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Diarmuid

 

 

 

“Take me home,” Saoirse said.

I flinched. I hadn’t been sure how Saoirse was gonna take these college brochures. I didn’t think she would react this badly.

“Saoirse,” I tried.

“Just take me home. Please.”

Her jaw was clenched, her lips pressed together in a line. Arms crossed over her chest, eyes looking everywhere except at me.

I knew better than to push things when Saoirse was in this mood. I knew better than to try and explain. My best bet was to give her some space and wait until she calmed down. Then I’d have a chance of talking to her.

Knowing this, I did what she asked. I dropped her off near her house.

She jumped out before I could kiss her goodbye, slamming the door and running away from me without a word.

By the next afternoon she still hadn’t responded to any of my texts. I sat at my desk at work unable to concentrate, tearing at my hair. I thought getting those college brochures for her was the right thing to do. Apparently not.

I hated that she was mad at me. I hated that she didn’t want to talk. Not knowing how she was feeling, what she was thinking, was like an itch under my skin that I couldn’t scratch.

I glanced at the clock. She had mentioned previously that she was working today. She should still be in the middle of her shift at the café. She’d be mad if I just showed up, but I couldn’t take any more of this radio silence.

I got into my truck and slammed the door shut, sticking the key in the ignition. The passenger seat to my left was empty. Empty of Saoirse. Of the brochures that she’d taken with her, despite her anger at me. That was what had given me hope that she might come around. My heart felt like it was ripping apart when I thought of her leaving me, but I could not hold her back. I would not hold her back.

She had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.

She had to fly.

My eye caught on a small piece of plastic on her seat. I grabbed it, about to crumple it up and chuck it in the small trash compartment when I realised what it was.

A small baggie.

The kind that drugs came in.

What the fuck? This wasn’t mine. Someone must’ve dropped it in here.

And there had only been one person who I’d let into that passenger seat in the last few weeks.

Then I turned it over and saw the logo on it.

It was the selkie, the exact selkie I had tattooed over my heart.

I barrelled into the café that Saoirse worked at, almost knocking a customer over. I muttered my apologies and scanned the place for the familiar blonde head, but I couldn’t see her.

“Can I help you?” A short dark-haired waitress walked up to me, weariness in her eyes.

“Where’s Saoirse? I need to talk to her.”

The waitress frowned. “Oh, Saoirse hasn’t worked here for weeks.”

She…

Why would she lie to me?

Where was she working if not here?

The blood drained from my limbs as an awful thought filtered through my head.

Apples don’t fall far from the tree.

 

 

 

I sat down the block from Saoirse’s house in a dark sedan, one of the unmarked vehicles from work because my truck was too familiar. I watched as Saoirse got into the driver’s seat of a new Audi. Flashy car. Was that hers? Or her da’s? And why the hell was she driving? She hadn’t gotten her licence back yet.

She pulled out into the street and I followed her, making sure to remain far enough in the distance so as not to be made. I trailed her out of the city limits of Limerick into the countryside.

If that was Liam or any of his men, they might have picked me following them on these remote roads. They might have doubled back or taken a different route. But Saoirse was too young, too innocent. She didn’t know how to avoid being followed.

Twenty minutes later on a deserted single-lane country road, she took a right turn into a driveway up ahead.

I slowed down as I passed. Her car was disappearing through an open gate, two men with guns manning it. Guns, for fuck’s sake.

I kept driving. I drove and I drove, my head spinning.

Surely this was some mistake. Why was Saoirse entering a farmhouse guarded by men with guns?

Later that night, when everyone had gone home, I sat at my work desk, the Garda property database open on my computer. Based on the GPS in my car I worked out the coordinates of the farmhouse, and subsequently, the address.

I pulled up the ownership details on my computer screen. The property was held by an Irish shell company with very little information on it.

I dug further. The paper trail led to a parent company based out of Switzerland, one of Europe’s tax havens. It took a couple of phone calls and threats to uncover the details. It was co-owned by none other than Liam Byrne.

I found it. Liam’s place of operation. And by the look of the baggie Saoirse had somehow dropped in my car, it wasn’t just weed they were producing now.

She was producing.

I couldn’t believe that Saoirse had anything to do with her father’s business.

But then again, maybe I could. Hadn’t I done bad things too? Hadn’t I crossed that line as a teenager?

A daughter with such a brilliant understanding of chemistry must have been an incredible discovery for an opportunist like Liam.

How dare he use his own fucking daughter.

How did he convince her? What did he offer her? What did he tempt her with? His love? His affection? Or maybe it was more insidious. Maybe he threatened her?

Saoirse was a good person. She didn’t deserve to go to jail.

But I was sitting on information, information I was duty-bound to do something with.

The question was, what?