The Good Mother by Rae Cairns

Author:Rae Cairns
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-03-08T00:00:00+00:00

18

Sarah retrieved the package of drugs from the Peugeot’s boot, then returned to her room and buried them at the bottom of her backpack. She filled the rest of the bag with clothes. She focused only on the steps of her plan, on what she needed to do next, not allowing Evan’s suffering or the debris of her relationship with Riley to gain traction. Riley could dislike her, he could hate her if he had to, but no harm would come to him.

Not the way it had to Gerry and Evan.

She opened the safe, removed the box Max had left at reception, peeled the lid open and reached in. Her fingers clasped around the grip of the pistol Max had arranged for her. Her pulse tripped as she discarded the box. Sitting on the bed, she slid the black 9mm Smith and Wesson M&P Shield from its moulded plastic holster. She turned it over in her palm, testing its weight. Light, compact and, just like the one she’d trained with in Sydney, easy to fire. Too easy.

Apprehension spread up her back. Maybe she shouldn’t take it with her? She’d only ever shot at paper targets, not real flesh and blood. Her lips pressed together. It might be more dangerous to have it. Then she pictured Evan unconscious in intensive care.

She reholstered the weapon and put it in her handbag. If she had to, she’d use it.

She checked her watch. 5 am. Before she picked up the white Fiesta it was vital she confirmed no one was following her; she would need to visit a diversionary location first. The detour would also provide an opportunity to do the one thing she should have done when she first arrived in Belfast. Visit Gerry’s grave. Paying her respects was one failure she could address. She grabbed her overnight duffle and handbag and left the room.

Sarah stepped out of her black Peugeot into the cemetery car park, her handbag over her shoulder, clutching the lilies she’d managed to find at a 24-hour Spar on the way. She locked the car with the remote then dropped the key in her bag. With the thick mist of dawn as her only companion, she pushed through a wrought iron gate and stepped under the high sandstone archway of Milltown Cemetery. She cradled the flowers, making her way along the uneven grey roadway, its surface shiny and slippery underfoot. Her hand clutched the stems as more and more plots rose from the thick white air. There were so many. Headstone after headstone, the dates of death getting more recent the further she walked in. Her elbows hugged her body as she moved through the sweet scents of other flowers left at the gravesides.

She turned down a small aisle and damp grass squelched under her feet. Scanning each headstone in earnest now, she searched for one name.

At the end of the row she found it. A two-metre-high granite Gaelic cross watched over a plot of well-tended grass.

Gerry McCann

1979–1997

Beloved Son

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