Chapter 47

With a large cup of coffee in his hands, John trudged towards his office, his legs achy and leaden. Maybe it was the weather or maybe he should have tried to get some sleep instead of wondering why Clara had acted so strangely. This morning, however, she seemed to have been over whatever had bothered her yesterday. They had joked over breakfast and she had laughed at him for forgetting to go to the supermarket, not at all cross that she had to eat a dry slice of toast. That unadulterated laugh, that honest smile and the sparkle in her eyes had instantly swept away his doubt. Yet now that he had dropped her off at work with the promise of picking her up right after school, John simply felt tired. Or maybe he was just getting old.

Kate was already waiting by his office door – as was a large box – and John didn't need a lot of imagination to know what he would find in it. It carried a sticker that labelled it as evidence and right now, he regretted not bringing a second cup of coffee. He would certainly need it because he was looking at a whole day of sorting and examining photographs.

"Morning," Kate greeted him. She didn't smile, but she also didn't give off the impression that she was still holding a grudge against him for stealing the van the previous day. "Ready to dig through Ciaran O'Neill's extensive collection of stalker photos?"

John took a sip of his coffee, cursing instantly as the almost scalding brew burned his lips. It was too hot to drink. "Yeah," he hissed. "Bring it on."

After unlocking the door, John stepped inside his office, followed by Kate who set down the box right on his desk. There was no chance he could avoid going through them all today.

"Any news about O'Neill?" John wanted to know, blowing on his hot drink to cool it down.

His boss shrugged. "Not sure. They picked someone up last night. He caused trouble at the harbour," she explained, blowing the air out between her teeth. "I'm going to go and see if it's our favourite stalker islash/i murder suspect."

By the tone of her voice, John could tell that Kate didn't actually believe it. Ciaran O'Neill wouldn't cause trouble if he could avoid it. If their theories were right, he had managed to kill at least two people, one of which he had stalked for months, and he had got away with it. A man like that would lie low until a chance at escape presented itself. However, there was no escape from this island on any official route. As soon as he showed up at the harbour or airport, the police would arrive before he had the chance to board a vessel. But a man like Ciaran O'Neill would know that also. John just couldn't believe he would get caught so easily.

Once Kate had left, John took a large sip from his coffee mug and opened the box, determined to sort through the photos. There had to be a lead in there somewhere, something that would help them find O'Neill. The first photo he took out was one of Bonnie, taken when she was leaving a house – probably somewhere in London. Nothing that was of interest to them right now. The second photo was the one he had already seen at the bed and breakfast, the one of Clara in front of her school and John tried his best to suppress the rage that instantly rose up inside of him. He had dealt with murderers before, with thieves, with all sorts of scum, but this was a whole different kind of messed up. There was almost something perverted about the way Ciaran O'Neill had followed Bonnie and Clara around, taking photos when they had believed themselves to be unobserved. John vowed that the next time he saw him, Ciaran O'Neill would get more than a punch in the face for what he had done.

The next photo he took from the box was even worse as it showed Clara in front of her house, eyes closed, soaking up what little warmth the winter sun was giving her and John was ready to discard the photo when something held him back. Something wasn't right and John felt it long before he knew what exactly was bothering him. He frowned and took a closer look. For almost five minutes, John didn't take his eyes off the photograph.

The longer he looked the more convinced he became that the woman in the picture wasn't Clara at all but Bonnie. Yet even though he had registered it, his mind wouldn't accept the fact because it made no sense. Clara hadn't known Bonnie. There was no reason for Bonnie to be standing in front of her house. And yet it was Bonnie without a doubt. The way she wore her hair, the expression on her face, the clothes – even though they looked alike, none of it reminded him of Clara in the least. Over the past few weeks, John had studied her. Not in a scientific manner, but because he wanted to get to know her. He had paid close attention to the details of her face, the way she frowned and the way she smiled because he was desperate to know what it meant and the expression he was seeing on the photo was not one he had ever seen on Clara. John wasn't sure what it meant, but the person in the picture was not Clara.

John almost dropped the photo in surprise when the door suddenly burst open and Kate walked back into the room. His mind still flooded with the possibilities of what his find could imply, John dropped the photo on the stack with the other discarded ones.

"Negative," Kate said with a heavy sigh as she closed the door behind her.

John had no idea what she was talking about, so he frowned at her. "Negative?" he enquired.

His boss seemed annoyed, to say the least, and she rolled her eyes at him. "The man they caught is not Ciaran O'Neill. He's a teenager and only just starting to sober up."

"Oh," John replied, not knowing what else to say. Of course, they had talked about Ciaran O'Neill before. Kate had left to see if they had caught him.

"What about you?" Kate suddenly asked. "Found anything useful?"

While working this case, John had already been caught withholding evidence once and it would be a stupid idea to do it again. But he knew what would happen if he didn't. Kate had only just stopped treating Clara as a suspect and telling her who the woman in the photograph really was would most definitely make her reconsider investigating in that direction. John couldn't allow that. He had to figure out by himself what it meant, why Bonnie had been photographed in front of Clara's house and he refused to believe in the worst-case scenario until he had confirmation.

"No," he lied instead. "Nothing."

Still, Kate didn't seem entirely convinced or maybe she just wanted to have a look at the photos herself, but she approached his desk and picked up the one photo he had just stared at for five minutes. His boss regarded it for a long moment and John felt his heart sink. She wouldn't see it, would she?

"I'm going to put that stalker behind bars," Kate eventually said, her voice sharp and determined as she dropped the photo back on the stack. "He will not leave this island except in handcuffs."

His sigh was inaudible when John leaned back in his chair. They were so close to solving this case once and for all and yet, John felt as if he was still missing a large piece of the puzzle. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, somehow, Clara was involved in it.