Across the road, a couple of uniformed officers had begun taping off the area. The reporters were already asking questions, and the pantsuited lady was holding a tape recorder. The nearest officer, a short, beefy man named Murphy, shook his head at her, annoyed.
Sam skidded to a halt in front of him. “Murphy, what’s happened? Is Margery all right?”
Officer Murphy’s expression softened. “Sorry, lad. You know I can’t say nothing. You’ll have to ask your old man.”
Sam felt the reporters home in on him almost immediately and ignored their stares. The door at the front of the shop was opening. Someone leaned out to shout at one of the officers, but Sam barely heard them, shock rooting him to the spot.
Through the crack in the door he could make out a pair of uniformed officers, faces grim. And beside them, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, her face pale and drawn, was Dayna.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
DAYNA
It was both comforting and extremely annoying to realize that she knew every police officer on the scene.
Of course, she’d rather not have had Samuel’s dad drive her home, since the whole thing was a bit awkward. Thankfully he’d merely lectured her about being careful and hadn’t brought up anything to do with Sam.
The hall light was on, and she kicked her shoes off and hurried into the kitchen, expecting her father to be at the table waiting for her. Instead, Fiona was there, leaning against the stove as she watched the kettle steam. She glanced up when Dayna came in, her face concerned. “Someone called and left a message with me that you’d been in some trouble. Is everything okay?”
She pressed her lips together, searching Fiona’s face. Yes, she was shaken. Dayna’s insides felt like Jell-O, but Fiona seemed so delicate. Maybe sharing with her wasn’t the best idea.
“Uh, everything is fine. I just…found something and had to call the gardai.” She felt sick as soon as she said it. Margery wasn’t something. She was a human being.
Well, she had been.
Instantly the image of those hollow red sockets came back to her, and she braced one hand against the doorway, feeling like she might be sick.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Fiona crossed the room, reaching out for her arm, and Dayna let herself be steered to the table. “Sit, I can…How about I pour you some tea?”
This was so much like Yemi that Dayna found herself relaxing in spite of herself. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “I think I need it.”
“Will you tell me what happened? They say talking can help.” Fiona gave her a hesitant smile, and for a moment Dayna wondered why she’d ever been wary of her mother. Yes, she had her odd moments. She was mentally ill, but so was Dayna.
And Dayna wasn’t her father—she didn’t shut people out or send them away because their brains didn’t work the way they should. And here was Fiona acting like a real mother. Dayna would have given anything for those moments growing up.
It made her hate her father just a little more.
Fiona set the tea down in front of Dayna, hands shaking slightly, which made the cup wobble a little on the saucer before Dayna reached out to steady it. “What, um, what happened? I saw the cruiser out the window. Is it…you know?” Her eyes went wide when Dayna nodded.
Slowly she told her what had happened, going into the shop and finding Margery gone from behind the desk, following the blood trail out the back and down the stairs. And most horrifying of all, discovering Margery still half-alive at the bottom of the stairs and realizing her killer might still be in the forest.
Fiona’s hands shook on the mug. “Her eyes were gone? He—the Butcher took them?”
Dayna nodded, swallowing her tea, which was still too hot and scalded her throat. She didn’t care. “It was horrible.”
Fiona’s chair scraped across the tiles, and Dayna watched as Fiona got up and paced over to the stove, her back to the table. Dayna’s stomach sank. She’d been right; Fiona wasn’t ready to hear something this gruesome. She wasn’t stable enough.
“I shouldn’t have told you. I’m sorry.”
“No.”
When Fiona turned, her blue eyes were huge in her thin face, and Dayna blinked at her, feeling a trickle of alarm in her stomach. Fiona’s eyes were too wide, too glassy. Her cheeks were flushed.
“No, it’s good you told me. It’s…good to know what’s going on out there.” She moved more quickly than Dayna had expected, and she leaned back in her chair as Fiona bent over her, patting one shoulder awkwardly. “Tell me more about it. How—um, how are you feeling?”
Dayna slouched in her chair, staring down at her tea. She tried to take stock of her body and then immediately wished she hadn’t. Her chest was tight, which made her breaths feel shallow. “Okay, I guess. I think Reagan took it worse than me. I better call her tonight.”
“What did the marks in the trees look like?”
Dayna looked up, startled. Fiona was staring at her. “Oh, um. Well, they were the Butcher’s mark, I guess.” She stood slowly, pushing her cup away, unease growing in her chest. “Are you okay? I’m not sure we should be talking about this—”
“Wait.” Fiona’s hand shot out, and this time her grip on Dayna’s arm was tight, pinching her skin. “S-sit down—” she stammered. “We’re talking like a family, that’s all. Family doesn’t have any secrets.”
“Maybe you should lie down.” Dayna took Fiona’s wrist, gently prying her grip off. She kept a hand on her arm and tried to steer her into the hall. “Let’s go lie down, okay? Do you need water or anything?”
Fiona seemed content to be steered down the hallway, but she was still staring eagerly at Dayna. “I want to know everything. Did you see the Butcher? Do you know what he looks like?”
“No, no one does. Come on, easy does it.” She paused in front of the guest room door and eased it open, guiding Fiona inside. The room was done up as it usually was, in ugly pastel flower wallpaper. The reverend had placed a white porcelain water basin on the dresser and hung a dollar store blanket over the end of the bed. Dayna glanced around, startled to see Fiona hadn’t made any changes to the room at all. Even her suitcase was still sitting on the top of the dresser, full of clothing.
“He didn’t help you move in at all, huh?” She stopped at the end of the bed, gently steering Fiona until she sat.
“Were you scared?” Fiona’s voice was a whisper, and her eyes seemed to glitter in the soft lamp light. Dayna repressed a shiver. “When you saw the body, did it scare you?”
“Yeah, it was scary.” Dayna turned back to the dresser. “Fiona—Mam, do you want me to unpack your suitcase for you?”
Fiona didn’t answer, and when Dayna turned to look at her, she was lying back on the bed staring up at the ceiling fan. When she spoke, her voice was distant and dreamy. “I didn’t know you could be scared, since you’re not a real person.”
Dayna stopped short, hand hovering above the suitcase on the dresser. There was a pang in her chest, a sick feeling spreading down into her stomach.
Slowly she made herself move, unpacking the suitcase and tucking each piece of clothing away, mind racing.