Читать книгу Declan's Cross - Carla Neggers - Страница 13

7

EMMA STOOD IN front of the marble fireplace in the reading room at the top of the curving stairs. She could hear the wind and a passing shower, the light fading with November’s early dusk. By all accounts, it had been an even wetter, chillier night a decade ago when a thief had slipped into this very room. Later in the evening—no one could pinpoint the exact time but it had been after midnight, at least.

“A fire would be nice,” Colin said from the doorway.

She turned. She didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, or how long she’d been staring at the fireplace, lost in her thoughts. “It would be. I’m sure Kitty would arrange for one if we wanted to stay up here for a bit. There aren’t many guests.”

“Quiet time of year in Ireland. I like it.”

He crossed to the fireplace, making no sound on the thick Persian carpet. The shadows accentuated the hard lines of his face, but Emma knew it wasn’t always possible to read him. He was adept at burying his real emotions. In his undercover work, his life often depended on his ability to convince people he wasn’t feeling what he was feeling.

He stood next to her and glanced around the room. “No alarm system in this place ten years ago?”

Emma smiled. Colin—his pragmatism—helped keep her from disappearing into her thoughts. “No, no alarm system. John O’Byrne was lucky to keep the lights on.”

“Where was he that night?”

“He was on vacation in Portugal, staying with friends. A local farmer was looking after the place. He was asleep in the kitchen. The thief was in and out before anyone knew it.”

“Local farmer as in—”

“Padraig Murphy. Paddy Murphy. Sean Murphy’s uncle.”

“Ah.”

“He says he slept through the whole thing.”