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Now, I assume you're all curious how this goes on...

Chapter 42

After only driving for a couple of minutes, the van came to a halt on a quiet street right next to the shabby bed and breakfast where Ciaran O'Neill was believed to be staying and in his head, John went over the events of the past few days. The London police had missed the photos and he couldn't blame them. If it hadn't been for Kate's idea and Osgood pointing straight at O'Neill's face, John would have missed it, too, but now, the resemblance between the driver and their suspect was too much to ignore. A couple of phone calls later, they had received a location and a warrant for O'Neill's arrest. Despite it being a team effort, John couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself because he had been the one to point them in the suspect's direction in the first place. Right now, they had very little to actually connect him to Bonnie's death, but they would get to that eventually – as soon as they had arrested him.

What John had gathered from the photographs was a feasible explanation. The driver had parked nearby as Danny Pink still stood on the pavement, talking to a woman whose face was obscured completely. The second showed the accident immediately before it happened. The car had been heading straight towards Danny while he had stood in the middle of the road, bracing himself for the impact that was mere seconds away. John had also noticed the woman on her knees and he remembered what he had learned about the accident beforehand – that Danny Pink had pushed someone out of the way and he knew that it had to be her. Sadly, he could never see her face, but he could tell from her hair and the shape of her small body that it could only be Clara's twin. These photographs were proof that his theory had been correct.

John turned around and he felt reassured by the two armed men in the back of the van, but what worried him wasn't the presence of guns, it was the woman driving the car.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked carefully.

Kate's head turned and she shot him a dark look. "I'm fine," she hissed.

Still, John wasn't entirely convinced. Kate was a strong woman and he had no doubt that she would recover fully, but it had only been a few days since the attack and even though office work might have been alright, going out to chase suspects was probably not something she should be doing just yet. With the armed team to cover his back, John would have been just fine. "You can probably wait in the car. I can-"

"John, if you don't cut that out right now, it's you who will be waiting in the car," Kate replied, her voice sharp and determined and John instantly closed his mouth and shut up when his boss drew out her gun and inspected it before slipping it neatly into the holster. "Any questions?"

John swallowed. "Nope, I'm alright."

"Alright, listen up!" Kate announced loudly, turning around to speak to everyone in the car. "Our target is Ciaran O'Neill. He is a suspect in two deaths and a possible member of the IRA and I have every intention of locking him up in a cell today. We have to assume that he is armed and dangerous, but he has never openly attacked a member of the police. Pay attention and do not fire unless O'Neill gives you a reason."

The men in the back nodded and following Kate's lead, the group left the car and headed towards the bed and breakfast. John looked up at the building and figured that it had seen better days, but he had learned not to judge a book by its cover. However, the interior was just as run-down as the outside. The wallpaper was old-fashioned, stained and the layer of dust on it showed that it had neither been cleaned nor replaced in a very long time. John followed Kate as she approached the reception desk which looked equally dusty and the little bell that sat on top of the counter looked to be something he would rather not touch. His boss didn't seem to be very impressed by the grime as she stepped forward and rang for the receptionist. As they waited, John used the time to look around. This bed and breakfast was not a place he would ever stay at, no matter how desperate he was. He would rather take his chances and sleep in the backseat of his car. That would most certainly be more hygienic.

He heard a rough, rattling cough coming from the back, followed by shuffling steps and they waited for an agonisingly long time before an old man stepped through the door and came to a halt behind the counter. He coughed again and John recognised the sounds coming from the wrecked lungs of a lifelong smoker. The old man cleared his throat.

"Hello," he greeted them crossly, as if the early visit was a nuisance more than anything else. "What can I do for you?"

In response, Kate showed him her warrant card. "We would like to speak to one of your guests. We have reason to believe that a man named Ciaran O'Neill is staying here at the moment."

The man cleared his throat once again, the air rattling in his throat. "He has a room, aye. But I haven't seen him in a few days."

"Is that unusual?" John wanted to know.

The receptionist shrugged. "Not really, but you see people come and go occasionally."

"This is a bed and breakfast, right?" Kate asked and John watched her frown. "Doesn't that usually include breakfast? I assume you'd see him there."

The old man suddenly gasped for air, following by a loud, rattling cough. John exchanged looks with Kate while the coughing fit went on and he tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the man to continue.

"We don't offer breakfast anymore," he explained eventually, still gasping for breath. "We did. My wife used to cook every morning, but she's not so good on her feet anymore."

That would explain the state of the place, John thought, but he knew better than to say it aloud. Instead, he watched as Kate drew out their warrant and laid it on the counter so the old man could read it.

"We have a warrant for Mr O'Neill's arrest and to search his room," she said and waited while the man adjusted his glasses on his nose and bent over the piece of paper to read it. "If you could provide us with a key, that would be very helpful."

The old man looked shocked, to say the least, but complied without protest and once they were handed the spare key, John followed as Kate led the way up the stairs where the owner of the bed and breakfast had told them they would find Ciaran O'Neill's room. Once they were out of sight of the old man, Kate reached for her gun and held it at her side just in case while John simply held his breath. The team wasn't exactly quiet and he knew that if Ciaran O'Neill was already awake, he would most likely hear them coming. If he did, it was likely that he had chosen not to answer when they knocked on his door out of politeness. Kate turned around and they exchanged a glance as they waited for a reply, but when nothing happened, there was only one thing left to do. Kate used the key to unlock the door and John braced himself for the worst.

As the door swung open, Kate raised her weapon and pointed it into the room while John took shelter behind one of the armed men, but to his surprise, nothing happened. The room was empty.

Their first steps were careful and only after Kate had confirmed that there was no one hiding in the bathroom or anywhere else in the room did John finally enter and he looked around to see a complete mess. It was obvious that Ciaran O'Neill had left in a hurry because he had left things behind; things like several dirty socks on the floor and a packet of cigarettes on the bedside table, but his suitcase and wallet were missing which led him to believe that their suspect was unlikely to return. Somehow, he must have known they were coming for him.

"Look at this," Kate said and when John turned around, he saw that she had opened a couple of drawers and obviously found something of interest because a few seconds later, she pulled out a folder. "He must have left it behind by accident."

John crossed the room and looked over Kate's shoulder to see what the folder contained, but as she opened it, his heart skipped a beat. At last, they had found their missing link.

"There must be forty or fifty of these in here," his boss breathed as she skimmed through the photographs that were obviously taken over the span of several months. Photos depicting Bonnie, Belfast, London.. and finally, Kirkwall. Ciaran O'Neill had followed her.

"We're going to take these to the station and examine them," Kate said and closed the folder just as John spotted something, but he wasn't fast enough to determine whether his mind had played a trick on him or not. Then again, it was hard to tell them apart. "I'm going to tell the owner to call us in case O'Neill comes back."

"Hang on!" John interrupted her frantically and tore the folder out of her hands. He skimmed through the pictures to go back to the one he had glimpsed before because he had to know. He had to make sure, but he dearly hoped that he was wrong. By now, his heart was hammering in his chest as a terrible possibility occurred to him and when he finally found the photograph again, his heart sank into his boots when he saw the school and Clara's small figure as she entered the building. Ciaran O'Neill hadn't just followed Bonnie around. He had followed Clara, too, which meant that she was in grave danger.