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“This would be a lot easier if Rory was here,” I whisper discreetly to Cian, so the aul’ doll behind the glass screen doesn’t hear me.
It’s been two days. I’ve had no luck finding out who really was buried in place of Sean, and Brody Doyle has gone into hiding. I know he’s simply playing it cautious as he doesn’t know what my plans are, but he can’t hide forever.
I still haven’t seen Rory. I understand he needs time to adjust to things, but I fucking miss him. And I could really use his computer expertise to help us out.
“I’m sorry, lad, but I can’t help ya,” says the woman behind the counter as her fingers tap away at the keyboard.
We’re at the cemetery where “Sean” is buried. The information online is useless. It’s all above board to any unsuspecting person, but I know better. I need to know whose body is in that grave.
“Best ask the family for this personal information,” she adds, looking down the top of her silver-framed glasses at me.
I would, but Fiona won’t talk to me, and Hannah can’t get the information from her either. I need to know who the coroner was because they signed off on “Sean’s” death. I also want to know who the funeral directors were.
But I can’t get any fucking answers because this aul’ doll won’t talk.
Rory would be able to hack into this system, giving me the answers I need. But he’s a big girl’s blouse at the moment.
I could let on that I’m family, but this will rouse suspicion. I’d have to tell the aul’ doll that the reason I don’t know this information is because I was in jail, and I was put in there because I played a part in the man’s death I’m asking about.
This is a fucking dog’s dinner.
“All right. Thanks.”
Cian and I step outside, back to square one.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath as we walk away, in case of any earwiggin’. “This is useless. If I can’t find any information on Sean, then I’m going to Dublin. Least I know where I can find some Doyles.”
Cian clucks his tongue. “Fer feck’s sake! Cool yer jets. Remember what happened the last time we did that?”
“Fair play,” I reply with a sigh.
“I’ll chat to Rory.”
“Don’t bother.”
I don’t want to annoy him, seeing as he’s still mad at me. I never expected him to welcome me back with open arms. He needs to do it at his own pace. But his own pace is killing me slowly.
Cian’s phone rings, and when he answers it, I guess Amber is on the other end. He speaks to her for a few seconds before nodding and disconnecting the call. “I’ve got to go. That was Amber. She—”
But I cut him off. I don’t need an explanation. “I’ll see ye later.”
I know he wishes things could return to how they once were. But they can’t. Amber, Rory, and the others will see me when they’re ready. I’m not expecting miracles.
“How will ye get back?” Cian drove, but I’m not ready to leave yet. I have to do something first.
“I’ll walk.”
It’s a long way, but the fresh air will do me good. Cian lent me his truck, but I’m not ready to drive yet.
“All right then. Call me if ya hear anythin’.” He gives me a loose hug goodbye before walking toward his car.
Once he’s gone, I make my way toward a place I’ve wanted to visit for as long as I can remember. I just didn’t know where to look—until now. I pass a florist along the way and buy a bunch of red roses.
It’s so quiet, but I suppose the dead don’t talk.
Passing the rows of gravestones, I wonder what each person whose name is etched into their respective stone was like. Were they loved? I can’t help but think about my own gravestone. What would mine say? And who would grieve for me?
With a sigh, I follow the signage and walk down the plush green rows until I come to a modest gravestone that has been weathered with time. I stand before it, unbelieving I’m here. I read over the name three times to ensure I’m really standing before my ma’s grave.
