The Triumph of Katie Byrne Read online

  Once they had returned home from New Milford Hospital, her mother had made them all take off their damp clothes and get ready for bed. Then she had given them bowls of hot soup and turkey sandwiches in the kitchen, and even Katie had partaken of the soup, despite her lack of appetite. But she had no stomach for food.

  Faintly, behind her at the kitchen table, she could hear her mother mildly chastising Fin for having eaten his turkey sandwich too quickly, and in the background a piano concerto was playing on the radio, turned down low. All too quickly the concerto finished, and she fell back down to earth, came back to reality with an uncomfortable bump. Her mind started to churn all over again, so many different thoughts jostling for prominence in her head.

  There, in the dancing flames of the fire, she saw her dearest friends staring back at her…Carly and Denise, the two of them together. Carly’s face, sexy, voluptuous but, oddly, also sweet and endearing. The glossy black curls, those irresistible dimples in her cheeks, and eyes the colour of pansies. Carly would be all right, she would make it; all at once, Katie felt absolutely certain of that. She knew her friend almost as well as she knew herself. Carly was a true survivor, a fighter who would battle through and win…Now Denise became more prominent in the flames, her exquisite face so calm and gentle, her eyes of velvet brown so soft and loving, and around that alluring face the shimmering hair falling to her shoulders, long smooth skeins of gold…Then she was gone…only Carly remained, only she was constant in the flames.

  Katie let out a long sigh. It didn’t seem possible, but it was true…Denise was gone. Lost to her, lost to all of them forever. A lump came into her throat and she swallowed. Never to see Denise again. Never to hear her laughter, never to share their dreams and hopes.

  Death. She had never known death before. It hurt so much. Katie felt the tears welling and she closed her eyes, leaned back in the chair, sat perfectly still, reflecting.

  Today had been the worst day of her life, and yet it had started out so well, had been so full of promise. She had walked to school this morning in the bright October sunshine, full of excitement about the school concert in December, and the start of the holiday season, beginning with Thanksgiving. Carly and Denise had been waiting for her at the school gates, and they had shared English literature and history lessons, which were their favourites. And later they had eaten lunch together, and in the afternoon, after school was out, the three of them had gone off to the barn. Happy, laughing, full of hilarity and excitement, making their plans; she rehearsing the well-practised soliloquy from Hamlet; Carly and Denise cheering her on, as always her greatest fans and boosters.

  At the end of the afternoon, the long walk home alone, through the deserted fields shrouded in mist and so eerie in the fading light. And finally coming back into the warmth and brightness of this kitchen, coming home. Helping her mother with supper, and then going off with Niall to retrieve her books, unsuspecting, not tuned in to thoughts of tragedy since she was entirely focused on their elaborate plans for the coming year. Then finding Carly and Denise in the wood. It was unendurable to picture them there, her dearest friends damaged beyond belief, one horribly beaten, one murdered and raped.

  Shuddering, Katie sat up, took a sip from the mug of hot tea she was holding, and pushed these images of them far away from her. In the background, the radio was still playing, a piece of music she did not recognize.

  And then above the music she heard Niall’s voice.

  ‘I’m going to bed, Mom, Dad. I’m bushed.’

  The sound of his footsteps as he crossed the kitchen, coming towards her, coming to say goodnight. Always the good brother, loving, kind. His hand on top of her head, a gentle touch, his face next to hers. He said, in a low voice, ‘It’s been a terrible day, Katie, but try to get some sleep. And try not to fret. Things’ll be better tomorrow.’

  She looked into his eyes and attempted a smile. ‘It’s got to get better, Niall. It couldn’t get any worse than it is already, could it? And thanks…for looking after me tonight.’

  He leaned down and kissed her cheek, and she touched his hand resting on her shoulder. There was nobody better than Niall. He smiled, very faintly, turned, and walked away.

  She heard him say to Fin, ‘Come on, sport, it’s time for bed, let’s go up together.’

  Fin was scrambling out of his chair, saying, ‘Niall, listen. Dad says Mr Turnbull is going to let me see the beaver dam down by his pond. Did you know that beavers have the sharpest teeth, incisors for cutting down whole trees? And they build underwater lodges where they live, as well as making dams.’

  ‘Let’s go, Fin, and you can tell me all about those industrious little beavers, once you’re tucked up in bed.’

  Her mother began to cough, and Katie glanced at her in alarm. But Maureen turned on the tap, filled a glass with cold water, drank some of it quickly, and seemed to be all right.

  Katie sank back into the chair and stared into the fire. Soon her mother began to stack the dishwasher, and in a peculiar way there was something suddenly comforting, reassuring about the familiar noise. Katie stood up, and called, ‘Do you want me to help you, Mom?’

  ‘No, no, I’m almost finished,’ Maureen answered. ‘In a minute I’ll come and have a quiet cup of tea with you, before I go to bed myself.’

  A moment later her father was dialling the phone and then, after letting it ring and ring, he threw it back into the cradle in frustration, and exclaimed, ‘Still no answer at the Matthewses’. It just doesn’t make sense under the circumstances, Maureen.’

  ‘And they’re not at Ted’s either,’ her mother remarked, ‘so perhaps they’ve checked into a motel. For a little bit of privacy.’

  Katie exclaimed, ‘Dad, I remember that Denise used to go off to stay with an aunt sometimes. Her mother’s sister. It was in Litchfield. Aunt Doris. But I don’t know her last name. Unfortunately. It could be that the Matthewses went there. Mrs Matthews must be devastated; perhaps she wanted to be with her sister, with her nearest and dearest, you know, for comfort.’

  ‘That’s a possibility.’ Michael swung to Maureen. ‘Is there any more tea, honey?’

  ‘It’s gone cold. But I’ll put the kettle on and make a fresh pot for us all.’

  A short while later Katie sat with her parents in front of the kitchen fire, sharing the fresh pot of tea with them. None of them spoke, and she herself was wrapped in silence, her mind still whirling with all kinds of troubling thoughts.

  She muttered in a glum sort of voice, ‘It was all wrong.’

  ‘What was?’ Maureen asked, staring.

  ‘Seeing Carly’s mother at the hospital.’

  ‘What do you mean by all wrong?’ Her father threw her a puzzled look.

  ‘What I mean is, it didn’t work. It was a waste of time. She didn’t care whether we were there or not. She was just being polite, and she wouldn’t have missed us if we hadn’t gone.’

  Michael looked at his daughter alertly, his black brows drawing together in a frown. His slate-green eyes were thoughtful. ‘That’s true, Katie. She has always been an odd duck. I was Barry’s friend, you know, since our junior high days, and when he died, I tried to help Janet get through her grief, and so did your mother. But she never wanted us around, not really.’

  ‘She’s not a woman who likes intimacy or familiarity,’ Maureen volunteered. ‘At least, that’s my opinion. ‘Tis a pity, but she’s kept everyone at arm’s length, and by that I mean Barry’s friends. But still, that doesn’t make her a bad person, does it?’

  ‘No. But there is something cold about her.’ Katie looked from her mother to her father. ‘Cool and collected. ’ Katie shook her head. ‘In a way, I wish we hadn’t gone. It was so…banal.’

  ‘Banal,’ Maureen repeated. ‘What a funny thing to say.’ She gave Katie a curious stare. Her daughter surprised her sometimes, in much the same way Finian did with the odd things he came out with.

  ‘Trite, Mom. And it was certainly not very important to Mrs Smith
. Even though she thanked us, in a way they weren’t the right words, she didn’t say the right words.’

  Again startled by his daughter’s insight, Michael said, ‘Now that you mention it, Katie, I think you’re probably right. But we had to go to the hospital, for Carly’s sake. And our own. How could we have lived with ourselves, if we’d not gone? We’ve known Carly almost all of her life, and she’s your dearest friend. It was the only decent thing to do. And I know your mother agrees.’

  ‘Yes, I know she does, and I do, too, Dad. I was only trying to say that I don’t think Carly’s mother was at all grateful. She didn’t appreciate our being there.’

  ‘Perhaps she did, Katie darlin’, we can’t be sure,’ Maureen remarked in a quiet tone. ‘Janet’s always been so…contained. In control. Revealing nothing. Although God only knows what she’s been trying to hide. Maybe nothing at all. Perhaps she just can’t properly express herself…’ Maureen broke off, shrugged. ‘Well, we made the effort to go and comfort her, and that’s what counts. And we shall go again to see how Carly is, and keep going to the hospital till that girl’s on her two feet again.’

  ‘Mom, Dad, did you notice Mrs Smith never made any reference to the Matthewses, or to Denise? Wasn’t that peculiar?’

  ‘She cut herself off when Denise’s name was on the tip of her tongue,’ Michael muttered.

  ‘Yes, we all noticed that, I think.’ Maureen gave a long sigh. ‘It was a bit shocking, not a thought, not a word for Denise or her parents.’

  A silence lay between them for a few minutes, but eventually Michael broke it when he looked across at Katie and said, ‘Are you really sure Denise didn’t have a boyfriend?’

  Katie shook her head vehemently. ‘She didn’t, Dad! Just as Carly didn’t, doesn’t, and neither do I. You know that. You know how much we all wanted to go to New York, to go to acting school. It’s all we’ve thought about, talked about and aimed for, and for years. Boys haven’t figured into anything we did, Dad.’

  ‘That’s what I thought, believed, and that’s what I said to Mac MacDonald.’

  ‘And I told Detective Groome the same thing. He kept pressing me about Denise, asking me whether or not she had a boyfriend when he took my statement. And I kept telling him there was no boyfriend, and no secret admirer, either.’

  A short while after this, her father went to lock the doors, and then the three of them trooped upstairs together. On the landing, her parents kissed her goodnight, and Katie went into her room and closed the door.

  Within seconds she was in bed, curled up in a ball underneath the eiderdown, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, pressing back the sudden flow of tears with her fingertips. She sighed, and tried to settle down, wanting to go to sleep.

  She was almost dozing off when there was a tap on the door, and her mother peeped in.

  ‘Are you asleep?’ Maureen whispered.

  ‘Still awake, Mom.’

  Maureen crept into the room, sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed her hand over Katie’s soft young cheek, her eyes overflowing with love for her daughter. ‘I’m so sorry that you’ve had to go through such an awful thing as this. It’s a terrible tragedy.’ Leaning forward, Maureen put her arms around Katie and brought her close. ‘You’re devastated, I know. We all are, but we’ll get through it somehow. You have to be strong, Katie, and very brave. The next few days are not going to be easy for you, nor the coming weeks and months. You’ll be grieving for Denise, and you must grieve. ‘Tis not a good thing to bottle grief up. That’s what I came to say…let your grief come out, take as long as you want to mourn her. And be there for Carly, she’s going to need you, Katie. She’ll need all of us, in fact, and all the help she can get.’

  ‘I know, Mom.’ Her voice was muffled, her head still pressed into her mother’s shoulder.

  ‘And there’s just one other thing…always remember that your father and I are here for you.’

  ‘I know you are, Mom.’

  Maureen released her.

  Katie lay back against her pillows, looking up at her mother, then she reached out, touched her face gently with one finger. ‘I love you, Momma.’

  ‘And I love you too, Katie mine.’

  Her mother quietly slipped out of the room and Katie closed her eyes and willed herself to go to sleep. But for the longest time she could only think about her friends, and disturbing images of them, in distress and needing her, floated around in her head…until at last she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

  Katie awakened with a start.

  She sat up in bed, looking around the room as though there were an intruder within its confines. But she was alone in the darkness, and yet something had made her come awake, sit up like this with a jolt.

  The room was icy cold. The curtains were billowing out from the window, which she had opened earlier. Throwing back the cover, she climbed out of bed and glided across the floor to close it, and then stood for a moment, staring out.

  There was a full moon in the velvet-black sky, which was clear and without clouds, and the stars were crystalbright and sparkling now that the storm had passed. How beautiful her mother’s garden looked, everything washed with silvery moonlight. Closing the window, she turned away, and as she did she thought she saw a dark image darting across the lawn and into the trees.

  Katie froze. She was unable to move, and she began to shake. What was it? A deer? Or a man?

  Not again, she thought, I can’t be seeing things again. She pressed her face against the window, staring out. But of course there was nothing, no one there. She snapped her eyes shut, then swiftly opened them again, and looked down at the garden, scanning it. There was no sign of life; it was totally deserted, filled only with moonlight and shadows.

  She was so cold her teeth were chattering, and she ran back to the bed, climbed in and huddled down, wondering what that dark flash had been. She was not really frightened, because she was here in the safety of her home with her parents and brothers, and she knew that her father had locked every door in the house.

  And yet…a sliver of fear edged its way into her mind. Was someone stalking her? And if so, who? And who had attacked Carly and killed Denise? Was it someone they all knew? She had no answers for herself.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mac MacDonald pushed open the door of the autopsy room, went in, and stood just inside the door. ‘Morning, Allegra.’

  Allegra Marsh was bending over a gurney with a body on it, and she looked up, nodded. ‘Good morning, Mac,’ she answered, her voice slightly muffled by the mask she wore. Pulling the sheet up, she covered the body, then stepped away from the gurney, removing her mask and her latex gloves as she did, dropping them in the trash.

  Mac glanced over at the gurney, and asked, ‘Is that the victim from last night?’

  ‘Yes, it’s Denise Matthews. I finished the autopsy about fifteen minutes ago.’

  Mac was glad the post-mortem was over. Although he was loth to admit it to anyone, especially Allegra, he always felt a bit squeamish when he was in the autopsy room. He had balked at coming here this morning, but he knew he had to see Allegra Marsh, and so he had steeled himself for the visit. Autopsy rooms and morgues were not his bag, although being in them was part of his job.

  Stepping forward, now that the body was covered, Mac said, ‘What’ve you got?’

  ‘I’m afraid not very much more than I had. And you?’

  ‘The same. It was a bad crime scene to begin with, and then the storm last night did us in. Washed away anything that we might have missed. Apparently it’s very muddy over there at the moment.’

  ‘I have the DNA samples I took last night. But without a suspect there’s no one to match them with. Still, they are here and available, pending an arrest. Plus some wool fibres I found on the body. From a sweater, most probably.’

  Mac nodded. ‘Time of death was as you thought?’

  ‘Yes, approximately six-fifteen last night.’ Allegra walked around the gurney, and leaned against
a cabinet a couple of feet away from Mac. She shook her head and a sad expression settled on her face. Then she took a deep breath, and there was a sudden flash of anger in her eyes, when she said, ‘It was a violent strangulation, as I told you. Very heavy bruising, larynx totally crushed. A lot of bruises on her arms, her breasts –’

  ‘But she was fully clothed,’ Mac cut in peremptorily.

  ‘Bruising through her clothes. There’s no other explanation. I doubt that he undressed her then re-dressed her. He must have grabbed her hard, a vice-like grip. A strong man, I suspect. He was inordinately rough with her, Mac. Her shoulder was dislocated, as well.’

  He shook his head, looking pained. ‘Oh, Jesus,’ he sighed.

  There was a small silence before Allegra said, ‘The blood in the semen…it wasn’t hers, Mac.’

  Mac recoiled fractionally, frowning. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘Just that. The blood I found in the seminal fluid on the body was not Denise Matthews’s blood. Therefore, it had to be the perp’s blood –’

  ‘The perp’s blood,’ Mac interrupted. ‘How the hell did that get there?’

  ‘Obviously, I can’t say for sure, I can only imagine how, Mac. Perhaps she scratched him in the struggle. She had long nails and they were strong. I found flesh and skin underneath them, also particles of wool fibre. Maybe she scratched his lower extremities and he bled. Or she scratched his penis. Whatever, Mac, there was blood in the semen and the blood is his. It has to be his, because it’s definitely not hers.’

  ‘You said she was a virgin.’

  ‘What I actually said was that I thought she might be a virgin, and that I would only be able to make a proper assessment when I did the autopsy today.’

  ‘Well, was she or wasn’t she?’

  Allegra shook her head. ‘How can I be sure, Mac…’ She hesitated a split second before she went on slowly, ‘Look, I don’t believe she was a virgin, because she would have bled, if only a little bit, if she had been. Also, it’s not her blood anyway, not her particular blood type. To be more precise, let me say there’s usually bleeding when the hymen ring is pierced, and especially in young girls. I must repeat, Mac, there was none of Denise Matthews’s blood in the seminal fluid I took from her vagina and her body.’