the sharing of blood or anything, because it’s a long swim home.’

‘Will you stop being so immature? And remember, leaving is your choice. No one will keep you here if you don’t want to stay.’

It was then that Stephen turned back to them, asking Aoife if everything was okay. For the first time, Addy heard the guy’s strong American accent.

‘Fine,’ she called back, then faced Addy. ‘While you’re here, you need to realise that everyone who is part of the programme believes in it. Your lack of respect will only get you into trouble.’

He was tempted to ask what kind of trouble, but then a large bell rang out from the tower at the front of the commune buildings.

‘Hurry up,’ shouted Stephen, as if he was the person in charge. ‘If we don’t get a move on, we’ll miss the next group meeting.’

Inside, Aoife and Stephen went towards the meeting hall, and Addy and Sarah were led in the opposite direction along a series of long, linked corridors, by a female member. The woman looked about the same age as Addy’s mother, but twice the size, with eyes that appeared as if they were about to pop out of her head. Halfway along the corridor, they stopped: Sarah and her doll were directed into a room to the right. Addy heard something about setting up the camera and a recorder, but then the door closed behind them.