WHYTE LIES (2 page)

Summer 1975

The little girl stirred in her bed, woken by the shouts from downstairs. For a moment, she had forgotten what her father had done, but when her eyes opened, the living nightmare started all over again. She swallowed the lump in her throat when she remembered her kittens. She scrunched her eyes closed, willing herself to go back to sleep so she could forget for a while, but the shouting was too loud. Her parents argued so often that she was almost immune to it, but this was different; they were yelling about her.

“I work every hour that God sends to make enough money for you and the children,” her father shouted. “It’s never enough for you, is it?”

“Faith can’t be the only child in school without new shoes,” her mother yelled. “There’s only so much I can do with the pittance you give me. If you cut back on your so-called business trips, we’d have more than enough for everything.”

They argued back and forth, blaming each other for their individual unhappiness. Faith understood little of what they were talking about, but she was used to their blame games. Usually, the fights ended with her father storming out and disappearing for a while. Faith didn’t care; he’d always come home in a good mood, usually with toys for her and her brother, and flowers for her mother.

She lay in the half-light of dawn, listening to them fight, wondering if it would ever end. Eventually, she got up and looked out the window. Her father’s car was gone. Relief flooded through her as the sun rose over the distant mountains, reminding her of her grandmother’s house in Ireland, where she had spent the previous summer. She remembered the majestic peaks of the Kerry Mountains in Killarney, and how she stared up at their majestic, snow-capped ridges, imagining she was part of them. She missed her grandmother, and how safe she felt with her. She had her own bedroom at Granny Rose’s house–one she didn’t have to share with her baby brother, Tim.

Tim stirred in his cot at the other side of the room. His little chubby face was scrunched up as he slept. She loved to watch him sleep. Part of her was afraid to love her little brother too much; Daddy always ruined everything she loved.

“Hi, Mummy,” Faith said, venturing downstairs. She tried to ignore the angry bruise around her mother’s eye.

“Hi, darling. Come and give me a hug.” Her mother was a different person when Daddy wasn’t around.

Faith ran to her and held on tight. She closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of her lavender perfume. “Will you paint my nails?” she asked.

“Great idea. I’ll get the varnish. Which colour would you like?”

“All of them.”

Her mother laughed.

Faith watched her as she carefully transformed her nails: one pink, one red, one black, one blue, one white. Her mother smiled and chatted happily. Faith clung to every moment, storing up the memory, wishing it didn’t have to end.

August 2014

Faith’s blood froze in her veins. “Another child?” she repeated. “Where the bloody hell is she?”

“Looks like whoever did this took her,” said Kelly, trying to catch his breath.

“Stating the obvious,” Faith mumbled. “What exactly did her sister say?”

“Not a whole lot. Apparently, she mumbled something about her little sister being in the car too, but there’s no sign of her. Heat detectors showed colours  compatible with the dead adults’ bodies. They didn’t detect another colour to indicate that someone was alive.”

“But their bodies were probably still emitting some heat. Has anyone had contact with the bodies?”

“Only paramedics, who established that the victims were dead. Officers have taken fingerprint swabs from outside the car. They located the bullets that were embedded in the ground, but we’re waiting for forensics to arrive to do anything more detailed.”

Faith checked her watch. “About time.” Right on cue, forensics pulled up beside them. “Kelly, issue an All-Ports Warning.”

“That won’t be much use, considering we don’t even know what the suspect looks like,” he sneered.

“This isn’t a debate; just get on with it,” snapped Faith over her shoulder as she followed forensics to the car.

***

Frozen in fear beneath the folds of her dead mother’s skirt was a six-year-old girl. Too petrified to move, unsure if the gunman was still nearby, she clung to the familiar warmth of her mother’s body, trying not to cry. She couldn’t tell the difference between the good guys and the bad guys and was too afraid to call out.

“She’s here!” yelled one of the forensics officers, gently picking her up. Dazed and confused, the little girl looked around. Her big brown eyes were huge in her pale face. “I want my Mummy,” she wailed, “Mummy.”

Faith looked incredulously at the little girl as she took her from the officer. “It’s okay, love. You’re safe now.”

She clung to Faith, wrapping her chubby arms around her neck. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Megan.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“There was a loud noise, and a bad man shouting. He had a gun. Mummy told me to hide under her dress.”

“She’s a clever Mummy,” said Faith.

“Where’s Mummy?”

“Would you like to see your sister?” asked Faith, trying to distract her.

Megan nodded. “Can I go in the ambulance?”

“You sure can,” Faith said. “This is Janet. She’ll take you to your sister.” Faith nodded at Detective Sergeant Janet Byrne.

“Can we put the siren on?” Megan asked as they headed towards the ambulance.

“Absolutely.”

“Thank God she’s okay,” said Kelly.

“She’s far from okay,” said Faith, waving goodbye to Megan as the ambulance drove off with its siren blaring. “Who knows what the poor child saw here today. How could we have missed her? The Super won’t be impressed when this fiasco hits the headlines.”

“Why the hell didn’t you find the child sooner?” demanded Chief Superintendent Victoria Thomas, prodding the morning edition of the newspaper on the immaculate oak desk in front of her. Her blue eyes blazed in her tanned face as she fixed her icy stare on Faith. Two weeks sailing the Mediterranean had done little to relax her.

“In fairness, ma’am, we weren’t searching for survivors; it seemed that the entire family had been wiped out.” Faith struggled to defend herself. She glanced out the window at the bustling street below, where the tourists were queuing to take the horse and trap ride around the Ring of Kerry. Sounds of laughter carried on the warm, summer air as they bartered for the best possible price. She focused on their playful banter as she made a valiant effort to suppress her rising temper.

“It’s all over the bloody newspapers,” snapped Thomas. “They’re having a field day at our expense. The child was in the back of the car for hours. Why didn’t you open the door and look inside?”

“Ma’am, my priority was for the safety of the officers.
 Bullets had been fired. We had to take extreme caution not to pollute the scene. A bullet cracked the window, ma’am. If we had opened the door, the window would have shattered and we would have lost vital ballistic evidence. No one was moving in the car. We had no idea she was there. Obviously, the child was terrified, so she hid, too afraid to make a sound. The important thing is that she was found alive.”

“Eventually,” Thomas sighed, relenting. “Make sure you’re ready for the press conference. I expect a full report on my desk first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Faith turned on her heel and left, resisting the urge to slam the door behind her. She strode along the corridor to the incident room which was a hive of activity. Desks were being allocated as the detectives assigned to the team arrived. Nora Barry, the team’s Reader-Receiver, was already at her desk, fielding calls and monitoring the information as it came in. Nora was a brunette in her mid-fifties, with an eagle eye for detail. Intelligence reports, witness statements and phone transcripts all went through her before being designated to the team.

Faith marched to the front of the room, feigning a confidence she didn’t feel. She grabbed a pen and wrote in capital letters on the whiteboard: OPERATION BLACK VALLEY. Then she clapped her hands to be heard over the loud hum of noise. “Okay, can I have your attention, please?” She hoped nobody noticed the crack in her voice. All eyes turned to her. “Briefing in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, boss,” they mumbled, while she retreated to the sanctuary of her poky office. She watched the room through the glass floor-to-ceiling windows, doing her best to suss out her team as they gathered themselves together. Ten minutes later, Nora tapped on her door. “I have some documents for you.” She handed a sheaf of papers and photographs to Faith. “Can I get you anything before the briefing: tea, coffee?”

“Double vodka and coke, if you have it.” Faith grinned.

Nora smiled sympathetically. “Nervous?”

“A little.”

“You’ll be great.” She winked at her and rushed back to her desk where the phone was hopping. Faith and Nora were friends as well as colleagues. They’d met on Faith’s first day on the Killarney team, when Nora had taken the younger woman under her wing and had advised her on the intricate web of office politics.

A quiet hush fell on the packed room as Faith addressed her team. Detective Inspector Greg Kelly leaned back in his chair and smirked up at her. Beside him, Detective Sergeant Martin Plunkett sat with his notebook and pen ready. Faith studied his angular face and gelled black hair. The strong scent of his cologne filled the stifling air, but at least he wasn’t a sweaty, chauvinist pig like his senior.

“As most of you know, I’m Detective Chief Inspector Faith Whyte. I’ll be leading the investigation, so if you have any issues, please feel free to talk to me directly.” Kelly muttered under his breath, but she silenced him with a glare. She knew he’d seize every opportunity to undermine her. “I’d like to remind everyone that anything said here today needs to remain confidential,” she continued. The officers murmured in agreement. “Right, let’s get down to business.”

She picked up a photo and pinned it to the large whiteboard that ran the width of the room. The dated and timed photograph had been retrieved from Mrs. Gleeson’s camera and showed the family posing at two forty-five on August 31; the day of the killing. Mr. Gleeson had his arms around Lucy, while Mrs. Gleeson held Megan’s hand as she beamed from the photo with her gap-toothed smile.

“Shortly after three o’ clock this afternoon, the bodies of Daniel and Amira Gleeson were discovered at the Black Valley Forest. Their ten-year-old daughter, Lucy, was badly injured, and their six-year-old daughter, Megan, was found unharmed.” Silence descended as the team took in the photo of the smiling, happy family.

“Mr. Gleeson was in the driver’s seat; his wife was in the back. Both suffered gunshot wounds to the head. Megan hid under her mother’s dress. Lucy was found lying in front of the car. She was shot in the shoulder, and her skull was fractured by repeated blows from a blunt instrument. At this stage, it looks like she was pistol-whipped.

John Newman—a local hiker—was first on the scene. His initial statement, combined with statements from tourists at the caravan park where they were holidaying, is helping us narrow the timeline of events leading up to the killings. The pathologist’s report should help narrow it further.”

Faith surveyed the room before continuing. “I have to warn you that some of these images are graphic.” She pinned a set of photos to the whiteboard. A few faces paled as they took in the carnage.

“The Gleesons arrived in Killarney last Thursday, where they were booked into the Lakeside Caravan and Camping Park. A German family with a caravan beside the Gleesons overheard Daniel and a strange man having a heated discussion late on their first night at Lakeside.”

“Do we have a description of the mystery man, boss?” Plunkett piped up.

“He’s tall, well-built, and looks Eastern European, according to the Germans,” Faith replied, irritated at the interruption. “They noticed him because he was wearing a tailored suit, despite the sweltering temperature.”

“The Gleesons drove from their home in Dublin to Killarney, last Thursday morning. This was their third summer camping here. Pictures from Daniel’s Facebook account show them staying at The Lakeside Campsite previously.”

“They seem like a normal family enjoying their summer holiday,” said Kelly, peering at her over the top of his glasses.

“Indeed,” said Faith. Everything about Kelly irked her, even when he was agreeing with her. “There are so many activities for a family in Killarney town: cycling, walking, horse riding; why did they drive to the middle of nowhere on a beautiful sunny day? The best views near the Black Valley can only be found on foot, and I doubt Megan’s little legs could walk too far.”

“Shouldn’t the girls have been at school?” asked Plunkett, “my nephew went back last week. He’s the same age as Lucy.”

“Good point,” said Faith, writing it up on the board. “The Gleesons left the campsite in their Mercedes around two o’ clock. They travelled out of town and took the road past the Upper Lake before turning right onto the Ring of Kerry. They continued driving along Gap Road, then took a sharp right towards the Gap of Dunloe, and on towards the Black Valley. There are no CCTV cameras along that stretch of road, so no trace of the Mercedes.”

Faith pointed at the family photograph. “This dated and timed photo was taken half an hour before John Newman, the hiker, tried to call for help on his phone. The photo was taken outside Lord Brandon’s cottage: a ten-minute drive from the Black Valley Forest, where the family was found.”

“Did any witnesses notice the car?” asked Kelly. “I doubt there were many Mercedes driving along those narrow roads. It would have taken a brave driver to venture up there in a car that size.”

Or a desperate one,
thought Faith.

“I spoke to a local farmer,” replied Detective Janet Byrne, a tall, athletic blonde with cropped hair. She blushed when all eyes turned towards her. “He lives in the last house on the road before the track to the forest begins. He was fixing a barn door when he saw the Mercedes, but he didn’t see any other cars drive past. He didn’t hear any shots, either; maybe the gunman had a silencer.”

“Possibly,” said Faith. “Good work, Byrne.”

The young detective’s blush deepened at the compliment.

“Why did Daniel Gleeson drive his family to an insignificant layby in a forest in the middle of nowhere? It’s not somewhere that you would go with young children. Only the locals know it’s there. Signs all along the route warn that it’s a dangerous road. Driving is prohibited two kilometres further along. What were they doing there?”

“Maybe they took a wrong turn,” suggested Plunkett.

“Unfortunately for the Gleesons, it was a place of no return,” said Faith.