Carla Neggers, page 26
Andy frowned. “Asking what?”
“Vague questions. They gave her the address of our temporary offices, but she never showed up there. This was in the morning.”
“Before she arrived in Rock Point, then. How much are these Aoife O’Byrne works worth?”
“A lot.”
“More than the pieces stolen ten years ago?”
“Not more than the Jack Yeats paintings. Not yet, anyway. Why? What’s on your mind, Andy?”
He could see that Lucas was quick-minded, no-nonsense, probably relentless as hell. Andy decided not to mince words. “Do you think David Hargreaves could have pushed his own daughter off that ledge?”
Lucas’s blue eyes narrowed. “I think someone did.”
Andy thanked him and went back out front. Mike was waiting in his truck. Andy climbed in. His brother looked over at him. “You still want to do this?”
“Yeah.” Andy put on his seat belt. “I hate flying, though. I’m not afraid. I just hate it.”
“Flying’s better than listening to Franny Maroney go on about her dark fairies. She raised the hairs on the back of my neck.”
She’d hunted Andy down at Hurley’s. Mike had been there, too. She’d told them she’d heard a banshee keening last night. She had dark circles under her eyes and her sweater buttoned up crooked, as if she hadn’t slept. She’d thumped the table with her bony finger and told Andy that he had to do something.
Finian Bracken had arrived, and Andy and Mike got out of there, leaving their Irish priest friend to deal with Franny. Andy was sorry she was so worried, but he also hadn’t told her that he’d already booked a flight to Ireland and was leaving tonight.
“Do you think it’s a bad sign Franny heard her banshee after I bought my ticket?” he asked Mike.
“Andy, it’s Franny Maroney. Even if there are such things as banshees, she likes scaring the hell out of us, and she’s a pessimist. She can find the negative in fixing oatmeal for breakfast.”
“She’s still getting over Jack’s death.”
Mike pulled out onto the quiet street. “So is Julianne.”
“I know. That’s part of why she weakened and fell for me.”
“What’s the other part?”
“My natural charm.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Why’d you weaken and fall for her?”
Andy looked out his window. “Some things just can’t be explained, Mike.”
“Like Franny’s dark fairies,” his brother said with a grin as he headed toward the interstate.
Andy would arrive at Logan just in time for his flight. He’d be in Ireland for breakfast. In Declan’s Cross by lunch. “I haven’t told Colin I’m coming.”
“Good. Don’t until you land.”
That was Mike. Mr. Communicator.
“You’re not second-guessing yourself, are you?” Mike asked. “That would be Julianne rubbing off on you.”
“She should trust her instincts more,” Andy said. “She knew this trip to Declan’s Cross was nuts, and she was right.”
Mike grimaced. “Might not want to tell her that.”
24
SEAN HAD POURED himself another glass of Bracken 15 and had a good fire going in the kitchen when there was a knock at the door. He knew who it was even before he stood and opened it with his glass in hand.
Kitty had her hands in her jacket pockets, her dark hair flying in the wind. The night air was raw and cold. “Drinking whiskey alone. Never a good thing, is it, Sean?”
“Sometimes it’s the best thing. Do you want to come in?”
“For a minute. To get warm.”
She walked past him into the kitchen and stood by the fire. He joined her and set his whiskey on the table. “You walked up here?”
She nodded. “I tried to sleep. I couldn’t keep still. Philip’s at the hotel. He’s safe.”
“Kitty...”
“I’m not afraid of walking in Declan’s Cross alone, Sean. Someone pushed Lindsey Hargreaves off that ledge. There’s no doubt in my mind. But whoever it is has no reason to kill me, and if I’m wrong—well, better to be pushed off a cliff up here than murdered in my own kitchen.”
Sean smiled. “Practical Kitty.”
“The gardai gave Philip a good talking to. I’m glad they did. The FBI agents are in for the night. Julianne’s tired but more settled in her skin, I think. David Hargreaves can’t wait to wipe the dust of Declan’s Cross off his feet. Poor man.”
“You still shouldn’t be up here alone.”
“I’m not,” she said. “I’m here with you.”
He could hardly get a breath.
“Sean...our timing has never been good, has it? Ten years ago, we were in bed together the night that blasted thief helped himself to Uncle John’s paintings and that old cross he loved so much. I was still a mess from my divorce, more so than I realized—more than I’d ever have admitted. You were this dashing, ambitious garda. I didn’t trust how much I loved you.”
“Some days that night feels like yesterday. Other days...”
“Other days it might as well have been a dream. Then six years ago—” Kitty touched her hand to his cheek. “Oh, Sean. I didn’t realize until a few months ago what the investigation into the deaths of Sally Bracken and her daughters must have been like for you.”
“I did my job, Kitty. That’s all.”
“Fin was a wreck that first year. For you to have to consider— even for a minute—that he could have been responsible for what happened must have been horrible.”
“It’s in the past now.”
“I don’t know about that. I think it’s right here, still eating at you. It makes it harder for you to commit.” She turned, the flames glowing in her blue eyes. “Sit by the fire with me, and talk to me— I know you, Sean. I know you’ve never talked to anyone about it.”
“You don’t want to hear about smugglers breaking my ribs?”
“Oh, that you had coming, I’ve no doubt,” she said with a spark, but her blue eyes were warm, filled with emotion. “Ten years ago, you were so ambitious, I could have killed you myself. Six years ago, though. That one night we had together before you threw me out. You were a tortured soul, and I don’t know why I never put two and two together.”
“How much talking do you want me to do, Kitty?”
“As much as you want.”
“I had a job to do when Fin’s wife and daughters died. It was as hard a job as I’ve ever had to do, and I did it. It took all I had. Fin and I became friends, and you and I...”
“You and I made a mess of things. Then you fell for sexy and glamorous with your makeup artist.”
“I did. She was also very shallow.”
“I’m not shallow. I can be sexy and glamorous in a pinch, when I’m not thinking about work.”
“Even when you are.” He touched her hair. “Ah, Kitty, you and I are as star-crossed as a pair can be.”
“So we are,” she said, her mouth finding his.
25
COLIN AWOKE TO a text from Andy saying he’d arrived in Shannon and was driving to Declan’s Cross. Emma leaned next to him in bed, read the text and kissed him on the cheek. “Two Donovans here at the same time. Ireland may never be the same. Do you think Julianne knows?”
“I doubt it, but Andy’s on his own. I’m staying out of it.”
“That’s why we’re in Declan’s Cross. Because you stayed out of it.”
“We’re in Declan’s Cross, sweetheart, because of your thief. Otherwise I’d have left Julianne to her own devices.”
“Uh-uh.” Emma sat up straight and shoved a pillow at him. “You wouldn’t have known Julianne was here in the first place if Andy hadn’t told you.”
“No secrets in Rock Point.”
“There are a million secrets in Rock Point. You just don’t care about most of them and dig out the ones you do care about. Anyway,” she added, throwing off the covers, “I’m starving. I’m going down to breakfast.”
“Feel free to warn Julianne that Andy is on his way.”
Emma grinned at him. “Not a chance.” Colin watched her slide into a white hotel robe and pull clothes out of a drawer. She’d unpacked her overnight bag after they’d arrived at the hotel, explaining she always did when she was on the road. One of the countless little things he’d learned about her during their time together in Ireland.
She was dressed and on her way before he got out of bed. He was in no hurry. Let Emma and Julianne start breakfast together. If Julianne was like her grandmother, she’d sense that something was up and get it out of Emma.
Of course, Emma was a disciplined FBI agent and unlikely to weaken and tell Julianne about Andy’s arrival in Ireland.
Colin knew there was no way Emma was letting him off the hook. If he stalled long enough, Andy would roll into the O’Byrne driveway and could explain his presence to Julianne himself.
Not that Colin really gave a damn. It was just a fun distraction from everything else he had on his mind—in particular, who had killed Lindsey Hargreaves. He and Emma were setting up a chat with the investigating gardai.
He showered and got dressed. Lucas Sharpe had texted Emma late last night to tell her Lindsey had turned up at Sharpe Fine Art Recovery on her way to Rock Point, a tidbit she’d kept to herself when Julianne had driven her through Heron’s Cove.
Lucas had also reported that Andy had been by.
Probably on his way to Logan, Colin thought as he headed downstairs. His brother insisted he didn’t regret splitting up with Julianne.
“Yeah, right.”
When he arrived in the dining room, Colin saw that Julianne was alone at a table by a window. She looked content, but he had no idea if she realized Andy would be there soon. Hunger and the need for coffee won out, and Colin went over to her.
“It was a gorgeous sunrise this morning,” Julianne said. “Did you see it?”
“Nope. Didn’t see the sunrise.”
“Emma just grabbed toast and coffee. She’s gone to talk to David Hargreaves. She said to tell you.”
“Thanks.” Colin sat down. “I’m not staying, either. What are your plans for the morning?”
“I thought I’d take a walk and have a look at the spa. Then...” She popped a chunk of apple in her mouth. “Then I’ll figure out what to do when your brother gets here.”
“Emma told you?”
“No. He did. He texted me when his plane landed.” She sank back against her chair. “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”
“It’s none of my business.”
“As you can see, I have taken the news well. Better than you expected, huh?”
Colin reached for the silver coffeepot. “So far, so good.”
“Andy isn’t in Ireland because of me, Colin. He’s here because he told you about my trip, and he feels guilty that you and Emma are stuck with me.”
“We’re not stuck with you, Julianne.”
“I know that. You’re FBI agents. Whether you knew I was here, or even if I wasn’t here, Lindsey’s death would have caught your attention. Emma’s, anyway.”
“Andy won’t stay here if you don’t want him to.”
“He told you that?”
“No, but I know my brother.”
She put her white cloth napkin on the table. “I know it’s awkward for you because Andy and I...” She rose, her hair falling in her face as she looked down at Colin. “It’ll get better. Time heals all wounds, right? I just don’t want either of you to worry about me out of some sense of guilt or responsibility. I can take care of myself.”
“No doubt about it,” Colin said. “But you’ll let Emma or me know where you are this morning?”
“Garden, spa or room. I’m checking out today, though. Emma suggested Killarney, but you guys have done enough for me. I have my own car. I’ll figure out what to do next. Thank you, Colin. Really.”
She spun off before he could respond. Just as well, he thought, because he had no idea what to say. He downed coffee and brown bread and headed out to the O’Byrne gardens. He hopped off the terrace and started down a walkway. He could hear birds twittering in the shrubs and could smell the ocean, glistening in the morning sun. According to Emma, the next few days were supposed to be sunny and relatively warm. She’d planned to leave today—to go home without him. He thought of his brother landing alone in Shannon, and his own solitary arrival there in late October. But Andy hadn’t come to Ireland expecting to be alone.
Of course, if Julianne sent him packing, that could be how things turned out—in which case Colin would let him sleep on the sofa at Fin Bracken’s cottage and drag him off to hike in the Irish hills.
Andy could help him plan his alternative life as Cap’n Colin.
Not the same as having Emma there.
“Not even close.”
Colin came to the walkway that led to the O’Byrne cottage. With the unanswered questions in Declan’s Cross, Emma was unlikely to be boarding a plane for a while, anyway.
* * *
The O’Byrne cottage was newer construction than the hotel, situated behind a gate, with its own garden and a large, private deck. Colin stepped in through an open glass door. The living area was sleek and contemporary, its colors more muted than at the hotel. Emma was standing in front of floor-to-ceiling windows and glass doors that opened onto the deck and looked out onto an endless view of the ocean.
David Hargreaves had his bags packed and ready to go by the door, but he was pacing.
“Your daughter was murdered, David,” Emma said. “You know that. Colin and I know it. I’m sure the gardai do, too, even if they haven’t stated so publicly. Help us find her killer.”
“I know you mean well, but please—” David took in a breath, pale, emotional “—just let me bury my daughter.”
Colin stayed by the door. “Maybe you killed her yourself,” he said, blunt.
David spun around. “Me? I did everything I could to help her. I was thrilled when she discovered a passion for diving and marine science.”
“Were you thrilled when she quit her job?” Emma asked him. “Were you thrilled when she said she wanted to turn an old Irish garage into a research facility?”
“I was impressed by her enthusiasm and vision.”
“Not enough to help her secure funding,” Colin said. “You told her she was on her own, didn’t you?”
The older man’s gaze hardened. “You’ve never been a father, have you? If Lindsey was murdered, it’s your thief who’s responsible.”
Emma jumped on that one. “How so?”
“He followed her.”
“He’s contacted you?”
“I didn’t say that—”
“Then why do you think he followed your daughter?”
David turned even paler, some of the fight going out of his eyes. “We’re not friends, are we? You’re FBI agents. It doesn’t matter that I’ve lost my daughter...”
“Just be straight with us,” Colin said.
Emma nodded in agreement. “You believed, if only for a moment, that the Declan’s Cross thief was responsible for stealing the Aoife O’Byrne works from your home. It’s what Lindsey wanted you to believe. She tried to strike a balance between being too obvious and too subtle, but it was her contingency plan. She hoped you’d pay the ransom and never trouble her with the details. Never confront her.”
David looked out at the view without meeting Emma’s eye. “You have it all figured out, don’t you, Special Agent Sharpe?”
“Why did you lie about the appraisal?”
He looked at her then. “I didn’t know what else to do. I’m not impulsive. I don’t make decisions quickly. I needed time.”
“Did she steal the painting and cross the night she got back from Maine?” Emma asked, moving back into his line of vision. “Just tell us what happened, David.”
He averted his eyes, staring at an arrangement of dried hydrangeas on a glass-topped dining table. “Lindsey got home late. She was so excited about having met Julianne. She was still angry with me for refusing to help her get funding for her field station here, but I was confident we could move past it. The next morning after breakfast, she told me she’d accidentally left the back door to the house unlocked that night. I wasn’t concerned. She had a habit of leaving the back door unlocked.”
Emma kept her gaze on him. “When did you notice the Aoife O’Byrne pieces were missing?”
“After Lindsey left for Ireland,” he said.
Colin noticed a gull swooping low over the water. “How did you learn about the unsolved theft here?”
“Lindsey told me. I never imagined she was in danger. Perhaps she was getting too close to the thief, or her presence here worried him. He could have known I owned two works by Aoife O’Byrne that had appreciated substantially in value. Perhaps he keeps an eye on the Sharpe offices in Heron’s Cove and recognized her. I don’t know.” David sounded exhausted yet also preoccupied, as if he’d been running through all the possibilities on an endless loop. “I just know that I wanted to do what I could to make things right.”
“What did that look like to you?” Emma asked quietly. “Making things right. Tell me.”
“Keeping Lindsey safe. The painting and cross, too, but I’d gladly have sacrificed them—” He broke off and burst out to the deck, Emma on his heels.
Colin followed them outside, but he wasn’t getting in Emma’s way. She stood next to David at the rail. “David, you’re still lying to protect your daughter, and maybe yourself, too.”
He leaned over the rail, clasping his hands together and staring out at the sea. “It really is beautiful here. I can see why Lindsey fell in love with it. Her mother, too.”
Colin thought he could sense Emma’s exasperation, but she leaned over the rail and clasped her hands, too, as if in solidarity. “David, the way I read this, Lindsey stole the painting and the cross in order to get money she felt entitled to, and maybe to exact a little revenge against you—for herself, for her mother. You knew in your gut that’s what was going on. You’d tried to get her to be accountable, responsible, by not getting involved with this field station idea of hers. You knew she’d chosen Declan’s Cross because of her mother. When the two works of art you’d bought with her disappeared, you knew what Lindsey had done. You went to Dublin. You spent time with her. You tried to—”
