Free Taboo by Casey Hill Page A

Kennedy drew hard on his cigarette, his face wreathed in smoke. ‘Or maybe he decided to end it and the girl was just a victim. Either way,’ he concluded, stubbing his cigarette out beneath his heel and pitching the butt into the carefully manicured flower beds, ‘we need to find out what the hell is up with this family.’
    They headed up the path to the front door and rang the bell. The chimes rang clear through the huge house.
    Clare Ryan’s mother opened the door, her eyes wide and hopeful. ‘Detectives?’
    She urged them into the house and straight through to the living room.
    Her husband was sitting ramrod straight on the sofa, his face full of half-hidden hopes and fears. ‘Is it Clare?’ Bernard Ryan asked as they walked in. ‘You have news? Have you found out who … who killed her?’
    The detectives sank into the expensive leather couch and exchanged a brief glance. ‘The investigation is still ongoing,’ Kennedy said noncommittally, taking out his notebook.
    ‘We just need to ask you both a few more questions,’ Chris added.
    ‘Of course, if it helps we’d be happy to—’
    ‘But we’ve already told you everything we know,’ Bernard interjected, irritably. ‘If you don’t have any news for us, then why are you here? It’s been a dreadful time – and we haven’t even buried our daughter yet.’
    ‘Why is that, Mr Ryan?’ Delaney asked, glad that the man had raised this particular subject. He’d thought of little else since Reilly’s phone call. It was now a week since the murders and the Ryans still hadn’t buried Clare. They’d said that they were waiting to inform a family member who was difficult to locate. Difficult to locate because he was, in fact, lying on a cold slab in the morgue? ‘Who are you waiting for?’
    Bernard paused, looked at his wife. ‘Our eldest, Justin, Clare’s older brother,’ he snapped. ‘He’s abroad somewhere traveling, and as usual we haven’t a clue where he is, let alone a means of contacting him.’
    Ryan’s disapproval of his son was plain to see, but it wasn’t the kind of disapproval Delaney was looking for. Apparently the Ryans knew nothing of their children’s unusual closeness – or if they did, they were in denial, or doing a damn good job of hiding it.
    Kennedy glanced at Chris for a moment before asking his next question. ‘Was Clare close to her brother, Mr Ryan?’
    The man shrugged. ‘Of course they were close – they were brother and sister.’ He looked to Gillian for reassurance.
    She nodded slowly. ‘We’ve tried everything to locate him, detectives.’ She dabbed at her face with a handkerchief. ‘He’ll be devastated when he finds out.’
    ‘So, Clare and Justin are your only children?’
    ‘Yes,’ Bernard replied. ‘Justin is five years older than Clare.’
    ‘And when was the last time you spoke to your son?’
    Mrs Ryan glanced worriedly at her husband.
    ‘It was a couple of months ago,’ Bernard answered, ‘before he left for Thailand or Vietnam or whatever godforsaken country took his fancy this time.’ He shook his head. ‘We had words about it at the time, and we haven’t heard from him since.’
    Chris caught Kennedy’s eye. ‘Is there a chance he might have come back, maybe returned home since then without letting either of you know?’ he ventured. ‘Could he be in the country and you not know it?’
    There was a sniff of disapproval from Bernard. ‘Anything is possible.’ He looked from one detective to the other. ‘What I mean is that it wouldn’t be unheard of. Justin tends to do what suits him first and foremost.’
    Kennedy leaned forward, probing gently. ‘It sounds as though you disapprove of your son’s travels, Mr Ryan.’
    ‘The boy is twenty-six years old, Detective, and has never worked a day in his life. He’s irresponsible and to be perfectly honest, is—’ he caught himself, sorrow etched all over his face, ‘ was a very bad influence on Clare.’
    You can certainly