The Nameless Dead (22 page)

McCready shifted forwards suddenly, striking the man side on with the car, though at such a slow speed that it did little more than shift him back a foot or two before he moved in again. We
could hear him trying the handle while the other men surrounded us.

Black came running down towards us, shouting, while three other uniformed guards had finally managed to come across and were trying to hold the men back from the car long enough for us to
complete the U-turn.

McCready shifted forwards again, clipping the bumper of the car in front. He reversed sharply, then, circling the wheel, shot forward so quickly we mounted the traffic island in the centre of
the road, knocking over the illuminated road sign. Then he floored the accelerator, even as the crowd to our rear surged forwards again, banging the back windscreen with fists and placards.

‘Good work,’ I said to him, craning over my shoulder at the receding figures of the protestors. I radioed through to the station to request support for Black and the other men on the
border. I had a feeling they would need it.

‘I never thought I’d be happy to see the PSNI,’ Callan said from the back. ‘But Jesus, just hand me over.’

The hold-up on the bridge meant that by the time we got to the graveyard the PSNI were already waiting for us. Jim Hendry stood at the entrance; behind him two cars with armed
officers sat, exhaust fumes fogging in the air behind them.

‘I knew they’d screw me over,’ Callan said. ‘So much for your promises.’

We drew alongside Hendry, who looked at his watch elaborately.

‘I didn’t realize we were working on Lifford time,’ he said.

‘We had an incident on the bridge,’ I explained.

‘I heard. The people on our side were delighted; it’s normally us that gets it when these things blow up; it was the guards’ turn today.’

‘I promised Mr Callan that he’d get some time alone at his son’s graveside,’ I said.

Hendry stared in at Callan.

‘Mr Callan,’ he said, nodding solemnly.

Callan scowled but did not speak.

‘We’ll be here, watching,’ Hendry said. ‘Fifteen minutes, and no hassle. Understood.’

If Callan’s expression softened at all, it was so slight as to be imperceptible. He did not look at Hendry but merely nodded to show his agreement.

We drove him into the cemetery and dropped him at the grave. Hendry followed us up and stood with us while we waited.

‘Any luck on Burke?’

He shook his head. ‘We’ve checked the hostel and have been with his mum. He’s gone underground. Presumably he’s staying with one of his mates. How’s
Penny?’

‘She’s okay. Any word on the girl, Claire?’

Hendry nodded. ‘She’s given her statement and was examined by the doc. The good news is he didn’t actually succeed in what he was trying to do; Penny possibly saved the girl
from being raped.’

I nodded, my sympathy for the girl’s ordeal mixed with the pride I felt in my daughter.

‘A chip off the old block, obviously,’ Hendry added. ‘Speaking of which, Mr Callan’s obsequies seems to be concluded.’

Callan was walking down towards us, his head bowed. As he approached he held out his hands for Hendry to cuff him.

‘Really?’ Hendry said.

Callan scoffed. ‘What’s this? Good cop, good cop? That’s a new one.’

Hendry looked at me and smiled. ‘He’s not a good cop,’ he said to Callan. ‘He’s a walking disaster. I only hang around with him to see what he’ll do
next.’

Patterson was waiting for us when we returned to Lifford. He’d had to come down to help settle the fracas on the bridge, an end finally achieved through the quiet
diplomacy of local community workers rather than an armed-response unit and the garda superintendent.

‘What the hell happened?’ he snapped as soon as we walked in. Burgess sat at his desk, studiously ignoring the whole thing. Or appearing to, at least.

‘We took a wrong turn,’ I said.

‘Do you think? Who was driving?’

McCready stepped forward and began to speak.

‘It was my fault, Harry,’ I interjected. ‘I sent us the wrong way. Joe handled it well and got us out of there before it got ugly.’

‘It
got
ugly,’ Patterson stated. ‘I warned you not to mess it up.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘We got him across eventually. The PSNI have him in custody.’

Perhaps he had been expecting more of an argument and my contrition had taken the wind from his sails. Grudgingly he allowed the topic to drop, though not before saying, ‘If anything comes
back on this, you’ll be held to account for it.’

I nodded. ‘I understand.’

The sky was darkening by the time I got home, the bank of clouds rising to the east heavy with rain. Debbie was putting out dinner while Penny set the table. The bruise around
her eye had fully purpled now, the skin reflecting the lights of the room in a livid sheen.

‘How’re my girls?’ I asked, kissing Penny lightly on the head.

‘Hey, Dad.’

‘Where’s Shane?’

Debbie pointed towards the back room with the potato masher.

Shane was lying on the floor in the back room, watching TV. A group of high-school kids were singing about wanting to be famous while their teacher nodded along in agreement that this was a
worthy ambition.

‘Are we still on for the flicks tonight, wee man?’

‘Yep,’ he said.

‘It’s at eight, isn’t it?’

‘Yep,’ he repeated, his eyes following the young girl on the screen as she danced across the tops of the desks, kicking off the books with youthful abandon.

‘Any word on the young fella from the North?’ Debs asked.

It took me a moment to work out to whom she was referring. It was only when she nodded towards where Penny stood that I realized.

‘The PSNI are still looking for him,’ I said. ‘Jim Hendry will let me know when they find him. He’ll do his best.’

She nodded, but did nothing to conceal her scepticism.

Just after seven my mobile rang.

‘Inspector Devlin? Letterkenny station here. We’ve had reports of a disturbance on Gallows Lane. One injured. You’re to go out.’

‘Can some of the uniforms not do it?’

‘They’re all on duty on the bridge. There was an incident there earlier today,’ he replied dryly.

Gallows Lane was so named because, several hundred years ago, when Lifford was still the seat of judicial power for Donegal, criminals were led to the top of the lane and hung from one of the
three huge chestnut trees which had stood there. Their corpses might remain hanging for days as a reminder of the particular type of summary justice which operated in the area.

I drove almost to the top of the lane before I found the source of the disturbance. A crowd had gathered on the roadway, encircling a figure lying prone on the ground in front of a car. The
car’s engine was off and the doors open, though a teenage girl sat in the front passenger seat. I assumed, as I approached, that the car had struck someone crossing the road. Even when I
pushed through the gathered crowd and saw, properly for the first time, the person lying on the roadway, I maintained that assumption.

Stephen Burke lay curled on the ground. His face was badly bloodied, one of his eyes swollen shut, the other bloodshot. Blood seeped from his nose, which was obviously broken.

I knelt beside him, careful not to move him.

‘Stephen? Can you hear me?’

He nodded. His clothes smelt strongly of body odour, as if they had not been changed in days. The crotch and upper legs of his trousers were dark with damp where he had voided his bladder.

‘You need to call an ambulance,’ someone said.

I glanced round at the group. ‘Who was the driver?’

A young lad, no more than eighteen stepped forward. ‘Me. He was just lying there.’

‘What happened?’

‘What I just said. We came up here for a bit of, a bit of peace, like,’ he said, nodding to where the young girl sat in the car. ‘I was driving up the lane and he was lying
there like that. I stopped and checked on him, then called you.’

‘What speed were you doing?’

‘I didn’t hit him,’ the young fella said. ‘He was like that when I stopped. I swear.’

Burke’s injuries did not look to have been inflicted by a car.

‘Can you stand, Stephen?’ I asked.

Burke shook his head and muttered something.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘I pissed myself,’ he hissed. I realized that he was reluctant to stand in front of the crowd.

‘What happened to you?’

He muttered again.

‘I can’t hear you.’

‘Nothing. I’m all right.’

‘He needs an ambulance,’ someone repeated.

‘I’ll get something sorted,’ I said, standing up and moving back to my car, out of ear-shot of the group. I took out my phone, but it wasn’t to call an ambulance.

‘Devlin,’ Hendry said. ‘You haven’t caused another riot have you?’

‘I’ve found Burke,’ I whispered.

‘Okay,’ Hendry replied uncertainly.

‘He’s on my side. Is there a warrant out on him?’

‘Not yet. We need to question him first. The girl he assaulted was 16 years old and drunk; she remembers nothing. Plus he did nothing that left any evidence. We’re working on
Penny’s assault.’

‘And?’

Hendry hesitated a second. ‘We can do something if we pick him up here, but I’m not sure the PPS will go to all the hassle of an extradition order for a charge that will probably
result in a caution. He wouldn’t volunteer to come across and answer our questions, I take it?’

I shook my head, then realized Hendry couldn’t see me. ‘Unlikely.’

‘How did you find him?’

‘Lying in the middle of Gallows Lane. Much the worse for wear.’

‘Okay,’ he repeated. ‘Sure, release him at the bridge and we’ll wait to pick him up as he comes across.’

‘He’s not really in a fit state to walk across, to be honest.’

Hendry whistled softly down the line. ‘I see.’

‘I haven’t done anything to him. But he needs medical attention. If I call an ambulance for him here, he’ll be taken to Letterkenny. We can’t arrest him over here unless
there’s a warrant out for him.’

‘I’ll meet you on the bridge.’

I managed, with the assistance of some of those assembled, to help Burke to his feet. He swayed a little, initially. I explained that the ambulances were on other calls and I
would take him to hospital myself. Burke looked at me suspiciously through his one good eye, but said nothing.

I manoeuvred him into the back of my car and told him to lie on the seat if he felt dizzy. Instead he sat up, shifting his way across the seat until he was sitting behind the passenger seat,
with a view of me. I realized that he thought he was being set up, that I was taking him somewhere to take revenge for his attack on Penny. I did nothing to reassure him on that count.

‘So who did this to you?’ I asked, once we got moving.

‘I don’t know,’ he muttered. I glanced in the rear-view and saw that he was watching me, gauging the authenticity of my question and perhaps wondering if I had, in fact,
arranged the beating myself.

‘No idea?’

He shook his head, wincing as he did so.

‘You must have pissed someone off,’ I said.

‘You can let me out here,’ Burke said. ‘I’ll walk on across to Strabane.’

I shook my head. ‘I’d be failing in my duty of care, Mr Burke, if I didn’t see you handed over to the emergency services in the North.’

We travelled in silence for the duration of the journey, until I drove onto the bridge, having been waved through the garda checkpoint. I heard the change in the sound of the tar beneath the car
wheels as we passed into the half-mile stretch that, though officially in the North, sat between our checkpoint at one end of the bridge and the PSNI one further along the road towards Strabane. A
single PSNI car was parked on the bridge, Jim Hendry standing beside it, staring down at the river beneath.

‘I’m sorry about your daughter,’ Burke said, as I slowed the car to a stop. ‘I’d been drinking and that.’

‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘Don’t try to excuse it.’

‘Fuck you, then,’ he said, spitting a globule of bloody saliva onto my seat, narrowly missing my shoulder.

The door beside Burke opened and Jim Hendry reached in and roughly pulled him from the car.

‘You do look a state, Stephen,’ Hendry said. ‘Let me get you seen to.’

With that he frogmarched him to his own squad car and helped him into the back seat with a shove.

‘He was like that when I found him,’ I said.

‘I’m sure,’ Hendry said, his eyes wrinkling against the glare of the streetlamps above. ‘I’ll let you know when he’s ready to talk.’

When I made it back to the house Shane was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs. He waited for me to come in, then stood and stared at me accusingly without speaking.

It took me a second to realize the cause of his anger.

‘The cinema. Shit,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry, Shane; something came up.’

He stared at me a moment longer, then turned and ran up the stairs to his room. I turned to where Debbie stood in the doorway to the living room.

‘He cried for twenty minutes,’ she said. ‘You promised him, Ben.’

I followed him up to his room. He had already turned out the light and was lying in bed, the duvet pulled up over his head, so that I could not see him.

‘Shane, I’m really sorry,’ I said. ‘I know I promised we’d go together but something unexpected happened that I couldn’t leave.’

‘You left me instead,’ he said, the duvet dulling his words, though doing nothing to blunt the sharpness of his tone.

‘I had to deal with something.’

The shape on the bed shifted and an opening developed. Shane poked his head out. His face was slick with tears.

‘You always put work before us.’

‘That’s not true, Shane,’ I said. ‘Besides, this wasn’t work. This had to do with family.’

‘How?’ he demanded.

‘It was the boy who hit Penny.’

If I had thought the mention of his sister’s name might placate him, I was sorely misguided. Instead he scrammed under his duvet.

‘I knew you put her first,’ he spat, then tugged the duvet up over his head again, his body shaking as he cried.