Alex Barclay - Darkhouse

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joe. I’ve been here all morning, no-one has been in and no-one has collapsed outside Danaher’s. I think I’d have heard about it. Are you OK? Joe?’

Joe pictured the girl lying on the pavement bleeding out. Then he imagined Frank standing at the counter in the station thinking he was out of his mind. And then it hit him.

‘Gotta go,’ said Joe.

He ran to the den, grabbed the Harris’ Hawk book, scanned the index, then flipped to the page he was looking for. His finger moved under the words as he read; ‘ hunt collaboratively’, ‘working in pairs’, ‘observing from a height’, ‘one flushing out, the other attacking ’. He picked up the phone and put another call into Frank.

‘Sorry about earlier,’ said Joe. ‘Total confusion. Just wondering... you know your missing girl from Tipperary? She’s on your bulletin board? Big girl?’

‘Yes,’ said Frank. ‘Uh, Siobhán Fallon.’

‘That’s the one. Can you check the photo and give me the distinguishing features bit?’

‘Well, we have large mole on left shoulder, pierced navel, three gold hoops in right ear.’

Joe felt a surge of heat to his face. Nausea swept over him. Then anger. Then rage.

He managed to thank Frank and hang up before he asked any questions.

Frank turned to Richie. ‘I’ve just had the strangest phone call. Joe Lucchesi wanting to know the distinguishing features on that Fallon girl.’ He pointed to the missing person poster. He frowned. ‘Can you explain that?’

Shaun came home for lunch and didn’t want to go back to school. He was hoping Anna would be there but the house was empty and cold. He sat in the kitchen, too numb to fix something to eat. He looked up when the doorbell rang. There was no way he could answer it. He was under orders. It rang again. Then someone knocked loudly on the door.

‘Mrs Lucchesi?’ He spoke in a thick Dublin accent and was pronouncing the name Le Chessy. Shaun moved towards the voice, debating what to do. He could see a man standing at the glass by the front door. He was waving a clipboard and pointing at it. Shaun almost laughed. There was no way this chubby delivery man was anything other than harmless.

Shaun slid open the door. ‘I’m here with your balloons,’ said the man.

Shaun looked shocked.

‘Jaysus,’ said the man, looking at his clipboard. ‘You’re not the bloke the surprise is for, are you?’ He read his sheet. ‘Oh no, you’re not.’ He glanced at Shaun. ‘You definitely don’t look forty to me.’ He laughed.

‘Uh yeah, it’s my dad. They’re for him.’

‘I hope you’re not going to look that miserable when you’re giving them to him.’ The man laughed and Shaun thought again how strange it was that life for everyone else goes on, no matter what is happening in yours.

‘Are these paid for?’ he managed to ask.

‘Luckily for you they are,’ said the man, ‘judging by the panic on your face there. Don’t worry, your mother covered it.’

‘Is she here?’ asked Shaun, excited. He craned his neck around the porch to look down the lane.

The man frowned. ‘Eh, no. It was by credit card, over the phone.’

‘Today?’ asked Shaun, his eyes wide.

‘No,’ said the man. ‘Last week.’

‘Oh,’ said Shaun.

‘You must be very close,’ said the man, frowning. He nodded to the van. ‘Where do you want them?’

Shaun looked around as if he’d find his answer in the trees.

‘The lighthouse over there,’ he pointed.

The man contemplated the walk. ‘Eh, I think you can handle it yourself, bud. There aren’t that many.’ He went out to the van and grabbed three clear plastic covers, tied in a knot at the bottom, each one covering a bunch of five helium balloons. They were weighted down with a small navy balloon filled with sand. Happy 40th was written across them.

‘Thanks,’ said Shaun.

‘Hey?’ said the guy as he walked away. ‘Cheer up!’

‘Your wife lied to me,’ said Duke. Joe could hear a loud slap down the phone line. ‘So I taught her a lesson.’ Slap. ‘Your wife tried to tell me she was leaving you, so’s I wouldn’t hurt little Shaun.’ Slap. ‘Your wife insulted my intelligence.’ A final slap.

Joe’s tone plunged ice-cold. ‘Enough about my wife, Rawlins. Let’s talk about your s.’

Stinger’s Creek, North Central Texas, 1991

‘You look mighty pretty,’ said Vincent Farraday. ‘Let me take your hand.’ Wanda Rawlins was wearing a lilac suit with a pencil skirt to her knee, white stockings and white court shoes. She bent low as she stepped out of the car, holding her lilac hat against the breeze.

She looked around at the small clapboard church and the arch of white roses at the entrance.

‘It’s so beautiful, Vince,’ she said, patting the corners of her eyes with a lace handkerchief. ‘It’s like I’m seeing things I’ve never seen before.’

‘Hush now, little lady,’ said Vincent. ‘You just enjoy this day. Forget about all the bad stuff.’

‘I’ll try,’ she said.

Reverend Ellis stepped through the arch into the sun, shielding his eyes with a mass booklet. He waved it at Wanda and walked down towards her.

‘Wanda Rawlins, it must be two years. Welcome home,’ he said, gripping her hand. ‘I am so glad to see you looking so well.’ His smile was warm and sincere. ‘I hope this isn’t just a fleeting visit.’

‘’Fraid so, Reverend. We’re livin’ in Denison now.’

‘This must be the lucky man,’ he said, pumping Vince’s hand.

‘Yessir. Vincent Farraday’s my name. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.’

‘You’re very welcome to Stinger’s Creek. Now, please excuse me as I go find the groom.’

Duke sat hunched outside the back of the church, smoking a cigarette.

‘Mr Rawlins, how’re you doin’ on this happy day?’

‘Fine thank you, Reverend,’ said Duke, standing up. ‘My suit’s a half-size too small,’ he added, touching the tight navy velvet. He noticed flecks of ash on his ruffled shirt front and flicked them into the breeze.

‘I’m sure Samantha won’t notice,’ said the Reverend.

‘No-one’ll be lookin’ at me,’ smiled Duke. ‘This day is for Sammi.’

Reverend Ellis led Duke through the back door of the church and out onto the altar. Duke inhaled sharply when he saw his mother in the front pew. She gave him a small wave and a nervous smile. He walked over to her.

‘Mama,’ he said. ‘How did you know?’

‘Sammi’s mama’s sister’s in my church in Denison...’

‘You go to church?’

Wanda blushed.

‘You live in Denison?’ he said.

‘This is my husband, Vincent,’ said Wanda. ‘He helped me through my, you know—’

Duke could see the guilt and fear in her eyes, the brittle smile on her filled-out face and wondered without drugs, how she could live every day knowing what she knew. He smiled and shook Vincent’s hand. The man gave him a broad grin.

‘Pleasure, son, happy to be here today.’

‘Thank you,’ said Duke and he took his place at the altar. He checked his watch and looked around. Reverend Ellis walked over to him. ‘I’m afraid I just got a call from Donald,’ he said. ‘He’s stuck behind an accident on the interstate. He won’t be able to make it. He did say you had the rings, though, and to go ahead without him. He should make it to the reception.’

Duke shook his head. He looked around the church for a replacement. The guests were mainly from Sammi’s side of the family. The only person he could ask was Vincent. He gestured him over.

Suddenly, the music started and the double doors at the back of the church opened. Sammi’s father walked in with Sammi to his right, her small hand on his forearm. Her brown hair was permed and glossy, falling below her shoulders, swept high in front and held with a clip from her long veil. Her gown sparkled with tiny beads. Her father passed her over to Duke and shook his hand. His smile was tight.