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FORTY-FOUR
After Niamh Keenan’s murder, the killings dominated the news even more than usual. You couldn’t go two minutes without hearing the Shadow’s name mentioned. Even at school, he was all anyone was talking about. Property prices in the area began to plummet. The price of personal security alarms went up.
‘He’s going to slip,’ DI Connor told a press conference. ‘Killers like this always do. It’s just a matter of time.’
‘He hasn’t slipped though,’ Bea said, holding court in the common room, milking her father’s insider status.
‘The eyewitness was a slip-up,’ another girl replied. ‘You’d think someone would have recognised him from that sketch.’
‘Maybe they’re scared. . .’ A fifth former this time. Conversations about the murders dissolved the usually inviolable year-group lines. ‘Or involved,’ she added ominously.
The police had just found more body parts (‘in an advanced state of decomposition’) near Hawley Lock. And although they hadn’t been formally connected to the Shadow, more witnesses were coming forward saying they’d seen a man approaching women for directions in King’s Cross before Niamh’s murder.
‘I heard there’ve been more than five hundred new calls to the tip line since the sketch,’ someone else said.
Bea tossed her hair.
‘Yeah, but most of them will be cranks after their five minutes.’
More or less what Matty had said. He finally called a few nights after the Brownstone murder. My mother was in the shower, the radio in the bathroom turned up high, competing with the sound of cascading water.
I picked up the phone.
‘Hey pumpkin. Is your mam in?’
‘She’s still at work,’ I told him, the lie slipping out.
I don’t know what prompted it. Maybe I wanted him to myself. Maybe I was worried if he spoke to her, she’d say something stupid, give away her suspicions about him.
‘I miss you,’ I said. ‘When are you coming home?’
‘I miss you too.’
‘That’s not an answer.’
He laughed.
‘When did you get so smart?’
He was teasing, same as always, but he didn’t sound quite himself. Absent almost, like a part of him was missing from the conversation.
‘Is everything okay?’ I asked.
He sighed.
‘It’s my ma. She’s sick. I’m going to have to stay up here a while longer.’
‘Sounds like the Shadow might be up there too.’
I was unconsciously testing him again. My mother’s doubts infecting me, a cancer slowly growing.
‘Better lock my doors then, eh?’ he said.
His tone was so relaxed, so jokey, I knew she had it wrong about him.
‘The sister was your age, wasn’t she?’
His voice had changed, dropped an octave. Suddenly serious.
