Sanctuary (14 page)

He asked, in a very quiet voice, ‘Where is she now, the woman who kidnapped my boy?'

I told him how she'd nearly got the upper hand but Ridge had grappled with her and the nun had been
stabbed in the struggle. I said he'd find her in the crypt of the church. I wanted Ridge to get the credit – recovering the Chief's child, serious kudos there. He knew there were gaping holes in my account but he had his child back and was prepared to let the inconsistencies slide.

He said, ‘I suppose I owe you.'

Blood was seeping through the makeshift tourniquet and he asked, ‘You want me to have one of my men drive you to the hospital?'

I shrugged it off and he was silent again.

Then he said, ‘Thanks.'

Cost him. He had to dredge it up past all his feelings for me and it near choked him.

I said, ‘There is one thing.'

He was still cradling his child in his arms, as if he'd never let go. His two heavies looked slightly uncomfortable. Seeing their boss vulnerable was not something they knew how to cope with.

I said, ‘I'd like a moment alone with Tom.'

Tom – who'd beaten me black and blue.

Clancy looked at Tom, who seemed delighted. Another crack at me, maybe? Tom smiled and Clancy said, ‘OK.'

He told the other heavy to get a squad together, get over to the church and pick up the dead nun.

He moved to the door, stopped, was about to say something, then simply nodded and was gone.

I was sitting in the armchair, blood still seeping from my wounds as Tom approached, flexing his fingers. He asked, ‘So Taylor, you think you're some kind of hero, that it? You're still shite to me. You got lucky – big deal. You're the crap I wipe off me shoes.'

I kept my voice low, asked, ‘Would you ease the binding on my leg? I can't reach it.'

He laughed. ‘What am I, your fucking nurse?'

‘I think your boss would appreciate you helping me out, just this once.'

He sighed. ‘Once . . . and that's it, then the sheet is clean.'

As he bent down I swung the revolver and broke his nose. I swung again and broke his cheekbone. He fell back in pain and astonishment. I levelled the revolver and said, ‘Get out of my home, you bollix.'

He staggered to his feet, wiping the blood from his face. He looked like he was going to come at me. I cocked the trigger. We both heard that ominous click as a round slipped into the chamber and I asked, ‘Would I shoot you? What do you think?'

He glared at me, said, ‘There'll be other times, Taylor.'

I smiled. ‘I sure hope so. Now get the fuck out of my house.'

He paused at the door. ‘You'd better keep the piece of junk real close, else I'll make you eat it.'

I said, ‘Next time, buddy, I'll have a hurley.'

 

 

 

 

I hate being indebted. Ridge had been instrumental in saving my life and that pissed me off. I know, I should have been down on me knees, thanking her and Stewart for their intervention. But in the back of my mind was the thought,
If there's saving to be done, I'll be the saviour
.

I met with her for coffee a few days later, in Java's on Lower Abbeygate Street. The aroma of real coffee there is like a balm. I got there first, bagged a table at the rear, away from the maddening crowds. In Galway now, there were always crowds. I ordered a double expresso. I'd taken a Xanax earlier and was reasonably chilled; not mellow, but down a notch. Clancy had managed to keep a lid on the return of his
son – it wasn't headlined. The nun's body hadn't been found. But I'd seen Stewart put the knife in and saw her face when she fell. She was dead – so who'd taken the body? Not my problem. The church has ways of covering up that would make the Guards seem like amateurs.

Ridge arrived, looking terrific in a new white raincoat, navy top and faded blue jeans. Her hair was just washed and smelt of everything fresh. She gave me a warm smile and ordered a latte.

I said, ‘You look well.'

The usual cloud of combat surrounding her was absent.

She said, ‘I feel well.'

She'd not only been brought back into the Force, but promotion was coming.

I asked, ‘Is it true you're getting married?'

I still couldn't get my head round that.

She took a sip of the latte then said, ‘Yes. Anthony is a fine man.'

‘But you're gay.'

She didn't get angry, or even raise her voice. ‘It's good for my career to be married and Anthony is looking for a companion, more than anything else. And Jennifer, his daughter, is delighted to have a stepmum.'

All so fucking hunky-dory.

‘Isn't it a little . . . hypocritical?'

She looked right at me. ‘Jack, I have one breast, I'm gay, you think I'm going to be flooded with offers?'

‘Isn't marriage sort of outmoded these days? I mean, have you seen the divorce figures?'

She shook her head. ‘No matter what you hear, every woman wants to get married. At least, I do – I certainly don't want to end up alone.'

Like you
.

The implication hung there.

She broke the ensuing silence with ‘I need a favour, Jack.'

See? Already the frigging debt was being called in.

‘Spit it out.'

She took a deep breath. ‘Will you give me away?'

Ah Jesus.

I said, ‘That's your father's gig.'

‘He's dead.'

Christ, I'd forgotten.

I was going to ask if there was someone else . . . God, anybody else, when she said, ‘We've had our ups and downs, but nobody really knows me better.'

‘OK.'

She smiled. ‘Come on, Jack, you might even have fun.'

Right.

She reached in her handbag, produced a ticket and put it on the table. ‘This is from Stewart and me. It's for after the wedding.'

I opened it – a ticket to New York.

‘You trying to get rid of me?'

She stood up, looked at me, shook her head. ‘You will stay sober, won't you, Jack?'

I nodded and she leaned over, and for the first time in all our battered history she gave me a hug.

‘Don't be so gloomy, Jack. You'll love America.'

And then she was gone. And I swear to God, she had a spring in her step.

 

I paid the bill and went outside, and I couldn't believe it, a single white feather was lying on the ground. As I bent to pick it up, a heavy shoe stood on it, mangling it.

I looked up to see Father Malachy, cigarette in place. I was going to lash him for the feather but figured, one way or another, the Church crushed anything outside their control.

He said, ‘Taylor, if you hurry you'll see that mother of the child. She's with your mate, Jeff? Looks like they were shopping in Dunne's and are just now on Shop Street.'

He noticed the feather, which had attached itself to his shoe, and he swore. ‘What's this rubbish?'

I said, ‘That, Father, is a defeated miracle.'

I hurried along to Shop Street and walked straight into Jeff and Cathy, holding hands. This woman, who'd killed her own child, had given me years of
grief and guilt. They halted as I stood before them and I swear, she moved behind Jeff for protection.

I'd envisaged this moment a hundred times and all the various ways I'd make her suffer for my pain. Jeff's eyes pleaded with me.

I said, ‘Nice day for it.'

And walked on.