Chapter 367: The Matter Of Fiona Doyle

Malcolm's next interruption came after a long silence from the three of us, a quiet punctuated by the soft sounds of the bully at the door adjusting his stance, the rustle of his suit louder than it should have been, carrying clearly in the utter empty.

"I came looking for my girl." The Irishman's tone was nothing like Dad's had been, full of a mixed bag of emotions that made it hard not to cry in sympathy for his depth of hurt and loss. "Siobhan and me, her mum flying in from Ireland to join me in the search when Fee fell silent."

Dad nodded. "I told you what I knew," he said.

"You promised me," Malcolm snarled, cutting off my father's words with blade-like precision, "you'd find out what happened to my daughter. Swore to Siobhan you'd bring Fiona home to us. You failed, John Fleming. Failed all of us."

Dad didn't say a word. He didn't have to. It was clear he knew that about as distinctly and perfectly as anyone in the room.