Brian McGilloway - Borderlands

I was a bit taken aback, and she clearly sensed it. She continued, "They're not dead or you'd have said. I can only guess that one or both of them are in some sort of trouble. Am I right?"

"You should have been a policewoman," I said.

"I notice that you haven't answered my question."

"I know," I said, laughing.

"Fair enough," she replied. "I can take a hint. Do me a favour, though? You'll think I'm some kind of wishy-washy liberal in this, but don't be judging those children too harshly. They were dealt a fairly stinking hand in life, do you see?"

I thanked Sister Perpetua and hung up the phone. I could not easily dismiss her parting words, though I reminded myself that I needed to reserve my sympathy, in the first instance, for Angela Cashell and Terry Boyle, more than anyone else. Still, regardless of where the brother had gone, I now knew that aged eighteen, in 1992, Aoibhinn Knox had joined the Garda.

I looked around the station for Williams but she was nowhere to be seen. It was nearing 5.30 p.m. and I wanted to catch the Garda training centre in Templemore before it closed. I dialled and asked to speak to the recruitment officer. A Sergeant O'Neill introduced himself and listened while I explained that I needed a name from the list of recruits for the 1992 recruitment drive and details of that person's postings. He told me that the college would have details only of the first posting of each trainee, if that would be of any help. He put me on hold but, after a few minutes of piped music, he returned and confirmed that Aoibhinn Knox had joined in that drive and had been stationed in Santry for her first posting.

I thanked him and dialled through to Santry, asking to be put through to the officer in charge of new recruits. Again I was put on hold, before, eventually, Superintendent Kate Mailey introduced herself.

"There can't be too many woman Supers, ma'am," I said, having introduced myself.

"Just the four of us, so far," she replied. "But we're doing the same work as the 170 men in our position."

"I don't doubt it ma'am," I said. "I need information about the posting of one of your starting officers."

"I know," she said. "The sergeant told me. I know everyone who's gone in and out of this station in the past twenty years or so. Who are you looking for?"

"A recruit called Aoibhinn Knox. She would have been posted to you in 1993 probably."

"I remember her – a lovely girl."

"That's quite a memory you have, ma'am." I said jokingly.

Her reply was deadpan. "I can't forget Knox. She married one of my own team members. He was killed in 1997 in a ballsed-up drugs bust. I never forget officers killed in duty."

"No, ma'am," I said. "Of course not. I'm sorry."

"Officer Knox left An Garda soon afterwards, Inspector, though by then she was called Coyle. Oh, and by the way – you're pronouncing her name wrong. She's not Eveen. Her name's Yvonne: Yvonne Coyle."

I bumped, quite literally, into Williams in the corridor, hardly able to tell her the news. On our way to the car, I tried Hendry's mobile. When he finally answered, I told him what I had learned and asked him to get to Coyle's home in Glennside and arrest her.

Williams drove across into Strabane and, while overtaking tractors and avoiding traffic islands, she relayed what she had discovered.

"The Three Rivers was originally owned by an Indian businessman named Hassem, but he sold up and developed a chain in the North. Now it gets kind of complicated here, because a consortium bought it over in 1974. Five local businessmen and budding entrepreneurs: Anthony McGonigle, Sean Morris, Gerard McLaughlin, Dermot Keavney and, leaving the best to last, a certain Thomas Powell Senior." She smiled over at me, proud of her efforts, then focused back on the road, someone's horn blaring as we sped past them on the inside.

"Shit! You're kidding me."

"I kid you not, boss. It keeps coming back to the same people. Looks like Knox had a thing going with both Powell and Costello."

"The question is, did one of them have her killed? And why?"

"You don't think Ratsy acted off his own bat?" Williams asked, risking a glance across at me.

"I don't see it. He'd no reason to. Someone paid him."

We pulled into Glennside, though there was no need for me to direct Williams to the house, for a PSNI car was already parked outside, its flickering blue lights intermittently illuminating the trees in Coyle's garden.

The house was in darkness. Two uniformed officers walked around the side, shining torches in the windows, using their gloved hands to minimize glare. I went up to the front window. Her furniture was still in its place but, as best I could see, all books, pictures and ornaments were gone.

Hendry came round the front of the house, alerted to our arrival by one of his officers.

"Come on round, Inspector. She's left the back door unlocked," he said grimly.

I felt a wave of nausea wash through me. A cold sweat broke on my skin, prickling on my arms under the heat of my overcoat. I was sure we would find her hanging inside, or lying on the floor, her body discoloured and stiff, or white and drained in a crimson bath. Yet none of those things awaited us. The house was simply deserted, the rooms stripped of anything personal. In the fridge, milk had begun to sour a little, smelling out the other contents. A bunch of bananas had begun to soften and blacken in the fruit bowl. A few circulars lay on the hall carpet behind the front door. The house itself was chilled from several days without heating.

Hendry sent the uniforms to canvass the neighbours while we sat in the kitchen and had a smoke. Hendry and Williams introduced themselves formally and exchanged pleasantries, then I explained the path that had led us to Coyle. I told Hendry about Cashell, Boyle and Donaghey, and my belief that Ratsy had abducted and killed Knox, with Cashell acting as an accomplice at worst or as driver at best, although we had no proof of this. I did not tell him my suspicions about Costello, nor the fact that Powell's name had appeared more than once during the investigation.

"So you think she killed Cashell and Boyle?" Hendry asked.

"Best guess," I said. "We know the ring belonged to her mother. We know she had a photograph of her mother wearing the ring. As a Garda officer she might have had access to a stolen items list." I knew this point was weak, but continued nonetheless. "She would have had a uniform. Angela Cashell was apparently having an affair with her. My guess is she realized that Donaghey had the ring. He's tortured and killed. Presumably he named the person or people involved in killing Knox, including Johnny Cashell and Seamus Boyle. Coyle befriends Cashell's daughter, who then ends up dead, wearing the ring Whitey McKelvey stole and which he claimed he'd sold to a girl in a bar. And I suspect our eyewitness who spotted Terry Boyle leaving the pub with a girl may well have their memory refreshed if we can show them a photograph of Coyle."

Forty minutes later the uniforms returned to say that none of the neighbours had seen Coyle in a week. In fact, the previous Tuesday was the last time she'd been seen; the day I had visited her. One of the neighbours recalled seeing a car which fitted the description of mine – minus the rust they described – around lunchtime. They also recalled that, later that night, a blue car with a southern registration had been parked outside Coyle's house until morning. The witness didn't see the car leave, though, as she went to listen to Today on Radio 4 in her 'sun room' and when she looked out afterwards, the vehicle had gone.

"Best we can do is put out a 'be on the lookout' bulletin to all officers, north and south," Hendry said as we walked back out to our cars. "She can't stay hidden forever. Unless, of course, she's done what she set out to do and has vanished, like her mother, into the night!" This last phrase he said in a mock spooky voice and Williams laughed despite herself. Hendry flashed a grin at her, then winked at me, his face sober and drawn. I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. Kathleen Boyle's number flashed on the screen. Her ex-husband had arrived, and wanted to talk.