The Survivors(39)

Kieran suspected George was thinking the same thing as the man looked around the hushed restaurant. His gaze came to rest on the table of police officers.

‘I hear they’re bringing Liam Gilroy in for questioning again,’ George said quietly. He glanced at Lyn by the serving hatch. ‘She’ll be happy. Thinks the police have got their man.’

‘And what do you think?’ Kieran asked, interested.

‘Me?’ George shrugged. ‘I think it’s important in civilised society to respect due process.’ He turned his phone over in his hand. ‘Despite what the keyboard warriors of EBOCH may think.’

‘The online community page?’ Verity said. ‘I didn’t think anyone really used that.’

‘Well, people have found a use for it now. Still, I’m sure the police know what they’re doing –’

Curious, Kieran had pulled out his own phone to look up this community page, and felt a lurch as he saw the screen. Eight missed calls from Mia. He started to raise the phone to his ear, then stopped, his finger hovering over the redial button. George had stopped talking and was focused on Sergeant Renn over at the police officers’ table.

Kieran followed his gaze. Renn was speaking softly into his own mobile. As Kieran watched, the officer raised his eyes and looked once, directly and unmistakably, at Verity, then away again almost as quickly. Renn ended the call. He sat for a moment, then pulled himself out of his chair and began to head across the restaurant. The TV reporter glanced up – nothing to see but Renn, slow and casual, coffee cup still in hand – and dropped his attention back down to his phone. Renn ended his stroll right next to Verity. He took a deep swallow of coffee as the cameraman returned from his smoke break. She simply waited. Renn watched until the man was safely out of earshot.

‘Sorry, Verity.’ His voice was low. ‘It’s about Brian.’





Chapter 15


It was still early when Kieran hit the cliff path the next morning. Audrey was wide awake, her dark eyes alert as she bounced along strapped to his chest, her nappy bag slung over his shoulder. Kieran’s own head felt thick and heavy. It had taken a long time before he and Mia and Verity had been able to get to their beds, and even then Kieran had lain awake for what felt like hours.

He and Verity had left their order uncollected at the Surf and Turf and followed Sergeant Renn outside, where he had driven them the three minutes to Fisherman’s Cottage. They had ducked under the police tape at the front gate and run down the side trail and out onto the dark beach. Kieran could hear shouts and the sound of his daughter shrieking. Mia was already on the sand, Audrey angry in her arms.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Mia was saying. ‘I tried to stop him. I’m sorry.’

Kieran had run to them first, then chased Verity down to the water’s edge.

Brian was in the sea, neck-deep. His t-shirt broke the surface as he swam through the black water with strong, confident strokes. The police tape that had been tied to stakes on the beach where Bronte’s body was found now trailed behind him like seaweed.

A pair of young officers were soaked to their armpits, their shoes and socks paired neatly on the dry sand while they floundered in the water. Kieran reached the shoreline in time to see one catch his dad. Brian bellowed and flailed his arms as the other man joined the struggle to pull him out. Brian had fought, dragging both cops and himself under the water as Verity herself had kicked off her shoes and waded in without breaking stride. Kieran was right behind her. The police officers had backed off when he and Verity managed to reach Brian. The three of them had swayed together in the freezing water while Verity held Brian’s hands beneath the surface and whispered softly.

Brian eventually allowed himself to be led out. Kieran and Verity had walked him to the beach, their trio of moon-cast shadows forming a grotesque echo of The Survivors against the sand. Brian had laid himself out flat on his back near the shoreline, his arms and legs stretched out as though he was enjoying the weather. Kieran had lain down next to him, his teeth chattering.

On his way into the water, Brian must have traipsed through floral tributes left on the beach for Bronte. Ribbon and cellophane were strewn about like dead sea creatures and Kieran could see Mia clutching Audrey with one arm as she tried to gather and reassemble the pile. He knew he should help her but instead had stayed next to his dad, staring up at the stars and listening as Brian’s ragged breathing mingled with his own daughter’s high-pitched screams. When Kieran turned his head, he could see Verity sitting some distance away, her face in her hands and her shirt stuck to her back. Kieran wasn’t sure if she was shivering or crying or both.

Kieran had felt like he hadn’t got the energy to move, ever again, but eventually Sergeant Renn had crouched and suggested quietly that it might be a good idea to get going before the TV guys hauled themselves out of the Surf and Turf and wandered down to set up for their bulletin.

It was only later, back at the house, that Kieran noticed the reddening around Mia’s jawline, and the beginnings of a bruise on her wrist. He held her arm under the lamp.

‘What happened?’

‘It’s nothing. Let’s get to bed.’ She was still shaken though, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

‘But –’

‘It’s fine. I told you. I tried to stop him. Just –’ Mia let her arm slip from his grasp. ‘Don’t leave me alone with him again, okay?’