64

 

 

Back in the incident room, it was now approaching lunchtime. The team had been working through public records, and had discovered that Gerry O’Reilly senior had died just before Christmas of 1982, just over a year before Jessica had been born. This put the young Gerry O’Reilly junior firmly in the frame.

They quickly found a picture and it was blown up and pinned to the whiteboards at the back of the incident room.

‘So we’re working on the assumption that Marianne and Martin Collins covered up the fact that Laura had given birth to Jessica at just thirteen years old…’ Erika was saying to the officers in the incident room. ‘This man is Jessica’s real father, and could be our prime suspect. Gerry O’Reilly is now forty-four years old. I want to know everything we can find on him. Where is he now, what has he been doing for the past twenty-six years, and what was he doing between 1983 and 1990 when Jessica went missing. Was he aware that he had fathered a child? Laura Collins gave birth in Ireland in the early eighties, in a strict Catholic environment. I’m not saying that Gerry O’ Reilly had a motive to kill his own daughter, but this is the most significant lead we’ve had so far. Also remember that someone out there didn’t want us to make this discovery. If we find out everything we can about Gerry, I think this will lead us to the murderer.’

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Moss came through to Erika’s office with Gerry O’Reilly’s criminal history.

‘You should see this,’ she said handing Erika a print out.

‘First brush with the law was aged 8 in 1980,’ said Erika looking up at Moss as she read,

‘Yeah, nice kid. He was part of a gang of six kids who assaulted an elderly lady and stole her purse, arrest and caution,’ said Moss.

‘Arrested again aged, ten, eleven, and twelve, for shoplifting, arson and stabbing another boy at school in the leg. Aged seventeen he was convicted of ABH, glassed a barmaid during a pub brawl and she lost an eye. He was sent St. Patrick’s Institution in Dublin for eighteen months… Then he seems to have turned his life around, joined the Irish Army in 1991. He was stationed in Kuwait following the Iran-Iraq war, for 2 years, then Eritrea for another year and then as part of a peacekeeping force in Bosnia…’

‘Then he gets into a fight with another officer, nearly kills him, and in 1997 he has a Dishonourable Discharge,’ said Moss. ‘He worked several security jobs over the years, and apart from a caution for marihuana he’s kept his nose clean and stayed off the radar. But he was around during summer 1990, he would have just been released from youth detention…’

‘Pull his passport records. Let’s hope he was in the country when Jessica went missing.’

‘Do we want to bring Laura Collins in for questioning?’

‘No. I want to first go and see her,’ said Erika.

 

 

65

 

 

Erika, Moss and Peterson arrived at 7 Avondale Road early afternoon, and the street was eerily quiet. There were no cars, and it was silent, save for the wind, which slowly pushed a whirling pile of leaves towards them.

They walked down the driveway to the house and saw Laura’s silver Range Rover parked at the bottom by the front door. The engine was still ticking under the hood and it was still warm when Erika laid her hand on it.

They exchanged a look and rang the doorbell. Laura answered, her hair on end and with a look of wild panic in her eyes.

‘Are you here with the paramedics? My mother, she’s not responding, she won’t wake up!’

They hurried inside and up the wide wooden staircase. The second floor was gloomy, and Laura led the through to the master bedroom at the end of a long carpeted corridor. They passed a guest room, and a room filled with toys and a small bed with a pink eiderdown, which Erika presumed had been Jessica’s room.

The master bedroom had fitted wardrobes along one wall, and a dressing table in the bay window that looked out over the garden. A door led off to an en suite bathroom. The double bed was empty, the covers bunched up messily.

‘She’s in here,’ said Laura. They went through to a small elegant bathroom where Marianne was propped up against the bath. She wore a long white nightgown and she was still, her arms flopped open, her face white.

‘Why is she in here? Did she collapse?’ asked Erika.

‘I was trying to get her to wake up… She wouldn’t wake up.’

‘What has she taken?’ asked Erika rushing over with Peterson. She helped him to gently lay Marianne on her back and Peterson opened her mouth to check her airways.

‘She’s not breathing,’ he said. He set to work quickly and began to give her CPR.

‘No, no this can’t be happening,’ cried Laura. ‘Mum! Wake up! Wake up!’

‘I need to know what she’s taken,’ said Erika.

‘She’s had those pills, the sleeping pills…’

‘Halcyon, yes?’

Moss went through to the bedroom and returned with a box of Halcyon. She opened it and pulled out two pills sheets, one was empty and the other had just a couple left.

Laura looked up at her and nodded. Peterson was still working on Marianne, alternating between fifteen chest compressions and two breaths.

‘How many has she taken?’

‘We’ve been giving her a couple every four hours.’

‘We?’

‘I mean, I…’

‘Come on,’ said Peterson. He was working on Marianne and she wasn’t moving.

‘Who has been prescribing these pills?’ asked Erika.

‘The doctor, a private doctor…’ Laura began to cry. ‘Mum, please, I didn’t mean any of it!’

Marianne seems to take in a ragged breath and splutter, colour flushed back into her cheeks and she began to cough.

‘It’s okay, you’re okay,’ said Peterson. Marianne rolled to one side and was sick. The doorbell went downstairs and Moss left the room. She returned a few minutes later with three paramedics carrying a stretcher.

They spent twenty minutes in the bathroom making Marianne stable.

‘She’s going to be okay,’ said one of the paramedics as they stretchered her out.

‘I should go with her,’ said Laura.