Except she couldn’t do it. It mattered too much, and the unfairness of it would catch in her throat. And then there was Martin. The way he’d looked at her in that room. He’d been . . . excited. No affection in his eyes, just heat, and a sort of sparking anticipation. He’d known she was upset by the news he’d just delivered. Is that what got him going? Oh God. Carrie turned over onto her stomach and buried her face in her pillow. She hadn’t even been able to tell Aifric. What if it was all in her head? All he’d done was rub her cheek a bit. Maybe it was his awkward way of trying to comfort her?

Fifteen minutes later, Carrie gave up on sleep, climbed out of bed, and dressed. She made some lunch and ate it, then sat and stared out the window. Thought about Robert Collins, thought about Séan, until an idea came to her. Maybe there was a way she could make everything all right. Carrie stood, grabbed her coat, and left the flat, pulling the door shut behind her. She needed to keep moving. If she thought about this too much, she might lose her nerve.

The house on Abingdon Road, Malahide, was hopelessly overshadowed by its neighbors. It was an ordinary nineteen seventies bungalow, its small garden uninspired but neatly tended. The neighboring houses were, almost uniformly, mansions. Recent builds with vast gardens, pale biscuit-colored brickwork, and graceful regency facades. Carrie walked quickly up the driveway and knocked briskly on the door. The woman who answered looked, at first glance, to be in her midsixties.

“Mrs. Ross?” Carrie asked.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m looking for the mother of Evelyn Ross. Mrs. Mary Ross?”

“I . . . yes, I’m Evelyn’s mother.”

“Mrs. Ross, I’m sorry to bother you. But I’m a garda.” Carrie took out her badge and showed it to her. Mary was holding the door between them as if it were a shield, leaving only a narrow gap. It looked as though she might press it closed at any moment. “I’m investigating a recent murder, and I’m hoping you might be able to help me.”

“A murder?”

“Yes.”

“Around here? In Malahide, you mean?”

“No, Dublin. In the city.”

“I don’t know how I could be of any help to you. I haven’t been into Dublin since last year.” Mary’s brow creased. “But you mentioned Evelyn. This has something to do with her? Is she all right?”

“She’s fine. Sorry, I should have said. I saw her just yesterday, and she was absolutely fine.”

Relief did not bloom in Mary Ross’s eyes. She stared out through the gap between the door and its frame, anxiety still creasing her brow.

“What’s she done? What’s Evelyn done?”

“Could I come inside? So we could talk privately? I won’t bother you for very long. Only, it’s a little cold out here.” Carrie shivered and gave Mary an embarrassed half-smile.