Chapter 55
The ambulance had taken Martina to the hospital by the time Lottie arrived at Scanlan’s apartment. Boyd was there already with Garda Lei.
‘Where’s Kirby?’ she asked, noticing Lei’s pallor. The young guard was shell-shocked.
‘He… he followed the ambulance over to the hospital. Martina’s in a bad way. Life-threatening injury, the paramedics said. I thought she was dead. I’m glad Detective Kirby didn’t listen to me. He broke the door down. Do you think—’
‘Back up a minute,’ Lottie said. The young guard would talk ad infinitum if she allowed him to continue. She needed facts. ‘What injury did Martina sustain?’
‘Single stab wound to the abdomen. She’d left her vest in the station. Clarice who works in the bar downstairs, well, she’d called Martina to say Scanlan was in the pub—’
‘Okay, okay. Where’s Scanlan now? Time is imperative, so I want single-syllable answers, Lei.’
‘Don’t know.’ He blushed. ‘Sorry, that’s two words. Oh, sorry. I’ll shut up.’
‘It’s fine.’ She relented because she thought he was about to cry. ‘You’re in shock. Go back to the station. Get a cup of tea. Boyd, call Grainne and get the SOCO team here. This is a crime scene. On second thoughts, Lei, Grainne might want to take swabs and your uniform. Just to eliminate trace.’
‘Okay. I did go looking for towels to stem the blood. Oh God.’
She turned to Boyd, who was on the phone to the lead SOCO. ‘Find a forensics suit for Lei. Get him to change. You know the drill.’
When Lei left the room with Boyd, she looked around, glad she’d had the foresight to grab forensic booties and gloves.
In the silence, she tried to envisage Liam Scanlan living here, and what had transpired between him and one of her brightest young guards.
She noticed all the locks on the inside of the broken door.
Why the hell did he need those? Was he keeping someone out or hiding something inside?
‘This is a shit show,’ she said to the empty room. ‘Boyd!’ She called him back. ‘Make sure SOCOs check Scanlan’s shoes. That print on Caroline Healy’s back is still unaccounted for.’
Liam Scanlan had walked along the canal towpath as far as his adrenaline-filled legs could carry him without meeting a soul.
He walked until he felt an attack of shin-splint pain.
Dropping onto the wet grass, he turned his face to the sky.
Allowed the rain to wash away the traces of blood he guessed must surely be there.
The tang of sweat and fear seeped into his mouth.
It was almost dark and he had no plan for what to do.
He could guess at what he shouldn’t do. Don’t use his car.
Don’t go back to the office. Definitely don’t go near his apartment.
Had he left anything in any of those places that could condemn him for ever?
He didn’t think so. But he’d left the body of a guard in his apartment, bleeding out. There was no getting away from that.
He looked at the two mangled phones in his hand. His own and the one belonging to the guard. He’d disabled both devices and thrown the broken SIM cards in various bins before he’d hurried down the towpath. He now threw the smashed phones into the depths of the canal.
Liam Scanlan stared into the grey water, pebbled with raindrops, and contemplated ending it all. No one left to miss him. Nothing. He was nothing. As insignificant as the useless mangled phones. As inconsequential as the disappearing rain on the water.
But he’d got this far in life; he had to keep going.
He couldn’t let anyone, especially not that bitch, derail him now.