Carla Neggers, page 28
“There’s a shortcut. You probably didn’t notice it the other day. It’s a little steeper, but we’ll be fine.”
She could hear in his voice he’d lost patience. Any words to the contrary were a pretext. The car-at-the-cove line was a ruse—a way to manipulate her so he didn’t have to actually shoot her. A gunshot would draw attention. He wanted to push her off the ledge, then get back in his van and drive away as the bereaved friend who had gone out to the spot where Lindsey had died and said his goodbyes on his way out of town. By the time anyone came up here, he’d be long gone.
On the other hand, he might have a car down at the cove, too—a backup plan.
There still was no shortcut from the ledge.
Julianne tried to stall him. “Where are you going from here?”
“Somewhere warm and sunny.”
“New identity?”
He pushed her toward the trail. “No more talking. One stupid move, and I’ll shoot you. I don’t want to. I want to let you go after you’ve served your purpose.”
He had her go first up the trail. She cut past the holly tree. She could hear him close behind her, no question he still had his 9 mm pointed at her. He’d have no trouble on the steep hill. He was in good shape.
Her feet, numb with the cold, nearly slipped out of her flip-flops, but she continued up to the ledge. Wind gusted off the water, penetrating her thin, wet clothing. She struggled not to fall to her knees into a ball. It’d help conserve body heat. She was already slurring her words. The wind would only speed up the onset of serious hypothermia.
If she collapsed, would Brent shoot her? Risk the sound of gunfire alerting Sean Murphy and his uncle—even people in the village?
He moved in front of her and watched her shiver, his gun steady in his hand. “Your lips are purple.”
“I’m freezing.”
“It’s okay. We’ll get you warm soon. I should have grabbed a jacket for you out of the van.”
She drew her hands up into the sleeves or her sodden fleece. “You didn’t come up here with the intention of killing Lindsey, did you?”
His look told Julianne that no, he had come up here with the intention of killing Lindsey.
And now me.
“I didn’t kill her.” His tone was distant, as if he didn’t care if Julianne believed him or not. “I just wanted my share of the money. She got crazy and fell.”
It wasn’t what happened.
“You didn’t realize she’d already hidden the money,” Julianne said. “You must have freaked out when it wasn’t in her car.”
“It didn’t occur to me she’d hidden it in the damn ruins. If it had, you and I wouldn’t be here right now. She didn’t do you any favors when she invited you here, did she? She liked you, you know. You’re everything she wasn’t. Smart, a go-getter, a self-starter. Hardworking. All she wanted was to please her father. When he put his foot down about the field station, it was the last straw.”
“That’s when you two cooked up the theft.”
“Everything worked like it was supposed to. I knew her father would figure out she stole from him, and all Lindsey’s efforts to make it look like this guy who pulled off the theft here was responsible wouldn’t amount to anything. I just also knew he wouldn’t do anything about it. He’d cooperate. He’d pay. He might confront her, but he’d never go to the police. He has his own reputation to consider. I had a drink with him after you found her. He really did love her in his own lame way.”
Another gust of wind howled up from the rocks and sea. Julianne tightened her arms around her. Keep talking, keep talking. “When did you realize she wasn’t going to keep up her end of the deal?”
“We were supposed to meet on Monday. When she didn’t show up...” Brent blew out a breath. “She started to get weird over the weekend. I shouldn’t have let her pick up the money. I should have been more careful when I was in Dublin helping her pull this thing off—but this was such a no-brainer. I wasn’t that worried about covering my tracks.”
“You weren’t thinking you’d have to explain your whereabouts to the Irish police.”
“You got that right.”
Julianne glanced at the waves rolling onto the rocks. She could hear birds in the distance. Crows, she thought. She turned back to Brent. “Lindsey wanted the field station to work. Maybe she came to Declan’s Cross because of her resentments, and maybe she was angry with her father for not helping her—”
“She knew he was onto her, but she still thought she could pull it off and get him to blame the thief. That’s why she hid the money out here. She figured it’s where the thief would hide it.”
“But she didn’t want anyone to find it, did she?”
“She wanted to keep it and put it into the field station. She thought I’d go along with her. The field station would be a success. I could work for her.”
“That’s what she told you on Monday?”
“I didn’t go along with her.”
“You wanted all the money for yourself.”
He shrugged. “I have bills to pay.” He raised his gun. “Your lips really are purple.”
“It’s mild hypothermia...”
“I know. Lindsey was so excited after she met you. She didn’t see the field station for what it was—an old garage, another of her ideas that wouldn’t work out.” Brent shook his head. “I wish she hadn’t met you, Julianne. I’m sorry she did.”
“You like having your way, don’t you?”
“Guilty as charged.” He kept his gaze steady on her. “I know you’re cold. I’ve had hypothermia. It’s no fun.”
And it could be fatal—would be now, Julianne knew, if she didn’t get warm soon. She looked down at the rocks below the ledge, at the spot where she’d spotted Lindsey’s bright-colored scarf. Brent wasn’t going to shoot her, and he wasn’t going to make her death look like an accident—he was going to make it look like she’d come out here in despair, not dressed for the conditions...searching for answers to her new friend’s death. Julianne could see it. She’d be the young woman who came to Ireland to heal a broken heart and help with an exciting project, and instead everything went wrong.
She looked at Brent. The son of a bitch was just going to watch her freeze. When she collapsed, he’d walk away. By the time anyone found her, she’d be dead, and he’d be on his way.
Julianne heard voices down toward the lane. Brent swore, and his reaction told her the voices weren’t just in her head, a result of hypothermia.
Emma and Colin.
At home, they’d be armed. In Ireland...
Julianne knew she had to do—and even as Brent lurched forward to grab her, she leaped over the ledge.
She dropped onto a flat-topped boulder, landing on her feet, her knees bent, but her momentum propelled her off the edge, into the crevice between more boulders.
She hit hard. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
She heard a gunshot...shouting...
* * *
Emma reached her first. “Easy, Julianne.”
“It’s okay. I just got the wind knocked out of me.” She struggled to sit up. “What happened?”
“Brent refused to put his weapon down—”
“You shot him?”
Emma shook her head. “Sean Murphy did.”
Colin dropped in next to her. “The paperwork is a lot easier that way. We make a good team. Emma and I had rocks. Sean had a gun.”
Julianne saw that he wasn’t kidding. “You aren’t hurt? And Sean—you guys are all okay?”
“Yeah, we’re good.” Colin got off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “That was a gutsy move, kid.”
“I heard you and Emma—”
“A deliberate distraction,” he said. “We’ll talk back at the hotel. The gardai are on the way.”
Now that she was warmer—and safe—Julianne felt steadier. She got to her feet, but didn’t shake off Emma’s help onto the trail.
Colin shook his head. “No socks, Julianne?”
“I was at the spa.”
“That’s where Brent grabbed you?”
She tightened Colin’s jacket around her. “No, I was in the garden.”
“The garden isn’t the spa.”
Julianne looked at Emma. “You know the Donovans have been fantasizing about throwing me off a ledge forever, don’t you?”
Colin grinned. “Especially Andy.”
Sean Murphy met them at the top of the trail. He had a serious, take-charge look that reminded Julianne he was a law enforcement officer—one who’d just had to use deadly force.
She could hear vehicles down on the lane.
“Gardai,” Sean said.
Colin clapped an arm over the Irishman’s shoulder. “Getting the jump on a man with a gun and a hostage—you’re going to have a tough time convincing your superiors you shouldn’t be back on the job.”
Sean squinted back at the ledge where Brent Corwin lay dead. “I am back on the job.”
27
THE SUN HAD returned when Emma arrived back at the O’Byrne House Hotel with Colin and Julianne. The gardai had finished there, taking David Hargreaves with them to discuss the particulars of the ransom and why he hadn’t told anyone. It would be a while longer, Emma knew, before Sean Murphy and his garda colleagues left Shepherd Head.
Andy Donovan was waiting, pacing in the bar lounge. Muddy and bruised, Julianne burst into tears, then sniffled and glared at him. “I don’t need you here. Go back to Maine.”
“Jules,” he said, taking her into his arms. “Damn.”
Emma stood next to Colin by the stairs. He rolled his eyes, but Julianne’s close call had clearly affected him. When he and Emma had arrived at the church ruin and saw Brent Corwin’s van—heard Julianne up on the ledge, fighting for her life—they had focused on the job at hand. An armed Sean Murphy had only helped.
Julianne needed a hot shower and dry clothes, but Emma saw that her assistance wasn’t required. Andy was more than up to the task. He wanted to carry her up the stairs, but she insisted she could walk—and then stumbled, and that was that. He had her up and off her feet in a flash.
“I’m all wet and smell like mud,” she told him.
“Nothing new with you, Jules.”
Colin sighed, watching them go up the stairs. “Let’s see what happens when the adrenaline and jet lag wear off.”
He and Emma went out to the terrace. He checked in with Yank while she checked in with Lucas and her grandfather. Kitty sent out tea and trays of sandwiches and desserts. Julianne and Andy came out to the terrace—both freshly showered and in clean clothes—and as they sat at the table, smiling, for a moment Emma pretended they were all on an Irish vacation together.
Julianne, however, was still pale, and a bruise had blossomed on her wrist. She grabbed half a ham sandwich. “It bugs the hell out of me that Brent Corwin thought I was a soft target. That’s what he told me. Soft target.”
Andy grinned at his older brother. “You see what she’s like?”
“She’s been like that since she was two. I remember.” Colin turned to Julianne. “Don’t beat yourself up because you got nabbed.”
“I’m not beating myself up. I know I’m not an FBI agent. That doesn’t mean I can’t fight.”
“No kidding,” Andy said.
“You did what any one of us would have done,” Emma said.
The Donovan brothers disagreed and discussed various ways they would have disarmed Brent and stopped him from dragging them off at gunpoint. Julianne didn’t seem to object. She was, Emma saw, used to their talk.
Sean Murphy arrived, coming through the bar lounge. “Please join us,” Emma said, and he sat across from her, next to Julianne. Kitty came out to check on them, and Emma invited her to join them, too, but she had her hands full keeping up with the gardai’s comings and goings.
“How’s Philip today?” Sean asked her.
She seemed to avoid his eye. “He’s as well as can be expected.”
“He has good instincts, Kitty,” Sean said. “He did well under pressure, and he must know now that nothing he told Lindsey put this scheme of hers into her head.”
Kitty blinked back tears. “Thank you for asking about him,” she mumbled, then whirled back inside. Sean watched her in silence.
Julianne abandoned her sandwich and wandered off to look at a bed of pansies just off the terrace. Andy made no move to join her.
“You’re a lucky man,” Sean told him. “Julianne’s a lovely woman.”
“She still wants to drown me in the Celtic Sea.”
Sean grinned. “You probably deserve it.”
No argument from either Donovan.
The Irishman got up, and Emma followed him inside to the whiskey cabinet. “We still don’t have our thief,” he said.
“Not yet.”
“I like your attitude, Special Agent Sharpe.” He peered through the glass at the array of whiskey bottles. “Fin Bracken is almost as good a judge of people as he is whiskey, and he considers Colin a friend.”
“Colin needs his freedom,” Emma said.
“From what?”
“A desk.”
“You don’t tie him down. He’s an undercover agent, isn’t he? A valuable asset for the FBI, no doubt. They’ll have another job for him. He’ll do better, not worse, knowing he has you to come home to.”
“You’re a wise man.”
“I’m dumb as a post.” He winked at her. “Luckily I know where Kitty keeps the key to the whiskey cabinet. Let’s help ourselves while she’s in a generous mood.”
* * *
Sean left a bottle of Auchentoshan with the Americans and found Kitty in her office. She didn’t look up from her desk. “I’d have turned you in if I’d had proof you were the thief.”
“I’d have done the same with you.”
Now she looked up. “Me?”
Sean smiled. “If I wasn’t with you part of the night, then you weren’t with me part of the night.”
“I don’t know if I should be insulted you’d think I’d do such a thing or complimented that you think I could pull it off.”
“Either way, it’s not what came between us. You’ve done well with this place, Kitty, and you’ve a good lad in Philip.”
“He looks up to you.”
Sean grinned. “And well he should.”
“I’m glad you’re not this thief. Maybe just as well we don’t know who it is.” She got to her feet. “Ah, Sean. What a mess we’ve made of things.”
“Maybe we just have our own timing.”
“Philip’s father wanted an old-fashioned wife, and that I’m not and will never be. He’s a good man but...” She sighed. “He has what he wants now, and he’s happy. Philip will be off on his own soon enough. I’m still young, Sean.”
“You want more children?”
She didn’t seem that surprised by his question. “It could happen. I love babies. I always thought I’d have a brood. I’ve this place. I have such happy memories here. I deal with wonderful people every day, as guests, workers, contractors. I love Declan’s Cross. I’m blessed.”
“Come up to the farm tonight, Kitty. We’ll open a bottle of champagne and watch the stars come out over the sea.”
“That sounds wonderful.” She tilted her head back. “Did you steal the champagne like you just stole my whiskey?”
Starchy Kitty, Sean thought, laughing as he left her to wonder.
* * *
As far as Andy was concerned, the spa at the O’Byrne House Hotel was heaven, but he was jet-lagged and still getting over the shock of arriving in Declan’s Cross to all hell breaking loose. Julianne had talked him into a couple’s massage, and now they were in the couple’s lounge, relaxing, supposedly, on a double chaise lounge with deep, sleep-inducing cushions.
Quite a first day in Ireland.
It was almost dark now. The lounge overlooked a peaceful garden that was lush even in November. He had spa-provided headphones so he could listen to music. The spa attendants had left a pot of special herbal tea, a pitcher of ice water with lemons and oranges, a plate of cut-up fruit. All perfect, but he was jumping out of his skin.
He noticed Julianne didn’t have her headphones on, either. She looked tired enough to melt into the cushions, and the bruise on her wrist had darkened. Andy hated thinking about how close Colin and Emma and Sean Murphy had come to finding Julianne dead on the rocks.
“I’ve missed you,” he said finally.
“I haven’t been gone long enough for you to miss me. I left Rock Point on Monday night. It’s now Friday—”
“I mean since we broke up.”
She sighed. “We didn’t break up, Andy. You dumped me.”
“You remember everything, don’t you? I guess that’s why you’re such a good student.”
“You weren’t a good student because you had other things on your mind. You’re good at lobstering, and you’re good at restoring boats.”
“A few other things, too, Jules, as I recall you saying on occasion.”
“I love Rock Point. You know that, right?”
He didn’t know how they’d gone from him referring to making love to her talking about Rock Point, but that was how her mind worked. “I know that,” he said. “I just want you to do what’s right for you.”
“Let me be the judge of what’s right for me, okay? Don’t you try to be the judge of it. I’ll have options when I finish my degree.”
“We don’t have to figure out everything today. This hotel’s great, but I think I prefer the Murphy cottage.”
While Emma and Julianne had taken a walk in the hotel gardens, Andy had gone with Colin to have a look at Shepherd Head. The gardai wouldn’t let them onto the ledge where Lindsey Hargreaves and Brent Corwin had died, but Andy had gotten a glimpse of the Celtic crosses that had inspired Aoife O’Byrne. He could see why.
“The cottage is nice,” Julianne said, subdued now.
“We can take walks on the cliffs and out to the ruins.”
“After someone’s died there?”
“There’s a cemetery out there, Jules.”
