Chapter One
Glenties, County Donegal, 6 months prior
Callum Earley tossed the last symbolic handful of dirt on the top of his father’s coffin, then brushed the damp clay from his fingers. The service at St. Connell’s Church had been sparsely attended, and even fewer had made the trip to the graveyard. He’d given a short eulogy for the man, there not being all that much to say. Cal was all that his father, Neil, had left in this world. Neil’s career in law enforcement, a failed marriage, and a final love affair with the bottle—pretty much summed up his life. Cal had worshiped the man growing up, even following in his footsteps and becoming a Garda Inspector. He ended up feeling only pity for him over the last few years, his father having given up on life, preferring to remain in a steady state of drunkenness. The last of the few friends and neighbors who came to see the old boy off, were making their way down the steep sloping hill of New Glenties Cemetery. The cold mist that had been hanging on all morning was making the trip more treacherous than it normally was.
His thoughts drifted back to a day, just like this, almost ten years ago. Standing here in the cemetery, he could remember the rain, the sweet smell of dying autumn leaves, and the unbearable pain that was all consuming. After saying his last goodbye to his father, he slowly made his way down past the tiered stones, bearing too many familiar names, finally stopping at the one that carried the name of his wife, Sarah. Running his fingers over the polished marble, he let the memories come rushing back.
On the last day of her life, they had gone to The Corner House, a popular bar on Main Street, in Ardara, for a night of drinks and celebration. He had just gotten word that he had been accepted into the Garda National Bureau of Criminal Investigation, and had met up with Mike Leonard and his wife Annie. They hadn’t grown up together, with Mike being from Mountcharles, but he had come up through the ranks with Cal and was already working for the GNBCI in the Criminal Investigation Division in Dublin. Closing his eyes, he could still see Sarah—her hair tied back in a ponytail, sitting beside him, smiling and laughing, the smell of her perfume. He and Sarah Donahue had met in senior cycle. Two years younger than him, she had long auburn hair and bright green eyes. He had fallen for her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her.
They had married young and struggled with some rough times, but they got through it and were stronger for it. They lived with his father for the first three years of their marriage, while Cal went through training for the Gardai. For the first year he was working, they saved everything they could. Between his salary and Sarah’s pay from her job, working the front desk at the Highlands Hotel, they put together a tidy down payment on the fixer-upper that would become their home. For the better part of a year, he and Sarah spent every spare minute repairing flaking plaster, laying down new flooring, a little bit of plumbing and electrical work, and a whole lot of painting, both inside and out. Through it all, they lived among the mess that went along with home renovation. They had hoped to have children, but it wasn’t in God’s plan. Sarah wasn’t able to conceive, but they had made peace with it years ago. Everything was looking up.
The evening eventually wore down, the handshakes, hugs and kisses, over. As Cal and Mike were settling their tab, Sarah and Annie headed out to the cars. Mike and Annie had found a spot on the same side of the street as the bar, but Cal and Sarah were parked in the little lot on the bend across the way. With the music from inside pouring out through the open door of the bar, Sarah didn’t see or hear the car coming down the hill at a high rate of speed, and as she stepped out into the street, she never had a chance. He could still hear her scream and the sickening thud from inside The Corner House. By the time he and Mike made it outside, the car was gone, and Annie was running over to Sarah’s mangled body. She died in Cal’s arms, before the ambulance had even arrived. They never caught the driver; all Annie could tell them was that it was a dark sedan. He and Sarah had planned on renting out their house, while they rented a place in Dublin for his new job. After her death, he sold the place. There were just too many memories inside their little home.
“Hey mate, you alright?” said one of the grave diggers as he passed down the hill.
Opening his eyes, Cal tried to smile and replied, “Aye, I’ll be fine son, but thanks.”
The spell broken, he turned and headed back down to the lot, climbed into his Toyota Highlander, and drove back to his childhood home, to figure out what was to come next.
When Cal moved to Dublin, he rented a small, one bedroom flat that had been his home for the last ten years. Being the only family Neil had, he’d taken some leave to get things sorted after getting word of his father’s death. Cal stood in front of the old house off Mill Road, taking in the mess. The yard around the place was overgrown with weeds. Small trees had sprouted up around the house itself, with ivy holding the faded whitewashed walls in its grip. The inside was just as bad. Thick dust covered any surface that wasn’t used regularly. Stacks of newspapers stood precariously on the floor of the living room. Outside of the back door sat a pile of bin bags. Boxes containing copies of old case files occupied most of the floor space in the bedrooms. The kitchen looked like it hadn’t had a good cleaning in years.
He decided to call Aidan Campbell, the local estate agent, to come over for some advice. About a half hour later, Aidan’s BMW pulled up in front of the house. A distinguished looking man of sixty-four, he was well respected in Glenties as someone who was always willing to lend a hand or a kind word. Cal was waiting at the door as he approached the house.
“Good to see you, Aidan,” Cal said, as he reached out to shake his hand, “thanks for coming over. Come on inside and have a look at what I’m dealing with.”
Allowing him some time to check everything out, he finally said, “What in God’s name am I going to do with all this shite?”
Looking around and blowing out a long breath, Aidan laughed, “I would suggest either a dumpster, or a can of petrol and a match.”
“Do you think I should just put it up as is and let the buyer figure it out, or would it be worth the time to clean the place up first?”
“Well, the market is moving pretty briskly right now, so if you have some time to put things in order a bit, you’d probably make out a lot better.”
Aidan walked around the house, made some notes, and told Cal to let him know when he decided what he wanted to do. With that, he made his way back out to his car and drove back into town to his office.
Since he had already put in for some leave time, he made the decision to bring the place back to life. Little by little, over the next few days, and with the help of a few old friends he recruited, the years of accumulated debris disappeared. A landscaper was able to make the outside somewhat presentable. He thought it somehow sad, how people hold onto things that seem so important to them, but really mean very little to the ones they leave behind. He finally got it down to just a few pieces of furniture, a functioning bedroom, and a kitchen he could use while he was in town. He planned to call Aidan back the next day to post the house, but for tonight he wanted to go into town, get a bite to eat, and have a couple of dark ones at Roddy’s.
Roddy’s was a small, local bar, located mid-way down the main street in town. Unassuming, and faithfully occupied with a regular crowd each evening, you could always find Phil behind the bar, a friendly guy with a serious, soft-spoken demeanor. After acknowledging condolences from some old timers who were nursing their pints, a couple of which he recognized from the funeral, Cal climbed onto a stool and waited his turn.
“It’s about time you stopped in,” Phil said, as he made his way over. “You’ve been in town for days and you’re just now gracing me with your presence?”
“Yeah, sorry about that Phil. I’ve been working my arse off trying to get my old man’s house presentable.”
“I can imagine, sorry for your loss, by the way. And I’m not just saying that cause your father was one of my best customers. So, what can I get you, Cal?”
“A pint of Guinness will do me for now, thanks.”
Phil eyeballed Cal as he took care of his pour. “So how are you holding up then?”
“As good as can be expected, I suppose, it wasn’t like this came as a great surprise. His health had been going downhill for a while now, and at 74, he wasn’t exactly taking care of himself.”
Setting down the pint, Phil said, “What are you going to do with the old place? You’re still living in Dublin, yeah?”
“Aye, I’ve been renting a flat there since I started working with the CID. The house is as good as it’s going to get, so tomorrow I’m going to give Aidan Campbell a call back and have him come over and see about listing it.”
“Why don’t you just hang onto it?” Phil said. “I mean, you’re not exactly a spring chicken anymore, now are ya? You ought to be getting up to around where you could pack it in, am I right?”
“First off, smart ass, I’m in as good a shape now as I was when I was in my thirties.” Cal replied, getting a chuckle from Phil.
It was true though; he always kept himself in good condition. He wasn’t a big guy, but he made it a point to work out regularly. He also studied Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and sparred at a gym in Dublin with a couple of other detectives. He could best be described as wiry, with sharp features and deep set, slate blue eyes. But there were definitely more wrinkles these days, and a touch of gray running through his hair.
“But as to your second question, I’ll be 55 in two months and I can take the early retirement, if I want.”
“So, what’s stopping you? I hope you’re not thinking of hanging on ‘til the bitter end, like your old man. By the time he got out, he was in no shape to have much of a life left. He was happy just to come in here every night and wear the varnish off my bar,” Phil said. “And are you planning to stay in Dublin when you retire? Seems to me, you’d be better off just holding onto the house and retire here. But that’s just my opinion.”
Cal’s brow creased together as he thought. “As much as I hate to admit it, Phil, you make some good points. And no, I have no intention of retiring in Dublin.”
“You said you have some leave time, maybe you ought to chew on it a little and sort it out before you make any rash decisions.” Phil added.
Cal stared at his beer and finally said, “I think I’ll do just that, thanks for the advice.”
Phil smiled and said, “That one’s on the house, so is the Guinness.”
Later that evening, after returning to the house, Cal got a fire going and put a kettle on for some tea. Walking around the old place, waiting for the water to boil, he noticed the hatch on the hallway ceiling and realized he hadn’t checked the loft to see if anything was up there. Pulling over the sturdiest chair he could find, he carefully climbed up, popped the hatch, and shined the torch from his phone into the darkness. Sitting near the edge of the opening, was one lonely box. He carefully pulled it down, wiped the dust off the top and set it by the chair near the fire while he went back and poured his tea. Sitting down in the worn-out chair that must have been his father’s favorite, he lifted the lid from the box. Inside were all the old family photos. Staring back at him, through the pair of cheaters he was wearing, were pictures of his mother and father when they were still together, young, and so much life still ahead of them.
His mother, Mary, was a beautiful woman. He could see how his father had fallen for this girl from America. Born Mary Toland, she had been visiting her grandparents here in Glenties for a summer, when the two of them met. They fell in love with each other that summer and she decided to stay. Not long after, when she realized she was pregnant, they married that fall. There were pictures of his father, still full of piss and vinegar, handsome in a rough sort of way. The photographs showed a couple very much in love and totally unaware how it would eventually unravel. There were pictures of himself as well. Christmases and birthdays held right here in this little house. So many fond memories came rushing back. Mercifully, the frequency of their photography tailed off drastically as his parents’ marriage began to crumble. Between the stress of the job and his drinking to cope with it, the love they had withered away until there was nothing left.
When they finally called it quits, Mary decided she wanted to return to her family in the States. Cal was thirteen at the time, and he wanted no part of leaving his friends, his school, or his father, for that matter. He loved his mother and fought fiercely with her to stay, to no avail. She promised he could come visit and that she’d come back often to visit him. His anger at her leaving seemed to grow by the day. Despite his father’s coaxing, he began to refuse her phone calls, and her letters went unopened. The promised visits never panned out and gradually all contact was severed.
It wasn’t until he had met Sarah and gotten married, that his feelings began to soften. Sarah knew he harbored a hurt that would never leave unless he reached out and forgave his mother. He could still remember that phone call. It had ended with both of them in tears and a weight being lifted off his chest that he didn’t even realize was there. There’s an old Irish saying, “Is trom cearc I bhfad” which means, “Heavy is a hen over a long distance.” He learned that she had remarried to a man named Richard Fisher. He was a lawyer in Danville, Pennsylvania, the town where she had grown up. He was a good man who loved her, treated her well and didn’t bring all the drama to their marriage that his father did. But then, he wasn’t a cop during the Troubles in Ireland. This was also when he found out that he had two half-siblings, a seven-year-old brother named Robert, and a five-year-old sister named Reneé. From that point on, they kept in regular contact. He’d even gone to visit them a couple of times with Sarah. His mother and his wife had gotten along fabulously. Thick as thieves, with himself as a target for their teasing. He liked where they lived. The terrain around central Pennsylvania was similar to County Donegal, albeit more densely populated. Richard passed away a few years back and his mother, now seventy-three, lived alone. Although, his brother and sister lived nearby, and checked in on her as often as they could.
His brother was forty now, and a corporal in the Danville Police Department. He always wondered if it was his influence that steered his brother into the field. He was divorced from his wife, Jenny, and had three kids of his own. They were Hailey, who was nineteen and had already moved out to live with her boyfriend; Eric, who was fifteen; and Sophia at twelve. In high school, Jenny Becker had been popular and athletic, involved in multiple sports and clubs. Even then, though, she possessed a sharp tongue, quick to insert her opinion, whenever the opportunity presented itself. She and Rob had become an item in their junior year and married shortly after graduating. But time and the ugliness that lay beneath an average-looking exterior, had taken its toll over the years. The figure long gone, and blonde hair that now resembled straw, she had developed a miserable disposition and never seemed to miss an opportunity to criticize others, especially Rob. It was a mystery to him how his brother had stayed with her as long as he did. He shared custody of Eric and Sophia with Jenny.
His sister, Reneé Bunting, owned a small antique store in town. Her husband, Chris, worked in administration at Geisinger Hospital, a large medical conglomerate whose main campus was located right in Danville. They had three kids, as well. The oldest was Grace, who had just turned sixteen; Jack was thirteen; and their latest addition, Liam, had just turned one.
Cal had bottled up his feelings for years, keeping them safe behind the walls he’d built. He hadn’t realized how much of a void there was in his life, no one even close to getting in. Sure, there was the occasional date from time to time, but since Sarah’s death, he’d lost the desire to start another relationship and poured himself into the job. With his father now gone, there wasn’t a soul who really gave a rat’s ass about him, at least not on this side of the Atlantic.
He woke with pictures still in his lap. The fire had long since gone cold and sunlight was reaching through the curtains. He didn’t remember closing his eyes, but he hadn’t slept that soundly in a long time. He laid the photographs back in the box, placing the lid back on top. Rubbing his face, he stood and stretched out the knots before heading into the kitchen to put the kettle back on.
Walking outside with a cup of steaming tea, he wandered around the property, taking it all in. All the pictures and all the memories he’d faced the previous night had made their impact. Maybe it was time.