Sitting on her bed, Dympna blinked at Seamus as if
he were a stranger. She was so wrapped up in her investi-
gation that she had not heard him let himself in. He was
dressed in a navy suit as he was on his way home from
work. A newspaper was under his arm, a set of spare keys
in his hand.
Dympna scratched her head. ‘What time is it?’ She
turned her cheek as he leaned in for a kiss, aware of her
stale breath.
‘It’s half seven. Didn’t you go to work today?’ Seamus’s
eyes trailed over her walls at the clippings she had pinned overnight.
‘Nah,’ Dympna replied. ‘I called in sick.’
‘That’s the third time this month. You’ll get the chop
if you keep this up.’
As Dympna straightened her legs, a plethora of printed
papers fell onto the floor. ‘I’m quitting soon anyway. Dad’s helping me with the rent until Roz gets back.’
But the look on Seamus’s face told her he did not ap-
prove. ‘You look knackered. Did you get any sleep last
night?’
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‘Sleep is overrated,’ Dympna said, suppressing a yawn.
‘I’ll catch a few z’s tonight.’
Picking up a sweatshirt from the floor, she pulled it
over her head. It was official. She had become a slob. Soon Seamus would be wondering what he saw in her at all.
Not that it mattered all that much these days – she was
still trying to figure out if he was the father of Roz’s child.
‘Are you staying over?’ she said, grabbing a hairbrush
from the dresser table and raking it through her hair.
‘If you want,’ Seamus said, turning up the heating
dial on the wall. ‘Fiona’s opening up in the morning, so
I should be OK.’
Dympna pulled a face at the mention of his assistant’s
name. She had seen how Seamus’s skinny new assistant
looked at him in admiration and glared down her nose
at her.
Once a cheater, always a cheater. The words floated into her consciousness, making her stomach churn. Ironically,
it was Roz who had said it to her, in what seemed a life-
time ago. She followed Seamus into the kitchen. He was
sniffing a carton of milk, having already put the kettle on.
‘Do you not think … ?’ he faltered, spooning coffee
into mugs for them both.
‘What?’
‘Don’t bite my head off, but do you not think you’re
getting a bit obsessed?’
Dympna sighed. She could hardly disagree. Over the
last few weeks, all she’d been able to think of was finding Roz. It was as if there were invisible distress signals coming from her best friend. To an outsider looking in, she
must seem like the hoarders you see on TV. Notebooks
stuffed full of hastily written theories were piled up on her 273
Caroline Mitchell
bedside cabinet. Printed papers of information were pinned
to her bedroom wall, along with a map of New York. If
that wasn’t bad enough, celebrity mugshots were pinned
beneath, as if they were suspects rather than A-listers. Her room was beginning to resemble something from the set
of a crime-fiction drama on TV. She had investigated
celebrity after celebrity and narrowed it down to the most
likely couples. She then accumulated everything printed
about them online and in gossip magazines. When she
had fully explored that avenue, she hunted for other miss-
ing women, too. After all, Roz had mentioned that this
was not their first child. What if they had done it before?
One of the saddest cases she’d heard of was of a blonde-
haired young woman named Kelly Blunt, who had gone
missing after contacting a couple in a chat room. Dympna
had found out about Kelly after randomly searching the
terms ‘missing girl, celebrity couple’ online. Her likeness to Roz made Dympna’s senses tingle, so much so that she
made contact with Kelly’s mother in Carolina. It wasn’t
difficult to find her as she had set up a Facebook page in
her daughter’s honour. Introducing herself as the daughter
of a detective inspector in Ireland, Dympna explained
that she was worried about her friend, who might have
fallen into the hands of a celebrity couple, too.
She wanted to explain everything to Seamus, but she
didn’t know where to start. ‘All this,’ she said, waving
her hands over the notepapers gathering on the kitchen
table. ‘It’s made me feel useful for the first time in years.’
‘I get that.’ Seamus handed her a mug of coffee. ‘I’ve
always said you were wasted as a cleaner. But Roz … you
know what she’s like. She must be what, eight months
pregnant now? Give her another month and she’ll be
blasting back in here like nothing’s happened.’
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The Perfect Mother
Dympna rolled her eyes. If he believed that, he didn’t
know her at all. ‘It’s been months since she left that voicemail. I’ve heard nothing from her since.’ Taking a sip
of her coffee, she brought Seamus up to speed on her
investigation. ‘I think we should fly over there. I’m go-
ing to put it to Dad tonight. The cops will take us more
seriously if we turn up in person.’
Seamus looked unimpressed as she came to the tail
end of her findings.
‘You don’t want me to find her, do you?’ Dympna
placed her mug on the counter.
Taking it to the sink, Seamus washed their crockery
in silence. It was his way of deflecting her question.
‘Are you listening? I said…’
‘I heard you,’ Seamus replied, his back turned to her.
‘You’re blowing this all out of proportion. Roz will come
home when she’s ready.’
‘Are you sure that’s all it is? Because things haven’t been right between us for a while.’ Dympna’s heart thundered
with ferocity. ‘Did you get her up the duff?’
Stony-faced, Seamus turned around. ‘As if I’d do that to
you. I can’t believe it even crossed your mind.’ Throwing
the tea towel in her direction, he headed towards the
door. ‘I know where I’m not wanted. I’m going home.’
‘But we need to talk.’ Dympna stood, wringing the
gingham towel in her hands.
The door slammed, making her wince as Seamus left
without saying another word.
Dympna scraped her hair back into a ponytail as she
glanced around her cluttered flat. Even the air smelt un-
clean. She would clean up the place, make it nice again.
Do an online shop and get some food in for the next day.
Then she would cook Seamus a meal and bottom this
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Caroline Mitchell
out once and for all. She turned to check her laptop as an
email pinged in. All at once the chores were forgotten and
she was embroiled in the case again. Kelly’s mother had
replied to her email. She seemed glad to hear from her,
desperate for someone to delve further into her daughter’s
case. Dympna absorbed her words, feeling her pain.
She was so excited about leaving, because
the couple she was meeting were really well
known. Celebrities, she said, high up in
the acting world. The police said they were
probably scammers, but I don’t reckon so.
Kelly spoke to the woman on Skype. She
saw her face. I’m as sure as I can be of that.
Dympna pored over her words. Dad had warned her about
going down blind alleys and the perils of wasting time on
dead-end leads. But it was the last line of the email that
made the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention.
She was really taken by that couple, although
she only spoke to the woman to begin with.
Kelly said they’d blow my mind if I knew
who they were.
276
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Sheridan
It was happening again, Sheridan could feel it: the spiral-
ling descent into oblivion she had clawed her way out of
before. Roz was beginning to feel more like an unwanted
pet every day. With Daniel gone, it was easier to pretend
Roz wasn’t there at all. Sheridan had enjoyed playing with
her in the beginning, but a show of power is only fun
with an audience. Daniel was her safety net. With him,
she knew how far she could take things. Without him,
she could not trust herself with Roz alone. Why did he
have to go away now, of all times? She loved the baby
with all her heart, but Daniel had been right. It was all
too much for her.
Lately, all she could see was Kelly’s face. Sleep depri-
vation brought waking nightmares as the young woman
haunted her thoughts. It didn’t help that Leo was looking
more like her every day. It had gotten to the stage where
she could barely look him in the eye. It wasn’t his fault,
which was why she had to put an end to this while Daniel
was away. She picked up her phone. Inviting Mike to her
home felt like a betrayal; Daniel would not be happy to
have him under their roof. The phone rang only once
before Mike picked up.
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‘I need another favour … I wouldn’t ask unless it
was important.’ There was an edge to Sheridan’s voice
as formalities were dispensed with.
‘Hey, Sherry baby, are you all alone? I take it that’s
why you’re ringing me from home.’
Shit, Sheridan thought. He must have saved the num-
ber on his phone. She was distracted, unfocused, and had
broken the rules by not using a burner phone. ‘Daniel’s
on location in Washington. He won’t be back for another
week.’
She paced the floor, trying to straighten her thoughts.
‘I need you to come here. I have a job for you…’ A pause
fell. ‘It’s time-sensitive. It won’t wait.’ Her muscles tensed.
The thought of having Mike in her home made her skin
crawl. It was an invasion of privacy afforded to the very
few, and after their last meeting, she could guess the
thoughts running through his mind.
‘I take it you’re after more than my company,’ Mike
said. ‘When do you want me?’
She could almost hear the smile playing on his lips.
She was grinding her back teeth so hard her jaw began
to hurt. ‘Tonight. I need it done before Daniel gets back.’
She listened as he drew on the cigarette he was smok-
ing, exhaled a long breath. ‘That’s short notice, baby. How much trouble is this going to get me in?’
‘It won’t get you into trouble if you keep it to yourself.
I’ve been good to you, Mike…’
‘Yeah, and from what I remember, I’ve paid that debt
in full. Or have you forgotten about your mom?’
Sheridan flinched. His words were a loaded gun.
‘Why do you keep coming back to me?’ Mike con-
tinued. ‘Surely someone else can do your dirty work.’
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The Perfect Mother
Sheridan pursed her lips as a swear word skimmed her
tongue. It wasn’t as if he’d had to do a lot. Just let himself in to her mother’s house and set the scene. A quick push down
the stairs in exchange for a wad of money and a lifetime
of health insurance. But she kept her thoughts to herself.
You’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar … Ironically, it was one of her mother’s sayings that popped into her mind.
She thought her mother’s death would put an end to the
memories of her. She was wrong. Sheridan fixed her smile
and softened her words as she resumed playing her part.
The air conditioning came on automatically, mak-
ing Sheridan spin around at the sudden whirring sound.
She had sent the staff home, apart from the nanny, who
was upstairs giving Leo a bath and knew better than to
eavesdrop on Sheridan. One bad reference from her and
the girl would never work in New York again.
She returned her attention to Mike, the words roll-
ing off her tongue like scripted lines. ‘You and I, we go
back a long way. You were my first kiss. You don’t forget
stuff like that.’
She paced the tiled floor, waiting for his response.
Wondering if she’d said enough. She would have to handle
this carefully – reel him in, but not too much. Mike
was strong, with enough muscle to overpower her if his
frustrations got the better of him. She knew he could
kill; that much was proven. But what if he turned the
tables on her? Her gun … it was nestled in her bedroom
cabinet upstairs. Perhaps she should wear it when Mike
came around. It was small but provided lethal force.
‘All right,’ Mike finally replied, oblivious to Sheridan’s
darkening thoughts. ‘I’ll come around. Text me your
address.’
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Caroline Mitchell
her sweaty palm on the back of her dress. She’d better
wear jeans. A baggy sweatshirt so he didn’t get any ideas.
‘Thanks,’ she said, her mind racing ahead. ‘I knew
you wouldn’t let me down.’
‘Do I need to bring anything? I’m presuming you’ll
fill me in when I get there?’
Sheridan nodded into the phone, her mind on the
occupant of the basement below. She had been there too
long. It was time for her to go. Mike would find a burial
place. Mike would sort it all out. But how far would she
have to go to persuade him? She pushed the thought away.
Took a calming breath. Told herself to stay in control.
‘You’ll need a shovel…’
‘A shovel?’ Mike interrupted. ‘How am I meant to
hide that?’
‘I don’t know, put it in a bag or something … Call me
when you arrive. I’ll get you in through the back.’ She
stood firm, kept her voice light. If she sounded scared,
he’d never come.
‘Now I’m interested,’ Mike replied. ‘Husband’s away,
you’re sneaking me in. If it wasn’t for the shovel, I’d
think you were seducing me. How am I going to get in
without being seen?’
Sheridan forced a flirty laugh. ‘Let
me take care of
that. There’s a private entrance to this building. I’ll meet you when you ring.’
Her hands shook as she placed the phone back on the
receiver. In that moment in time, she’d had a frighten-
ing moment of clarity. How far was she willing to go to
get what she wanted? And was it worth it? She thought
of Roz, below her. She was overdue a scan, but today
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The Perfect Mother
Sheridan had dismissed Dr Blumberg, unable to face see-
ing her again. The key to the secret room burned in her
pocket. She could not bring herself to walk down that
corridor, let alone open the door. Because it wasn’t just
Roz down there.
It was Kelly, too.
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CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Roz
I lay on the bed, the sheets damp beneath my body. I had
washed them but couldn’t get them dry. My room smelt
like a laundromat, set in permanent dim light; three of
the spotlights had blown. Even Anna had looked at me
with sympathy when she delivered my latest meal. Not
enough to help, though. I had thrown my dirty laundry
into the lift and it was still there when she returned the
next day. I told her about Sheridan’s plans and how she
was preparing to bury me. As usual, Anna’s visits were
brief, my words falling on deaf ears.
I reached beneath my pillow, my fingers winding
around the handle of the knife. It was time to gather my
courage, dry my tears. I could be in for the fight of my
life. I listened to heavy footsteps as Mike arrived on the
floor above. Soft murmurs were exchanged. Fear perme-
ated my being and I was too scared to eavesdrop on the
exchange.
If only I had listened to Dympna when she warned
me that I was making a mistake. Tears welled in my eyes
as I thought of my friend so many miles away. How dif-
ferent my life would have been if I had taken her advice.
Guilt sucked me in like quicksand, dragging me down
until I could barely breathe. Was it the lure of New York
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The Perfect Mother
that first drew me in? Or the empty promises that were
made? I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand,
telling myself to get a grip. How could I have predicted
how this was going to turn out?
‘It’s OK, little bean,’ I whispered to my unborn child.
‘I’ll keep you safe.’
I tried to stay calm in case my baby sensed my fear.