Chapter 59

59

Kirby spent an hour calling the men on the list sent over by Greg Plunkett. There would have to be face-to-face follow-up on the few of them who'd met with Shannon and Laura. But for now, he couldn't find any holes in their alibis. Where did that leave him? He went back over his notes and decided to talk to George Kenny about Shannon's stint in rehab.

George ushered him into a cluttered sitting room with a little boy asleep on the couch. ‘Have you news of Shannon?'

‘Not really. I wanted to ask you about her time in rehab.'

‘So now you think she's a junkie and won't investigate?'

‘I never said that. We are taking it very seriously.'

George lifted a stack of laundry from an armchair and offered the seat to Kirby. He'd have preferred to remain standing, but George perched on the edge of the couch so he sat also.

‘How long was she in rehab for?'

After a pause, Shannon's brother said, ‘A few months. I gave her an ultimatum. She was missing work. Drinking all the time. Doing drugs. My mother's death went hard on her, you see. I had to do something. After rehab, she was grand, but recently she's slipped back into old ways. No drugs but drinking a lot. She was heading for a downward spiral. Maybe I was too tough on her. Maybe she did run away.'

‘Have you checked if any of her belongings are gone?'

‘There doesn't seem to be anything missing. Her suitcase is still here.'

Kirby looked at the little boy. ‘This is quite delicate and I'm not sure if you know or not, so don't explode.'

Kneading his fingers into the palms of his hands, George nodded, preparing himself. ‘What is it?'

‘It's come to our notice that your sister was… She seems to have been registered with some sort of an escort agency.'

George blew out his cheeks. ‘I didn't know, but I suspected she was up to something.'

‘How did you suspect it?'

‘She had feck-all money but could still go out and have a good time. She took my bank card from time to time, even did that the other night. But deep down I knew she couldn't be funding all her nights out.' He looked at Kirby, his eyes imploring. ‘Do you believe she's with one of those men?'

‘I've checked out those we know about and they all appear to have watertight alibis. Unless she met someone not on the agency's database.'

‘Have you checked the pubs? Their CCTV?'

‘It's early days, George.'

‘You need to give this all your attention. That other girl who was murdered, Laura Nolan, she's taking precedence in your investigation, but what if Shannon… What if…?'

‘Don't jump to conclusions. There's something else I wanted to ask you. It's about her time in rehab.'

‘Go on.'

Kirby felt sorry for him. He looked deflated, as if all the fight had been sucked out of him with a paper straw. ‘Did you ever hear Shannon talk about a man called John Morgan?'

‘Morgan? Isn't that the guy who was found dead at Pine Grove?'

‘Yes. Did you or Shannon know him?'

‘I didn't, but I don't know about Shannon.'

‘Did she mention anything about him when she was in rehab?'

George squinted at Kirby. ‘The name means nothing to me, other than I heard it on the news. I can't remember Shannon ever mentioning him. Is it important?'

‘It might be nothing, but she appears to have been there when he was. It's probably a coincidence, but I'll need details about her stay, to check it out if it does become important.'

‘You mean, if she's been murdered too?'

‘We have no evidence of that. You're sure you don't know who she was meeting last night?'

‘I didn't even know she'd gone out!'

‘Okay. Can I have a quick look in her room?'

‘What for?'

‘To see if I can find any clue as to where she might be.'

‘I'll bring you up there.'

Kirby followed George and couldn't help feeling sympathy for one so young having so much to deal with.

The pain in her chest was like an irritating itch and Shannon wanted to scratch it like mad. She was back in the room, the tape over her mouth and her hands bound. What type of set-up was this? It was bizarre. Nothing made sense. A house, with a child, where she was some sort of servant? What was that all about? So far she hadn't been sexually assaulted, not that she could remember, but that might change in the days ahead.

Days? What was she thinking? She couldn't stay in this house, prison, whatever it was. She had to get out. Get home. Wouldn't George miss her? Or would he think she was back on drugs? If so, he'd want nothing to do with her. He'd told her as much after she'd finished her stint in rehab. Don't do it again, he'd said, or you're on your own. And she'd kept clean, hadn't she? But even though she hadn't touched hard drugs or prescription pills, she was drinking too much. The thought made her yearn for a vodka and Coke. To blot out the unimaginable situation into which she'd landed. And she needed a shower. She smelled so bad. Would they allow her to bathe? She hoped so.

Her thoughts were all over the place.

Rehab. That had been so difficult, but John had made it worthwhile. He was cute and funny while being serious behind it all. He'd told her he had a gambling problem and smoked a bit of weed. He was determined get back on his feet, find a good job and make a better life for himself. That was what he'd said, she remembered now, and that was what she'd wanted too. But somehow she'd succeeded in fucking it all up.

And John? Was he really dead? Murdered? It made no sense. He'd been harmless.

She gazed into the darkness for a long time, afraid to fall asleep and knowing she couldn't sleep anyhow. She didn't even know if it was day or night. She was in a living nightmare.