However, if he was quick, he could just sneak in a quick visit downstairs. He hated the idea of her being lonely so, dressing quickly, he put a comb through his hair and hurried out of the bedroom. He had a spring in his step, a lightness in his heart – today was going to be a good day.

86

It’s hard to watch someone implode. But the worst thing you can do is look away. There’s no point pretending it isn’t happening – you have to front up to it, take them by the hand and lead them to a better place. Aided by DC McAndrew, Helen Grace was doing just that.

Sinead Murphy was crumbling in front of them, broken by the final confirmation of her daughter’s death. Helen was glad she hadn’t broken the news last night. This had been her first instinct on leaving the mortuary, but she always shied away from doing these things late in the day. Best to give people the awful news early so that your FLO has a shot at creating some kind of order, to give friends and family time to assemble, before the unforgiving night sets in. Then at least you have a chance of leaving the bereaved relatives on an even keel.

Looking at Sinead, who was drawing hard on her third cigarette of their visit, Helen wondered if that was stupidly optimistic. Roisin had been conceived in difficult circumstances and her father was long gone before her first birthday. History had repeated itself with Roisin. Her ex-boyfriend, Bryan, had split with Roisin before their baby boy – Kenton – was walking. Bryan now sat awkwardly on the sofa, flanking the combustible mother-in-law he had never got on with. They made a strange couple – overweight Sinead crying into her cup of tea as the scrawny Bryan stared at his feet. He clearly didn’t know what to feel about the mother of his child, who had booted him out, but was now dead. Despite his looks, appearance and emotional deadness, Helen felt some sympathy for him. It was a horrible situation for everyone.

None more so than for Kenton – the toddler now playing with Kinekt bricks on the mud-brown carpet. His whole life had been topsy-turvy and things would only get worse now. His mother was no longer missing, she was a murder victim. Helen knew well how that fact would haunt him as he grew up. Helen had hated her parents most of the time, but their death at the hands of her sister had ensured that they frequently appeared in her daydreams and nightmares, silently accusing both their daughters of betraying them. More than that, the brutal murder of someone close to you – by blood if not affection – colours your view of life. The fact that people who should be with you have been brutally snatched away leaves you ill at ease, forever looking over your shoulder.

‘How did Roisin handle motherhood?’

Sinead would be closed to them soon – a total collapse looked imminent – so Helen pressed on, wanting to get as much information out of her as she could.

After a long silence, Sinead finally replied:

‘It wasn’t easy. She was still so young. None of her mates had kids, she just wanted to party, y’know? Don’t get me wrong, she loved Kenton to bits, but she wasn’t ready for him.’

‘So when she went missing, you didn’t report it at first?’

Sinead shook her head and took another long drag on her cigarette.

‘She’d been finding it tough. Kenton was never a good sleeper and Roisin always hated mornings,’ Sinead continued, smiling briefly at the memory of her grumpy daughter. ‘She tweeted saying she had to get away for a while, so it wasn’t that surprising …’

‘But?’

‘But it still didn’t feel right. Kenton was here alone in the flat. All night. If she really wanted to get away, I felt sure she would have brought him to me. I would have kicked up a fuss – I’ve got problems of my own – but she knows I would never have turned him away. I would have done what I could.’

Helen didn’t doubt it – Sinead’s love for her grandson shone through – the one bright spot in this whole story.

‘So you were worried?’

Sinead nodded, then went on:

‘But I didn’t want to contact the authorities, didn’t want to get Roisin into any trouble. She didn’t have much and relied on benefits to feed the boy.’

Bryan shifted uneasily in his seat – Sinead’s judgement of him was coming through loud and clear.

‘What did you think, Bryan?’ Helen said, shifting the focus to him. ‘When you heard Roisin was missing?’

Bryan shrugged – he clearly wanted this to be over as quickly as possible.

‘Were you surprised?’

‘Guess so.’

‘Why?’

‘Because … because this was all she had. The flat, the kid.’

‘Your son?’

‘Sure.’

Helen looked at him. She felt there was more here. That his surliness was more than just awkwardness.

‘You weren’t living with her when she went missing?’

‘Nah, we’d split.’

‘How long was this before … ?’

‘About six months.’

‘And where were you living at the time?’

‘With friends.’

Helen was starting to get irritated by his determined non-engagement, but she swallowed her frustration and persevered.

‘Did she ever mention anything to you that subsequently you’ve thought was suspicious? Was she scared of anyone? Was she in trouble?’

‘No,’ he replied, shrugging.

Helen took this in, then:

‘So when Roisin went missing, who had keys to the flat?’

Helen said it lightly, but it was this that interested her most of all.

‘I did, of course,’ Sinead confirmed.

‘Bryan?’

‘She made me give my set back.’

‘Do you still have your key, Sinead?’

‘Of course. I’ve got all her things boxed up,’ she said, a touch indignantly.

‘I’m going to have to look at whatever you have – I hope you understand,’ Helen replied.

Sinead looked at Helen for a moment – it was clear that handing over the treasured keepsakes of her daughter would be hard – then she rose and headed upstairs with McAndrew, sense finally prevailing.

‘Were there any burglaries? Break-ins?’ Helen continued, turning back to Bryan.

Bryan shook his head.

‘Did she mention anyone hanging around? Did she ever have to change the locks? Or express any fears for her security?’

‘No, nothing like that,’ Bryan replied. ‘She was ok.’

‘I’m going to need you to write down the names of everyone she was in touch with,’ Helen continued, as Sinead rejoined them. ‘We’ll need to check them all out, see if anyone had reason to want to harm Roisin.’

The pair promised to help, for once singing from the same hymn sheet. Helen rose, thanking them for their time and headed for the door. She paused in the hallway to look at the boxes of possessions – three of them – that now encapsulated Roisin’s short life. Helen was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness – for her, for her son – and was pleased to make her excuses and leave. As she walked away, she turned to look once more at the bereaved family through the living room window. Bryan was getting ready to leave, Sinead had her head in her hands and beyond them playing happily on the sofa was Kenton, utterly oblivious to it all.

87

There she was – slumbering as usual. Snapping the wicket hatch shut, he drew the bolts and unlocked the door. He was still scrupulous about security, despite the thawing in their relations and never hung around. He had paid the price for carelessness before.

‘Summer?’

Shaking his head, he shut the door, locking it quietly behind him. Summer had never been a morning person. Sometimes it irritated him, other times he found it entertaining. Today he was in indulgent mood.