ChapterSeventeen
Ronan had no idea why he’d listened to Brendan and told Chloe to meet him here, but he was glad he did. Not only was she an objective outsider, but he also loved hearing her laugh. And she did it pretty often. Even amid the ugly nature of what had brought them together, she was light and happy. He couldn’t remember ever having her level of sunshine in his life. It was a little unnerving, but part of that might’ve been because he was afraid of getting used to it.
The conversation had been derailed by Ronan and Brendan sharing stories about their dad. It all felt so natural. But the board Brendan had set up in his living room loomed over them as a reminder that something had happened to Michael Doyle. And now Brendan and Ronan were old enough to push for answers. For the first time in over a decade, Ronan started to feel better about his chances of finding those answers.
“Would it help to find the other politicians and campaign workers from Alan’s run?” Chloe asked.
“What would that tell us?”
“Alan started as an alderman. That’s all neighborhood bound. His opponents and his volunteers would all be from his neighborhood.” She sipped her beer. “Think about it. If his neighborhood is even half as connected as ours, people would talk. Gossip mills run everywhere.”
Brendan shifted and narrowed his eyes. “Might work. Gossip isn’t something we can use to build a case, but it might get us somewhere.”
“Like I give a fuck about building a case,” Ronan said. “I just want answers.”
Brendan leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “And what are you going to do with those answers?”
“I guess it would depend on what we find.”
“Exactly.” Pointing to the board, he said, “So do we know anyone from back then?”
“Finding who ran against him should be a simple Google search,” Ronan said.
“Google won’t give us the dirt.”
“The Byrnes would know,” Chloe said. “They’re good friends with the Cahills, which is why Alan and Danny act like they own a corner of the Rose.”
“Are you sure they don’t?” Brendan asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe they do own a piece of the Rose.”
“Why does that matter?” Ronan asked.
“If they own the Rose, the Byrnes are in bed with them.”
“I don’t think so, but I can find out,” Chloe said. “I mean, I can find out if they’re legally part owners. If they have a hidden agreement, I won’t be able to find it, but I have access to all of the books for the Rose.”
“Does Alastair work anymore?” Ronan asked.
“He’s mostly retired, but he’s around. Has a hard time staying away. I talk to him often.”
Brendan snorted. “What are you gonna do, just say, ‘So who worked for Alan Cahill twenty years ago when he was running for office?’ That’s not suspicious at all.”
“Give her some credit. Chloe’s not stupid.” Ronan was angry on her behalf.
She blushed and looked at Brendan. “I figured we could come up with a plan together. That’s why I’m bringing it up.”
“For the record, I don’t think you’re stupid.” Brendan sighed. “Sometimes my frustration gets the best of me. This would’ve been so much easier if someone had done this digging twenty years ago.”
“Why wasn’t it done?” Ronan asked. “Don’t you have any insight into that?”
“I tried getting information when I first started at the FBI. No one knew anything. No one would talk. A lot of time had already passed. When we were teenagers, I talked to the cops assigned the case. They weren’t doing anything. They were convinced Dad ran off.”
“Do you have the case file?”
Brendan stood, grabbed a folder from a box on the floor, and tossed it on the table.
Ronan stared at the folder, afraid to open it. Chloe’s hand patted his thigh, and then she reached for the file. She flipped it open on the table between them. He could see the report, but he didn’t want to read the words.
Chloe picked up the top page. “There’s almost nothing here. The report your mom filed saying your dad was missing. They interviewed a few people in the neighborhood and Alan, who said he didn’t know anything, except that Michael didn’t show up for work. No mention of him asking Michael to do anything. Meg Donnelly said she’d heard rumors of Michael having a girlfriend. No evidence of an affair was found.”
She closed the folder and slid it away from her. “That’s bullshit. They didn’t do anything.”
In his gut, Ronan had always known that, but to see it in black and white was even more disheartening. If someone had cared enough to really look for his dad, it wouldn’t have taken two decades for them to have answers.
“Don’t you have any cop friends?” Chloe asked.
Ronan groaned. “Cops and I were never on the best of terms.”
Brendan shook his head. “I don’t know anyone well enough who would’ve been around back then.”
Ronan had a thought. One that he didn’t dare to explore when he’d been younger. “What about Mr. O’Malley?”
“What about him?”
“He was a uniformed cop his whole career, but I bet he’d have some insight into the detectives who were on Dad’s case. Jimmy’s a detective now. He might be able to find some answers.”
“You want to ask the O’Malleys for help? How is that going to keep this quiet?” Brendan asked.
“The O’Malleys were never big on gossip. Besides, who are they going to tell? It’s not like they’re friends with the Cahills.”
“Jimmy’s a good guy,” Chloe said. “If he could help, I bet he would.”