Lake of Sorrows

Nora felt discouraged, exhausted in the wake of fear and exertion, and chilled by the wet clothing against her skin. The dusk had completely settled now, and she looked out over the black and blue landscape, imagining Garda officers out here with flashlights, sifting through wet peat and Cadogan’s harmless bondage gear. There was no point in calling Ward; they had nothing that would help him find Rachel Briscoe, or identify Ursula’s killer. She had been so sure that Cadogan was capable of murder. She’d seen it in his eyes when he had Ursula by the throat.

On the other hand, these things didn’t mean he was off the hook. They’d just have to find some better proof.

“Let’s go home,” she said. “I can’t see anything here to make it worth calling the police.”

6

Nora was in the bathroom at the Crosses, rubbing her damp hair with a towel, when she heard Cormac’s mobile ring. Who would be calling at this hour? It was after midnight. She could hear his voice from the sitting room say: “Michael, what’s the matter? Are you all right?”

Nora went downstairs to find Cormac putting his shoes on. “That was Michael Scully. He can’t find Brona. She hasn’t been home all evening, and he’s worried. I told him we’d come over.”

Scully answered the door looking haggard. His thin skin seemed to hang loose on him, and he moved even more slowly than he had on their previous visit. He led them into the kitchen, where he’d evidently been trying to fill a medication dispenser. The box containing all the tablets and capsules had overturned, leaving a colorful melange of pills on the tabletop.

Scully smoothed his disheveled hair back into place. “I heard on the radio this evening that one of the young women from the excavation has gone missing, and I—” His voice caught in his throat.

Cormac said, “I know, Michael, I know. We’ll find her for you. You mustn’t worry.” When he’d gotten Scully settled in a chair, he turned to Nora and spoke under his breath. “I don’t think we should leave him alone. Will you stay here while I see if I can find Brona? I think I know where to look.” At the door, he said, “Lock this after me. Don’t let anyone in. Promise me.” She nodded, and for the first time Cormac’s eyes betrayed his own worry.

Nora helped Michael Scully get all his medications back in the proper boxes. As she counted out the pain pills, he said, “Who knows where I shall be this time next year?”

Nora looked into his eyes and saw fear, not for himself, but for the daughter already so isolated from the world. “Who knows where any of us will be? We can’t know that. Don’t worry, Cormac will find her. He said he would.”

Scully smiled faintly and said, “I wish Gabriel could see the two of you. He often talked about how uncommonly well suited he thought you were.”

“I’m sure he does see us, somehow, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure I believe in spirits, exactly, but I do believe that what happens in the world never really goes away. Everything that has been remains somehow, makes an impression. Some things make stronger impressions than others, but it all leaves something behind, some change, some ripple in time, don’t you think? It’s probably the best we can hope for.”

Nora changed the subject. “I was wondering if you have anything in your files about the Loughnabrone hoard—any newspaper cuttings or official reports.”

“I’ve quite a large file on it, yes.” He faltered trying to stand, and Nora took his elbow.

“Are you all right?”

“It doesn’t take long for the painkillers to take hold. I’ll be fine in a few minutes. Not a bother on me. But maybe you’d look up the file? It should be on the far left, second drawer from the top.”

Scully kept talking as she opened the drawer and began scanning the file headings. “My daughter has been helping me with this work since she was a child. She’s read nearly everything in those files. I’m not sure whether she’ll want to keep them…. I’ve often thought about this place, and everything that has passed here over the last nine thousand years, and how little we’d know if someone had not seen fit to set things down, incomplete and imperfect as those things certainly were.”