‘Why would she do that?’
‘She was well aware of my family history, from my mother, and the previous accusations against me. She used all that as a weapon. When she saw it wasn’t working, she offered me sex. In my anger, I sent her away. I failed her.’ He shook his head and grimaced with the action.
‘You couldn’t have foreseen what would happen. A combination of events led to the murders. She’s insisting it was all an accident. What happened in that bathroom may have begun accidentally, but everything afterwards was premeditated. She was clever enough to report Willow missing, and when Naomi’s body was found, she never entered our radar as a suspect.’
‘Ruth was easier prey for you.’
‘Not without reason. What can you tell me about Julian Bradley?’
‘Dicky told me…’ He smiled. ‘Father Pearse told me you’ve arrested Bradley. That he kidnapped a journalist and her daughter. Is that true? Dicky is known to exaggerate.’
‘I don’t think it was Bradley’s intention to cause harm. Sinead’s friend Carol told us that he pushed her in anger and she slipped on juice on the kitchen floor and hit her head. He claims that before he could do anything to help her, he heard a car pull up outside. That was the taxi bringing Sinead home. He warned Annie to stay quiet while he was thinking about what he should do, and when Sinead walked in, he panicked.’
‘And you believe him?’
‘I believe he was obsessed by what he perceived as failures to protect children. He blamed the system and he wanted Sinead to highlight its flaws.’
‘And what’s happening with Maurice Connolly?’
‘He’s been charged. He snatched and held Alfie for a night against his will. Other than that, he’s just a sad, damaged man.’
He said, ‘There are a lot of sad, damaged people in our community.’
‘I agree.’
‘And you are left to pick up the pieces.’
‘You too, Father.’ They were silent in their thoughts for a few moments.
‘Have you talked to Alfie about the night he found Naomi?’
‘What do you mean?’ She felt a sizzle of unease. Had she overlooked something crucial?
‘Talk to him.’
‘You talk to me! And I don’t want to hear bullshit about confidentiality or confession or whatever.’ The quiver in her voice betrayed the anger surging in her chest.
He leaned into the pillow, his face as pale as the white cotton. ‘He took a rosary from the girl’s body.’
‘The little shit…’ She flexed her fingers, trying to calm down. ‘Why would he do such a thing?’
‘He’s an eleven-year-old boy. Curiosity or devilment? Grief for his dead brother? I doubt even he knows why he did it.’
‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Impeding my investigation and—’
‘I’m sorry. I think he may have been returning it to the scene when Connolly took him. Talk to him.’
‘I will.’ She stood to leave. ‘I better get going.’
‘Can you get me out of here?’
‘What? No way. You’re still under observation.’
‘My mother needs my visits. They keep her going, so she says. I asked Dicky, but he’s on his own at the moment, and with Masses and the food bank, he hasn’t the time.’
‘I don’t think you’re going anywhere any time soon.’ Then she had a brainwave. ‘Does your mother knit?’
‘Knit? You mean like jumpers and hats?’