surrounded by police, their neon yellow and navy uniforms too bright and cold for the warmth of the house. His hair was messy, and his eyes red and frightened. "You should go back to the bedroom," he said, sounding tired but urgent.
Cohen stayed rooted to the spot. "What's going on?"
"Do you know this man?" asked one of the Gardai, a tall, broad woman with frizzy orange hair. She turned to look at Cohen, eyeing him critically.
"Not really," said Cohen. "He just... gave me a place to stay last night." What was going on? He had to get his mind working properly. Everything was moving too quickly, blurry somehow.
The woman stepped towards him, coming between Cohen and Niall. "What's your name, lad?" she asked, a touch of softness in her voice.
"It's Cohen," said Cohen, his heart skipping a beat.
"Cohen," she repeated. "It's very important that you cooperate with us, Cohen, and that you tell us everything."
Cohen nodded, swallowing.
"Leave him alone," said Niall, and the woman turned to look at him. "I don't know what's going on, but he has nothing to do with it."
"Cohen," said the woman again, and Cohen looked back to her. "What are you doing here? Why did you spend the night here?"
"I-I..." Niall was looking at Cohen, some desperate look in his eyes, but Cohen couldn't tell what it meant for the life of him. Did Niall want him to lie? What were the police doing here? "I was supposed to be picked up at the train station by my lawyer, but she never showed up. Niall drove by, and—and it was raining, so he offered to drive me home, but then I couldn't get into my place because I didn't have my key..." He trailed off, unsure of what the Garda wanted to hear.
"What's your lawyer's name?"
"Sandy McIntyre. I just moved into town, she was going to meet me and bring me to the house, but she never showed up..."
"I see." The Garda was quiet for a moment. "Around what time were you picked up from the station?"
"I-I guess it was..." Cohen thought for a moment, remembered looking at his phone and thinking that Sandy was an hour late. "Maybe a little after seven?"
Niall's eyes widened in what Cohen thought was sudden relief.
"Hm," said the Garda. "Would you be willing to swear that in a court of law?"
Cohen felt a spurt of adrenaline shoot through him. "Yes, of course. Why? What's going on?"
She signalled to the other four Gardai, who moved forward to turn Niall around and cuff his hands. Cohen stared, disbelieving, and the Chief Garda turned to him again. "Sandy McIntyre is dead," she explained. "And this man is our primary suspect."
Chapter Four
Cohen was in shock the entire way to the Garda station. He had spent the night in the house of a murderer? Had Halley been right? He hadn't called her. He needed to call her and let her know that he was okay. He shuddered at the thought that he might not have been.
He felt sick. He'd been so personal last night with Niall. Told him things about himself, eaten his food. He wanted to ask the Garda in the driver's seat a million questions, but the man told him that everything would be explained at the station.
He didn't see Niall again until after he had been questioned extensively about the previous day twice, once by a Garda and then again by a criminal lawyer. Only then was the situation explained to him. The Chief Garda (her name was Myrna) introduced herself to him properly and thanked him for his cooperation. Cohen, tired from the stress of being questioned, and feeling horribly dysphoric from having to sign his birth name on several forms, was quite a bit less friendly than he normally would have been, but she didn't seem to mind.
"You may well have saved that young man from prison," she told Cohen. "You're his only alibi."
"Please just tell me what happened," sighed Cohen, wishing for his bed back in Dublin. He'd been able to speak to Halley on the phone briefly when they had arrived at the station, with only enough time to explain everything succinctly, and he knew he