Page 122 of The Thief
"What did you tell them?"
Silence stretches long enough that I think he might have hung up. When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper.
"Everything. I told them everything."
My legs give out. I sink into the nearest chair; phone pressed to my ear like a lifeline.
"About you and your da. About the Dubliner who came for you, took you away. About how you fought those lads in the alley before you left. How the Jennings' want you for what you did."
Every word is another nail in my coffin. Trace now knows details about my life, about Freddie, about how I ended up with the Gallaghers. He knew some from Marcus but now he'll know everything.
"I'm sorry," Murphy says again. "I'm so fucking sorry, love. I tried to be strong, tried to protect you, but they... Christ, the things they did..."
"It's not your fault." The words come out strangled. "You did your best."
"Did I? Because it doesn't feel like my best. It feels like I failed you when you needed me most."
"You gave me a home when no one else would. You kept me safe for eighteen months. That's not failing."
"Safe." He laughs again, that broken sound. "Right. Look how that turned out."
I can hear something in the background now. Sirens, maybe. Or just the sound of Belfast waking up to find another business destroyed by violence.
"Where are you now?" I ask.
"Hospital. The ambulance brought me in after the neighbors called about the fire. Doctors keep asking questions I can't answer."
"Are you going to be okay?"
His silence is answer enough.
"Murphy?"
"I'm missing fingers, love. Toes too. They were very thorough."
The casual way he says it makes my stomach turn. This man, who gave me shelter, who treated me like family, was tortured because of choices I made.
"And there's internal damage. Things that don't heal properly when you're my age."
"You'll recover. You're tough?—"
"No, love. I won't." His voice is gentle, final. "I can feel it in my bones. This is goodbye."
"Don't say that," my voice is barely a whisper. My throat swells and tears well in my eyes. God, I can't lose him.
"Has to be said. Has to be faced."
Tears are streaming down my face now. Jessica's moved closer, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder, but I can barely feel it.
"What can I do?" I ask desperately. "There must be something?—"
"Nothing to do. Damage is done, words are said. Just... be careful, love. These men, they're not like the Belfast boys you're used to. They're professionals, and they're coming for you."
"I know. We're ready for them."
"Are you? Because they knew things, Alastríona. Things about your da that I never told anyone. Someone close to you has been talking."
The words hit like ice water. Murphy's confirming what we already suspected; there's a mole close to us. Another one.
