Page 2

1

ONE YEAR LATER

THURSDAY

Mark Boyd waited outside the therapist’s office while his eight-year-old son, Sergio, attended his three p.m. therapy session. He had no idea what the conversation was like behind the door, but Sergio usually came out smiling, so it couldn’t be too bad. However, once they arrived back at the apartment, the boy’s mood drifted into silence, melancholy almost, and Boyd was at a loss as how to deal with it.

Just six weeks had passed since Sergio’s traumatic near-death experience, and Boyd had spent every day since then by his side, watching and caring for him. He’d gone rogue during the last murder investigation. Heading off in a blizzard to the north-west of the country on a search for the boy. Despite the fact that he’d found him, there had been recriminations. He’d left without permission, operated outside his jurisdiction and been generally belligerent in his quest. But with the positive press garnered from the rescue, and the fact that Boyd had solved the mystery of the woman who’d died in the car crash, Superintendent Deborah Farrell had let him off with a stern warning and a note on his personal file. He did not care in the slightest. He had his son home safe and that was all that mattered to him.

Now it was time to return to work. The pain of being separated from his son skewered his heart so badly he thought he might suffer cardiac arrest. At least he’d be going back on a Friday, so it would ease them into a new routine.

After the therapy session, he settled Sergio on the couch while he shoved a chicken in the oven to roast for dinner.

‘When is Grace arriving?’ Sergio asked, tugging a blanket up to his chin, television remote in his hand.

Boyd had asked his only sibling, Grace, if she could come and stay for a week or two until he got settled back at work. Sergio wouldn’t be attending school until after February mid-term, so he was in the process of finding a childminder. He could no longer depend on Lottie’s daughters for that. Chloe had been great, but now that their grandmother, Rose, was suffering from the early signs of dementia, the girls had to keep an eye on her.

‘She should be on the seven o’clock bus. We’ll pick her up from the station.’

‘Will she like me?’

‘Of courses she will. Grace is the nicest person I know.’

‘I thought Lottie was the nicest person you knew.’ The boy looked up from beneath his long lashes, a slight grin on his lips that warmed Boyd up.

‘I suppose you could say they are both the nicest people I know, besides you.’

‘Mm.’ Sergio pointed the remote at the television.

About to sit beside his son, Boyd heard the doorbell. He wasn’t expecting anyone to call and was hesitant opening the door. He needed time alone with Sergio to explain more about Grace.

He also had to talk to him about school and the possibility of them moving to a new house at some stage. Once he found the right place and secured a mortgage. Lottie and her family had to figure into that scenario, but he had no idea how it would work, if at all. That thought saddened him as he went to unlatch the door.

‘Don’t stand there catching flies in that open mouth of yours, Mark Boyd, let me in to see my one and only nephew.’

Words deserted him. He tugged open the door, which was prone to sticking on the mat in damp weather, and watched as his sister dropped an enormous wheelie suitcase on the floor before brushing past him.

By the time he made it to the living room, after eventually succeeding in shutting the door with a shoulder push, Grace had divested herself of her coat and was sitting beside Sergio. Wearing a woollen dress, heavy tights and walking boots, she looked totally different from what he remembered. She seemed a lot older than her thirty-three years.

‘Grace, this is Sergio. Sergio, this is your Auntie Grace. She’s come all the way from beyond Galway to stay with us.’

‘Grace is cool,’ Sergio said.

‘Master Sergio, I’ve been called all sorts of things in my life, but that’s the first time I’ve heard my name and cool in the same sentence.’ Grace looked up at Boyd. ‘We will get along just fine. Are you making tea, Mark?’

‘Ehm, I’ve dinner in the oven, but if you want tea…’

‘I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I didn’t want it.’

‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

In the kitchenette, he recalled just how black-and-white Grace saw the world. Never one to waste words, she uttered aloud what others merely thought. She was her own woman. And he realised something else. How could he have been so stupid? His cramped one-bed apartment was definitely too small for three.

With the kettle boiling, he leaned against the breakfast bar and studied his sister. She wore her hair tied back in a meticulous ponytail with a red satin ribbon. Her cheeks were a little sunken. When had her face become so thin? She caught him staring.

‘Remember what I said about catching flies, Mark. You need to be careful.’

‘I was supposed to pick you up later at the station. Did you catch an earlier bus?’

‘I must have, otherwise how would I be here?’

‘Right. And you took a taxi from the station?’

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. To Sergio, she said, ‘Your daddy is such a silly billy. I hardly walked, dragging my case behind me, in that weather.’

‘You could have phoned me,’ Boyd said, aware of the petulance that had crept into his tone.

The kettle whistled. It was impossible to have a straightforward conversation with her. He wanted to call Lottie to ask her to come over and rescue him. But he had to make the tea, then the dinner, and sort out beds for the night. Perhaps having Grace to stay was not one of his brighter ideas.