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“Did ye really kill my ma?” I ask Brody, peeling back the layers and starting at where it all began.
“Aye, I did,” he affirms with a slow nod as he puts away his gun. “Ye know why?”
I ignore his question because there is something else I need to expose first. “Who else? There were three men. I know one of them was yer brother. Who was the other man?”
Brody smiles, as if reliving the memory of raping and killing my mum is one to be happy about. “Someone very close to home, Puck. He’s the reason she died.”
“Who?” I ask between clenched teeth.
“I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
Advancing, I press the gun to the middle of Brody’s forehead. “Too late for that. Tell me.”
He knows I won’t shoot, not until I get the answers I seek. The messed-up thing is that he’s the one person who can tell me the truth and I’d believe him because he has no reason to lie.
“It was Connor, lad. He was the one who killed yer ma.”
“Ya lie,” I gasp, my grip on the gun tightening. Not yet, I tell myself. His time is coming.
“Ach, naw, I tell ye the truth. Connor was the one who unlocked the wardrobe for ye, Puck. He knew ya were there. He wanted Cara to suffer, and the only way to do that was through ye.”
I don’t believe him. It can’t be true. But he knows about someone unlocking the wardrobe, how that act seemed so personal.
“Cara was a beautiful woman. But she knew too much. She was nosy and smart, just like you. I knew sooner or later ye’d find out what we did, which is why I needed to get to yer first.”
“What d’ye mean?” I’m hardly holding it together.
“The Kellys and the Doyles, we’re private people. I hadn’t seen ya since ye were a wain. I didn’t know whatcha looked like and I needed to.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I knew it’d eventually come to this. Yer collateral, and I needed a backup plan, just in case. It doesn’t make sense. But it will.”
Thoughts of the lorry arriving are long gone because all that matters is this. I don’t want to believe Brody, but I do.
“So, when my Camilla came to me, ye can imagine my excitement. It was the perfect plan.”
“Who the fuck is Camilla?” I exclaim, confused.
But when Babydoll finally meets my eyes, I understand what she’s sorry for. “Me. But call me Cami.”
Brody places his arm around her, like he didn’t just hold a gun to her some minutes ago. “Aye, y’are. When Camilla phoned me, telling me her ma was sick with cancer and she needed help, it was like the Lord himself delivered her to me.
“I needed someone ya didn’t know to befriend ye. But she did more than that, didn’t she?”
I beseech she tell me he’s lying, but Brody Doyle has spoken no lies. Ironically, he’s the only person who’s told me the truth.
“It was a fair trade—find out everything she could about the Kellys, about ye, and tell me everythin’ she found out. In return, I would ensure her ma was taken care of financially as cancer treatment is quare expensive in the USA.
“She wormed her way into yer world, workin’ for the Duffys so she could give me all the information to properties I could buy anonymously in Northern Ireland. And to also tell me which yer da was workin’ out of. He’s very secretive, he is.”
“I’m sorry,” Babydoll—Cami—cries, her lower lip trembling.
“Why didn’t ye tell me?” I ask, numb.
“I wanted to. So many times. But my mom, my sister, if I didn’t do this, they’d suffer. My mom will die, and I have no money, no family to look after my little sister. I had no choice,” she explains, but all I hear are excuses.
“I’ve worked my ass off since I was twelve years old, but since Mom got sick, I’ve cared for her, and it just…it became too much. I needed help. I didn’t know what else to do. When he told me what I had to do, I didn’t know who you were. I didn’t know I’d fall in lo—”
