Taboo (29 page)

‘Bungalows?’
Reilly queried as Chris slipped on his jacket.

‘Yes, not far outside the town, the way we came in actually. They reckon your father’s family lived out that direction.’

The wind hit Reilly with a blast as she stepped outside. What had been a pleasant fresh breeze when they arrived had now turned into a strong wind, laden with Irish drizzle, blowing hard in her face. She pulled her coat tight around her and stepped outside.

Chris was right behind her. He looked up at the darkened sky, clouds racing past overhead and they both quickened their step as they made their way to the car.

Although the area in question was according to locals only supposed to be a quarter of a mile up the hill, it seemed to take forever for Reilly and Chris to locate it.

Inside the car, she glanced at her hands, realizing her knuckles were white. Unclenching them, she tried to relax and slow her heart rate. But it was just too difficult. Now, they were no longer operating on a hunch; her father had indeed grown up around this area – this place was his roots.

Alongside her, Chris was keeping a close eye out for the Fifties bungalows or anything that might indicate they were in the right place. But Reilly thought it was almost impossible to differentiate any of the residences from the ones they were looking for, as it seemed there were countless older one-off houses, interspersed between the newer, more modern ones.

When the housing gradually thinned out a little and they emerged in a sparser, less populated part, he slapped the steering wheel. ‘Damn it. Cliff Road my arse! We’re almost into Bray now and I can’t pinpoint anything like the area those guys talked about. Can you?’

Reilly said nothing, just shook her head in silent frustration.

‘I’ll drive down a little further and find somewhere to turn. Maybe we’ll spot something on the way back.’

‘Good idea.’ Reilly thought her mind would explode if they didn’t make more progress soon.

Some three hundred meters down, they spotted a man with a walking stick along the side of the road. He looked to be older than the three men Chris had been talking to in the bar and pulling the car up alongside him, Chris rolled down the window and called out to him. ‘Excuse me, sir?’

Reilly studied the man as he approached the window. She would guess he was in his mid-eighties, maybe even ninety. Like many old men he had shrunken with age, though it looked like he’d never been huge to start with. He was probably no more than five foot one or two, bent over, and looking worn and tired. He wore a worn tweed jacket and a dark gray flat cap pulled down over his eyes.

‘I’m sorry, we’re a bit lost and I wondered if you might be able to help us.’

It was a moment before the man looked up, but when he did his eyes were clear and bright, an almost startling shade of blue.

‘We’re looking for a row of bungalows out this road,’ Chris continued, pleasantly. ‘I believe the area is called
Windgates?’

‘How was your drive down?’ the man asked, suddenly

Reilly saw that Chris was momentarily put off stride. ‘Drive down?’

‘You’re from Dublin, right?’

‘Well, I am yes, is it that obvious?’

‘You’ve got big city written all over you,’ the man commented.
‘The smart clothes, the accent, the impatience.’

‘Well, sorry if I seem a bit rushed, but it’s quite important.’

‘Important, you say?’ the man repeated. Reilly leaned across Chris hoping she’d have better luck getting what they needed out of this old-timer.

‘My family is from round here and we’re trying to track down my grandparents’ place.’

The man looked at her with interest and she could tell he thought she was just another Yank trying to trace her Irish roots.

‘That’s nice,’ he said slowly, and Reilly felt like shaking him. Was this guy going to help them or not?

‘My father was Michael Steel – so was his father,’ she continued, quickly. ‘He was a carpenter, moved to California in the early Sixties …’

‘I remember Steel the carpenter,’ he replied, softly and Reilly’s heart sped up. ‘He was a good craftsman, as I recall.’

‘That’s the one,’ Chris said, quickly. ‘Do you know where they lived?’

The man never took his eyes from Reilly. ‘Aye, I remember.’ He took a step back and leaned on his walking stick. ‘Do you know what they call me around here?’ he said. Reilly wanted to scream with frustration. They didn’t have time for a chat,
goddamnit!

Chris’s tone was measured. ‘No idea.’

‘The walker, that’s what they call me.’ He looked back and forth at the two of them. ‘Ever since I was a lad I’ve loved to walk – all over town, out of town – when I was a lad I used to walk all the way as far as Wicklow sometimes. It’s been a good few years since I did that,’ he said with a chuckle, ‘but I still walk, downtown, up and down these roads.’

Reilly felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as suddenly she realized this guy wasn’t as she’d first thought a doddery old fool, but was in fact, sharp as a tack.

‘What have you seen, sir?’ she asked, quietly.

‘The Cliff Road,’ he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘I remember when that whole area was just fields …’ He scratched his chin. ‘It’s still a quiet place to walk though, mostly young families, so there’s often kids playing around outside.’

‘That’s where the Steels lived?’

He nodded. ‘It’s just a little way off the main road here once you get to
Windgates, a cul-de-sac. I used to go down to the end and stare out at the harbor, watch the seagulls swooping in on stormy days to peck at the crops.’ He sighed. ‘Last house on the left was the Steels’. Of course, for the last thirty years old Mrs McGovern lived there. Kept herself to herself, while the house gradually became more and more run down around her.’

‘And then?’

Reilly could feel Chris squirming with impatience beside her. She stayed quiet, gave the guy the time he needed to tell his story.

‘A good while back, Mrs McGovern moved out, to one of them nursing homes – don’t fancy it much myself, but I guess it suited her.’

‘And now the house is empty?’ Reilly prompted, almost afraid to take a breath. That had to be it, it
had
to be where Jess was hiding out.

‘No, next I heard, some Dublin family had bought it.’

‘Oh.’ Reilly’s face fell.

‘But the place a few doors down, that’s empty,’ he said, his blue eyes watchful. ‘It’s being done up and far as I know nobody’s moved in yet. You know the way people these days need everything perfect before they’ll set foot in a place. Hasn’t been touched in a while though so whoever owns it must have ran out of money.
Nothing new these days.’

Being done up.
Reilly froze, all at once recalling the paint flecks they’d found at the early crime scenes, the gypsum plaster, paintbrush bristles …

That had to be it; the renovated house had to be Jess’s hiding place.

‘Thank you so much for you help, sir,’ she said, quickly, eyeing Chris. ‘You said it’s just off the main road?’

‘Yes. If you head about a quarter of a mile down the direction you came from and take a turn to the left, just after the vet’s.’

‘The
vet’s
?’ Reilly wanted to cry out with joy. That must be where Jess had been getting the pentobarbital. Suddenly all the pieces were fitting into place.

‘You’re been a great help, thanks,’ Chris told the older man, and without waiting for a response,
maneuvred the car into a three-point turn. ‘He said the house has been vacant for a while. That’s where she’s been hiding, Chris, I’m sure of it.’ Reilly’s mouth set in a thin line. ‘And chances are, it’s where she’s taken my dad.’

‘There it is,’ she said, quietly. They had turned off the Cliff Road and soon came upon a row of small, nondescript bungalows a little way down. One of them had various building materials scattered outside and was very obviously undergoing renovations

But instead of turning into the cul-de-sac, Chris pulled the car over to the side of the road. Reilly gave him a quizzical look.

‘I just want to talk this through,’ he explained. ‘At this point, we should probably call for backup.’

Reilly inhaled deeply. ‘Do what you like, but I’m going in now.’

‘Reilly. We—’

‘We what?’ She cut him off. ‘Chris, surely you knew I didn’t come all the way down here to just sit and wait in the car?’

‘Well, if we aren’t waiting for backup, what are we doing?’

Reilly stared out the window at the surrounding area, such a mundane setting for what could be the conclusion to a tortuous week. A man hurried past in the rain, coat up tight around his neck, a small dog dragging on a lead behind him. ‘I think I need to do this myself. She’s my sister and she’s made it very clear this is all about me.’

Chris looked at her in amazement. ‘You’re joking. Reilly, she’s
a unstable killer, responsible for the deaths of at least nine people—’

‘I know, but my father is in there. We can’t just go in all guns blazing and risk messing this up. Well, if we had any damned guns, that is.’

He looked at her. ‘Well you might not, but I do. And before you ask, no, I’m not giving it you; that’s more than my job’s worth.’

The truth was, she still had no idea how to approach this, but the one thing she did know was that if Jess was in there, she wanted to face her alone. Chris was right; she had been responsible for untold damage, but now that it had come to this, Reilly could only look at it as a family matter. She might be able to talk to Jess, make her see sense, or at the very least, prevent her from hurting Mike.

When she explained this to Chris, he was dubious. ‘Not a good idea, you can’t go in there alone, not when you have no idea what to—’

‘Then I’ll just make it look like I’m alone,’ she interjected, her tone urgent. ‘Damn it Chris, we don’t have time to wait around! It’s my dad in there, who knows what Jess could be doing? I need to go in
now
.’ She put her hand on the door handle. ‘Call in the others and, in the meantime, see if you can find another way in, around the back maybe so you can keep an eye on what’s happening.. Then if something goes awry we can both work it from there.’

Chris shook his head grimly. ‘As plans go, I’ve heard better—’

‘Hop out,’ she ordered, unwilling to wait around any longer. ‘You’re on foot from here.’

Chris reached for the door handle,
then paused. ‘Reilly, can I just say—’

She hushed him into silence. ‘Don’t say anything –
it’s bad luck. I’ll see you in a little while, OK?’

He gave her a steady, appraising glance. ‘Just be careful. And don’t do anything stupid.’ He threw open the door, letting a blast of cold air into the car, before disappearing between the nearby bushes.

Reilly eased herself across into the driver’s seat. The pedals were too far away for her to reach so she slid the seat forward. She was about to put the car in gear when she paused. The confidence she had displayed when convincing Chris that they should face this without delay seemed to seep out of her now that she was alone.

Suddenly, she felt like a small vulnerable child again, a million miles from a highly trained FBI investigator. Everything she was doing was wrong; Daniel would have kittens if he knew. She was going in blind to a suspect’s house, no reconnaissance, no weapon, almost no backup, intending to just accept whatever she found and deal with it on the fly. Was she crazy?

But another voice, a more calming one, rose up in her mind. She was doing something that her old tutor had also drummed into her – using her instincts. Her instincts, he used to tell her, came from deep inside the subconscious mind. And the subconscious mind – ten times larger than the conscious mind – had access to a range of information that the conscious mind could only dream of. Listen to your instincts, he would say, they’ll usually guide you in the right direction.

And what Reilly’s instincts were telling her was that this was the only way to do it. That Jess was waiting for her, had taken her dad captive, and that if they went in with force her sister would simply kill Mike and make her escape for another day.

Reilly slipped the car into gear and moved closer to the renovated house. At this point, the best way to handle this was face to face.

It was a small, three-bedroom house near the end of the cul-de-sac, easily identifiable by the skip, loose plasterboard and other DIY materials strewn around it.

Without thinking, Reilly turned the car around at the end of the row and parked it facing up the road, ready for a quick getaway. Conscious of the rapid beating of her heart, she took several deep breaths before turning off the engine.

In the sudden silence she could hear the blood rushing in her ears, the wind whipping up the rain past the window. She wondered where Chris was. Well, wherever he was, he was undoubtedly getting wet.

She stowed the keys up behind the visor – again, out of habit – then kicked the door open. The rain had turned heavy, blasting in her face as the stepped from the car and forcing her to hurry up the path toward the house. With the moist drops in her eyes it was hard to see clearly and as she neared the house Reilly peered at the door, trying to find the doorbell – but there was no need.