Leesa nods enthusiastically, never one to let a small thing like not actually living in Oakpark get in the way of a night out.
“I don’t think I can make it, unfortunately,” I say. I can’t think of anything worse than hanging out with neighbors right now.
Moira pouts a little. “Oh. Well, I’m helping Juliette Sullivan organizeit—please do come if you can. We’ve got a loan of some speakers for the music and heaps of wine. It’s going to beepic.”
I nod and smile. “OK, I’ll try.” She won’t even notice I’m not there on the night.
On a round wicker tray, there’s a cafetière, three cups on saucers, and a plate of shortbread fingers.
“Sorry, all I have are biscuits, I meant to pop to the shop before you arrived but my husband didn’t make it back in time and no way was I taking the kids.” She does an exaggerated shudder and Leesa and I smile.
“So,” Moira says, pouring coffee for each of us, “you want to know about Cody Geary?”
Leesa nods. “Yes. And look, if it’s hard for you to talk about—”
Moira cuts her off with a wave. “I don’t mind. And if Cody’s done something else, I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Right. We’re not sure if he’s done anything, but I guess the more information we have, the better. To give you some context—you may have seen Susan’s message about the Gearys?”
I flush, and Moira nods.
“I did.” She turns to me. “And everything you said was true, so don’t worry one bit.”
I force a small smile.
Leesa continues. “We’re concerned about some threats Susan’s been getting, and wondering if it’s linked to the message and one of the Gearys. Maybe Cody.” We had agreed on the way over we wouldn’t mention Savannah Holmes. “Would you be able to tell us about what happened with Cody when he babysat for you?”
“Sure.” Moira’s lips tighten. “You obviously know some of it, despite the Gearys’ desperate efforts to cover it up. We had asked for Nika to babysit, but she couldn’t do that night, so Celeste offered Cody. At first I wasn’t sure—he was only fourteen—but we were just popping for pizzadown the road and would be two hours max. So I said yes. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
From inside the house, a door slams, and a girl aged about eight or nine comes out.
“Mum, Senan is sitting on the remote and won’t let me change the channel.”
“Can you watch what he’s watching?”
“No way, it’s for babies. Can you tell him to give me the remote?”
Moira grits her teeth. “In a minute, Tilly. I’m just talking to our neighbors for a sec.”
The little girl sighs and slopes off, cross but resigned, it seems.
“That’s Tilly. She told us what happened when we got home that night.” Moira shakes her head. “God, when I think of it…Anyway. Cody arrived and we went out, all fine, but then apparently Senan wouldn’t go to bed when Cody told him to, and things got out of hand. Obviously, Cody should have tried reasoning with him and then threatened to call us and then he should have actually called us, but it seems to have escalated way beyond that and, all of a sudden, Cody had locked Senan out in the garden.” Tears glisten. “Sorry.” She waves a hand in front of her face, composing herself. “Senan was distraught, as any four-year-old would be, and he decided to try to find us. He walked through the side gate, out to the front, and started along the path”—she points, indicating her neighbor’s house—“and as he passed next door—” She stops and swallows, unable to speak now.
“Take your time,” Leesa says gently.
“God! I honestly thought I could tell this without getting upset any more!” Moira lets out a slow breath and rubs her hands on her lap. “OK. Next door, Paddy—our neighbor—was reversing out and Senan was hit.” The word “hit” comes out in a whisper. She clears her throat. “We got a call from Paddy while he was waiting for the ambulance. Luckily, we were so near, we got home in like, ten minutes, but Jesus Christ, I’ll neverforget it. Never forget seeing Senan’s tiny body crumpled on the ground. I thought he was…you know.”
The first time I heard the story, it sounded like hearing a news report or watching something on TV. Removed. This time, it feels all too real.
“But he was OK?” Leesa asks.
“Yes. Bruising, broken rib, concussion. Thank god Paddy was reversing so slowly.”
“And did you talk to Cody?”
“I couldn’t bear to. My husband did. I never want to see him again.” Her eyes spark with anger. “What kind of psychopath does that to a four-year-old child? Locks them out at ten o’clock at night? Because he couldn’t get Senan to go to bed? Apparently Cody wanted to watch something on TV and Senan was insisting on watching something else.” She waves toward the house. “A bit like just now, but even Tilly, who is eight, knows that sometimes you just suck it up. You don’t lock a child out.”
“And what did the Gearys say?”
