The Game Changer (31 page)

He thought again about the boy. Why did people think he’d drowned? Why was he sneaking around late at night? He didn’t even know what the boy looked like. All he knew was that he was a friend of Chloë’s and pretending to be dead.

Again he thought if he didn’t get out of there he would be considered a missing person. Not all missing persons find their way home, and for some, there was a very good reason for that. He told himself to get a grip, to stop losing the plot. That’s what Stephen wanted, for him to be having a freak-out. If he got out of there, would he be able to convince Aoife to go home? Why had he stayed, knowing she didn’t want him? All that crap about enjoying the physical work, liking the ruggedness of the island, it was a load of rubbish: he just didn’t want to go home and face the fact that there was nothing there for him. The island, for all its odd stuff, had given him a sense of independence, away from his mother and the friends he’d known since bloody playschool.

Getting out of bed, he kicked the wall again, and didn’t feel much better afterwards. Despite the screwed-up mentality around the place, he had liked the way people talked to him, as if he was a man, not a boy.

Some bloody man he’d turned out to be. He thought again about all the stuff he had made up about his missing father, and how in a million years, Adam would never have fitted the bill.

WHEN ADAM ARRIVED HOME, HE LOOKED exhausted. Kate waited until he sat on the couch beside her to say, ‘It seems like you’ve had a rough day too.’

‘Not as bad as the chief super.’

‘How’s he taking it?’

‘How do you think? First his brother-in-law, and now his sister.’

‘It’s awful.’

‘For what it’s worth, Kate, she died instantly. Judging by the force applied to the body, whoever hit her was doing some speed.’

‘Any witnesses?’

‘No. It happened down a minor road. It took a while to ID her. She hadn’t any identification on her, no handbag, nothing other than a woollen wristband with keys.’

‘Is there any word on the notes and Amanda Doyle’s letter?’

‘I’ll probably have it in the morning.’

‘Not what I wanted to hear. I’d hoped you would know more by now.’

‘There’s something else you might not want to hear.’

‘What?’

He moved closer to her and softened his tone: ‘I’ve been exploring reported paedophile cases from the eighties. Something’s been rattling me about that whole cognitive study for a while – too many middle-aged men for one thing.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘One of the guys in PIU knew I was doing some general checks, and he approached me about why. I told him about the cognitive studies, the dates, the location, the profiles of the guys involved, and he was able to arrange limited access to a particular PIU file.’

‘Which one?’

‘I haven’t got the name, that’s confidential, but I did read it.’

‘And?’

‘The statements were taken from a woman who only recently came forward, describing her repeated abuse in the late eighties. As I said, I have no names, just part-access.’

‘What do you mean, “part”?’

‘PIU operates differently from the other divisions. I’d need to have something solid before I could demand names. Unless I can prove something criminal is conclusively linked to their data, everything is by their guidelines. Neither do I have all the transcripts, at least, not yet, and some of what I have has been blocked out, although I’ve read enough to be talking to you now.’

‘Adam, what is it?’

‘I think you should read the woman’s statement. There are similarities to what happened to you.’

‘What kind of similarities?’

‘She was abducted in broad daylight, and she was the same age as you at the time of your attack. The general location matches too. Also, the person who took her grabbed her from behind. They held an army knife to her throat.’

‘That doesn’t necessarily mean …’

‘No, it doesn’t, but I still think you should read the file.’

‘Everything seems to be happening at the one time. And being cooped up here in the apartment day and night, without Charlie, is driving me crazy.’

‘I’ll bring you in in the morning. Let’s take stock after that.’

‘Okay.’

‘There’s one other thing.’

‘What?’

‘We’ve managed to get more information on Holmes & Co., the company that owned the lock-up on Buckingham Street.’

‘Okay.’

‘The accountancy firm who set the company up is the same one used by Malcolm Madden. Naturally, I looked deeper.’

‘Go on.’

‘Madden and some others recently transferred ownership of a number of properties, including the lock-up garage, into Holmes & Co. About twenty properties in total, all rented out, mostly on long-term leases. The change of ownership was purely technical. In real terms the same people owned the properties.’

‘So why set up Holmes & Co?’

‘Some of the investors were looking to opt out early. They decided that, once the interested parties were bought out, it would be prudent to set the holdings up under company status.’

‘Why use the name Holmes?’

‘It’s the name of one of the principal investors.’

‘So, it could all be legit?’

‘It could be. I rang Madden, wanting to know why he hadn’t shared the information about renting the garage to Michael O’Neill.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Not a lot. He wasn’t impressed at the late hour. He said he hadn’t realised it was information we wanted. It was a rental arrangement, and once the rent was paid, it was purely business.’

‘You think he’s drip-feeding you information?’

‘I do.’

∞

Sitting in Adam’s office, Kate felt as if she was watching everything in slow motion. Adam opening the file, checking the content, looking up at her reassuringly, removing some of the pages, then turning the set of papers face down in front of her on the desk.

She stared at them for a couple of seconds. ‘Can I read them on my own?’

‘If you want,’ he moved to her side of the desk, ‘but before you do, you realise none of this may be connected to you.’

‘I do.’

He leaned down to kiss her, not caring who was watching from outside. His kiss was gentle, loving.

‘I’m okay,’ she reassured him. ‘I just need time to take it all in.’

‘I’ll be right outside.’

Kate waited until the door was closed before she began to read. She already knew from Adam that the statement had been written by a woman, but the opening lines were something she could have written herself. It explained how the girl thought someone had been watching her. The man had waited until she was on her own, grabbing her at knife point. The description of his hands and the smell of alcohol on his breath were identical to her story, and as Kate turned to the second page, it was as if someone else was walking over her memories. It felt like a warning. That all the bits she had forgotten might soon be revealed, only this time through the voice of another.

The next part of the statement dealt with a description of the location the woman had been taken to. Like Kate, she had had a short memory loss, a lapse in time that she was unable to fill. According to the statement, she believed the man had drugged her, placing a cloth with something pungent over her mouth. She had assumed afterwards it was chloroform or some other form of sedative. The more Kate read on, the less aware she became of her surroundings, or that someone could barge in at any minute. As the words unfolded on the page, her mind went to a place that felt raw; somewhere she had to go alone, the very core of her.

The woman described a prefab structure she was brought to, with grey walls and aluminium windows, three windows in total, all the same size. The front door was heavy, a fire door, with multiple locks. At first, the only noises she heard came from outside – cars and other vehicles going by at speed. They seemed to be a distance away, the traffic sounding like a constant low hum. Every now and again, she would hear a dog barking. When she came to, she had no idea where she was. She was in a strange bed. There
was a steel bucket in the corner, and despite not wanting to, she used it to urinate. She remembered screaming a number of times, but nobody heard her. The windows were locked, and even though she was alone for a very long time, she also knew that eventually someone would come.

Reading on, Kate could see herself in that room, remembering how she had felt someone would find her, and in that same instant, she wondered if the woman had felt the same. All of a sudden, it was like she had gone back in time, the statement unlocking a pathway in her mind. She remembered making promises to God that if she got out of there, she would help others, do all sorts of stuff that twelve-year-old girls promise. She remembered worrying that her mother would forget about her. That she would get on with her life without Kate. There was something else, a kind of sick feeling at the base of her stomach, telling her bad things were about to happen. She heard the traffic driving by in the distance too, the same as the woman remembered, and looking straight ahead of her, Kate visualised the windows and the heavy grey door, the multiple locks, her desperation to get home, and how the night had brought darkness, and with that more fear.

She stood up and walked across the room to get water from the dispenser in Adam’s office, gulping it down, remembering how thirsty she had been all those years ago. The condensation had built up on the windows, and she had licked them to take away the dryness. Sitting down again, it was as if she was re-entering some kind of time tunnel, but the next part of the statement felt different: the words, correctly or incorrectly, didn’t feel as if they belonged to Kate but, rather, to the other girl.