Darkhouse (11 page)

After half an hour, he walked back into the kitchen. ‘I forgot to say to you – what the hell is wrong with that guy, Miller?’

‘John Miller?’ said Anna, throwing the onions into a hot pan.

‘Yeah, the alco.’ He slid his lower jaw back and forth.

‘Why do you ask?’ she said, going back to the window.

‘He was saying some weird shit to me in Danaher’s the other night.’

‘Like what?’ she said, slicing into a red pepper.

‘He was giving me a hard time, saying stuff about you. Have you met him or something?’ Anna looked at him.

‘He’s John,’ she said patiently. ‘I told you. The John I went out with when I was here the first time?’

‘Oh,’ said Joe. ‘What happened there?’

‘I left for New York, he ended up in Australia,’ said Anna. ‘You were grinding your teeth during the night, by the way. I tried to wake you up, but you just turned over and kept going.’

‘How long were you and this Miller guy together?’

‘Eight months.’

‘Oh. Must have been pretty intense.’

Anna said nothing. She kept chopping.

‘So was it you who drove him to drink? My baby break his heart?’ asked Joe, standing behind her, wrapping his arms around her, kissing the back of her neck.

Anna smiled.

‘I don’t think so, somehow,’ she said.

‘Could have,’ said Joe, teasing.

‘Can you bring up a Merlot?’ she said.

‘Sure,’ he said, walking out the door and down to the cellar.

Anna put down the knife, closed her eyes and breathed out.

Stinger’s Creek, North Central Texas, 1981

Geoff Riggs lay on his back on the sticky carpet, his right arm bent high above his head. A grey T-shirt rode up his chest, exposing his pale, hairy stomach. Donnie rushed in as he had done so many times before, shaking his satchel from his shoulder, sliding it down his arm to the floor. He fell on his knees beside his father and put his ear to his heart. Then he pushed up each of his eyelids with his thumbs. He never knew what he was looking for when he did this, never knew what would be a dangerous thing to see. He rolled his father onto his side, then stood up and scanned the room. The TV was on mute. He took the remote control and turned the volume up loud. Then he threw it on the sofa, quickly grabbed his satchel and went back out into the porch. Geoff came to, his right arm dead, his neck rigid. He
twisted it slowly, then brought his arm down to his side.

‘Hey,’ said Donnie, sticking his head in the door.

‘Didn’t hear you come in,’ Geoff snarled, rolling onto his back.

‘That’s ’cos you got the TV up too loud,’ said Donnie, switching it off. ‘Can I fix you somethin’?’

‘Sandwich,’ said Geoff. ‘Beef.’

Duke sat by the treehouse door, watching a spider crawl up the frame. He held out his hand and let it move across his palm, guiding it down onto the floor where it skittered across into a dark corner.

‘You there?’ called Donnie from below.

‘Come up,’ said Duke. ‘Where were you?’

‘At the store. Where were you?’

‘Uncle Bill’s. A friend of his was taking pictures of the hawks. What’s in the shoe box?’

Donnie knelt in front of him. His eyes darted left and right.

‘Look what I found in the bottom of Daddy’s closet,’ he whispered, taking off the lid. The box was filled with small packages.

‘Blackpowder,’ he said.

Duke’s eyes went wide.

‘Don’t worry!’ said Donnie. ‘I know what I’m doin’.’

‘What
are
you doin’?’

‘Lightin’ it on fire. What do you think?’

‘Here? Why don’t we blow somethin’ up proper?’

‘We will, later. I just wanna see this first.’

He squatted down and motioned for Duke to stay back. He put a capful of the powder on the floor and struck a match. He turned his head away and closed his eyes, reaching out to put the flame to the powder. It flashed instantly. He roared. His hands, arms and one side of his face and neck were black. His eyes were huge. Part of his T-shirt gaped across his chest. Duke started to laugh. Donnie laughed with him, but it hurt. Neither of them noticed the pile of comic books on fire behind them until it was too late.

‘Holy shit!’ said Donnie. ‘My treehouse!’ They looked around the small room for something to stamp out the fire, but they had nothing. The flames crackled and spread quickly across the dry timber.

‘Let’s get outta here,’ said Duke, ‘before the ladder goes up.’ They scrambled through the door and skipped most of the rungs, jumping free from the heat. They stepped back to watch the treehouse burn. The flames shone in their eyes. They stood transfixed until it finally collapsed, leaving burning embers and tiny wisps floating around their heads.

‘Well, shit,’ said Donnie. ‘I can’t go home to Daddy like this. And he spent ages buildin’ that. He’s gonna kill me.’

‘No he won’t. It was an accident,’ said Duke. Donnie looked at him.

‘We’ll go to my house,’ said Duke. ‘At least you can wash up some.’

When they got there, Wanda was asleep on the couch. The bathroom was a mess. Underwear and filthy towels covered the floor. Donnie filled up the sink and grabbed a bar of soap and a face cloth. As he scrubbed away the black residue, he looked into the mirror. Tears sprang up in his eyes.

‘Oh shit, Duke. Oh, shit, oh shit.’

Duke jumped up from the edge of the bath. ‘What? What?’

He looked at Donnie and through the black he could see angry red skin with white blisters, some of them torn open by the cloth. They both looked down at Donnie’s arms. He started to scrub at them too, ripping at more blisters.

‘Oh, shit,’ said Duke. ‘I’m gettin’ Mama.’

‘Wait,’ said Donnie. ‘We need to get our story straight.’

Wanda tried to have a conversation with Geoff Riggs. Her hair was tousled behind, backcombed over a dark greasy patch. She wore a vest top with no bra on underneath. Her hips swayed in her cut-off jeans.

‘Can you believe it?’ she was saying.

‘No, I can not,’ slurred Geoff. ‘Unbelievable.’

His hands were in his pockets and he rocked back and forth on his heels over the edge of the bottom step.

‘Unbelievable.’

‘Doctor says they’re first and second degree,’ said Wanda. ‘Might scar his face and arms in places…’ Donnie looked horrified.

‘Oh, sorry, Donnie, I shouldn’t have said anything,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you’ll be just fine.’

‘Let me tell you, if I find those high school brats, I’ll take my rifle to them.’

Donnie shot a look at Duke.

‘Goin’ around, preying on young boys like that,’ added Wanda.

‘I know,’ said Geoff, trying to settle his eyes on Donnie. ‘Coulda been burnt alive up there.’ He turned back to Wanda.

‘Mighty kind of you to bring him home,’ he said.

‘No trouble at all,’ said Wanda, shaking her head too much.

‘Think we should call the police?’ he asked on his way back up the steps.

‘No!’ said Duke. Everyone looked at him. He hesitated. ‘The Lord will, uh…sinners will be, uh, will pay for their sins.’

Donnie snickered.

‘Well, how’s about that?’ said Geoff. ‘Raisin’ yourself a minister, there.’ He chuckled. Wanda gave a loud hollow laugh.

The coffee shop was filled with the smell of bacon and eggs. D.I. O’Connor sat opposite Frank Deegan, his PDA open on the table in front of him. A young waitress came over to take their order, smiling nervously at them, hovering before she walked away.

‘You’d want to be careful,’ said Frank, ‘or you’ll have the whole parish listening in.’

‘It’s always the way,’ said O’Connor. He looked up. ‘How do you think Richie’s getting on? I mean, it’s plunging him in at the deep end really. One minute, parking tickets, pickpockets and checkpoints. Next minute, this.’

‘Not much different to any of us, really,’ said Frank. ‘I don’t know. Richie’s grand. He’s a serious lad for his age, a bit uptight, that’s all. He’s working hard though. I think he’ll surprise us.’

‘Fair enough,’ said O’Connor. ‘He’s very…intense.’

‘I think I know why,’ said Frank. ‘I don’t know the whole story, but a young friend of his, Justin Dwyer, drowned when he was about eight or nine. Richie was there at the time. Apparently, he had an awful time trying to save him, but…’ He shook his head. ‘Richie’s a lad that will do something about Katie. I think the guilt over that little guy has stayed with him for years. He won’t want to feel that again.’

O’Connor nodded. ‘I’ve been having a think about Katie’s interests and whether or not they’ve got anything do with this.’ He read from a list on the small screen of the PDA: hanging out with her friends, reading, movies, singing, music, computer games.

‘Friends? Well, we have their statements. Reading? I think it’s safe to say there’s nothing untoward there. Movies? She could have gone in to Waterford to see something, but it would have been too late that time of the night. OK. Singing or music. Could there have been an audition on somewhere she would have gone to that her mother wouldn’t have allowed? One of those pop star things? Maybe someone promised her something, a career…’

‘She wouldn’t have fallen for anything like that.’

‘What if it was someone she knew?’

‘I still don’t think so. Who?’

‘Anyone. Someone’s brother, cousin, friend…’

‘She sang in a folk group in mass,’ said Frank patiently. ‘And in school concerts. She wasn’t Tina Turner.’ He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms behind his head.

The waitress reappeared, setting mugs and teapots carefully down in front of them.

‘Thanks,’ said O’Connor. He pressed at the corners of his eyes, blinking slowly.

‘What about the Internet?’ he said, pouring each of them a cup of tea. ‘Could she have come in contact with someone online? Maybe gone to meet them?’

Frank shook his head.

O’Connor shrugged his shoulders. ‘She’s sixteen, it’s easy for a girl like that to be flattered.’

‘Maybe. If she wasn’t a pretty, intelligent, happy girl with a handsome young boyfriend.’

‘But some girls might like the mystery—’

‘Not Katie.’

‘I’m thinking out loud here. I’m not really expecting you to answer all my questions. I know you’re familiar with these kids, but I doubt they’re going to be keeping you up to speed.’

‘They don’t have to. It’s obvious what they’re like. I’ve known them for years.’

‘I’m running some things by you, that’s all.’

‘Look, you can talk to some of her friends yourself – Ali Danaher and Robert Harrington would be the main two – but they’ll probably tell you the same thing. What you see is what you get with Katie.’

‘Well, what I’m left with is drugs, pregnancy…’

Frank was shaking his head again. ‘Unfortunately, what I’m left with is something a lot worse than that. It’s been two weeks…’

O’Connor sat quietly, then picked up his PDA again and ran his stylus down the screen.

‘So you still think suicide—’

‘Is not and never should have been a possibility,’ said Frank. ‘I’ve been surprised by suicides in my day, but I’d stake my own life on it that she would never do a thing like that. Katie Lawson did not do something to herself. I’m afraid something was done to her.’

Shaun was staring into space. Robert was in front of the television playing Spiderman. Anna stuck her head in the door and shouted. ‘I’m going to Martha’s.’

‘Damn that web slinging,’ said Robert. Without even looking, Shaun knew his friend was whipping the controller from side to side.

‘You know that doesn’t help,’ said Shaun. ‘The flailing.’

‘Shut it,’ said Robert. ‘I’ve been on this level eight times. Eight.’

‘Give it to me,’ said Shaun, taking the controller. ‘You have to do this.’

Web fluid shot from Spiderman’s wrists, carrying him from building to building. Then he
twisted mid-air until he picked up the extra energy that floated between two skyscrapers.

‘Doesn’t help me,’ said Robert. ‘I have no idea what you just did.’ Shaun threw the instruction manual at him and kept playing.

Ali Danaher was surprised by her brief flicker of panic as she led D.I. O’Connor into the living room. She sat on the sofa. He was swallowed into a battered armchair beside her and left sitting lower down. She held back a smile.

‘I know you’ve been asked a lot of questions already,’ said O’Connor, pulling himself forward to the edge of the seat, ‘but I just want to get a few things clearer in my head. I’m trying to get a sense of Katie. What kind of person is she?’

‘She’s a sweetheart.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. One of those rare babes-who-don’t-know-it. And she has a huge brain…which makes me wonder.’

‘What?’

‘Well, why she’s gone.’

‘Any theories?’

‘No. But I can’t wait to find out.’ She gave a wry smile.

‘Was she impulsive?’

‘Sometimes, but never rash, if that’s what you’re getting at.’

‘Would you call her an extrovert?’

‘Ish. I mean, she wasn’t shy, but she wasn’t in-your-face either.’

‘Would she be likely to talk to people she didn’t know?’

‘I’m the one who talks to randomers. And she’ll talk to whoever I end up talking to.’

‘Is this in Mountcannon?’

‘There
are
no strangers in Mountcannon. I’m talking about when we go into town.’

‘Is Katie gullible?’

‘Are intelligent people usually gullible?’

‘Does she go online?’

‘Yes. Not a lot, though.’

‘What kind of sites?’

‘Bomb-making, usually.’

O’Connor waited patiently.

‘Music downloads, horoscopes, school stuff, entertainment, cinema listings,’ said Ali.

‘Does she go into chatrooms?’

‘Ew. Freaksville. No.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Well, I’m not with her every minute of the day, but I seriously doubt it. She’s too busy hanging out with her alive and well friends.’ She pointed to herself. ‘Ohhh, I get it,’ she said, ‘you think she’s run off with one of those creepy old guys.’ She laughed. ‘Ew. No way.’

‘Was Katie flirtatious?’

‘Eh, have you seen her boyfriend?’

‘I presume you mean she was faithful to him.’

‘He’s not my type, but yeah, I think it’s safe to say most normal girls would be perfectly happy to stick with Lucky.’

‘Was she easily flattered?’

‘No. She can’t stand compliments.’

‘Was she depressed?’

‘No. Where are you going with all this?’

‘I’m just asking you a few questions.’

He looked down at his notebook.

‘Right. As a publican’s daughter, you would have access to…?’

Ali looked at him. ‘Dirty glasses?’

O’Connor stared at her. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of alcohol.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Duh.’

‘Come on. This isn’t going to take long.’

‘Look, that’s what I do in the bar – wash glasses. I take them off the tables, I pour out the slops, I inhale the manky stench of stale beer, I load the glasses into the dishwasher, I turn it on, I wipe the counters, I wait for the glasses to be finished, I open the dishwasher, steam my zits, unload the glasses and stack them on the shelves. Yup, I can see the link between that and Katie going missing. I handle beer glasses. Isn’t it the Looking Glass you’re thinking of? Maybe she went through there.’

‘You’re not very helpful for someone whose best friend has disappeared.’

‘That’s because she’ll be back.’

‘What do you know that makes you so sure of that?’

‘It’s not what I know, it’s who I know. I know Katie and she just isn’t the type to go off and not come back.’

‘Hmm. You smoke dope, isn’t that right?’

Ali’s eyes shot wide. ‘Uh, what?’

‘You heard me. Isn’t that right?’

‘I presume that means you know that’s right.’

‘Yes, we do. Did Katie?’

‘No.’ She laughed. ‘No way.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Eh, yeah. She’s my best friend. I think I’d know.’

‘Has she ever asked you for drugs?’

‘Lots of times. I’m a known dealer. In Feminax.’

‘Please can you take this seriously?’

‘Fine, OK. Katie would never do drugs.’

‘Did she approve of you doing drugs?’

‘What kind of a question is that? We are sixteen. We are friends. We don’t approve or disapprove of what each other does.’

‘No,’ said O’Connor patiently. ‘I just wanted to know how she felt about drugs.’

‘Look. I’ve told Frank all this stuff already. This has nothing to do with drugs,’ said Ali. ‘Nothing. She’s neutral on the subject, OK? She doesn’t feel anything about drugs. Drugs play no part in her life, no part in her disappearance. I smoke dope the odd time. I’m not a junkie, Katie isn’t messed
up in the wrong crowd, she isn’t in a warehouse somewhere unloading a shipment of coke. We’re just two girls from a tiny village, one of whom smokes a spliff every now and then, neither of whom has ever dealt with anyone dodgier than, than…See? I can’t even think of anyone dodgy we’ve ever come into contact with. Jesus. What does that say about our sheltered little lives?’

‘It’s a nice way to be.’

‘Don’t tell me – the world is a horrible place and we’re lucky—’

‘Yes, actually. You are lucky. It can be pretty grim out there.’

‘Well, it can be pretty uneventful “in here”. Thank God for Katie causing a bit of a stir.’

‘So you think she’s done all this for the attention?’

‘Oh, for the love of Mike.’ She rolled her eyes dramatically. ‘You must have scored ten out of ten in literal interpretation class.’

He looked at her.

She held up her hand. ‘And before you say it, I know there was no literal interpretation class.’

Anna put her cup gently back on its saucer and turned to Martha. ‘I remember running away once,’ she said. ‘I packed a little bag, left a note for my parents and took the bus into Paris. I sat crying to my friend in McDonalds. Then she told me her mother hit her and her brothers. And I
realised I was crazy. My parents loved me, I had a wonderful home, I just wanted to test it all, spread my wings. I wanted to grab a piece of independence, but really when I found it, I wanted to go right back home.’

Martha smiled and squeezed Anna’s hand.

‘I’m sure that’s all this is, Martha. A young girl trying to have independence. She knows you love her, she knows she has a good home. But she’s sixteen, she thinks she’s ready for it all. But she’ll know soon enough that she’s not.’

‘Thanks,’ said Martha. ‘I hope so.’ She folded and unfolded a tissue. ‘I know I was strict with Katie. I’ve been going over all the things I stopped her from doing like sleeping over in friends’ houses, staying out late or going out with boys. I gave in, of course, when she met Shaun. Katie didn’t know, but I had seen them together once on their way home from school and I knew straightaway I’d have no hope of tearing them apart.’

Anna smiled.

‘I’d understand if she ran away because of something like that, if I’d stopped her from seeing Shaun. But, this? I don’t know what’s going on.’ Martha paused. ‘Are you sure he doesn’t know anything?’

‘Of course,’ said Anna. ‘He would tell us. He’s devastated. He would say something.’

‘I know,’ said Martha. ‘I’m sorry. I had to…’

‘It’s OK.’

Martha smiled again, then went into the kitchen to make more tea.

Anna sat back on the sofa and breathed in deeply. There was nothing about Katie to make her believe she’d ever run away. She wasn’t the type of girl who looked for her next hit of adventure, she was content enough not to want to escape.

The phone rang. Martha dropped the tray with the teapot, splashing hot tea up her legs. She ignored it and ran for the phone. Anna could hear her speaking slowly.

‘No. Definitely jeans, Frank. Those wide ones. Yes, the rest is right, yes.’

She hung up and came back into the living room, deflated.

‘Someone saw a girl in a pink hoodie, hitching the Sunday after, but she had track pants on and they wanted to check if I could have got it wrong, what she was wearing.’ She sat down. ‘I suppose I don’t mind them calling for things like that, but it’s just, you know, every time the phone rings, I nearly have a heart attack.’

Anna looked down at the splashes on Martha’s legs.

‘Oh, I’m fine,’ said Martha. ‘You know, my mother used to be able to put her hands into boiling water to take the eggs out. And she’d stick her hand under the grill to get the sausages. Strong women in my family.’

Suddenly she started to cry. Anna brought her a tissue and sat on the edge of the armchair. She laid her hand gently on Martha’s shoulder.

‘It’s funny how you don’t know people,’ said Martha, wiping her nose. ‘Have you met John Miller yet? He used to be in my class. He was a lovely lad, sweet, charming. Would do anything for you. Anyway, I went away to London after school, came back several years later and I heard he had moved to Australia. Now I hear his wife kicked him out…because he beat her. And it was his mother who told me, whispered it like a confession in the supermarket. I had known Mae Miller all my life as a very private woman. She never spoke about her business. Then she starts telling me, a casual acquaintance, about something that personal?’ She shook her head. ‘So you never know with people. Anyone can surprise you.’

Shame pulsed through Anna. That she could have been so intimate with a man who went on to beat women repulsed her. A long-buried image of him pinning her hands above her head flashed into her mind. It repulsed her, because in it, she could see the smile across her face.