WHYTE LIES (9 page)

Faith took her seat beside Detective Chief Superintendent Victoria Thomas. The packed meeting room buzzed with journalists and photographers. Faith spotted Angela sitting in the front row, typing on her iPad, no doubt already preparing her story for
The Killarney Times’
evening edition.

“Why did it take the police almost three hours to find Megan?” asked a journalist.

Thomas gazed stonily into the cameras as she answered the barrage of questions. “This is no ordinary incident. Bullets were fired. We wanted to preserve any evidence at the scene. We assumed that everyone inside the vehicle was dead. None of the detectives saw or heard Megan; she was completely terrorised and too afraid to call out.”

“The most important thing is that she was found alive,” said Faith.

“Was it a murder-suicide?” asked another journalist.

“It’s too early to say.”

“Where is Megan now?”

“She’s at a secret location, for her own safety.”

“To protect her from a local gun-nut on the rampage?”

“That’s yet to be ascertained.”

“Who was shot first?”

“We’re still looking into it.”

“Is it true that in his desperation to escape, Mr Gleeson reversed over his daughter?”

“All we know for sure is that several shots were fired in a short period. Some shots were fired while the vehicle was reversing. Mr Gleeson did not reverse over his daughter; traces of blood were left on the car, but Lucy had already been shot and was bleeding. It is a scientific fact that the blood on the car was not from an injury caused by the car.”

“Do you think their murders were politically motivated?” asked Angela from her seat in the front row. “Was there local involvement, given that only locals would know about the escape route over the mountains?”

Faith and Thomas exchanged glances. “It’s difficult to say at this early stage,” said Thomas. “We are exploring all possibilities.”

“Who was the target: Daniel or Amira?”

“We’re still trying to establish who the target may have been.”

“What’s your response to the accusations of police incompetence?”

“I stand behind the actions of my team.”

“What about your failure to secure the crime scene, which was contaminated early on by the emergency service vehicles? The public is losing faith in your investigation. Do you think you will find the killer or killers?”

“We are doing everything in our power to bring the perpetrator to justice,” replied Faith. Then she looked directly into the camera. “But I will promise you one thing: We will find who did this. We will find who killed Megan and Lucy’s parents, whatever it takes.”

“Daniel was thrilled when the girls were born.” Mary Gleeson smiled at the memory. “He lived for Lucy and Megan. All he wanted was to earn as much money as possible so his girls would have a secure future. They were his life.”

“Did you notice anything different about him in the months before he died?” asked Faith. She hated herself for having to ask such probing questions, for intruding on their grief.

“Daniel was more stressed than usual. Amira was so laid back she was almost horizontal. That woman didn’t lift a finger after she had Megan. According to the doctors, she had post-natal depression.” Mary rolled her eyes.

“You didn’t believe it?”

“Oh, I suppose if the doctors said she had it, she had it, but we didn’t have the luxury of having post-natal depression in my day.”

“Didn’t you and Amira get along?”

“We got along just fine, but we never had a whole lot to say to each other. I didn’t appreciate all the stress her sister was causing Daniel about the house. We offered to lend the money to them to buy Layla out, but Daniel wouldn’t hear of it. He was a proud man. He had principles.”

“Unlike Amira?”

Mary sniffed. “I never knew what Daniel saw in her. She was like a shell of a person; there was no life to her. She smiled and nodded at all the right times, but she was never fully engaged. To me, she always seemed one step removed.”

“Why do you think that Daniel was so stressed in the months before he died?” prompted Faith. “His colleagues said he was his usual self. They didn’t notice anything different about him.”

“Daniel liked to keep his private life private. He wasn’t the type to talk about his problems. He was burnt out from working, and studying long hours — he was studying for his doctorate. His back had been playing up all year. He started running a few years ago to lose weight, and he took it too far. I don’t know how many times I told him that he wasn’t an athlete and that he needed to stop training like one, but of course, he didn’t listen until it was too late. Luckily, he had a good surgeon who operated on his back, but he was often in a lot of pain. He refused to get enough rest after the accident. He was the type of person who couldn’t sit still for long. I know he was looking forward to the break in Killarney. He said he couldn’t wait to get away from it all for a while. He invited us to come to Killarney with them, but I hate caravans, so we declined. Who knows, we could be dead too. Sometimes, I wish I was.” She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“Was the holiday planned?”

“It was a last-minute thing. I thought it strange that he was going when the girls should have been back at school; they’d had all summer to go away.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“They had dinner at our house the night before they left. Daniel seemed happy — happier than he had been in months. He was really looking forward to the trip.”

“Did you know that Amira was married before?” asked Faith.

“Not until you told us. I still find it difficult to believe. I always knew there was something suspicious about that woman,” said Mary. “She was so secretive. I knew it had to be something more than shyness; two pregnancies would knock the shyness out of any woman.”

“I think she was a reserved person,” said Conor.

Faith jumped at the sound of his voice behind her.

“I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” Mary continued, “but that woman annoyed me. She was happy to let Daniel do everything. He had to work, do the school runs, the shopping, and help Lucy with her homework. Lucy is bright as a button, just like her Dad. She’s only ten, but she has the reading age of a fourteen year old. Can you believe that?”

Byrne and Faith smiled indulgently.

“She was her Daddy’s girl, always hugging and kissing him. It was lovely to see them together. She could speak fluent Arabic; her mother insisted on it, for what reason I don’t know. Lucy always looked after Megan. She was so proud of being the big sister. They’re two gorgeous girls, but polar opposites; Megan’s the clown, she’ll do anything to make people laugh. Lucy is much more serious, a deep thinker.” Mary’s smile faded to sadness. “I can’t believe that Daniel and Amira are dead.”

Conor put his arm around her.

“Did Daniel or Amira mention anything suspicious in the weeks before they died?” asked Byrne.

“Daniel asked us to keep an eye on the house,” said Conor. “They’d been burgled a few months previously; the house was ransacked. Some personal documents and a computer were stolen. We only live a few miles away, and I pass that way most days, so I didn’t mind checking on their house.”

“I think he was worried about Layla doing something to the house while they were away,” said Mary, “I told him to tell the police about his concerns, but he said there was no point because she hadn’t done anything illegal. I still think she could have been behind what happened in Killarney.”

“Oh, Mary, that’s going too far,” protested Conor.

“What do you mean, Mrs Gleeson?” asked Faith.

“She was obsessed with that house,” explained Mary. “I always had the impression that she’s a woman used to getting her own way. Don’t you think it’s peculiar that Layla didn’t drive straight to Killarney when she found out what happened? She was her sister’s closest living relative.”

“When did relations become strained between the sisters?” asked Faith.

“Layla didn’t like Daniel. She wanted Amira to marry an Iraqi man. Amira had lived at the house before she and Daniel were married, but Layla wasn’t happy when Daniel moved in.”

“Why didn’t Amira sell her share to Layla and move elsewhere?”

“Amira was as obsessed with the house as her sister. It was the last home they shared with their parents before they died, so I can understand that the house had sentimental value for them, but surely not to the detriment of their own relationship,” said Mary. “The whole situation was upsetting.”

“Do you think that Layla ordered the hit?” asked Faith.

“No,” said Conor. “Layla is capable of many things, but not conspiracy to murder. She’s a greedy woman; she earns almost a quarter of a million euro a year from her consultancy practice, so she’s not short of money, yet she still wants her share of the house. Of course, she conveniently forgets that Daniel spent time and money on refurbishing it. Money is her first and only love. She’s convinced that because she’s the older sibling the house should have been hers. But, whatever I think of her character, I don’t believe that even she would stoop to murder. I think Daniel and Amira were unlucky; they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps they stumbled across something they shouldn’t have, who knows?”

“Daniel and Lucy were outside the car; perhaps they wanted to stretch their legs, or go for a wee. The hitman surprised Daniel outside the car and shot him first,” said Faith, as she paced up and down in front of the whiteboard, trying to make sense of everything. “Lucy was hidden; maybe she had just been for a wee in the undergrowth. Somehow, Daniel got back in the car and locked the doors. He reversed the car but in his panic, he wedged it into the embankment. The hitman approached the driver’s side of the car and shot Daniel and Amira through the window. He reloaded. Then he saw Lucy near the front of the car. He shot her in the shoulder. The gun jammed, which is when he pistol-whipped her before fleeing the scene.

Daniel was shot three times, once more than Amira
. Two separate volleys of gunfire were aimed at him; perhaps because he was the main target. The final shot fired at Daniel Gleeson was a bullet between the eyes: execution-style. Who had such a severe grudge against him that they wanted him dead?”

“I’ve tried talking to his neighbours, but most of them are sticking to the same story that he was a hardworking family man who kept himself to himself,” said Byrne. “He doesn’t seem to have had any enemies. Layla al-Nin is the only person who didn’t like him.”

“She’s the only person admitting to not liking him,” said Faith. “Any news from the door-to-doors around the Black Valley?”

“The majority of locals heard nothing,” said Kelly, consulting his notes. “A farmer noticed the Mercedes drive past. Hikers heard gunshots but they didn’t check the time; they assumed the shots were from hunters testing their rifles before the start of the hunting season. However, John Newman said that an SUV and a motorbike passed him driving into the forest, about ten minutes before he reached the scene. He said it was around half past two; he’s certain of the time because his wife rang him. He said he couldn’t see the driver of the SUV because the windows were tinted and the motorcyclist was wearing a helmet.”

“Is there anything to suggest that Mr Newman might be something more than just a witness?” asked Faith.

“We have no reason to suspect him,” said Kelly.

“Did the vehicles pass Mr Newman on their way out of the Black Valley?” asked Faith, “there’s only one way in and out of that particular spot, and the whole thing happened within minutes, so surely those vehicles would have passed him both ways.”

“Not if the killer left a different way,” said Kelly. “He could have followed the track over the mountain and joined the main road on the other side. It would have been manageable on a motorbike. He could have driven a regular car if he didn’t mind bumping around or didn’t care about wrecking it.”

“Or the killer could have been on foot,” said Faith.

Faith stared at her father’s photo. Tears blinded her as her mind raced. Deep down, she’d always known that he was capable of murder. She remembered him strangling the mother cat as she clawed at him to escape. The memory shifted and a woman replaced the cat. The woman scratched her father’s bare hands as he grasped her throat. She fought for her life as her eyes bulged in terror. Faith’s thoughts spiralled as she tried to deny the truth. Who was the man she used to call “Dad”?

A sharp knock on the door jolted her back to reality. “I thought you could do with a coffee,” said Nora. She placed the steaming mug on the desk. “It’s been a long day.”

“Thanks.” Faith forced a smile.

“Are you okay?” Nora couldn’t help noticing her pale face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine, just reviewing the case notes.” Faith shuffled the paperwork in front of her, shoving the photo of her father to the back of the pile. The envelope had been sitting on top of her post when she arrived that morning. No letter, only a photo with the words “Love, Daddy” written on the back. Faith wondered if it was a sick joke, or if someone had discovered her secret.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Nora hovered in the doorway.

“I will.” Faith turned back to her computer, willing Nora to leave before she changed her mind and told her everything. She knew if she spoke she’d lose her composure, and that was the last thing she wanted. Living a lie every day was beginning to take its toll. It was all she could do to hold it together. Everyone would know the truth soon enough, but she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

Wherever she looked, it seemed that people’s eyes were full of accusations, knowing what she’d done. She shook her head. It was impossible. She and her father were the only people who knew the truth. But he was gone. Dead. Her father had been right all those years ago when he’d told her she was just like him.