fight."
Edger lapsed into silence for a moment as he gazed out the rain spotted window. Then he continued. "Anyway, we were walking up the Springfield Road towards home. We were messing about, throwing punches at one another, having a laugh. Then this van screeches up beside us. An old Ford van, black. I'll never forget it. Before we even knew what was happening, the side door of the van was flung open, and these two men in balaclavas jumped out and tried to grab us. I think we both thought it was loyalist paramilitaries, because the Troubles were in full swing and there was people getting lifted all the time.
"But Declan, he manages to hit one of them as they jumped out of the van, and the guy goes flying back on to the road, but he gets straight back up again. By this time, the driver of the van is out as well, and while the other guy wrestles Declan into the back of the van, the driver smacks me in the face, nearly knocks me out."
Another silence, longer this time.
"So I'm lying there on the pavement, and they have Declan in the back of the van, and he's screaming at them, but they must have hit with something, because he just went silent all of a sudden. Then they closed the side door, and the next thing I knew, the van was speeding away down the road, with my brother lying in the back of it. That was last time I ever saw him."
"Why didn't they take you as well?" Rankin asked.
Edger shrugged, continued staring out the window. "I don't know."
"So who was it that took him?"
"No one knows. The cops said it was probably Republican paramilitaries. They said Declan must have done something to get their attention."
"And did he?"
"No," Edger said, looking straight at Rankin this time. "Declan did fuck all to deserve what happened to him. He wasn't a hood, he wasn't a joyrider. He was just someone who loved boxing. He kept his head down. We both did."
"So he was never heard from again?"
Edger shook his head. "He ended up classed as one of the missing, even though no paramilitary group ever took responsibility for the abduction. The cops said there wasn't much they could do. Declan was declared dead seven years later."
Rankin exhaled a long breath. "I'm sorry, Harry. That must have been hard for you. Do you think it really was paramilitaries who took him?"
"Who else would it have been?"
Rankin thought for a moment. "I don't know. It certainly had all the hallmarks of a paramilitary style abduction. Are you telling me this because you think there might be a connection between your brother's abduction and Kaitlin's?"
Edger walked away from the window and began to pace by Rankin's desk. "What do you think, John?"
Rankin shook his head. "I'd be very surprised if there was a connection. The two incidents seem unrelated to me, to be honest. Kaitlin's abduction feels a lot more personal."
"I agree. I just thought you should know about my brother, that's all."
"I understand, Harry. Thanks for telling me."
Just then, Edger's phone rang. Both men looked at each other as Edger took the phone from out of his jacket pocket. "Unknown number," he said to Rankin before putting the phone to his ear. "Who is this?"
Rankin saw Edger's eyes widen for a second, then he pointed at the phone, put it on speaker and held it out so Rankin could hear who was on the other end of the line.
"I have your daughter," the person on the phone said, their voice obviously filtered through a voice changer. "If you ever want to see her alive again, you will do exactly as I say."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Edger's whole body went stiff as he held the phone out in front of him, gripping it tightly in his left hand. Rankin sat across from him at his desk, intently listening to the distorted voice coming out of the phone speaker, the kidnapper obviously using a voice modulator. Edger couldn't help himself. "Put my daughter on the phone," he demanded. "I need to know she's alright before we go
Edger lapsed into silence for a moment as he gazed out the rain spotted window. Then he continued. "Anyway, we were walking up the Springfield Road towards home. We were messing about, throwing punches at one another, having a laugh. Then this van screeches up beside us. An old Ford van, black. I'll never forget it. Before we even knew what was happening, the side door of the van was flung open, and these two men in balaclavas jumped out and tried to grab us. I think we both thought it was loyalist paramilitaries, because the Troubles were in full swing and there was people getting lifted all the time.
"But Declan, he manages to hit one of them as they jumped out of the van, and the guy goes flying back on to the road, but he gets straight back up again. By this time, the driver of the van is out as well, and while the other guy wrestles Declan into the back of the van, the driver smacks me in the face, nearly knocks me out."
Another silence, longer this time.
"So I'm lying there on the pavement, and they have Declan in the back of the van, and he's screaming at them, but they must have hit with something, because he just went silent all of a sudden. Then they closed the side door, and the next thing I knew, the van was speeding away down the road, with my brother lying in the back of it. That was last time I ever saw him."
"Why didn't they take you as well?" Rankin asked.
Edger shrugged, continued staring out the window. "I don't know."
"So who was it that took him?"
"No one knows. The cops said it was probably Republican paramilitaries. They said Declan must have done something to get their attention."
"And did he?"
"No," Edger said, looking straight at Rankin this time. "Declan did fuck all to deserve what happened to him. He wasn't a hood, he wasn't a joyrider. He was just someone who loved boxing. He kept his head down. We both did."
"So he was never heard from again?"
Edger shook his head. "He ended up classed as one of the missing, even though no paramilitary group ever took responsibility for the abduction. The cops said there wasn't much they could do. Declan was declared dead seven years later."
Rankin exhaled a long breath. "I'm sorry, Harry. That must have been hard for you. Do you think it really was paramilitaries who took him?"
"Who else would it have been?"
Rankin thought for a moment. "I don't know. It certainly had all the hallmarks of a paramilitary style abduction. Are you telling me this because you think there might be a connection between your brother's abduction and Kaitlin's?"
Edger walked away from the window and began to pace by Rankin's desk. "What do you think, John?"
Rankin shook his head. "I'd be very surprised if there was a connection. The two incidents seem unrelated to me, to be honest. Kaitlin's abduction feels a lot more personal."
"I agree. I just thought you should know about my brother, that's all."
"I understand, Harry. Thanks for telling me."
Just then, Edger's phone rang. Both men looked at each other as Edger took the phone from out of his jacket pocket. "Unknown number," he said to Rankin before putting the phone to his ear. "Who is this?"
Rankin saw Edger's eyes widen for a second, then he pointed at the phone, put it on speaker and held it out so Rankin could hear who was on the other end of the line.
"I have your daughter," the person on the phone said, their voice obviously filtered through a voice changer. "If you ever want to see her alive again, you will do exactly as I say."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Edger's whole body went stiff as he held the phone out in front of him, gripping it tightly in his left hand. Rankin sat across from him at his desk, intently listening to the distorted voice coming out of the phone speaker, the kidnapper obviously using a voice modulator. Edger couldn't help himself. "Put my daughter on the phone," he demanded. "I need to know she's alright before we go
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