17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Maeve
Ilock my door, mind already halfway on work.
I turn on the step and heft my bag on my shoulder, but when my eyes fall on a furry bundle halfway up my pathway, I freeze.
A sense of foreboding settles like lead, and I swallow the dryness in my throat and force my limbs to obey me.
To move closer to whatever creature it is that’s no longer alive right on my doorstep.
I swallow the bile down and take a cautious step closer to the bloody mess.
I widen the perimeter to circle it. My eyes flicker between the ground and the mauled, headless, black-spotted chicken, and when I glimpse a note pinned with a pocketknife into the chest of the poor thing, I narrow my eyes.
A red-hot haze settles briefly on my eyesight, and flames coil, my temper rising, and I have to sit down on my haunches to get myself under control.
I take one deep breath after another, and once I feel it’s safe for me to talk, I pick up my phone and call my boss.
“O’Neill.”
“Sir.” I clear my throat. “I need to request a forensic team, please.”
“What’s happened?”
“I…” I raise my eyes, needing to look away from the blood. “I need a team to come to my cottage, and I need them to bring everything to secure my passageway. Someone’s left me a bloodied present on my doorstep during the night, and I don’t want to contaminate the scene more than I already have.”
“What? Never mind,” he bites out, “I’ll be with you soon, along with the team you need.”
He hangs up on me, and I put my phone back in my pocket as I wait for the team to get here.
A ball of nerves settles in the pit of my stomach, I close my eyes, and I count to ease the nausea.
O’Neill stands next to me, hands resting on his hips and his mouth set in a grim line. The small team set to work the moment they arrived, putting numbers here and there all the way from my fence and up the path.
“Fuck, Gallagher. Who did you piss off?”
“I’ve asked myself the same question since I saw it, Sir, and there’s only one person that comes to mind.”
Sarah passes us, the evidence bag holding the mutilated chicken inside it, and I unclench my hands as my stomach twists for what feels like the millionth time since I saw the gruesome sight this morning.
I glance at O’Neill. He rubs a hand across his mouth, eyes narrowed.
“Well, you know how it goes. You need to make a formal statement down at the station, preferably sooner rather than later.”
“Yeah, I’ll head over there now.” I shake my head. “I appreciate you coming. I-uh…I didn’t expect it.”
He makes a motion with his hand and looks away.
“Don’t mention it.” I nod, grateful that he came to my side today despite us being strangers. We turn away from the team still working and walk towards the entrance.
“Are you going to tell me what’s on the note pinned to the poor thing?”
He pulls out his black notebook and hands it to me. I steel my spine and force my trembling fingers to steady as I turn the pages. I school my face not to give anything away as I read the words.
“Watch yourself, Maeve.”
“Wow.” I close the book. I hand it back to my boss, not shying away from his probing gaze. “I guess I’m not everybody’s cup of tea, but still…”
O’Neill purses his lips and sniffles.
“It may be a good idea to walk down memory lane for the rest of the day, Gallagher. Think back on your cases. Maybe you pissed someone off but didn’t know it at the time? Who knows? It could be a prank.”
“No, Sir. Whoever wrote this took great effort in putting my name on it. This is personal. I can feel it.”
He pulls at his earlobe.
“Yeah, it smells that way.” He jerks his chin at the team. “I’ll check in with Dublin, see if there’s any news about Joe. He hasn’t contacted you?”
I shake my head.
“No, but he wouldn’t do that.”
I roll my shoulders, the dull signs of a headache creeping in, and sigh in frustration.
Fucking Joe.
If the man who shot me has followed me here, I’m in deep waters.
I focus on the anger swimming in my veins. As long as I do that, I won’t feel scared, and I take comfort in that.
O’Neill rubs his hand across his jaw, his eyes rooted to the team behind me.
“Right, well, I don’t have to tell you to watch yourself.”
“Thank you, Sir. Let me know when the cleaners can come, please.”
He nods. “You might want to consider staying with a friend until tomorrow. Do you want me to phone someone for you?”
Mind already on asking Roísin, I shake my head. “No, thanks. I know who to ask.”
“Good, good. Well, I’ll head back to the station. Do you want a lift?”
I cinch the belt around my middle and shake my head. “I appreciate it, but I think I’d rather walk. Clear my head.”
“Fine, you do that. I’ll see you later.”
He buttons his jacket and leaves me. I take one last, long look at the people milling around the cottage, sad that something ugly and sinister has interrupted me at my sanctuary.
My safe place since coming here doesn’t feel so safe anymore, but no sooner has the thought entered my head than I sweep it away.
No. I won’t allow the negative thoughts to take root.
I’ll find whoever did this to me.
I walk through the gate and turn towards the Garda station, my mind whirling. Who could have done this to me and why? I rub the spot where the headache pounds harder and grimace at the incessant thrumming. I guess it could be Joe, but I hate to even consider it.
If he’s close to Cloonmara, or even here already, he’s here to find me. I know he won’t remain hidden for long.
The town is already busy, but I can’t focus on anything other than the fact that I’m about to make a statement and work my hardest not to interfere with the investigation until my colleagues find the person responsible for taking away my peace of mind.
“Maeve?”
I whip my head around and blink at Aidan’s mother walking towards me, wide smile in place. “Rosie? Hi.”
I try to smile at her but from the look of her tightly knit brow, I don’t succeed. She stops opposite me.
“Are you okay, pet?” She lifts her hand over her eyes. “You look a bit off.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I lie, but I’m grateful for the interruption. I point down to the bag in her other hand. “Why don’t I carry this for you?”
“Thank you, that’s kind of you. I’m on my way to the community centre with some snacks for our knitting club.”
“That’s nice.”
I take the bag from her proffered hand and start to walk in the direction of the town square. She falls into step with me, and having the company is a distraction from my gloomy thoughts.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I smile down at her. “Just some work stuff that’s thrown me off-kilter. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Oh. Well, whatever it is, I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“But you’re a smart woman. You’ll get to the bottom of it and come out the victor.”
I let out a chuckle. “I hope you’re right.”
“I’m always right. Just ask my son.”
Another huff of laughter escapes my mouth, dancing in the soft breeze, and it feels so good to laugh after the morning I’ve had.
She places her hand on my arm, and I stop walking. “That brought some spark back in your eyes. I’m glad.” She moves to take the bag from me and I hand it over.
“You know, you’re exactly the type of woman I’d love to see Aidan date.”
Her words hit me right in my solar plexus, and I cough. “Excuse me?” I wheeze.
She winks at me. “You heard me. He’s single, attractive, has a wonderful daughter, and he’s solid. What’s stopping you, pet?”
“I…I don’t know what to say to that,” I hedge. “I’m not sure I should talk with you about Aidan.”
She makes a pfft sound and shakes her head.
“I’m not saying anything he doesn’t already know, Maeve. Won’t you give him a chance? Ask him out?”
“You want me to ask him out on a date?”
“Yes. From what I hear, the two of you were mighty friendly last night at the pub.”
Oh, no. The wagging tongues have already started.
I don’t know how to turn Rose down apart from by telling her the truth.
“Rosie, I’ve recently had a really bad break-up with a man I thought I was going to marry.”
Her eyes turn sad. “Oh.”
“I’m not ready for another relationship.
In fact, I’m not sure I ever will be.” My breath hitches and I have to pause for a few seconds before getting everything out in the open.
“I may look like I have everything together, but I don’t.
And I’m pretty sure Aidan doesn’t need my kind of mess in his life. And neither does Katie.”
She tilts her head at me, a small smile playing on her lips. “I hope you’ll change your mind. But thank you for trusting me enough to share.”
“Thank you for making it easy for me.” I reach out my hand and place it on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Have fun at your knitting club.”
She leans in and bumps my arm. “Actually, I lied. There’s no meeting today. I just wanted the chance to chat with you, and now I’ll head on home to Seamus.”
She turns around, leaving me gaping after her as she walks back from where we came.
I shake my head, another bubble of laughter leaving my lips.
I run a hand through my hair and turn right, making a beeline for the Garda station.
Reality strikes like a freight train, but even though I’m not looking forward to what I’m about to do, chatting with Rose made me feel a lot stronger than I did before.
I pull out my phone and shoot off a text to Aidan.
ME: Ran into your mother just now. She came out of nowhere and asked me to ask you out on a date. But I think she took it well enough when I turned her down gently.
Almost immediately, the dots appear on my screen, and I watch them jump and dance, fighting to keep my smile in check.
AIDAN (FARMER): I was starting to think that she’d lost her touch.
ME: Nope. Ma Rose is relentless, but in a nice way. She just wants you to be happy.
AIDAN (FARMER): Yeah, I know she means well, but…
I frown down at my phone. The unhappiness in his words is almost tangible.
ME: I thought you’d like to know I met her and what she said, but I don’t want you to be sad. I handled it.
AIDAN (FARMER): I’m not sad, Mae.
ME: Good, because she walked with me all the way to the community centre, said her piece, and then told me she had to get home to your dad She tricked me! ??
AIDAN (FARMER): The woman is relentless.
ME: Did it make you laugh? Tell me the truth.
AIDAN (FARMER): It did.
ME: Good.
AIDAN (FARMER): Texting you always makes me smile, Mae. I like it.
This time, his text sends a surge of warmth through me, and I run my thumbs over his words in a light caress, rereading them. But then reality comes crashing down on me again, pressing hard on my chest, and I send him one last text.
ME: I’m glad. Texting you is one of my favourite things.
I put the phone on silent mode and square my shoulders, letting the soft wind blowing around me match my breathing. Little by little, calm washes over me, and I’m ready to face the curious glances at the station.
I can do this.