Only the Devout

by Amanda M. Lee

  Griffin met us in the foyer with Lily perched on his hip. She was back to smiling and even reached for her grandfather because she was happy again. Cormack gladly took her, swaying back and forth as he listened to our tale. When I finished, everyone but me came to the same conclusion.

  “Don’t do a thing,” Griffin ordered, taking me by surprise with his vehemence. “Let the homeowners make the discovery and call the police.”

  I couldn’t believe that was his stance. “You’re a detective,” I argued. “How can you think that’s okay?”

  “Whatever those guys were doing wasn’t good — and it wasn’t normal.” He refused to back down. “I’m guessing it was something really weird. There’s no way we can explain how they were standing across the road, chanting, and one of them ended up dead.”

  “What if someone saw us out there giving chase?” Cillian asked. He was always the pragmatic one in the family. “It might be harder for us to explain after the fact if someone saw us.”

  “What did they see?” Griffin folded his arms across his chest, adamant. “Let’s be reasonable. If anyone saw you guys running around, what would they say? You three didn’t catch anyone.” He inclined his head toward Cillian’s small group. “Braden didn’t either. Izzy was by herself. My guess is the neighbors will think the Grimlocks were out doing something ridiculous again. It’s not as if you don’t have a reputation for being morons.”

  “But there’s a body,” Cillian persisted. “We have no idea who he is or what they had planned.”

  “We won’t get that information by putting ourselves in a precarious position with the locals,” Griffin argued. “We have no choice but to sit back and let this play out. Once the body is discovered, I can contact the police department and ask questions without looking suspicious. It happened right around the corner from my father-in-law’s house. It would be normal for me to ask for information. We can’t tie ourselves to a public suicide.”

  My stomach was uneasy. “This feels so wrong.”

  “Griffin is correct,” Cormack countered. “We must be careful about exposure here. This is the smartest course of action.”

  “Did you just say I was right?” Griffin asked, amusement flitting through his eyes.

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” Cormack warned.

  Lily laughed at her father’s wry expression and reached for him. Griffin took her, watching curiously as she moved her small hand to me. Her tiny fingers rested on top of my knuckles, and I was surprised at the warmth pulsing through me.

  “What’s she doing?” Redmond asked. He must’ve seen the shift in my demeanor, because he was instantly alert. “Is she doing something?”

  I nodded, thoughtful. “She’s trying to make me feel better.”

  “She is?” Griffin stared at his offspring. “How is she doing that?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think it’s part of her empath power. She’s awfully young to be this aware.”

  Cormack beamed and puffed out his chest. “She’s gifted.”

  “She’s special,” I agreed.

  “Give her to me.” Cormack tried to reclaim his granddaughter, but Griffin shifted so it was impossible.

  “I’ll take her up and put her to bed,” Griffin said. “You can see her in the morning.”

  “Or you could let me put her to bed and get some sleep with your wife,” Cormack said. “You look tired. You’ve been walking with her for hours. You need a break. And you could use a little alone time with Aisling.”

  Griffin was instantly suspicious. “Since when do you want me to spend alone time with Aisling? You used to threaten to cut off my hands when I suggested anything of the sort.”

  Cormack made a face. “I wasn’t talking about that type of alone time. What is the matter with you?”

  Lily laughed again, earning appreciative looks from all her male relatives.

  “Fine. Take her.” Griffin kissed Lily’s forehead and relinquished her to her waiting grandfather. She didn’t issue a single complaint. “I’m going to go and ... sleep ... with my wife. There will be no funny business, though.”

  Cormack pursed his lips. “I’ll still cut off your hands.”

  I watched the interplay with a feeling of dread. They were being awfully cavalier about the fact that a cult member had cut his own throat in a neighbor’s yard rather than answer questions. There was very little I could do about it, though.

  “I’m tired, too,” I admitted, rubbing my forehead. “I could use some sleep.”

  Braden slid his arm around my shoulders. “Same here. We can have that argument about you not telling me you got knocked out while getting ready for bed.”

  I frowned. “Can’t you just let that go?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then let’s get it over with.”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” He squeezed my hand. “Then we can make up and sleep like babies.”

  “I’ve had worse offers.”

  MOST OF THE FAMILY WAS ALREADY gathered around the dining room table when Braden and I joined them the next morning. True to his word, our argument had been brief. Sadly, he brought up a few good points, including the fact that we were trying to build a relationship and I would be furious if something similar happened to him and he’d kept it from me. He was right, so I apologized and he graciously let it go. Then we made up and slept like the dead. I was feeling pretty good despite the happenings of the previous evening — until I remembered Emmet and Mary would be dining with us.

  “I don’t understand.” Emmet sat at the opposite end of the table from his son. Cormack refused to cede his regular spot, which had turned into a bone of contention with his father. They were obviously locked in a power struggle, both determined to win. “How could you allow yourself to become involved with a cult?”

  “We’re not involved with a cult,” Cormack replied, not lowering his newspaper. “Cult members are attempting to insert themselves into our lives. There’s a difference.”

  “How so?”

  “Because I said so.” Cormack was clearly walking a fine line with his temper. His smile was full and warm when he saw Braden and me, though. “Finally. Everyone is starving.”

  I knit my eyebrows, confused. “Then why haven’t you eaten?”

  Braden snorted at the confused look on my face. “Because Grandma and Grandpa are firm believers that everyone must be seated before breakfast is served.”

  “And there’s no omelet bar,” Aisling offered mournfully. She had Lily perched on her lap and was feeding her with a bottle emblazoned with the words “my Papa loves me best.”

  “No omelet bar?” Braden appeared traumatized. “We always have an omelet bar after a late-night adventure.”

  “Not this morning.” Aisling cast her father a dark look. “Apparently Emmet and Mary think having to stand up to get your own breakfast makes us animals.”

  Cormack held Aisling’s gaze for an extended beat. Discomfort practically rolled off him in waves. “You may have an omelet bar next week.”

  Aisling knew when she had her father in an uncomfortable position and she wasn’t afraid to push things to the limit. “I want stuffed lobster, too.”

  “Fine.”

  “And blueberry pie.”

  Cormack frowned. “That’s an unappetizing combination.”

  “I don’t care. I want it.”

  “You’re not pregnant again, are you?” Redmond asked. “I mean ... not that we don’t all love Lily, because we do.” He beamed at the infant, who was busy guzzling her breakfast and had no time for him. “But we can’t take care of another baby. We’re at our limit.”

  Aisling rolled her eyes. “I’m not pregnant. Stop asking me that whenever I start talking about food. Just because I’m hungry doesn’t mean that I’m pregnant. Give me a break.”

  “I’m just saying.” Redmond held up his hands in mock surrender. “Your moods are a little swing-y, too.”

  “Whatever.” Aisling tapped the fing
ers of her free hand on the table. “Where is breakfast? I’m starving.”

  “Now that everyone is seated, food will be delivered in a timely fashion,” Emmet replied, fixing his only granddaughter with a dark look.

  “It’s not happening fast enough,” Aisling supplied. “My stomach is growling so loudly that Lily thinks it’s singing for her.”

  Lily laughed around her bottle, as if she understood every word her mother said and wholeheartedly agreed.

  “Has anyone ever told you that patience is a virtue?” Emmet snapped.

  “Nobody who has ever lived to tell the tale,” Aisling replied, shifting on her chair. “Seriously, I’m dying here.”

  Emmet stared at her for a moment longer and then turned his attention to me. “I understand that you had some excitement last night.”

  I hesitated, unsure how to respond. It seemed unlikely that anyone would volunteer what had happened to the curmudgeonly old crank who fancied himself judge, jury, and executioner in this family.

  “He’s talking about your argument with Braden,” Aisling offered helpfully, her gaze pointed when it locked with mine. “He overheard some of us talking this morning. We had no choice but to explain what happened.”

  “Ah.” I nodded in understanding. In other words, Emmet had eavesdropped on a conversation he wasn’t meant to hear and they’d spun some fanciful tales to keep him in the dark on the grimmest developments. He knew about the cult because they’d been outside chanting. He didn’t know about the death. That was probably wise. “Yes, Braden and I had a big argument.”

  Braden leaned back in his chair and smiled. “And then we made up.”

  Aisling rolled her eyes. “Why isn’t he threatened with being locked in the basement when he talks about sex?” she complained. “There’s a double standard in this house and I don’t like it.”

  “You’ll survive,” Cormack countered, lowering his newspaper to watch Lily suck her bottle dry. “She’s hungry this morning.”

  “She didn’t eat any dinner last night because she was upset,” Aisling explained, sobering. “You put her to bed and I’m assuming she went straight down.”

  “She did,” Cormack confirmed. “I rocked her for an hour, but she was dead to the world.”

  “She woke up ravenous. I can’t wait until she starts eating solid foods.”

  “That won’t be for at least another month,” Cormack noted.

  Aisling shifted the baby, her eyes going to the door as Griffin strolled through it. I hadn’t even realized he was missing. “Great. Now we can eat.” She turned to Emmet, expectant.

  “We weren’t waiting for him.” Emmet’s lips twisted. “We were waiting for Braden. You wait for family, not for ... others.” His disdain of Griffin was evident.

  “It’s fine,” Griffin offered when Aisling growled. “I’m perfectly capable of catching up if necessary.” He smiled fondly at his wife and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Calm down, tiger.”

  I was over listening to the stilted family banter. None of them felt comfortable in front of their grandparents — which begged the question of why Cormack had invited them — but I had more important things pressing down on me. “You were in touch with your office or another office?”

  Griffin slowly tracked his eyes to me. There was sympathy reflected there, which only served to agitate me. “My department. I haven’t heard from anybody else.”

  “You must be patient, Izzy,” Cormack chided. “I know that’s not easy, but it’s the right thing to do.”

  Emmet’s eyebrows, shot through with wildly discordant white outliers, drew together. “Am I missing something?”

  “Oh, so much,” Aisling intoned, taking Lily’s empty bottle and placing it on the table before hoisting the baby to her shoulder to burp her. “What did you get from your department?”

  “I started a search on Titus Weaver yesterday after the body was discovered at the aquarium,” Griffin replied, absently running his hand over Lily’s dark head.

  It wasn’t the information I was looking for, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t of interest. “And?”

  “And I couldn’t find anything under his name,” Griffin replied. “I figured that might be the case, so I snagged a coffee cup he threw in the garbage yesterday and ran the prints. I hit on a Titus Howard out of Pennsylvania.”

  “So he changed his name,” I mused. “Did he have a reason for it, or was he just trying to build up a mystique?”

  “I think the reasons for the name change were much more practical,” Griffin replied. “Titus Howard has eight arrests on his record.”

  Now we were getting somewhere. “Theft?”

  Griffin nodded. “Among other things. He’s a grifter as far as I can tell. He’s been arrested twice for romancing women, borrowing money from them, and then skipping town.”

  I wasn’t exactly surprised by the information. “He’s charming,” I noted. “He has a way about him. He can schmooze with the best of them. He’s also aggressive, and when someone calls him on his behavior he goes out of his way to turn the tables and accuse them as a form of distraction.”

  “I think that’s pretty normal with these types,” Griffin agreed. “He’s also been nabbed for credit card fraud. He stole a purse from a car at a gas station and tried to use the card before the owner realized it was missing. He was picked up within three minutes.”

  “Why isn’t he in jail?” Emmet queried, his expression hard. “If he’s a criminal, he should be in jail.”

  Griffin feigned patience. “I think we all prefer our criminals be branded so we can pick them out of a crowd,” he replied dryly. “Titus wasn’t a violent offender. He was smart enough to move frequently, evading the warrants.”

  Emmet shook his head. “I don’t understand how a run-of-the-mill grifter turned up here running a cult. It makes no sense.”

  “It doesn’t,” Griffin agreed. “I’m going to dig deeper on Titus this afternoon. I ran a few of the names I managed to get from his followers. So far, they come up clean.”

  “That could be on purpose,” Braden noted. “They might’ve purposely volunteered their names because they knew you were likely to come up empty. Maybe they thought you would quit after that.”

  “Maybe. I can’t say.” Griffin blew out a sigh as a member of the kitchen staff appeared with a large tray. “I’m guessing the followers are weak of spirit and easily swayed. Those are normally the sorts of people grifters prey on.”

  “Is there any way to determine that?” Cormack asked, frowning when the server placed a bowl of oatmeal before him. “Um—”

  He didn’t get a chance to finish his thought, because Aisling was up next, and her reaction to breakfast was one for the books.

  “What is this?” she practically screeched. Lily, asleep with her head on her mother’s shoulder, didn’t as much as stir. She was obviously getting used to the chaos in her grandfather’s home.

  “That is oatmeal,” Emmet replied, as though instructing a class of young students. “It’s good for you.”

  Aisling’s eyes were wild when she turned them to her father. “Did you know this is what they were going to make us eat?”

  “I ... didn’t know,” Cormack muttered, using his spoon to stir the bowl of bland mush. He didn’t look any happier than Aisling. “It won’t hurt you to try something new.”

  Aisling obviously thought otherwise. “I’m not eating this.” She shoved the bowl away and glanced at Griffin, who was making a face at his own breakfast. “Let’s go to McDonald’s and get breakfast sandwiches.”

  Griffin pursed his lips, considering. He darted a look at Emmet, who glared at him. “I don’t know if we should do that.”

  “Screw them.” Aisling was desperate. “I want good food ... and grease. I also want decent coffee. Emmet won’t let the kitchen staff steam milk for my mocha.”

  “Steamed milk is not coffee,” Emmet snapped.

  Aisling ignored him. “I can’t eat this. I’ll die.”
<
br />   I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing at her dramatic performance. To my utter surprise, Braden reacted first.

  “I’m with Aisling. Let’s go to McDonald’s and make our plans for the day.”

  Jerry and Maya had already left due to work commitments — which was probably best — but everyone else hopped to their feet in unison. Healthy breakfast food was not a consideration in the Grimlock house.

  “Come on.” Braden held out his hand to me. “I’ll buy you a McGriddle and we can talk about what’s going to happen on Belle Isle. We need to come up with a plan of attack.”

  “Definitely,” Cormack agreed, falling into step with us. “We can’t leave Izzy unprotected out there. I expect Titus to be on alert.”

  I frowned when I realized he was coming with us. “What about your oatmeal?”

  “Nobody wants to eat that,” he answered, ignoring Emmet and Mary’s glare at the multitude of retreating backs. “I want a McGriddle, too.”

  Braden’s smile said everything. “You’re regretting inviting them, aren’t you?”

  Cormack sighed. “You have no idea.”

  Sixteen

  “I think I should be Izzy’s backup.”

  Aisling made the announcement as we were finishing our breakfast — and the suggestion didn’t go over well.

  “Absolutely not!” Griffin vehemently shook his head. “No way.”

  The Aisling I knew could show flashes of patience, but they were few and far between. Braden said she managed those flashes only after becoming a mother. Before that, she was an unruly pain. She looked to be reverting today.

  “You’re not the boss of me,” Aisling warned, pinning her husband with a dark look. “I get to say who is the boss of me ... and it’s me.”

  “And technically me,” Cormack argued. He held Lily, who was awake again and soaking in the potential squabble. She didn’t look concerned.

  “Gah.” The baby made a funny noise and pointed at her mother.