I sang and strummed over the whispered chatter of the crowded audience. Playing in this intimate Kilkenny club was a welcome break from the harsh tone of the Dublin circuit. I noticed a man coming in late, alone. He sat at the back but looked a little out of place; he was too neatly dressed, in a charcoal suit that matched his thinning hair. He held a large brown envelope in his left hand. I guessed who he was. In a way, I’d been expecting him.
When I’d finished my set he stood up and approached me. I slipped my guitar into its leather case and turned to face him.
‘Jacki?’
I nodded. I could see his features clearly now. The edges of his brown eyes and his thin lips were creased with wrinkles.
‘Can I speak to you outside?’ he said.
I followed him to the smoking area outdoors where the cold night air hit me with force. The sky was studded with tiny sparkling stars. The centre of the courtyard was crowded with people huddling round gas heaters so we stood in a vacant corner. I was sorry I hadn’t taken my coat out with me as goose bumps were appearing on my arms. My black lace dress was no barrier against the chill.
‘My name is Detective Sergeant Matt Lawlor.’ He held out his hand. The skin felt coarse, but his handshake was firm. ‘I’m a member of a team working on Operation Trail, investigating the disappearance of a number of Irish women over the last ten years… We’re concentrating on four cases at present.’ He paused as if expecting a response. When all I offered was silence, he continued: ‘I hoped you might be able to help, Jacki. Would you be prepared to help us?’
I’d guessed he was going to ask me this, but I couldn’t answer straight away. I avoided his gaze and stared at the envelope in his hand. I wanted to help if I could… Well, help the victims and their families more than the police. But it was complicated. I felt completely torn. Last year hadn’t been easy… I wasn’t sure if I could go through it all again.
‘I’ll have to think about it,’ I said. ‘Can I get back to you?’
‘Of course.’ He held out the envelope. The top had been sealed with a strip of clear tape. I took it from him reluctantly.
‘I’d appreciate it if you could give me a decision by the end of the week.’
He took a small white card from his inside pocket and gave it to me. His mobile number was scribbled on it in pencil. Just as I’d suspected, there was nothing official about our meeting.
That night I lay on the lumpy mattress of the hostel bed with the brown envelope hidden under my pillow. I tried to sleep but couldn’t. Just before 3 a.m. I decided to tear the envelope open. Inside were four photographs. Four photographs of young women, each one prettier than the last. I felt my stomach knotting with tension.
Word had travelled from the Garda station in County Leitrim. Sergeant Lawlor had heard about my experiences in Avarna last summer. And now I had an important decision to make, but I didn’t know if I could go through it all again.