Page 8 of The Last Bench

‘My mind is officially blown at that thought. To find someone you love at such an early age, and spend a lifetime together . . . It’s couple goals! What’s your secret?’ Vega asked.

‘Love. Simple as that,’ Anne said, without hesitation. ‘We’ve had a good life, but parts of it have been incredibly heartbreaking. The kind of sorrow that rips right through a family, tearing them apart. Love was the glue that held us together. Through thick and thin. I know there were times when John didn’t like how I behaved, disagreed with my impulsivity, but he never stopped loving me.’

Anne and John shared another of their knowing glances. Vega sensed they were concealing a great deal. What secrets did these two hold?

‘There’s nothing you could do to make me stop loving you,’ John said, picking up Anne’s hand and kissing it lightly. He turned to Vega and added, ‘Anne has summed it all up beautifully. But I’ll add this, which is what I shared in my wedding speech for each of my kids when they got married: there will be days when it’s easy to love each other – treasure them. But in the dark moments you need to show up for each other. Because it will seem easier to walk away. Fight for your marriage. And never quit loving one another.’

Vega slumped back into the bench, exhaling deeply. ‘That’s powerful. Thank you. I’ll carry that advice with me always.’

But her mind went back to two words John had said.

Dark moments.

The more this lovely couple spoke, the more her gut instinct told her that there was a story, hidden, lurking in the background.

Seven

Anne

25 August 1998

Anne insisted that John have that shot of whiskey. He had gone as white as a sheet as she recounted her steps to kidnap Hinges. They were still huddled in the corner of their hallway, but at least while he sipped his drink the colour returned to his cheeks.

‘What’s your big plan, then, Anne?’

‘I want him to confess. To us, the Grants and the hundreds of kids he’s helped on their way to addiction.’

John nodded, understanding this need. ‘Then what?’

‘Well, I’ve got our camcorder hidden behind my cookbooks on the dresser. I’ll switch it on when we go in.’

‘And you think that he’s going to admit what he’s done?’ John asked incredulously.

‘Probably not. We’ll need to offer him some incentive. I thought you could do that.’

‘I assume you’ve figured out how I’ll do that too?’

Anne didn’t appreciate the sarcastic tone her husband had taken. But she decided to give him a pass. He was still adjusting to their situation here. She flashed John her brightest smile. ‘I’ve made a list.’ She opened her pink notebook again. ‘We’ll do good cop, bad cop. He hates me already, so I might as well stick with the bad-cop role. You can pretend to be on his side.’ She flicked through the pages towards the middle of the notebook and found the page she was searching for. She began to read the tips she’d listed down. ‘Stay calm. Speak to him in a gentle tone of voice. Make him trust you. You can give him some water. Just a sip now, because we might need to use thirst and hunger as a method of persuasion. He didn’t get to eat his Abrakebabra earlier. I bet that’s annoying him.’

John rolled his eyes as she snapped her notebook shut.

‘And if my gentle tone doesn’t make him open up, what then?’

‘Time for the bad cop, of course!’ Anne said. Honestly, she would have thought that was obvious. ‘If you can’t get him to talk, then I’ll tell him that I’m going to kill him.’ Anne felt a shiver run down her spine, and her damn hands began to shake again. She shoved them behind her back quickly.

John’s face crumpled, and for a moment she thought her big bear of a husband might weep.

‘This isn’t you, Anne,’ John said softly.

‘Oh, but it is, John,’ she sighed. She thought about the years she had spent dreaming of seeing that man meet his end. ‘It won’t be difficult to persuade Hinges that I am serious. Some days, the idea of killing him is the only thing that keeps me going. And don’t tell me you haven’t thought the same.’

The flicker in John’s eyes confirmed her words. He moved towards Anne and gently lifted her chin with his hand. ‘Doesn’t matter what we have both thought, we are not going to kill him. That’s not who we are.’

Anne sighed, hearing the truth in John’s words. ‘No, we’re not killers. But the point is that he doesn’t need to know that. He simply has to believe we would.’

John pinched the bridge of his nose as he paced the narrow hallway. ‘Even if he confesses, and we give the evidence to the Gardaí, and they charge him, his lawyers will say it’s inadmissible, because it was made under duress. Not to mention the fact that we’ll face charges for kidnapping. Damn it, Anne, you haven’t thought this through.’

That was unfair, because all Anne had done was think about this. Days, weeks, months, years of doing nothing but contemplating how to make that man pay for what he had done.