Unexpectedly, I feel tears well in my eyes. As I blink, one falls, rolling down my cheek, and I exhale a long, shuddering breath.

He blinks. Pulls his hand away as if he has been burned. Shaking his head, he mutters that he’ll just get dressed and heads for the bathroom.

He doesn’t come back into the living room when he is done. I just hear the door close as he leaves the building.

I don’t go after him.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ingrid

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I haven’t felt settled since Declan left and I’ve barely slept. It takes extra time in front of the mirror and a more liberal application than usual of concealer and Touche Éclat under my eyes to make me look half human.

I opt for an extra shot in my morning coffee, which might add to my jittery feelings, but I need it – otherwise I fear I might fall asleep at my desk.

Thankfully, work has been busy and that has given me little time to focus on the growing bubble of unease in the pit of my stomach. My story with the Doherty family has gained traction and is being widely shared around local social media accounts. I’ve been asked to speak on local BBC Radio about it, and my editor, Jane, has emailed me to congratulate me and say she is now ‘super excited’ to work on the book with me.

Ryan is keeping his distance, which is unusual for him. I imagine he’s brooding about that awful incident with Liam yesterday in reception. But as much as he will be annoyed at how close he came to losing his lead story and annoying the close-knit Creggan community, he knows that I did the right thing. He knows sales of the paper will be up.

In fact, the wholesalers have put out extra copies to newsagents in Creggan and the city centre. Our website hits are soaring and our Facebook page is hopping with people offering their condolences to the Dohertys. They are sharing their memories of that time, calling Jamesy Harte all the names under the sun. Some are threatening to chase him down and ‘do what should have been done years ago’.

I’ve been kept busy moderating the whole thing. Hiding those threatening comments. Replying to incoming messages to say no, we do not know Jamesy Harte’s whereabouts and even if we did, we would not release it to the public. That it is a matter of public safety.

I know I’m lying about not knowing his whereabouts but it’s the right thing to do.

By the time 5 p.m. approaches, I’m tired and my nerves about meeting Niall have started to kick in.