Chapter 25
twenty-five
MIRREN MòR MACGREGOR-MORROW CAMPBELL
Mirren was back in Dublin, having given her husband, Finn, and their two children, Dean and Mary, kisses and hugs goodbye. She’d only be gone two days and one night, but she hated being away from her family.
She’d been the manager for the Smiths’ Edinburgh gallery since she was twenty-one. She was in her late thirties now and still managed that gallery, but the Smiths sent her all over the world in search of new talent.
Mirren had a knack for finding the extraordinary. Her husband and his twin sister, Fiona, were two of many over the years.
Anna Wilkes was Mirren’s newest find. As it happened, Mirren and her daughter Mary had been perusing stalls at a Saturday market in Wales, where Finn had taken them for a short weekend of fun away from home.
She and her daughter enjoyed looking at the booths with various bits and bobs, handmade trinkets, crocheted hats and mittens, dog collars, farm-grown fruits and vegetables, and, as it happened, Anna’s small table of oil paintings.
Anna had a way with making simple landscapes glow with something unearthly and very fine.
She’d struck up a conversation with the artist, who said that she was born in a small coastal town in the south of Ireland but currently lived in Dublin, where she worked a couple of jobs to afford rent and paint.
Mirren frowned, thinking about that because it sounded too much like what her sister had been doing behind her back. She should have known that her baby sister would work herself to the bone before asking for help.
Anna traveled on weekends to various markets where she could show her art that were close enough for her to drive or take the ferry.
That had been a year ago. Mirren took several photos of her work and sent them to Kain and Lillias Smith, the brother and sister duo behind Smith Gallery’s success.
They agreed to sponsor Anna for a few months while she worked on pieces for a possible exhibit.
Mirren had assessed her progress after four months.
Unsurprisingly, her work was masterful, and it had been full steam ahead. The exhibit was that evening, and Mirren was excited. She dropped her bags at Eze and Mags’ flat and was heading to the gallery for last-minute adjustments when her phone began to ring.
The caller ID showed ‘Unknown,’ but, knowing her wonky service in Ireland, she picked up. “Hello.”
“Is this Mirren MacGregor-Morrow?” A woman’s voice tentatively asked.
“Mirren Campbell, actually, but yes.”
“Oh, of course, you’ll have gotten married. I got your name from,” the woman hesitated, “an old police report.”
That made the hair on Mirren’s neck stand on end. “Who is this?”
“Forgive me. I’m old but not so old to have forgotten my manners,” she chastised herself. “Julia Todd, Hannah Todd’s mother.”
“Jesus Christ,” Mirren gasped. She hadn’t heard that name in years.
“Exactly,” Mrs. Todd replied grimly. “Hear me out, please. My daughter, as you know, was incarcerated in a high-security mental facility for all the horrible things she did, including what she did to me.”
Hannah Todd was an artist who suffered from schizophrenia.
She had stalked several artists she was competing against, including Mirren's sister-in-law, Fiona. Hannah even killed a man and held her mother captive, chained and half-starved, while forcing her to paint landscapes for the competition under Hannah’s name.
“I was aware of that, yes, and though it’s well overdue, Mrs. Todd, I am horribly sorry about what she put you through.”
“That’s kind of you to say. I’m not embarrassed to say that it took me years to overcome and even more years to forgive myself for not seeing what she was capable of. However, that isn’t why I called. Hannah has been let out of the hospital.”
Mirren got out of the Uber and leaned against the gallery's exterior, not wanting to enter while she was on the phone. Besides, she didn’t think her wobbly knees would make the trek over the threshold.
“What do you mean? Like, she’s free?”
“I only found out. I wasn’t even informed.
There was no hearing for competency. Nothing.
Hannah’s psychiatrist found her miraculously healed and let her walk free.
I’ve lived in fear for days and knew I at least had to let you know since it was well documented that she blamed you for getting caught. ”
Mirren was taken aback. “How could this be? Probation?”
“I asked at the hospital and got nowhere. What medication is she on? I couldn’t say, they told me. Who is she supposed to check in with? Where? When? I couldn’t say, they said again. I’ve gone to the police. They promised to check on it.” Julia Todd was beside herself, and well she should be.
“I couldn’t in good conscience wait to warn you. I’m sure the police will find out what has happened. It’s just, until then, we haven’t a clue where my daughter is. After all these years, I hate to be an alarmist, but please make sure your family knows and takes precautions.”
Mirren felt her heart thumping heavily beneath her cocktail dress, her fingers already itching to dial Finn, her parents, her sisters. She already knew she would call her father, Thomas MacGregor, who raised her.
She wouldn’t breathe easy until she handed these concerns over to people who could do something about them, and her dad’s security business was step one.
“Mrs. Todd,” Mirren blew a gust of air, gathering her thoughts, “my father runs a security firm. If you wouldn’t mind, I would feel better if they were involved. Dad’s name is Thomas MacGregor. I’m going to give him your name and number with your permission.
“I think we would both feel safer with another party looking into what in the hell is going on,” Mirren thought to add.
“Oh, Mrs. Campbell,” Mrs. Todd sniffled.
“Mirren,” she corrected.
“Julia, then. Yes, please, give your father my information. I have tried to tell myself that I’m overreacting, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is very wrong. Hannah should never, ever be allowed to live outside hospital walls.”
“I have an exhibit to see to in Dublin this evening, so I’m going to ring off and start the ball rolling with Dad.
I promise to keep in touch, Julia. I’m sure my father will tell you this same thing, but I think you should leave Edinburgh until your daughter’s whereabouts are discovered. Do you have a friend you might visit?”
“Thank you, Mirren. Thank you so much for taking me seriously. I’ll pack now. My best friend lives in a secure flat in London. I won’t do anything until I hear from your father.”
Mirren ended the call, a queer sense of déjà vu swirling around her ears. Surely, Julia was making too much of this. She would let her husband and dad know, of course, but she had to believe that this—whatever this mess was—would blow over.