I’ve made up my mind about someone or something, that’s it for me, and I was sick of trying to get Amira to listen to me. I decided to go through the official legal channels. Amira and Daniel wanted me to give them my share of the house. I left it to them in my will, but I wasn’t prepared to sign it over to them; that property is prime real estate. It’s worth almost half a million euro even in today’s economic climate.
“They should have been grateful that I didn’t ask them for rent. I didn’t mind them living there. I didn’t ask them to get a mortgage to buy me out, but I sure as hell wasn’t just going to sign it over to them. If I died before them, I was happy for them to have the house. I think that was more than reasonable, but I didn’t wantthat twat Daniel inheriting my parents’ house if Amira died before him.”
Byrne glanced at Faith. “Instead they both died before you,” said Byrne.
“I’d give up everything in a heartbeat if it meant having my sister back.” Layla wiped her dry eyes with a tissue. “Amira wanted the house. She didn’t want to wait, but I think Daniel was pressuring her. They were lucky that I didn’t take them to court to force a sale. In the end, I proposed a reasonable price for my share of the house. I was willing to meet her half-way, but she didn’t accept my proposal. I know that husband of hers was pushing her. He was a greedy bastard.”
“When was the last time you spoke to them?” asked Faith.
“I never had much to say to Daniel. He wasn’t the greatest conversationalist. To say he bored me was an understatement. Amira used to be witty and informed, but Daniel was a domineering guy; he liked to be the centre of attention. Amira soon became his sidekick, and I couldn’t stand seeing the change in her. I tried talking to her about it, but like I said,she accused me of being jealous, and told me to stop worrying so much about her husband and get a man of my own.”
“Was Daniel violent?” asked Byrne, glancing up from her notebook.
“I don’t believe he was physically violent, no, but emotional abuse doesn’t leave visible scars. I’ve worked with many victims of domestic violence, both men and women, and the majority say that the emotional abuse is worse. At least there’s some sort of twisted honesty in a punch, not like the insidious erosion of the spirit that comes with emotional abuse.”
“May I use your bathroom?” Faith interrupted.
“Are you okay, boss?” asked Byrne, noticing Faith’s ashen complexion.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Layla smirked. “Sorry, that was in poor taste. There I go again.” She waved her glass in the air. “I think this whiskey has gone straight to my head.”
Faith headed towards the door. “Is the bathroom this way?” She had to get out of the room.
“It’s the second door on the left.”
Faith closed the bathroom door behind her and splashed cold water on her face. She gripped the sides of the sink, trying to control her spiralling thoughts. “Damn you Dr Crowley,” she muttered. Ever since he’d hypnotised her, the flashbacks from her past were becoming more random and more frequent. She closed her eyes and called to mind the view from her house–her sanctuary–over the waters of Lough Leane with the Kerry Mountains rising in the distance. Slowly, her heart stopped pounding as she focused on the moment.
“Everything alright, boss?” asked Byrne from outside the door.
“I’m fine,” replied Faith. “Too much coffee and not enough sleep are getting to me. Nothing that an early night won’t cure.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel and resumed her place on the couch. “Where were we?”
“Ms. al-Nin was telling us about her work with victims of violence,” said Byrne, consulting her notes.
“Doctor al-Nin, actually,” said Layla disdainfully. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, obviously, I don’t condone violence of any sort, but at least there’s
“They should have been grateful that I didn’t ask them for rent. I didn’t mind them living there. I didn’t ask them to get a mortgage to buy me out, but I sure as hell wasn’t just going to sign it over to them. If I died before them, I was happy for them to have the house. I think that was more than reasonable, but I didn’t wantthat twat Daniel inheriting my parents’ house if Amira died before him.”
Byrne glanced at Faith. “Instead they both died before you,” said Byrne.
“I’d give up everything in a heartbeat if it meant having my sister back.” Layla wiped her dry eyes with a tissue. “Amira wanted the house. She didn’t want to wait, but I think Daniel was pressuring her. They were lucky that I didn’t take them to court to force a sale. In the end, I proposed a reasonable price for my share of the house. I was willing to meet her half-way, but she didn’t accept my proposal. I know that husband of hers was pushing her. He was a greedy bastard.”
“When was the last time you spoke to them?” asked Faith.
“I never had much to say to Daniel. He wasn’t the greatest conversationalist. To say he bored me was an understatement. Amira used to be witty and informed, but Daniel was a domineering guy; he liked to be the centre of attention. Amira soon became his sidekick, and I couldn’t stand seeing the change in her. I tried talking to her about it, but like I said,she accused me of being jealous, and told me to stop worrying so much about her husband and get a man of my own.”
“Was Daniel violent?” asked Byrne, glancing up from her notebook.
“I don’t believe he was physically violent, no, but emotional abuse doesn’t leave visible scars. I’ve worked with many victims of domestic violence, both men and women, and the majority say that the emotional abuse is worse. At least there’s some sort of twisted honesty in a punch, not like the insidious erosion of the spirit that comes with emotional abuse.”
“May I use your bathroom?” Faith interrupted.
“Are you okay, boss?” asked Byrne, noticing Faith’s ashen complexion.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Layla smirked. “Sorry, that was in poor taste. There I go again.” She waved her glass in the air. “I think this whiskey has gone straight to my head.”
Faith headed towards the door. “Is the bathroom this way?” She had to get out of the room.
“It’s the second door on the left.”
Faith closed the bathroom door behind her and splashed cold water on her face. She gripped the sides of the sink, trying to control her spiralling thoughts. “Damn you Dr Crowley,” she muttered. Ever since he’d hypnotised her, the flashbacks from her past were becoming more random and more frequent. She closed her eyes and called to mind the view from her house–her sanctuary–over the waters of Lough Leane with the Kerry Mountains rising in the distance. Slowly, her heart stopped pounding as she focused on the moment.
“Everything alright, boss?” asked Byrne from outside the door.
“I’m fine,” replied Faith. “Too much coffee and not enough sleep are getting to me. Nothing that an early night won’t cure.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel and resumed her place on the couch. “Where were we?”
“Ms. al-Nin was telling us about her work with victims of violence,” said Byrne, consulting her notes.
“Doctor al-Nin, actually,” said Layla disdainfully. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, obviously, I don’t condone violence of any sort, but at least there’s
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