I’d almost lost Rosie then, and by some miracle that hadn’t happened, not that night anyway.
But the problem was—and this was something I wasn’t yet able to process—as things stood, I still didn’t know if I was going to lose her anyway.
And there was no way I would allow Madeleine Cooper to get away with that.
Declan sat quietly in his chair, watching me, as if he knew I was coming to a decision of sorts.
“Like I said, I really think that you should go off and think seriously about this. And, in the meantime, I believe I should also do my due diligence. I never want to lead any client, or potential client, down the wrong path. As far as I’m concerned, Kate, this is a two-way street. You have to be comfortable with me, but I also have to be comfortable with you. Sound fair?”
I nodded. There was something inherently reassuring about this approach, as if a partnership of sorts was being proposed.
And, for the first time in weeks, I began to feel a little more in control.
“And while you do consider everything and really think about the angles, is there anyone else who can give you a hand—with the day-to-day stuff?” he inquired. He was obviously referring to my situation, my home life and whether I had anyone—besides Lucy or Christine—to lean on. It was an honest question—and a simple one to answer, really—but it hit me like a truck.
No, there wasn’t anyone like that. My husband was dead, I had no siblings, my parents were elderly and had a life of their own some three hundred kilometers away. Notwithstanding the fact that I was almost forty years old and I couldn’t—wouldn’t—expect anyone else to upend their lives just to help me out.
I crossed my hands on the polished oak table and stared at them. These hands had been doing everything on their own for the last two years. Because they had to.
I straightened my shoulders and looked Declan right in the eye. “I’m not a victim,” I said simply.
I wasn’t sure if that answered his question. But it certainly answered the one that had been bumping around my own head lately.
Declan’s arresting eyes studied my face. His gaze was intent, steady. “I wouldn’t have thought for a second that you were.”
19
Realizing that the sun was setting in Glencree and his office was growing dark, Declan reached forward and flipped on the lamp perched on his desk corner. He quickly pulled back the sleeve of his shirt to check the time and then rubbed his eyes tiredly.
Ever since Kate O’Hara had left his office that morning, he had immersed himself in searching for precedent on cases similar to what had been presented to him.
This could be a monster project—emotionally, legally, politically, even. It had all of the touch points of something that could be big—precedent-setting, in fact. The kind of case he’d dreamed about when he was a student.
But instead of groundbreaking, law-changing civil work that had been Declan’s passion, he’d been stuck on conveyancing, land-registry technicalities and the endless right-of-way issues that so many Irish people relished fighting over. Granted, that had always been the bread and butter of his father’s practice and it paid the bills, so Declan couldn’t complain, but for once he longed to work on something that really got the synapses firing.
Kate O’Hara’s situation could be it.
“Knock, knock” came a voice from the doorway, his sister Alison—a twenty-one-year-old UCD law student in her final year, who helped out now and again to bulk up her experience. “Why are you still here this late of an evening?”
Declan pulled his gaze away from his computer screen and turned to face her. “Just doing a bit of research. That’s all.”
“On what?” Alison asked, entering the room. Her brow was furrowed; she was obviously trying to figure out what pressing boundary dispute he would be working on so late.
“It’s a case, a potential one. Hey, remember when you were in the States last year and that MMR vaccination trial was going on?”
“The one where the dad took the mother to court for not vaccinating? Of course. Why do you ask?” Her eyes widened with interest. “Something similar on the cards here? Wow.”
“Kind of, but not the same. Christine brought in a woman from Knockroe today. Her daughter wasn’t vaccinated and now she’s in a coma. Measles.”
“What? Why wasn’t the poor thing vaccinated?” Alison asked, making a distasteful face. She reached into her pocket and extracted a rubber band in order to pull her jet-black hair up into a messy ponytail. “Don’t tell me, the dad’s the anti-vaxxer.”
“No, that’s not it. Seems her daughter couldn’t be vaccinated when she was a baby due to allergies. But another girl got sick and passed the disease on to Kate’s daughter at school, and it seems the other family are the anti-vaxxers.”
Alison pursed her lips in disapproval. “Unbelievable. What is wrong with people? You know, I’ve always said it was only a matter of time until something like this happened. But wow, Declan, sounds like an amazing case! Can I help—please? I would give my right arm to—”
Declan put his hands on the desk and tapped his fingers as if playing an invisible drum. “It’s not even a case yet, though I do think there’s something there. Apparently, the other mother knowingly sent the kid to school while infectious—not that she intended any harm, I’m sure, but—”
“Willful negligence. But how can we prove that she did so—”
