‘Well, don’t you think…’ She looks at me, waiting for me to be enlightened about something. Then she whispers, ‘Do you think you might suggest to the detectives that it was maybe…’ She checks once more no one has arrived before whispering, ‘Maybe the poor girl took her own life, Tara. She had a history of mental health issues and…’ She pauses, then turns away and walks out to the front of the shop saying, ‘That’s what Eamon found out anyway. I hope it’s of use to you.’

I don’t want to burst Muriel’s bubble by telling her there was a large heavy steel lid that Avril would have had to close after she jumped into the ten foot pit, so I follow her out to the shop and thank her for finding out what she could for me.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Sean pushes on the door of the station and tells me once again not to be nervous, that this is all just procedure. I get some strength from making eye contact with his relaxed expression but not enough to unravel the knot in my stomach. He tells me to wait while he goes to the reception and announces who he is and who he’s there to see. Then he nods at me to come with him through a door that someone clicks open for us.

On the way over, I told Sean what Muriel had said but he assured me it was not my responsibility to uncover the events that led to Avril Ryan’s death. He said he’d see what he could find out if there was a court case but that rumours and scenarios would be rife in this situation. The best thing I could do was ignore anything I heard that didn’t come from a reliable source. I didn’t want to tell him I considered her brother a reliable source because that would make me look ungrateful. And I’m not ungrateful. I’m extremely grateful he’s helping me.

Sean has been here before. He knows exactly where to go without any instructions. He leads me down a corridor, opens a door and next thing I know I’m sitting in front of a large desk with Sean beside me. Detective Lee and Detective Mullins stare across from the other side of the desk. There’s a file open in front of them but I can’t read any of it from where I’m sitting.

The room has no windows and is staggeringly bright. My body feels like it’s on charge. Every inch of me is trembling. If I could bottle fear, I’d be filling a keg.