'You see, Inspector.'
Delaney glared back at him. 'Enough talk. Just let my daughter go now.'
'All in good time.'
Walker nodded at Andy. 'Keep an eye on her.'
Andy held the blood-stained Sabatier knife up as Walker put his own knife down on Siobhan's lilac-coloured chest of drawers. The lethal blade obscenely incongruous amongst the toy ponies and the Barbie dolls. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pistol.
'It's an unregistered gun. The one used to kill your good friend Bonner. We struggled, you died. Everything is cleared up.'
Delaney looked at his daughter, his heart breaking as he saw the terror in her young eyes. 'And Siobhan?'
'She'll be cared for. She won't die, I can promise you that.'
'And my sister-in-law?'
'Already dealt with. You always were a violent man, Delaney. It's a matter of record.'
Delaney felt the rage build inside him, felt the impotence. 'Everything is disposable to you, isn't it? Nothing has a value.'
'That's where you're wrong. You see, I understand what is valuable and what is not. But look at you, Delaney. You value nothing. How can you value others if you don't value yourself? You say you love your daughter, and yet you leave her to the sister of your dead wife to bring up. What kind of love is it that throws children away?'
Siobhan whimpered as Walker adjusted his grip. 'Daddy?'
Delaney forced a reassuring smile. 'It's all right, sweetheart, everything is going to be okay.'
'Closure, Delaney. It's time for closure.'
'Why me?'
Walker laughed. 'Because nobody cares about you, Jack. Least of all yourself.'
Delaney looked into Walker's eyes; they were cold, intelligent and quite insane. He was sure of that. He ran through his options. If he reached into his jacket for his gun, Walker would shoot him before he had time to clear it. He calculated the distance between him and Walker. Did he have time to reach the superintendent before he pulled the trigger?
Walker read his mind and smiled. 'Don't even think about it.'
'Give it up, Walker. This makes no sense. I've spoken to people. They know what's going on. There is no way you can just walk away from all this.'
Walker laughed again. 'You've spoken to no one, Jack. No one of any importance. You have no credibility. You haven't had for years. I've got a squad car round the corner. A forensic team. My people. Trust me, this will all be taken care of and it will all be down to you, Cowboy. Everything and everyone. Closure.'
Walker's eyes hardened as Delaney heard footsteps behind him and Kate stepped into the room, Kevin Norrell's gun held in both hands and pointing at her uncle's head. 'Drop the gun now or I swear I'll kill you.'
Walker ignored her, keeping his attention focused on Delaney. 'Goodness me, Cowboy. Is this your new mount?'
Kate pushed her hands forward, her aim unwavering.
Walker brushed the back of his hand across his cheek. 'She used to be as pretty as your daughter once upon a time, Jack. Gave me this little scar late one night, so I could never forget how pretty.'
'If you don't think I'll do it, you're wrong. Drop the gun and step away from the little girl.'
Walker shook his head. 'You could pull the trigger, I'd still have time to kill her.' He looked back at Delaney. 'Here's the deal. You tell Kate to put down her gun or I will kill your daughter. Do you believe me?'
Jack looked into his eyes and did.
'Tell Kate to put the gun down, Jack. Or I will do it.'
Delaney looked over at Kate. Her long hair falling over her forehead in a curly tumble, her eyes bright with pure, glittering hatred as she stared at her uncle and said, 'I'm not going to put the gun down.'
The scream seemed to hang in the air like a parachute, the sound ripping into Delaney's consciousness like a dousing of ice-cold water as he realised what he was doing. But it was too late. The shotgun blasted, fire and destruction hurtling from both barrels towards their car. The windscreen shattering, the front nearside tyre ripping apart, the car spinning out of control. The screaming blended with the screech of brakes and the crumpling of metal as the car smashed into a barrier. Delaney was out of the car, oblivious to the people rushing towards them. Oblivious to the shouts and the screams, as though he was cocooned in an impenetrable fog. He had his wife in his arms and he could barely see for the tears in his eyes as he laid her on the forecourt floor. Her curly hair fanning around her head like a nimbus. The blood pooled a little behind her head as he took his jacket off to make a pillow. And he said a prayer, for the first time in twenty-five years, pleading with God not to let her die. He knew it was all his fault. He could have stopped being a policeman for one minute but he didn't, and now his wife was dying on a cold petrol station floor. As the petrol station manager called an ambulance, Delaney held on to his wife's hand as if he could transfuse his own life into her, and he begged God to make it so.
'Come on, Jack.'
Jack looked up as Father O'Connell held the door to the vestry open and nodded, resigned. The man's wind-scraped face and rough white beard made him look more than ever like a visitation from a tortured place. Jack shivered again despite himself as he walked into the room.
Father O'Connell shut the door behind him and pointed to a pair of armchairs that sat alongside a tall bookcase. 'Sit down there.'
Jack sat in one of the armchairs and Father O'Connell in the other, picking up a Bible from the table in front of him.
'Do you know what the Bible is, Jack?'
'I do, Father.'
'Then you're a wiser man than most. And do you know what a priest is, boy?'
'It's a holy man, Father.'
Father O'Connell laughed. 'Indeed he should be.' He patted the book in his hand. 'You see, the Bible is a collection of stories. Hundreds of stories that teach us all how to live. Each and every one of them for a different crossroads, a different hurdle in life. A different decision to make. Do you understand, boy?'
Jack nodded, not sure that he could keep the lie from his voice if he answered out loud.
'And part of a priest's job, if you like, is to prescribe a particular story to a person when he needs it. Like a doctor prescribing medicine. Do you see?'
Jack nodded again.
'So the stories in the Bible are like spiritual prescriptions to cure spiritual ills. A dose of medicine that cures the black spots on your soul.'
He leaned forward, fixing Jack with his wild bloodshot eyes. 'So tell me truly, Jack. Do you believe in the Devil?'
'I do, Father.'
'I see the lie in your eyes, boy. But my job is to make you realise that he exists. He lives, breathes and walks amongst us.' He leaned in closer so that Jack could smell the musty wine on his breath, see the yellow tobacco stains on his crooked teeth, the passion dancing in his eyes like a jig, like a reel.
'My job is to make you believe in the Devil, boy.'
'Time's up, Jack.'
Delaney blinked. He looked at Siobhan, her eyes pleading, her voice muted by terror, then across at Kate, her hands steady, her eyes cold as an executioner's.
'Put the gun down, Kate.'
Kate hesitated for a moment.
Walker stared across at Delaney. 'See that look in your daughter's eyes, Jack? She's terrified. Jackie Malone had that look. Just before she died.'
Delaney turned back to Kate. 'Please…'
Kate still didn't take her eyes from her uncle, fury sparking from them as her hand trembled a little, then she slowly lowered the gun to the floor and stood up again.
'You see, she can be a good girl when she wants to be.' Walker smiled at Delaney, then turned back to his niece, still smiling as his finger tightened on his gun's trigger, and shot her twice in the chest.
Kate flew backwards, gasping with shock as she crashed to the floor.
Walker's smile broadened and then died as he suddenly cried out in surprised pain, and looked down to see Andy twisting the cook's knife in his side. Siobhan screamed and broke free of Walker's grasp as he staggered back, grabbing hold of the knife handle and watching the blood flow over his fingers. He turned to Andy, who watched him emotionlessly. 'Why?'