Last Kiss (39 page)

The detective stared back at him blankly. ‘We were told to stay out here.’

‘I don’t like this.’ Adam knew he needed to think fast. Kate wouldn’t have stayed in there that long, not unless something was wrong.

Addressing the same detective, he said, ‘Get the other two guys. There’s no bloody signal here with the woods. We’ll have to recheck the house without back-up.’

‘But Lynch said—’

‘Fuck Lynch – I’m calling the shots now.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Alice asked, so matter-of-factly that she spooked him.

‘We need to work out what’s going on inside.’

‘You won’t see them if they’re in the cellar.’ Again, she delivered it deadpan.

‘What cellar?’

‘Under the house. They stopped putting coal in it years ago. Sandra and I used to hide in it.’

He wanted to ask, why the fuck didn’t you say so before? But he knew if anyone was going to suffer his wrath, it would have to be Lynch for missing the bloody cellar in the first place.

‘Okay, listen to me, Alice. If they’re in the cellar, I’m assuming there’s only one way in.’

‘Yes. Through the kitchen. There’s a flap under the table.’

‘I’ll need you to come with me. She is closer to you than anyone else. It’s a risk, but it might be the only way of getting your friend, and mine, out of there alive. Are you okay with that?’

‘I’m okay.’

RIGOR MORTIS HAD already set in on Edgar Regan’s body. The only hope Kate had lay in the knowledge that, for whatever reason, Cassie hadn’t killed her straight away. It was a split-second realisation, feeling the knife against her throat and knowing it could all end within moments. No goodbyes to Charlie, no time to reflect, no prospect of ever doing the most mundane or extraordinary things again.

As she crawled down the stairs, across the floor and into the dark cellar, she told herself that she was still alive. Cassie had said she’d only ever killed one woman, a witch. Kate had to assume she was talking about her grandmother, but no matter how cruel her grandmother had been to her, the likely abuse of
her grandfather would have solidified her hate to the extreme. However Kate looked at it, if Sandra or Cassie wanted her dead, she would be. Somewhere in her moral compass, she wasn’t going to kill without reason, and Kate had no intention of supplying one.

Although it hadn’t taken Kate’s eyes long to accustom to the dark, it was difficult to make out Cassie’s expression. The more time passed, Kate also knew, the greater the risk of Cassie turning aggressive, especially with pressure from outside. She needed to distract her.

‘Why did you kill Edgar?’ she finally asked. It was a risk starting there, but she had to start somewhere.

Cassie didn’t reply straight away, so Kate kept her eyes on her dark shape. Eventually, she said, ‘He loved Sandra more than he loved me.’

‘Love is important to you?’

‘I’m not a monster.’

‘I didn’t say you were. You’ve suffered. I can see that.’

‘You think you can work me out?’ she sneered.

‘I saw the pain in your paintings and sketches. None of this is your fault.’

‘Too late.’ She spat the words with venom.

‘You know Sandra will come back. You can’t kill her.’

‘This time is different. This time she was pushed too far.’

‘How can you be sure? She could come back at any moment.’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘If it wasn’t for Sandra, you wouldn’t exist. You owe her your life.’

‘I owe her nothing,’ she hissed, through gritted teeth. ‘I took the fucking pain for the precious, pathetic coward. I lived the hellhole, not her.’

‘You remember it all, don’t you?’

‘You learn to compartmentalise things.’ She laughed hysterically. ‘It’s a good coping mechanism, but you know all about that, Doctor. You’ve dealt with this shit before.’

‘I’ve never met anyone like you.’

‘Lucky you.’ Again she spat the words, but this time they were loaded with sarcasm.

‘I’m lucky, yes.’

‘Tell me, Kate, what was your mother like? Did she dress you prettily, put ribbons in your hair, tell you how great you were?’

‘She didn’t do any of that.’

‘Really? I’m intrigued. Tell me about her, now we’re getting along so well.’

‘She was a bit like Sandra.’

‘In what way?’

‘She was frightened most of her life.’

‘Of what?’

‘Of never being good enough, thinking others were better than her, of settling for less than she should have.’

‘And what about with you, Kate? Was she a good mother?’

‘She did her best.’

‘Was that good enough for you?’

‘Not always, but things changed.’

‘How?’

‘I learned that sometimes people become who they are because of the cruelty of others.’

‘I think about her all the time – my mother. You’d think she’d have come back for me, wouldn’t you?’

‘She couldn’t.’

‘You mean because she died?’ The rage fired up again. ‘The witch died, but she wouldn’t leave me in peace, crawling in and out of my life.’

‘The witch stays with you because you let her.’

Kate pulled back, seeing the shadow jump in the dark, as Cassie put the knife back to her throat. ‘You want to be a dead woman?’

Both of them heard the overhead noises at the same time. ‘Not a word from you, bitch, or you’re dead.’

When the trapdoor opened, it was a female voice they heard, a voice Kate didn’t recognise.

‘Sandra, is that you? Are you down there?’

‘Sandra isn’t here right now.’ Again the sarcasm. ‘Stay away from here, Alice. I warn you, I’ll kill this woman if you don’t.’

‘Is Edgar with you?’

‘You don’t need to worry about him – not any more.’

‘I’ve been to the forest.’ There was excitement in her voice. ‘Even in the dark, I found our old rock. Do you remember how we used to set it up like an altar, with the cards, putting the red cloth on top? The place is still there. I thought I’d never find it, but the moon guided me.’ She gave what Kate thought was a sob. ‘If you let me, I can take you there. We can go there together. We can send all the evil spirits away. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Cassandra?’

‘You know I would.’

Alice knew enough to switch from Sandra to Cassandra, Kate thought. If anyone was going to get them out of there alive, it would be her.

‘You’re tired, baby,’ Alice pleaded. ‘You know you are. I can hold you tight, like we used to when we were scared. My arms are still strong. I can wrap them around you. Please, Cassandra, can I come down?’

‘You became so harsh, Alice.’ The words were delivered with hurt.

If the stress levels reduce, thought Kate, Sandra may come back.

‘I know I did, baby. But it was only pretence.’ Another sob from Alice. ‘It was a way of not being wounded.’

‘I didn’t hurt you.’

‘You did. I saw you with him.’

‘You saw us?’ Another lowering and softening of her tone. ‘You knew about your father and—’

‘I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. Listen, I’m coming down.’

‘You can’t. The cards didn’t predict it.’

‘They did. They said there would be a new beginning. You want a new beginning, don’t you?’

‘The room is getting darker, Alice. I don’t understand … I’m scared. I don’t know what’s happening any more.’

‘You don’t have to be scared. I’m here.’

Kate couldn’t believe what was happening, but she knew when to stay completely still. With the light shafting down from above, she felt the release of the grip around her neck before the knife dropped out of Cassie’s hand.

Adam wasn’t long in following Alice into the cellar, but it was Kate who reached over and picked up the knife.

‘Is this our new beginning?’ she heard Cassandra ask Alice.

‘Yes, baby. Everything will be all right now.’

BY THE TIME Kate and Adam reached the centre of Leach, the whole village, including Billy Meagher and Lily Bright, was assembled, all trying to come to terms with the two dozen squad cars with blue lights flashing that had invaded them during the night.

Kate stepped away from the crowd to phone Sophie, happy to hear that Charlie was sound asleep in bed, oblivious to it all. She didn’t feel much like talking to anyone, not even Adam as he approached her. Instead of greeting him, she put her head down and turned away.

‘What’s wrong, Kate?’

‘It’s all such a bloody waste, how people get messed up. Did you hear them down there?’ Her voice cracked.

‘What – Alice and Sandra?’

‘They sounded like two desperate little girls.’

‘I heard them.’

‘Why do we have to fuck with each other?’

‘Look, Kate, you’re in shock. It can’t have been easy down there.’

‘She wasn’t a monster.’

‘I know she wasn’t. Alice said something to me earlier about the two of them.’

‘What did she say?’ She lifted her head and turned to look at him.

‘When she thinks back to them being in the woods, what she hears is the sound of laughter, the kind only children can make.’

‘I guess they found some happiness in the madness,’ she wiped the tears from her eyes, ‘but there is no “happy ever after” ending for Cassie or Sandra. Fairy tales are stories we tell our children. Real life isn’t always like that. The longer I do this job, the more I realise the potential for evil exists inside us all. Sometimes it wins. Mess a person up from the beginning, and there is no going back, no easy fix. The legacy debt has taken its toll. It has made her who she is no matter which mask she wears, and the harrowing part is, Adam, she knows that more than any of us. There is no get-out clause, not for her.’

‘This has really gotten to you, Kate. I’ve never seen you this upset.’

‘Don’t worry about me.’

‘The thing is, Kate, I do.’

She didn’t answer him.

‘What’s the prognosis for Sandra now?’ he asked, sensing she wanted to change the subject.

‘A life filled with one kind of therapy or another. Her other identity will come back and forth intermittently as the stress levels change. She might fool some people along the way, including the odd therapist, but there’s no going back for her. The wrongs can never be undone. It’s like you and your son, Adam. You can never get those memories back, the ones that for whatever reason never had a chance to be created, any more than Sandra can live a different life.’

‘That’s a bit harsh.’

‘Life is harsh.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘Look, I’m not picking on you. God knows, I’ve made any number of mistakes myself.’

They took a step back as the squad car with Sandra Regan and Alice Thompson inside it sped past and away from the village, Kate staring long and hard after it.

‘Adam, do you know what I see when I look at them, particularly Sandra?’

‘What?’

‘I don’t see the darkness, or her multiples of self, I see a baby born with an innate instinct to survive, and the potential for so many wonderful things taken from her.’

‘Which is why, Kate, we have to grab whatever good we can out of this messy, bloody life.’

‘Maybe you’re right. Certainly, Charlie is a huge part of mine, and back there, when that knife was at my throat, the thought of never seeing him again filled me with utter fear, for me and for him.’ She looked away. ‘I’ve avoided some hard truths for far too long.’

‘Are you talking about that old memory from when you were a kid?’

‘It is part of it. So many unanswered questions.’ She let out a sarcastic laugh before turning to look at him. ‘I’m no different to everybody else. Old habits take a long time to change. Pushing things to the side from a young age, it sets you on a path of avoiding the difficult bits of life.’

‘People can change, maybe not Sandra, but you can. Some things are worth going for – risks and all.’

‘Is that what you feel about your son?’

‘In a way, but it’s also what I feel about you.’

‘I’m still nervous after Declan. It’s like I don’t trust my judgement any more.’

He stepped closer, turning his body sideways to block out the array of squad cars and onlookers, placing his hand around her waist, ‘I asked you in Paris to take a leap of faith. I should have ignored those bloody newspaper headlines.’

‘No, you did the right thing. We both did. The time wasn’t right.’

‘Maybe so, but I’m not letting you slip away from me a second time. Like it or not, Kate, I care for you, and nothing you can say will change that.’

Mark Lynch walked towards them, shouting, ‘Kate, I’m heading back now.’

‘That’s okay, Mark.’ Adam waved. ‘Kate is coming with me.’

Together, they walked to his car. He held the passenger door open for her. ‘Are you ready, Kate?’

‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

A SPARK FOR a story can come from anywhere. For
The Doll’s House
, it was a casual conversation about hypnosis, for
Red Ribbons
, being a parent, and the fear of the bad man in society. Ideas get fused within our life experiences and the impetus for a good story is an idea that doesn’t want to go away until you get around to writing it. I think
Last Kiss
is such a story.

On a cold January morning in 1984, Ann Lovett, aged fifteen, having started labour, took a detour to a local graveyard instead of returning to school. She laboured alone for hours in the rain. Ann and her baby died that day.
Last Kiss
is not the story of Ann Lovett, or of her son. Nonetheless, the story stayed with me. The question arose in my mind: What would happen if a baby survived the death of their mother and, in the context of this fictional story, was reared by someone evil? In writing
Last Kiss
, the theme of nature versus nurture, good versus evil, fascinated me. I hope you agree it was a story worth telling.

I owe a huge debt to everyone directly involved with the creation of this novel, starting with my agent, Ger Nichol, of The Book Bureau, the team at Hachette Books Ireland, especially Ciara Doorley, Editorial Director, and Hazel Orme, copy editor. My research has been a fascinating journey, and I have a lot of
people to thank: Dave Grogan, for his wonderful psychological insights, Joanne Richardson, ex-coroner from Colorado, for her advice on tache noir, members of An Garda Síochána, who shared their knowledge, but especially Detective Tom Doyle. Also, the immensely talented painter, Angela Hackett, whom I had the pleasure to meet at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre, the brilliant photographic artist, Matthew Gammon of Yew Tree Studio, and finally, the ever-supportive and cracking journalist and crime writer, Niamh O’Connor.