Читать книгу Declan's Cross - Carla Neggers - Страница 10

4

AN ELFIN-FACED, black-haired Kitty O’Byrne Doyle showed Emma and Colin to their room on the second floor of the graceful, ivy-covered O’Byrne House Hotel. Once a private residence owned by Kitty’s uncle, the boutique hotel occupied a scenic stretch of south Irish coast in the small village of Declan’s Cross. “Fin Bracken is a great friend of mine,” Kitty said as she set the door key on a gleaming mahogany side table in the attractive room. “I saw you were from Maine and emailed him on the off chance he knew you. He said he did and told me I should take good care of you. That sounds like Fin, doesn’t it?”

Emma started to assure Kitty there was no need to go to any trouble on their account, but Colin grinned and said, “It does sound like him. He’s stayed here?”

“He’s had a drink or two here. We haven’t been open quite a year yet.” Kitty adjusted a tie on a drape of a tall window overlooking the hotel’s extensive gardens and, beyond, the Celtic Sea. “Fin’s well?”

“He just survived his first authentic Maine bean-hole supper,” Colin said.

Kitty turned from the window. “Heavens. That sounds ominous. Dare I ask?”

“You dig a hole, light a fire in it, add a cast-iron pot of beans and let them bake. After twenty-four hours or so, you dig them up and serve them. It’s a Maine tradition.”

“So is wild blueberry pie,” Emma added with a smile.

“I’ll be sure to try them both if I’m ever in Maine,” Kitty said. “I’ll let you two get settled. Let me know if you need anything.”

Emma followed her to the door. “Did Finian mention that a friend of ours from Rock Point is arriving in Declan’s Cross today?”

Kitty’s hand faltered on the door latch. She was in her late thirties, in a chunky wool sweater and a slim skirt in a dark blue that matched her eyes. “Yes—yes, Fin told me about her. A marine biologist. He put her in touch with a local man. Sean Murphy.” She recovered her emotions. “Your friend is staying at a cottage on the Murphy sheep farm. It’s up on Shepherd Head.”

“Walking distance?” Colin asked.

“It’s a good walk, if you don’t mind hills. Easiest is to go through the garden and out the back gate. Don’t go right—go left, all the way down to the bookshop. You can’t miss it. It’s painted red. You can go straight or go right. Don’t go straight. Turn right up the hill, continue on past the cliffs, then bear left. The cottage is just there.” She smiled, her cheeks pink. “It’s easier than I make it sound. You’ll have no trouble at all.”

Emma thanked her. Kitty glanced around the room as if for a final inspection and then withdrew. When the door closed, Colin said, “She knows who you are.”

“You beam ‘FBI’ more than I do.”

“I don’t mean FBI. I mean that our Kitty recognized the Sharpe name. As in Wendell Sharpe and Sharpe Fine Art Recovery.”

“I assumed she would, actually.” Emma walked over to the window and looked out at the sea, quiet under a blue-gray sky. “It’s a pretty hotel, isn’t it? Contemporary Irish art and clean, cheerful colors. I like it. John O’Byrne, Kitty’s uncle, left this place to Kitty and her younger sister, Aoife. Aoife’s an accomplished artist. I think some of the art in the hotel is hers.”

“They’re from Declan’s Cross?”

Emma shook her head. “They grew up in Dublin. Their uncle was the eldest of seven. I think he was in his forties already when they were born. I never met him.”

“Your grandfather did?”

“Yes.”

Colin stood next to her at the window. “Good view.”

He wasn’t interested in the view. She could tell. “What else is on your mind?”

“What do you know about our Kitty and our sheep farmer?”

“Not as much as you think I do, and not as much as I’d like.”

“An Emma Sharpe answer if I’ve ever heard one.” He looked out the window as if the view of gardens and sea offered answers. He’d done the driving to Declan’s Cross, stopping only once. “It’s too early for lunch and way too early for whiskey.”

“We can walk up to the Murphy farm and have a look at Julianne’s cottage,” Emma said. “She’ll be here soon if she’s not already. Or I could go up there on my own, in case she’s in no mood to deal with a Donovan.”

Colin moved back from the window. “She and Andy got in over their heads. Just one of those things.”

“Maybe to Andy.”

“We all warned him about breaking her heart. Mike, Kevin and I. He didn’t listen. A family trait. After that, we stayed out of it. I’m not worried about Julianne’s state of mind. She’s tough. She’s more likely to shoot me than shoot herself.”

“That’s what you see on the exterior,” Emma said, zipping her rain jacket. “She’s not going to let you all see how hurt she is by what happened between her and Andy.”

“The Maroneys are all proud and stubborn.” Colin grabbed the room key off the table and opened the door. “After you.”

Emma went past him into the hall. He shut the door behind them, slid the key into his jacket pocket and touched her cheek. “Being here brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

“My work with Granddad in Dublin was an intense time for me. I was at a crossroads, sure I had made the right decision in leaving the sisters but not sure what came next.” She raised her eyes to his. “Not unlike what you’re going through now.”

“Taking tourists on puffin tours was on your list of new career possibilities?”

She rolled her eyes and bit back a smile. He would always try to make her laugh, despite the seriousness of what was on her mind—or his. Since the arrests of his arms traffickers and the breakup of their network, he’d been half jokingly talking about quitting the FBI and setting himself up as a tour boat operator off the coast of Maine, maybe returning to lobstering to supplement his income.

She understood the temptations of a different life.

“No puffin tours,” she said. “I knew it was Sharpe Fine Art Recovery or the FBI. I briefly considered teaching or working in a museum, but they weren’t for me. You know you have options besides becoming Cap’n Colin and taking tourists on puffin tours.”

“We’d see seals and bald eagles, too, and I could do whale watches.”

She’d meant options within the FBI, but he knew that. Getting him to talk to her about his career crisis—his personal crisis—since his undercover mission had led murderous thugs to Rock Point in October wasn’t easy. He was a deep, complex man, but that didn’t mean he liked to talk.

“We’ll continue this conversation another time,” she said as they headed down the hall.

Emma paused at a reading room at the top of the curving stairs. Its double doors were open, inviting passersby in among the comfortable-looking sofas and chairs. A round table in the middle of a thick, colorful Persian carpet displayed books on Irish history, geography, art and food. The basic lines and layout of the room hadn’t changed in the extensive renovations that had transformed the musty, run-down mansion into a quirky, upscale boutique hotel.

“Is this where the stolen art was located?” Colin asked.

“The paintings were here.”

Four years ago, Paddy Murphy, the part-time caretaker, had let her peek into what had then been a library. Emma had observed musty furnishings, a threadbare rug and oppressive wallpaper. John O’Byrne had died the previous year. It had been late summer, a beautiful day on the south Irish coast. She’d already decided to have a go at Quantico. She hadn’t known if she’d make it through the training and become an FBI agent, but she’d known she’d had to try. That trying was part of whatever was next for her.

“Thinking again, Emma?” he asked.

She smiled. “Always.”

He winked, slipped an arm around her. “Not always.”

They descended the stairs and headed into the bar lounge, a low fire in its marble fireplace, and outside through French doors to a tiled terrace. Colorful pots of ivy and scarlet and lavender cyclamen glistened in the morning sun. A half-dozen tables overlooked the gardens, pebbled paths meandering among rosebushes, hydrangeas, rhododendrons and raised flower and herb beds, inviting even now, in early November.

Emma sighed, admiring the gardens. “It’s a perfect spot for a romantic getaway.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

They took a walkway past beds of deep-colored pansies, rows of trimmed-back hedges and pale pink cyclamen that had taken over a corner by the ornate iron gate.

Colin opened the gate. “Did your thief go in and out this way?”

“It’s a good guess, but that’s all it is,” Emma said. “We don’t know. It was a dark, rainy night. He could have escaped several different ways without being seen.”

“You’re sure it’s a he?”

“Another good guess but we don’t know.”

“‘We’ meaning the Sharpes or the FBI?”

“Both.”

They went out the gate, shutting it behind them, and turned left onto a narrow street, following Kitty’s directions.

“My question bugged you,” Colin said calmly.

“I expected it,” Emma said. “I’d have asked it myself in your place.”

“It still bugged you.”

They passed a gray stone house with dark green shutters and white lace curtains in tall, sparkling windows. Most of the buildings in the village were painted in a range of primary colors, with colorful awnings, flower boxes and flowerpots, the occasional bench out front. Simple, lovely—Emma wished she could dismiss her nagging doubts about Julianne’s choice of Declan’s Cross and just enjoy the day.

They came to the promised red-painted bookshop on the north end of the village and turned right, as Kitty had instructed, onto a narrow lane that took them uphill. Emma felt herself relax as she breathed in the cool, salt-tinged air. The lane leveled off, curving along dramatic cliffs that dropped straight down to the sea, then winding through a patchwork of rolling fields dotted with grazing sheep.

She remembered how much she’d loved the atmosphere of Declan’s Cross on her one visit. So much had changed in the past four years. She wondered how she’d have responded to Colin if he’d turned up in Dublin back then, or if she’d run into him on her day trip down here. He was already an FBI agent, on his first undercover assignment.

Ten to one that Colin Donovan wasn’t any different from the one walking next to her now.

“Smiling at the view of the Celtic Sea?” he asked her.

“It’s spectacular, but no. I was thinking about you and what it would have been like if we’d met sooner.”

“How much sooner?”

“Well, not when I was with the sisters. I expect I needed that time so that I’d be ready when we did meet.”

He laughed. “Learning to shoot probably helped, too.”

“A wonder I didn’t run into you even before the sisters, since we grew up within a few miles of each other. Maybe we did and just didn’t know it.” She slowed her pace and noticed a few yellow blossoms on a cluster of prickly gorse along the edge of the lane. So pretty, she thought, then squinted out at the horizon in the distance as she answered the question that hung between them. “I know my background as a Sharpe is complicated, but growing up around our family business, working for my grandfather, learning as much as I have from him—all of that’s a plus, Colin. Being a Sharpe is an asset in my art crimes work.”

“Mostly an asset,” he said without hesitation.

She glanced sideways at him. “Are you trying to provoke me?”

“Just trying to get you to admit that I already have provoked you.”

She sighed. “I’m not as hotheaded as you are.”

“You have doubts, Emma. You’re not sure you’re where you’re supposed to be.”

“I’m here with you.” She knew he meant the FBI and not him. “That’s good enough for me.”

“No argument from me. We’ll save the deep talk for another time. I may not know all your secrets, but I know you. I know you’re worried that being a Sharpe is getting in the way of your work.” He took her hand and drew her close. “Your fingers are cold.”

She was relieved he hadn’t pushed her for answers. “I left my gloves at the hotel.”

“We’ll have to keep each other warm, then.”

She smiled. “Sometimes we do think alike.”

* * *

A few minutes later, they came to a tan cinder-block bungalow in a small lot bordered on three sides by fields and more sheep. Emma stopped at a barbed-wire fence where four woolly ewes had gathered. They didn’t seem to mind the stiff breeze off the water, but it was colder than she expected, prompting her to pull up her jacket collar. “It’s a beautiful spot for Julianne’s stay,” she said, glancing at Colin. “If you decide you never want to leave Ireland after all, you could always take up sheep farming.”

He patted a ewe’s head. She bleated and pushed against his palm. He grinned. “I do have a way with women, don’t you think?”

“Very funny.”

“I don’t see myself taking up sheep farming in Ireland. Whale watches, maybe. Irish coastal waters are a sanctuary for whales, dolphins and porpoises.”

“Colin, you’re not serious, are you?”

His smoky gray eyes settled on her. “I’m kidding, Emma. I won’t be staying in Ireland forever. Whatever’s next for me is back home.”

“You won’t be going back with me on Friday. You need more time on your own here, without me.”

“It wasn’t a mistake for you to have come,” he said.

“I’m glad of that.”

He stood back from the sheep, the wind catching the ends of his dark hair. He hadn’t asked her to join him in Ireland. When he’d left without her, she’d understood that he’d believed some time on his own in Finian Bracken’s Irish cottage was a way for him to decompress after his months undercover, and at least to start the process of figuring out what came next for him. She’d followed him there because she’d wanted, simply, to be with him. If he’d asked her to go back to Boston, she’d have gone.

But he hadn’t asked her to leave. They’d taken long walks, laughed in pubs, made love on dark, rain-soaked nights. She’d relished every minute of being with him, but that didn’t mean she’d made the right decision in coming here. Leaving without him didn’t seem right, either, but she still was booked on a flight back to Boston on Friday.

The sheep about-faced and wandered back into the field. Emma turned from the fence and looked across the lane, past a stone wall and a strip of golden grass to a steep, rocky slope that angled down to the water, sparkling under a mix of clouds and sun. Not a boat was in sight.

“Do you know anything about this Sean Murphy?” Colin asked.

She shook her head. “Not really, no.”

It wasn’t a complete answer, and she suspected he knew it. The Murphy farmhouse was up through the fields behind the cottage, not as close to the water. She remembered it from her day trip four years ago. But she needed to pull her thoughts about Declan’s Cross together before she explained everything to Colin, not explain scattershot—not let herself feel pressured to tell him things about the theft and the investigation that she couldn’t tell him, shouldn’t tell him.

His approach would be simple and direct. He’d tell her he wanted to know whatever she knew. All of it. Now. No waiting, no thinking. It wasn’t a question of trust, he’d say, as much as a matter of being practical. He was a deep-cover federal agent. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t handle the facts of a serial art thief.

“It’s a beautiful view,” Emma said, taking in the gray-blue sea as it melted into the horizon. “Of course, you’re a former lobsterman and marine patrol officer. You probably don’t see what I see when you look out at the ocean.”

Colin moved back from the fence and stood next to her. “Julianne’s a marine biologist. She probably sees things neither of us would notice.”

“Do you want to wait for her?”

“We can at least catch our breath.”

Even as he spoke, a small red car appeared down the lane, inching toward the cottage. As it came closer, Emma recognized Julianne Maroney at the wheel and frowned at Colin. “I thought her friend was picking her up.”

“So did I.” He nodded toward the creeping car. “She’s not setting any land-speed records, is she?”

“First time driving in Ireland? Fresh off a plane? I wouldn’t be, either.”

The tiny Micra came to a crooked stop in front of the cottage. Julianne leaped out as if the front seat had caught fire. “I made it alive. Damn. A miracle if there ever was one.” She exhaled, placing a hand on her heart as if to steady her nerves, then focused on Emma and Colin. “What are you two doing here?”

“We thought we’d welcome you to Ireland,” Emma said.

“How did you know—” Julianne stopped, sighed. “Andy.” She glared at Colin. “He told you?”

Colin shrugged. “Emailed me after he talked to Ryan and then again last night.”

“Figures. No secrets in Rock Point.” She lowered her hand from her heart and gave an exaggerated shudder. “Jet lag, driving on the left, roundabouts, hedgerows—my heart was already in my throat. Then I get to this lane. Cliffs. No guardrails. No shoulder. It’s insane. What if I’d met another car?”

Emma smiled. “Looks as if you did just fine.”

“At least this place exists. I was starting to think I’d gotten all my wires crossed.” Julianne hunched her shoulders, rubbed her neck with one hand. “Ugh. I’m so stiff. I must have tensed every muscle in my body driving. I didn’t sleep much on the plane. It still feels like the middle of the night.”

“Get some sunlight in your eyes,” Colin said. “You’ll be fine.”

She bristled. “I know I’ll be fine.”

He glanced into her rented car. “What happened to your ride? Lindsey Hargreaves, right? She was picking you up in Shannon?”

“Yes, and I have no idea what happened to her.” Julianne sounded slightly less combative. “I have a terrible feeling she’s meeting me in Dublin instead of Shannon. I take it you haven’t seen her? She’s not here?”

Emma shook her head. “We only just got into Declan’s Cross ourselves.”

“I’ve called and texted her but nothing. I must have screwed up. Right now I just feel stupid more than anything else.”

“A little late to feel stupid,” Colin said.

Julianne scowled at him. “Always count on a Donovan to make you feel better.”

“You barely know this woman,” he said, obviously not about to let Julianne off the hook. “You have no idea if she’s reliable.”

“I know that, Colin. I got here alive, didn’t I?” She tightened her shawl-like sweater around her and sighed at the view. “What a great spot. It’s going to be a fantastic two weeks.” She turned to Emma. “Thanks for the welcome, but you and Colin can go on your way now.”

Emma could see that Julianne was rattled and tired from her long, unexpected drive from Shannon, on little sleep, and she was defensive around Colin. Probably should have left him at the hotel, Emma thought, then said gently, “We’re staying in the village. Just overnight. The O’Byrne House Hotel. It’s really lovely. I hope you’ll stop by before we leave.”

“Wait, what? You’re staying in Declan’s Cross?” Julianne’s dark hair blew in the wind, the last of her ponytail coming loose. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, ma’am,” Colin said, blunt as ever. “Get yourself settled. We can talk later.”

She stiffened visibly. “I’ll do exactly as I please.”

He turned to Emma. “That spa’s looking better and better.”

Julianne ignored him and headed up the walk to the bungalow. She tried the front door. It was unlocked, and she went in without so much as a backward glance.

Emma stood next to Colin by the little car. “You and Julianne go back a long way. I’ll go talk to her and let her know how to reach us. Why don’t you stay out here and count sheep?”

“I remember her bossing us around when she was six. She liked to carry around a bucket filled with seaweed and periwinkles.”

“Not afraid of her, are you?”

He grinned. “Terrified. I have to remember she’s almost finished with her master’s in marine biology. She’s always been smart. Andy is, too, but he never was a student. He dropped out of the only college that accepted him.”

“Is that why he and Julianne aren’t together anymore?”

“I haven’t asked. Won’t, either. He doesn’t have a chip on his shoulder.”

“Not that a Donovan ever would,” Emma said. “He does well as a lobsterman, and his boat-restoration business seems to be getting off the ground. Do you think he’s worried about keeping Julianne in Rock Point, somehow limiting her horizons?”

“I have no idea. They both do what they want. Always have.” His tone softened. “Go on. I’ll grab her suitcase. She won’t thank me for it. You watch.”

He seemed more amused and expectant than annoyed. Emma hoped Lindsey Hargreaves had left a note in the cottage to explain why she hadn’t met Julianne at the airport. That would ease Julianne’s mind. Colin’s, too. He clearly didn’t like that this woman hadn’t shown up.

Julianne had left the front door open, and Emma stepped inside, entering a living room with a tile floor, throw rugs and IKEA-style furnishings in neutral colors. There was a fireplace, next to it a bin of kindling and peat.

A pine table served as a divider between the living room and a sunlit kitchen on the opposite end of the little one-story bungalow. Julianne stood by the table, looking out double windows at the front yard and across the lane to the sea.

“Sorry I snapped at Colin,” she said, sounding more tired than apologetic. “Not that he can’t take it.”

Emma walked over to her. “We didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. Really. I’m just frazzled. If I’d known Lindsey wasn’t meeting me, I’d have been more prepared to drive.” She glanced around the living room and adjoining kitchen. “It’s a cute place, though, isn’t it?”

“It is. It looks comfortable and well-equipped.”

“Father Bracken knows the owner somehow. I didn’t get the details. I’d planned to stay in a bed-and-breakfast, but I jumped at the chance to rent a cottage. Granny was reassured that Father Bracken recommended it.”

“And you invited Lindsey to join you here?”

Julianne nodded. “It has two bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. Lindsey said conditions at the field station are a little primitive. She’s been staying there.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. A few weeks, maybe. I took a quick look around, but there’s no sign she’s arrived yet. I’m sure we just got our wires crossed.” Julianne sighed at the view. “I wish Granny could see this. She’s always wanted to go to Ireland.”

Emma went into the kitchen. It had white cabinets and a white countertop, a sturdy stove and small refrigerator, and another window looking out at the sea. The back door was through an adjoining mudroom with a washer and dryer. On the counter was a welcome basket filled with bread, digestives, instant coffee, tea and a bottle of red wine. She peeked in the refrigerator and noticed milk, orange juice, eggs, butter, jam, cheese and a bottle of white wine.

“It’s a bit more remote up here than I expected,” Julianne said, coming into the kitchen. “I’m glad it’s still within walking distance of the village. I love to walk, but I suppose I’ll have to drive to get groceries. Helps to know I’m not likely to meet many cars.”

“You’ll get used to Irish roads.”

“I just need a good night’s sleep. I’m falling over on my feet.”

As she spoke, Colin entered the cottage and set her suitcase and tote bag by the front door. He glanced around the living room, then joined her and Emma in the kitchen. “There’s no cell service up here. No landline, either. Wi-Fi?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask because I don’t care.” Julianne pulled the bottle of wine out of the welcome basket. “I’ll find a phone if I need one, and an internet connection, too. Don’t worry, okay?”

“Looks like it’s just you and this Sean Murphy up here.” Colin took the digestives out of the basket. “These things are addictive. Light a fire, make some tea, kick back and relax.” He grinned. “Not that I’m telling you what to do.”

Julianne smiled, at least a little. “Sounds perfect. Maybe Lindsey ran into a delay and tried to get in touch with me but couldn’t due to technical difficulties. I’m sure she’ll turn up. I can’t wait to check out the field station, but I need to get settled first.”

“It’s her brainchild?” Emma asked.

“That’s what she told me. It’s still in the early planning stages. I know I just met Lindsey and this trip is impulsive, but I’m not being reckless. I’m familiar with the Hargreaves Oceanographic Institute. It’s solid. They do good work. I’ll also be going into Cork to see about my internship.” She grabbed the bread out of the basket and set it on the counter. “It’s exciting. Being here.”

Colin placed the digestives next to the bread. “What’s the research focus of this field station?”

“Irish porpoises, whales and dolphins, as far as I know,” Julianne said.

“As opposed to Welsh porpoises, whales and dolphins?”

She made a face. “That’s something Andy would say.”

Colin winked at her. “Uh-oh.”

Color rose in her cheeks. “Just don’t tell him I got stood up at the airport. He won’t ask, but don’t tell him if he does. And don’t volunteer anything. I know I’m being very seventh grade, but I’ve learned to head you Donovans off at the pass, so to speak. Learned the hard way, I might add.”

“As if Maroneys aren’t just as rock-headed,” Colin said half under his breath.

“Maybe it’s no wonder our hometown has ‘rock’ in its name.” Julianne smiled, then stifled a yawn. “I’m so tired I could melt onto the floor. Now that I’m here...” She glanced around the compact, tidy kitchen. “I won’t mind staying here on my own if Lindsey doesn’t show up.”

Colin stood back from the counter. “I’d like to know where she is.”

“She’s probably got a million things going on and just forgot. People forget things, you know. Not all of us are as perfect as the Donovans.”

Their moment of near-camaraderie had passed, Emma saw, but she said nothing.

Colin sighed. “The Donovans aren’t perfect, Julianne.”

“I know that. I was being sarcastic. You’re going all FBI on me and jumping from A to Z without any good reason.”

“I’m not jumping to anything. I’d just like to hear from this woman.”

“I get that. That’s why you’re an FBI agent and I’m a marine biologist. You have a suspicious mind.” Julianne had clearly lost what limited patience she had with him. “I’ll let you know when I hear from Lindsey, okay? I have your number. I’ll text you.”

Emma started out of the kitchen into the living room. “We’d love to have you join us at the hotel for lunch, dinner, a Father Bracken–approved whiskey—whatever you’re up for. It’s nice to see someone from home.”

“Thanks, Emma,” Julianne said, her tone warmer. “Right now I’ll be happy with a grilled cheese sandwich and a nap. Sorry if I’m being defensive. It’s good to see you guys. Really. I’ll stop at the field station later and find out if anyone there has heard from Lindsey.”

“Colin and I can pop in on our way back to the hotel,” Emma said. “We’ll let you know if she’s there or anyone there has heard from her. Enjoy your grilled cheese sandwich.”

Colin said only, “You know where to find us.”

“Yep. Thanks again.”

Emma could see it was time to leave and all but elbowed Colin back outside. The air had turned cooler, and the sky was overcast, no sun now, although with the short November days, dusk would be coming early. “It’s a cute place,” she said. “Finian never would have recommended it if he thought it wasn’t safe.”

“I guess.”

“Julianne’s like a little sister to you.”

“More like a thorn in my side.” Colin glanced back at the lonely bungalow. “I guess there’s no way I’m going to like leaving her up here by herself.”

“As you said, she knows where to find us.”

The ewes returned to the fence, baaing, crowding against each other. Colin grimaced. “The sheep can keep Julianne company.” He tucked his hand into Emma’s. “Let’s go check out this field station.”