Twisted River (24 page)

“Okay . . .” Mannix nodded.

“We are going to tell them that a mentally unstable woman has been committing random attacks in the city and that until she is caught, we are being given protection—seeing as she's suspected of being involved in the death of Hazel Harvey.”

Mannix looked alarmed. “Oh, Kate, I don't know. Random attacks. A mentally unstable woman. What are they going to make of that?”

“As I said already, Mannix, you should have thought of all of that before,” she replied coldly.

“And you know what?” Kate added.

“What?”

“
You
are going to be the one to tell them. And you are going to tell them now, before we leave this apartment. I'll go and call them into the living room.”

Kate listened, her heart sinking, as she watched a white-faced Mannix tell Izzy and Fergus what would be waiting for them when they arrived in Shannon. She watched their little faces as they listened carefully.

Izzy said nothing at first, analyzing and weighing up this disturbing information. It was Fergus who broke the silence.

“Gardaí outside our house as well?” His eyes grew wide behind his glasses. “Will it be the Armed Response Unit with the flashing lights? You know—the special cops with guns? Frankie Flynn was bragging that it was outside his uncle's house last month!”

Mannix said nothing, looking to Kate for direction. But Kate too was flabbergasted. And for the first time since this nightmare had unfolded she felt the beginnings of a smile. A bitter smile. Could it really be that her little Fergus thought there was actually some prestige in having the Special Branch or the Armed Response Unit outside their home?

“Well, Soldier, we don't know yet,” she said gently. “It may well be that this poor sick lady will have been found and arrested by the time we get home. We'll just have to wait and see.”

“Wait and see, wait and see,” chanted Fergus, marching up and down the hallway.

Mannix shot Kate a look, grateful that she'd rescued him.

“But why did this woman kill Hazel Harvey?” asked Izzy quietly. She was not so easily satisfied.

“We don't know that yet, Izzy,” said Kate. “She's a very sick person. She must be. It may be that she escaped from a psychiatric ward. We just don't know. It's all very sad. A real tragedy. We must keep the Harvey family in our prayers. The important thing now is that we are going to be safe. The gardaí are going to look after us.”

“And are they going to look after everyone else on Clancy Strand?”

Izzy certainly knew the questions to ask. Mannix looked awkward, but Kate did her best to maintain the same tone of voice.

“I guess so, Izzy. But I imagine they'll be parked outside our house.”

“But . . .”

Before Izzy had a chance to ask another question, Kate interjected, “Time to go now, kids. Let's get our suitcases. Du Bois will have that cab waiting by now!”

Izzy's face set in a frown as she went to get her suitcase.

 • • • 

As the flight captain announced they were flying over Greenland, Kate's thoughts again turned to Oscar Harvey and his children. Poor tragic Hazel Harvey got a homecoming she never expected. A final homecoming. Kate closed her eyes. Whatever the strength of emotion she was feeling, she could only imagine Oscar Harvey's grief, the shock and confusion of his kids. Two families destroyed because of
Mannix. Kate bit the insides of her cheeks. The stupid, selfish, faithless shit. She'd had her chances since they'd been married. Guys who'd shown an interest. Who would have taken flirting to another level. But she'd ignored the signals. She'd made her choices. She was married. She was faithful.

And to think that Mannix had the audacity to try to shift the blame on her. That somehow Kate was responsible. Because they hadn't been getting on, she had forced him to look elsewhere for pleasure. That somehow Kate had a part to play in this murderous tragedy. What was the matter with him? she asked herself again. Couldn't he have found some regular slut to play away with? It wasn't like there weren't plenty out there. But no. Mannix had to pick the
nutter
.

Kate felt deep distaste as she thought of all the times they'd since made love. The duplicitous shit. Had any of his affection been real? And then it hit her. She wondered if it had happened before. How much of their life together had been a sham?

It was only sex.
He kept repeating it. If he said it one more time, she'd scream. It may have been just sex to him but it was a whole load more to her. It was trust. It was the inviolability of their marriage. Forsaking all others—when she'd said it at the altar, she'd meant it. But he had let that
nutter
in and things could never be undone.

Kate thought back to last March, about the time he'd been to Boston. She tried to remember exactly what had been going on in their lives. True—they hadn't been getting on too well. There had been pressures. Money, or the lack of it. Debts. Fergus. She'd been fretting all the time about Fergus. And all the while, he'd been sleeping with
her
.

Later into the flight, Kate fell into to an uneasy doze, wishing the burden she felt could be lifted. She had no idea how things would play out when they landed, but of one thing she was certain. She had to be on her guard at all times. At every twist and turn. There was no room for complacency. There was no telling where this woman might be. Could she even trust the gardaí to protect her?

The damp light was beginning to fade as the aircraft followed the weave of the Shannon to the marshland airport. It was a landing like
no other. Kate was usually happy to return home from any foreign jaunt. Not this time. As she tried to muster a smile for the kids, Kate felt sick to her stomach. They were no longer going home as a unit to the sanctuary of the family home. That too had been violated. The little terrace house that she so loved was now a murder scene.

She tried again to imagine the future without Mannix. She imagined different houses around the city, a nice small flat for her, Fergus, and Izzy. She needed to keep on imagining it, to make it real, because that's where she was headed. Then it dawned on her. Why should Kate be the one to move? The house at Curragower Falls was home to Izzy and Fergus as well. There were going to be so many adjustments in their young lives, why heap an unnecessary cruel move on them as well? If anyone was going to move out, surely it should be Mannix?

How would Izzy and Fergus react to their father's departure? It chewed her up inside as she tried to picture it. Fergus idolized his father. And how would Kate fare, cast in the role of villain, ejecting his hero from the family home? Fergus would have to be told very carefully, his father's departure sensitively executed. Kate would think of something. She had to think of something. There was a solution out there—only she hadn't thought of it just yet.

“Don't worry, Kate. It's going to be okay,” said Mannix quietly as they stood at the luggage carousel. He was looking out for the suitcases with their trademark yellow twine. “Spike will be just through those doors in arrivals along with the plainclothes gardaí.”

Kate didn't bother to respond. It was going to be okay for him, all right. Mannix wasn't the intended target. Kate was.

Kate thought she'd had the measure of this man. But Mannix's ebullient confidence in the face of all that had happened was staggering. Did he really believe that he could somehow smooth things over? Was he stupid? Did he
genuinely
think that things could ever return to business as usual? Mannix had a death on his hands. And yet he appeared to have little or no idea of the depth of her anger and revolt.

Three of their suitcases arrived promptly and Mannix swung
them onto the trolley as if he hadn't a care in the world. She wondered then if his behavior was part of a ruse. Mannix was nothing if not a showman. Perhaps underneath the nonchalant exterior, he was as distressed as she was.

“Mum?” Fergus was wiping imaginary dust from the camera, which he'd insisted on holding on to.

“Yes, Ferg?”

“Why aren't you talking to Dad?”

Fergus had an unhappy knack for pointing out and heightening any socially awkward situation. Tact was something she would have to try to teach him in the years to come. In fact, Kate was surprised he hadn't remarked on the silence between them earlier. She noticed now that Izzy had pricked up her ears. Izzy was definitely unhappy with what she had been told so far. She felt her daughter's dark eyes steadily fix on her. Mannix looked at her too, wondering what she'd say.

“Of course I'm talking to Dad. I've got a lot on my mind with this dreadful tragedy.”

“No, you're not, Mum. You haven't said a single word to him since we got on the plane. It's not Dad's fault we have to come home early. It's not Dad's fault there's a psycho on the loose!”

Poor Ferg, always his father's champion. If only he knew.

Sharp, astute, Izzy was quick off the mark.

“It's not your fault, is it, Dad?”

Mannix looked at Izzy, flummoxed.

“Of course not, Izzy. Don't be ridiculous,” chided Kate.

The words were out before she knew it. It wasn't that she was trying to protect Mannix, but she did want to protect the children. There would be time enough for the whole truth at a much later date. For now, she'd protect the kids as much as she could. Again, Mannix looked at Kate with relief. She hoped her actions hadn't given him false hope of any reconciliation. As soon as they were in private again, she would disavow him of any such notions.

“Let's go, troops,” said Mannix as the last suitcase arrived. “We're locked and loaded!”

Beset by a feeling of dread, Kate followed him toward the sliding doors. Each step like walking on wet sucking concrete.
What lay on the other side of those doors?
Kate's heart fluttered and started to race. Her legs shook. Her palms perspired heavily. With each footstep, Kate's heart beat louder.
Thump, thump, thump
. Suddenly the doors were open and they were through.

Was she there?

That nutter?

Slinking through the crowd?

Faces. Faces. A sea of faces
.

All looking at Kate. Kate felt her skin prickle and the hairs stand up on the nape of her neck. Someone out there was watching her.
She could feel it
. Kate scanned the crowd, eyes swiveling, darting this way and that.

Stay alert. Keep looking.

Voices called out. Kate's heart was beating wildly.

Who was that?
There—at the back, behind the crowd?

That woman with the blue head scarf—she was steadily making her way toward Kate! Kate's breath came in short bursts. Kate's eyes fastened onto the woman—petrified. She was definitely headed in Kate's direction.
Kate should run!
Get out of here. NOW!
But Kate was rooted to the spot. She could see the woman's lips were shiny—glistening with red lip gloss. A moment later she disappeared. Melted into the crowd.
Where was she? There she was again.
Directly in front of the man with the walking stick. Moving faster. Much, much faster—a purpose to her step. Suddenly, the woman's expression changed, her face creasing into a smile. All Kate's senses screamed. Was she smiling at
her
? Or was she smiling at
Mannix
? Kate shot a quick glance at Mannix.
How had he not noticed the woman?
She was nearly on them!

Whoosh!

Kate became dizzy as she felt the soft fabric of someone brushing by. The blood was thumping in her ears. Looking around, Kate stared as the woman wrapped herself in a tight embrace with a dark-skinned man. Relief coursed through Kate and a bead of sweat trickled down her back.

Kate desperately needed to get out of this crowd. To feel cold water on her face.
Now
. She would never make it to the exit. The sign for the ladies' toilets was there, to the right. Just a quick sprint away.

“Kate! Where are you going?”

It was Mannix. He spoke so sharply other travelers turned to look.

“Bathroom,” she said, and it occurred to her that if it weren't for her kids, she'd love to keep on walking, to cut a line through the gathering of waiting taxi drivers and welcoming relatives, out through the concourse doors, to keep on walking and walking, without ever looking back.

“Quickly then,” Mannix barked. “We'll wait here for you.” It was the first sign he'd given acknowledging any danger.

A ball of stress had formed inside her. As Kate waited for a free cubicle, she looked around her. She wondered if anyone else in the queue was expecting a homecoming quite as appalling as hers. “Muuuum, I'm really bursting,” moaned a small child, wiggling her tiny frame. “Shhh, Rosie, we're in next,” said her mother.

Kate looked in the mirror over the hand basins. Her hair hung lank and there were dark circles under her eyes. Not the rejuvenated soul she expected to be on her return. Everyone else in the queue looked tired and drawn as well. Apart from the woman holding the flowers. Standing a few people behind, Kate watched as she fiddled with the petals, and when she lowered her head to smell the bouquet, Kate noticed her long ponytail beneath her woolly hat. The woman looked as if she'd been walking in the wind.

What was taking everyone so long? There were never enough toilets in these bathrooms.

A couple of ladies were applying powder at the mirror. Another young woman pinched her cheeks. As Kate waited, she unzipped her bag in search of lipstick. She turned to face the mirror, while keeping her position in the queue. As she concentrated, following the curve of her lips, Kate became aware that she was being watched.

No, she was mistaken. It was her imagination. She'd gone into overdrive.

Get a grip, Kate!