Cross by Ken Bruen Page A

It's not a him – it's the boy's sister, Maria.'
    My blank look infuriated her and she nigh shouted, 'The crucified boy. You've forgotten him already, even though you promised to look into it. Well, don't bother. His sister, Maria, they burned her, in her car. Only her driving licence and teeth identified her.
Everything else . . . everything else . . . was burned to a . . . fucking crisp.'
    The room danced in front of me. I couldn't take in what she'd told me and I had to lean against the wall for balance.
    She stood up, concerned now, asked, 'Jack?
Jack, you all right?' And put out her hand.
    I brushed it away, took some deep breaths and began to ease down a bit.
    She backed off, then asked, 'You said him.
Who were you talking about?'
    My throat was constricted, as if something was lodged there.
    Finally I managed, 'Cody, he died. Yeah, the little bastard just packed it in, and guess what?
– you'll love this – the family don't want me to attend the funeral. How do you like them apples?'
    She slumped back in the sofa and said, 'You'll have to go and buy me some alcohol, you hear me.'
    And why the fuck not?
    The world had turned so nuts, it made a sort of Irish demented sense. I said in a cheerful party voice, 'Yeah, I will. You just relax your own self and I'll do what I'm best at, buy the hooch.'
    The off-licence guy knew me, and as I
loaded a basket with vodka, mixers, Jameson, he eyed me warily. I threw in peanuts and crisps and asked, 'How much?'
    He knew I'd been dry for quite a time and seemed about to say something till I glared at him, daring him to go for it. I'd have dragged him over the counter. He rang up the stuff.
    As I paid him I said, 'Isn't it wonderful I'm not smoking?'
    He didn't answer.
    The bollocks.
    My mobile rang. I pulled it from my jacket.
My ears were acting up – what wasn't? – but I
heard, if badly:
    'Jack, it's Eoin Heaton.'
    He sounded drunk.
    'The fuck do you want?'
    He was stunned, I could hear it in his gasp, and he said, 'I found the dog-nappers.'
    Jesus.
    Dogs, now?
    I said, 'And what, you want a medal? Try to remember you used to be a Guard. Use some initiative, solve the frigging thing.'
    There was a note in his voice I should have caught. He said, 'But Jack—'
    I didn't let him finish, said, 'And try not to
be bribed, OK? Isn't that why they fucked you out of the force?'
    I got back to the apartment and plonked the bag of booze on the table.
    'I wasn't sure what to get, so I got everything.'
    She waved her hand in vague dismissal, so I
opened the vodka, poured a glass I'd have considered healthy, added some mixer and handed it to her. She grabbed it, downed half, let out a deep sigh. I swear, I could feel the stuff hit me own stomach. I went into the kitchen, made some coffee, got two of Stewart's pills and washed them down.
    Bizarre aspect of addiction: even though you know the pills will help you, mellow you on down, you'd trade them in a second for the sheer blast, the instant rush of raw alcohol.
    I went out to Ridge, sat in the chair opposite her, asked, 'When was the girl killed?'
    She was staring at her glass, empty now, with that expression I'd had so often. How'd that happen?
    She said in dead monotone, 'I've been on duty for forty-eight hours straight. I heard the medical guy say she'd been torched – that's the word he used, like American television.'
    I didn't offer her another drink. I'd done my part. She wanted to get plastered, she could do it her own self.
    I said, 'So it's obvious someone is targeting the family. There's no drug connection, no vendetta we've turned up.'
    Then a thought hit me.
    'Did you get anything on the other brother?'
    She had her notebook out, the heavy job I'd carried all those years I'd been on the force. It gave me a brief pang for the past. She was scribbling fast.
    She said, 'Yes, his name is Rory. He's in London, but we haven't been able to contact him yet.'
    I'd been leaning into her and she suddenly pulled back, asked,