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‘You might be going off half-cocked, anyway,’ said Morrison, ‘What else was in your briefcase?  Someone else might have organised the robbery, for quite a different reason.’

‘I do
n’t think so.  Aside from the Meagher stuff I only had Grainne Riordan’s file and a few student essays in it, and if you think anyone would pay to steal
those
bloody things it’s time you retired and became a security guard in Dunnes Stores.’

He chuckled but then said, in a more interested
voice, ‘What about the Riordan girl’s file?  What’s in it?’

‘Nothing!’
said Kate in frustration, ‘Nothing new or secret, anyway.  A few family reports about her early life, long transcripts of conversations in her therapy sessions, most of which are gibberish.  Uh, details of the various treatments tried on her in the past year…
nothing
, really.  A lot of it is technical stuff, which most laymen would hardly understand, much less care about.’

‘It certainly doesn’t sound very promising,’ he adm
itted, ‘I’ll take a look at the George Meagher angle and see what happens.  But don’t get your hopes up; even if he
was
guilty of those murders, killing someone like Jimmy Shiels is a very different proposition to murdering three helpless young girls.’

‘They were stabbed too,
though, weren’t they?’ offered Kate hopefully, though without much conviction.

Morrison uttered a short
, humourless laugh, ‘You don’t give up easily, I’ll give you that.  And I will compare the forensics reports on the knives used in all the murders, Shiels’ included.’

‘Well, thanks for listening,’ said Kate with a sigh, ‘even i
f it is all rubbish.  And thanks also for not mentioning Michael Riordan or that article in the
News.’

She could
hear
the grin in his voice as he innocently said, ‘What article would that be?’

‘Kiss
my arse!’ retorted Kate crudely, though with a reluctant smile spreading across her own face.

He laughed, ‘Sorry, but I’m
a married man, and my lips belong solely to my wife.  But I wouldn’t dream of prying into your personal affairs.  It’s none of my business.’

‘I wish more people had that attitude,’ she said ruefully, ‘but everyone in Ireland
apart
from you seems to think that it
is
their business.  Listen, thanks a lot, and again I’m sorry to have disturbed you on a Sunday.  Goodbye.’

She hung up and
looked at her watch; where the day had gone she had no idea but it was now almost three o’clock.  She cursed silently and hurried to get her things, intending to head out to Deacon House; it had been a long couple of days and she was dying to see Grainne again, in spite of her resolution to only visit every two or three days.  Hopefully whatever the girl had been going through would be resolved by now, leaving her ready to communicate again.  Though really she should have seen her at two.  Routine was important to mental patients;
dependable
routine.  It gave them a sense of comfort, of order
in the chaos of their minds and lives.  And, of course, it helped root them in reality by tying them to the time frame of the normal world.

Kate locked up
the flat and went out to her car;
normal! 
There was a laugh.  As if anyone’s life was normal.  Kate understood only too clearly why some people couldn’t deal with the realities of life, why they retreated to a fantasy world where everything made sense, if only to them.  How could anyone truly understand a world where good was frequently punished and evil so often thrived?  Where murderers and criminals walked the streets without fear of punishment?  Or even where a vicious hack could smear her name all over his filthy rag of a paper?  Kate swiftly cut off
that
line of thought and concentrated on driving safely out to Deacon House; thinking about that article would make her want to ram other cars.  Anyone would go insane if they started pondering all of life’s injustices.  The only way to survive was to accept that a certain amount of shit was going to come your way, and was going to have to be dealt with.

When she finally got t
o Deacon House she found that Trevor was not there, which even on a Sunday surprised her a little, and in the circumstances pleased her a lot.  What would
he
have to say to her?  Especially when the story concerned not just a patient’s father but a man he clearly disliked.  She almost groaned aloud, hating the thought that other people knew anything of her personal business.

The
re was a male security guard behind the desk instead of Cathy but he had evidently studied the Employee Information sheet she had filled out, complete with photo, for when she walked into the vestibule he smiled and said, ‘Good morning, Miss Bennett.  Grainne has had her lunch, and her walk in the grounds, and is waiting for you in her room.  Oh, and I have a security card here for you.  In future you won’t have to buzz to get in the front gate; just swipe this card across the reader on the intercom pole.’

Kate accepted the
card and smiled back, ‘Thank you.  No, don’t get up; I know my way by now.’  She turned and trotted lightly up the stairs, thinking that it was not just the mentally ill who liked routine; she was becoming part of Deacon House’s routine and it felt good.  It gave her a warm sensation to be a part of a team again, to be engaged in work she loved, that she believed in.

When she reached the landing
she took a deep breath to still the butterflies before tapping on Grainne’s door.  She wasn’t really expecting a reply and opened it immediately and looked inside.  To her surprise the girl was not there.  Kate looked around, momentarily disorientated.  Grainne was in the bedroom, lying on her back and blankly staring at the ceiling.  Kate carried in a chair and sat beside the bed before saying, ‘Hello, Grainne.’

‘Hello,’ said the girl in a neutral tone.

‘Do you know who I am?’ asked Kate, smiling light-heartedly, delighted that the girl was communicating again.

The girl shook her head slowly,
still without looking around, ‘No.  Should I?’

‘I’ve visited you before, don’t you remember?  We’ve met twice now.’

A frown creased that perfect brow, ‘You look familiar but I don’t know your name.  Why have you been visiting me?’

‘My name is Kate. 
I’m part of the medical team and I’m here to help you.  Do you know where you are?’

The frown deepened into confusion, ‘Yes.  Well... yes, of course I do.  Sometimes it’s hard to think, to remember, because of the drugs.  The on
es you people give me, I mean, not the recreational kind.  I’m in a clinic, right?’

‘You’re in hospital, a mental hospital.  You’ve been very ill but I think you’re starting to get better.  I’m here to try and help you become completely well
again, in time.’

‘You’re a doctor?’

Kate smiled, trying to contain her excitement at the girl’s accessibility, her
normality
.  She tried to keep her voice level as she said, ‘I’m not a medical doctor, but the doctor looking after you asked me to talk to you, to try and help you.  Do you remember your doctor?’

Grainne nodded
slowly, ‘A woman with untidy hair.  Yes, I remember.  She would ask me questions over and over until I answered them.’

‘Not the woman, that’s Dr. McGrath.  I’m talking about Dr. Trevor Jordan.  Do you remember him?’

She shook her head and said bitterly, ‘I wouldn’t have a male doctor.  I’ve had enough of men to last me a lifetime!’

She almost spat out the word
men
and Kate hesitated before saying, ‘I know, being near men upsets you, doesn’t it?  Why don’t you like men?’

‘I used to but not any more.  Now I’m sick of them.’

‘You told me before it was because men only want sex from women.  Is that it?’

The girl shrugged and remained silent.

‘Men hurt you, is that right?’

A tentative nod.

‘Can you tell me
whic
h
men hurt you?  And how?  You don’t have to answer right now if it’s too painful but I think it would help you to get well again.’

The startling green eyes went blank and this time there
was
no response of any kind, Kate waited a few moments until it was obvious there would be no reply and then said softly, ‘Did Jimmy Shiels ever hurt you?’  There was still no response and Kate had to repeat the question several times before Grainne
returned
and answered, with a touch of bitterness, ‘Jimmy’s just like all the rest.  He just wants to fuck me.  And money, of course.  He always wants money.’

Kate nodded, trying to keep her breathing calm and
almost unable to believe the difference in Grainne since her last visit, or even from their first meeting.  It was incredible, like talking to a totally different person!  And in less than a week!  It seemed too good to be true and Kate was afraid of spoiling things by pushing too hard, but she knew too that she had to make as much progress as possible during Grainne’s lucid periods; they might not last long.  Besides, this was what she loved best; flying by the seat of her pants with only intuition to light the way.  She took a deep breath and said, ‘You used to buy drugs from Jimmy, do you remember that?’

Nothing, not even a flicker of acknowledgement.

‘You took drugs because you wanted to forget the bad things in your life.’ Kate paused, ‘The bad things you’ve done.  Jimmy gave you the drugs.  Do you remember that?’

‘Party Girl!’
suddenly sang Grainne in a high, off-key voice,
‘I know she wants more than a party, Party Girl!
’

Kate looked at her, mystified by this sudden digression into music; there was no m
ention of such a thing anywhere in the file.  Could this new behaviour be a positive sign, another association with reality?  Or was it just another escape route for the girl’s tortured mind?  At length she decided to follow it and asked, ‘Do you like singing, Grainne?  Music?’

‘U2,’ replied the girl placidly.

Kate, misunderstanding, smiled and said, ‘No, I can’t sing, though I cut loose in the shower sometimes.  Are you a party girl?  Do you like parties?’

Grainne nodded, ‘Sometimes.  Sometimes I feel good.’

‘But not always?’

No answer.

‘Did Jimmy take you to parties?’

Grainne nodded very slowly, ‘Not often, but sometimes.  But there’s always a party
somewhere, and men willing to take you.  For a price.  I like listening to music on my own best.  Feel good, sing along.  Have a party on my own.’

Kate looked at her in frustration; was she talking about now or in the past?  Had she, like most teenagers, escaped from the turbulence of her fast-changing life by lo
sing herself in music?  She drummed her fingers on her notepad, unsure how she should proceed.  There was no point in asking Grainne anything about the death of Jimmy Shiels, obviously, but was there any point in asking further questions about his life either?  For some reason she felt that Jimmy was just a minor player in Grainne’s life, a shadowy figure of little real importance beyond his function in providing her with drugs.  She sighed and, on the off chance, asked, ‘Have you ever met a man called George Meagher?’

‘I don’t know.  I don’t think so, but I’ve met lots of men.’

No, well, Kate hadn’t really expected her to know him.  ‘Or Eddie Fearney?’

‘Not that I recall.
  But I’m not good with names.  A legacy of the
other
kind of drugs.’

Grainne’s face and manner were unruffled by any anxiety, and Kate guessed that she was telling the truth; she would only retreat into fantasy –o
r catatonia- if she felt threatened.  She hesitated for a moment, and then decided to push her luck a little further, ‘Tell me about your mother, Grainne.’

The girl paused for so long that Kate feared she had lost her again, but at last she replied, ‘Pretty.  Very pretty.  But father says she’s weak.  An
d she drinks too much.  Embarrassing.’

For a politician, perhaps,
thought Kate, quite certain that Grainne had not felt any embarrassment at her mother’s behaviour.  Not when she had been busy outdoing her in that line.  Though teenagers can be strange in that regard, blowing parental misdemeanours way out of proportion while regarding their own excesses as normal.  ‘Where is your mother, Grainne?’

‘Mummy’s dead.
  I killed her.’  The voice was bleak and tearful, and huskier than ever.

‘
Why
?’

Nothing; Grainne had retreated into
her private world once more; Kate was becoming adept at recognising the signs.  She sighed and asked, ‘Where is Grainne?’

No response; that weak, would-be alter ego seemed to have disappeared altogether.  It had collapsed, no doubt, because of its very
weakness.  Kate allowed a long pause before saying, ‘Did your Mummy ever give parties, Grainne?’