He gave himself a shake.
Birds. They were just birds.
Yet it seemed as if they had spread their wings like an ominous blanket.
Unable to stop himself, he went back and checked on Bridey again.
He touched her face gently, and her eyes opened.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was listening to the birds. They’re out there, aren’t they? I hear the wings. They come first, you know.”
“Bridey, what are you talking about?”
“The birds come first. They foretell the fate of those who are blessed or damned, so that a soul may make peace with God.”
She was rambling, and he was worried that she was feverish, but she didn’t feel warm.
“Bridey, you’re scaring me.”
“Ah, Zach, I’d not scare ye. Don’t be worried, and don’t be sad. Few know their place in heaven or hell, but I’m one of the lucky ones, for I do know mine.”
“Bridey—”
“It’s sorry I am to be muttering on and on. I’ve a mind to sleep now, though, and you should get on to bed, too. We need you here, you know. Rested and well.”
He kissed her forehead again and returned to his own room.
But he couldn’t escape the echo of the wind that rushed against his ears like the laments of the damned, or the shrieking cries of the crows.
And all the while his mind whispered…
Banshee.
When she headed for bed that night, Kat was mad.
It was Amanda. Amanda was trying to kill her father, even though he didn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it. The woman was nothing but a monster who was able to put on airs because of his money. Why he didn’t see right through her was a complete mystery. Were all men, including her father, unable to combat the call of their hormones?
At least the cops were in on things now, thanks to Zach’s insistence…She didn’t know whether to hope that the latest incident was a case of some psycho with a grudge engaging in product tampering, putting the whole community at risk—and, if so, how coincidental—or that there was a monster living in their midst. There was simply no good answer for that one.
She brushed her teeth, washed her face, slipped into a pair of her most comforting flannel pajamas and lay down to sleep. Grinning, she hugged one of her favorite stuffed toys, a very lifelike collie her dad had bought for her years before.
She closed her eyes.
The old house creaked and groaned.
And she started to listen. Nervously.
She couldn’t help it. She knew that her father and Zach had taken to making absolutely certain that the doors were locked and the alarm was on, but still, she couldn’t help listening to every sound and wondering what it meant.
She strained her ears and heard the sounds of an old house settling.
But there was more. Wings.
A thick beating in the air, as if great dark wings were all around the house.
She lay there, telling herself to stop acting like a scared little kid. She lasted for a few minutes, and then it was suddenly too much.
She leaped up and stood still, listening.
She was scared, even terrified, but she had to know the truth. She felt ridiculous, as if she were a character in a horror movie, but this was her house and she was not going to let her fear control her. Besides, Zach was near, just a few doors down, and her father and Caer were downstairs.
No way was she going to count on Amanda for help, but Bridey was there, too.
Great. She could call on her ill great-aunt to come and be brave for her while she stood there, trembling, in her bare feet.
And what on earth was she afraid of, anyway?
The sound of wings in the night? Big deal.
She gave herself a mental shake and walked to her window, pulled open the drapes—and gasped.
Crows, or maybe ravens.
Scores of them.
They were perched on top of the cottage, on the garage, in the trees, everywhere around the house, and more were surging through the air like harbingers of evil. Birds. At night. In the dead of winter.
And that was all they were, she told herself. Birds. Just birds. What the hell did she care about birds?
She looked down at the ledge beneath her window and barely choked back a scream.
One of them was sitting on her ledge. Staring at her. With just one eye…. When it turned its head, she saw that it had lost the other.
So it stared at her, so close that it could have pecked at her if not for the glass between them.
She dropped the drape to shut out the sight of the bird, then found that her fear was not so easy to erase. She had a terrible picture of the bird suddenly slamming through the glass and attacking her, talons clawing at her face.
She thought about racing down the hall to Zach’s room. He was her friend. He would understand.
But she couldn’t do it. Zach had his own demons. Zach was falling for Caer.
Caer!
She could ask to spend the night in Caer’s room downstairs. She wouldn’t even have to admit that she was a coward; she could make some excuse about being worried about her father.
She stepped out into the hall with that plan in her mind, but then she saw Bridey’s door and found herself tiptoeing in that direction instead.
Bridey was sleeping, but she was such a tiny little thing that there was plenty of room for Kat to slide in right next to her.
She almost screamed when Bridey spoke.
“Hush, darling, it’s all right. Don’t be scared.”
Kat was too startled to wonder how Bridey knew why she was there and said only, “There are birds.”
“I know. But you mustn’t fear, child.”
“Have you seen them?”
“I hear them. They are the forerunner of darkness, Kat, but light remains in the world.”
Great. Bridey was going off into some kind of delusional fantasy.
“I’ll protect you, I promise,” Bridey went on.
Kat gave her a hug back and said, “I love you, Aunt Bridey. And I’ll protect you.”
And then, at last, Kat slept.
Cal was standing at the back of their house, where the sliding glass doors led out to the porch and a spectacular view of the sea.
“Are they still out there?” Marni asked him.
He nodded.
She came up to him and slipped her arms around him, shivering.
They had a great backyard, perfect for parties. Both were covered now, for winter, but in summer the barbecue was often lit and the in-ground pool was uncovered, and the lawn chairs were full of friends having a good time.
Not tonight.
Tonight the yard was filled with…
Birds.
“Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen,” Cal said, studying them. He didn’t seem afraid, just fascinated.
Marni, however, was unnerved.
“Shouldn’t they have flown south?” she whispered.
“Maybe it’s global warming.”
“Just make sure all the doors are locked and drapes are closed, and please, let’s go to bed and shut them out. They’re creepy.”
He nodded, but he didn’t move. Marni couldn’t stand looking at the birds anymore. She wanted to keep holding him, but she was afraid, so she let go and turned to walk away.
“I’m going to bed,” she told him over her shoulder.
“Sure. Be right there.” He sounded mesmerized.
“I could have died tonight, you know,” she reminded him.
He turned suddenly and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I can’t believe I could have lost you.”
“Let’s go to bed,” she whispered.
“Just one more minute,” he said, looking back out to the yard.
She pulled away from him, hurt, and headed for the bedroom. “I’m pretty tired.” She yawned loudly. “I won’t be awake that long.” Maybe the fear of missing ou
t on sex would get him, she thought.
He only nodded absently. Angry now, she went into the bedroom and shut the door loudly, then slipped into her side of the bed, upset that she could hear the sound of wings. She closed her eyes, though, and began to drift.
She suddenly sat bolt upright, shaking off the vision that had invaded her mind as she had started to fall asleep, a vision of a giant black bird, crashing right through the glass and sweeping Cal away.
She shivered, about to jump out of bed, then realized that she must have fallen more deeply asleep than she’d realized, because Cal was lying beside her, sleeping soundly.
He was even snoring.
She snuggled closer to him, and tried to fall asleep again, but she was suddenly angry. Zach was a frigging P.I., and with everything going on, he wanted to go boating.
Screw them all.
Caer was sitting with Sean in the breakfast room, reading a coffee-table book on New England and sipping coffee, while he read the paper. Clara was bustling about, straightening things that didn’t need straightening.
When the phone rang, it was as startling as if a bomb had gone off.
Caer must have jumped, because Sean glanced her way, amused. “Sorry, house phone. Pretty loud, huh?”
He rose and walked over to the little marble table where the old-fashioned telephone sat. “O’Riley,” he said as he picked up the receiver.
For a moment he frowned, and then a smile split his face. “Yes, serious, very serious. I’m sorry to hear that, but let’s hope that at least this will keep anyone from being hurt.”
He hung up, still smiling. “What is it?” Caer asked him.
Clara had frozen and was looking at him expectantly.
“That was Detective Morrissey,” he told them.
“And you’re smiling,” Caer noted.
“They found several jars of those blueberries that had been tampered with. There were three others with ground glass—all of them at the back of the shelf, where they were unlikely to be picked up anytime soon, interestingly. We’re actually lucky that Kat cut herself slicing the pie. Without that, someone could be dead.”
“So—so—” Clara stuttered.
“It means that no one in this house did anything to the blueberries or the pie. They’re investigating now, trying to find out how the jars got on the shelves.”
“I knew it!” Kat said triumphantly from the doorway. “Amanda was just being a troublemaking bitch.”
“Now, Kat,” Sean remonstrated.
“Sorry, Dad.”
“Thank you.”
Kat walked over to pour herself a cup of coffee, saying, “I’m sorry your wife is a troublemaking bitch, not that I said it,” she told him flatly.
“Oh dear,” Clara said, and fled toward the kitchen.
“She does speak her mind,” Sean said, winking at Caer.
“Where is your dear and devoted wife this morning?” Kat asked.
“Still sleeping, I believe.”
Kat sat down at the table. “Dad, come out with me for a bit today, will you? I’ve asked Tom—he can drive us around.”
Sean looked at her with a question in his eyes. “Are you just trying to keep me occupied?” he asked her.
“Yes.” She aimed a smile in Caer’s direction. “I want you to myself for a while. Is that such a bad thing?”
“No.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be happy to run around town with you.”
Zach breezed into the breakfast room then, his hair still damp from the shower, dressed in jeans and a thick sweater, a heavy Windbreaker over his arm.
“What’s up with you?” Sean asked him.
Zach set his jacket down and headed for the coffee. “I talked to Morrissey,” he said.
“Yeah, he just called,” Kat said. “Weird, huh? And scary.” She shivered. “I hope they catch whoever did it soon.”
“Morrissey and his crew are on it,” Zach said. “And I thought I’d do some boating today. I want to get out on the water, but I don’t want to mess with the sails, I just want to zip around.”
“And you don’t feel you need to look over the cops’ shoulders?” Kat said, grinning. “You must be mellowing.”
“There’s nothing I can do that they can’t—and plenty that they can do and I can’t,” Zach said. “They’ll be running prints, checking credit card bills…. They’re on it. Caer, are you ready? You can grab a waterproof parka at the office.”
Just as they got up to leave, Tom walked in with the mail.
“Bill, bill, bill, letter from an antique dealer for Sean, letter from Kat’s webmaster, Christmas card, Christmas card, Christmas card…letter for Caer.”
“What?” she said, startled.
He handed her an envelope. She saw Michael’s name on the return—just the first name—and the address of the hospital in Dublin.
What the hell did he want? she wondered. She would have to find out later, because she wasn’t about to read his letter in public.
“A letter from home already? How nice,” Sean said.
She nodded and stuffed the envelope in her pocket. “A friend,” she said briefly. “I guess he misses me.”
“A friend, huh?” Kat teased.
Caer tried to laugh easily. She knew they were all studying her. “Not that kind of a friend. Just a guy I work with,” she assured them.
“Friends and family are the stuff of life,” Sean said gruffly.
“Okay, then, we’re out of here. Later, folks,” Zach said, sounding impatient.
He hadn’t said a word about the letter. And she knew he was still suspicious of her, no matter how close they might have become in some ways.
As he ushered her out, she felt the letter burning against her flesh through the layers of her clothing, as if it were on fire.
13
“What the hell are we doing out here?” Caer demanded, sitting next to Zach as he drove them to the wharf.
“Even I would have expected you to be investigating those blueberries.”
“Product tampering is a federal crime,” he told her. “The police and the FBI will be doing everything that can be done. Although I have to admit, I think the person behind it is in Sean’s household.”
She gasped. “What?”
“We have to go back to the beginning,” he said. “Eddie missing, Eddie dead. Sean sick—but so soon after he left the States that it’s more than possible that he consumed whatever caused it while he was here. They tested for every bacterium in the world, but they never tested for metals. Arsenic. More exotic things.”
“You think someone has been dosing him with arsenic?”
“Maybe. It’s possible. Or it might not be a metal at all. There’s always the gyromitra family.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He laughed. “Gyromitra. The false morels. And some of them don’t cause any physical effects for hours.”
“And then they cause severe abdominal pain, vomiting and diarrhea?”
“You guessed it. It’s unlikely the doctors would have recognized it, because by the time he got to the hospital, nothing would have been left in his stomach to act as evidence.”
“Do you think Sean was meant to die, then?”
“Definitely.”
“But why would someone want to kill him?”
“He’s rich.”
“But…his share of the business would go to Kat, and neither of us thinks she would ever hurt her father. So…why?”
“I think someone wanted him out of the way because Eddie had discovered something.
“Sean and Eddie had a whole separate business. You know how fascinated Sean is with Nigel Bridgewater. I’ve been using Eddie’s computer to check out his research. Here’s the thing, both Eddie and Sean believed that Nigel was carrying huge sums of money, as well as crucial documents, when he learned that the British were on his trail. When he was apprehended, he had nothing on him. It was important to him no
t to implicate anyone who had financed or otherwise helped him. Remember, the British considered the Revolution to be an act of treason. It wasn’t called a war until it was over. Anyone who signed the Declaration of Independence was ready to accept a hangman’s noose if apprehended.”
“They signed it anyway.”
“Yes, and we take what they did for granted because the war was won, but it might not have been. Back then, plenty of people prayed for independence from Great Britain, but that didn’t mean they were ready to die for it. Nigel Bridgewater was a careful man with a great respect for those who wanted to help him but might not have wanted to die for it. So he hid whatever he was carrying, papers and money, which means it’s possible he really did leave behind a buried treasure.”
“And Sean and Eddie were hunting for that treasure,” Caer said thoughtfully.
“I may be way off, but Eddie also loved Sean like a brother, and we know that he sent him something that he considered a big deal. With any luck, whatever it is will show up soon, because I think it will prove me right. I think Eddie discovered the treasure.”
“But…if Eddie did find the treasure and was killed for it, wouldn’t whoever killed him have taken the treasure and made off with it by now?”
“Not if Eddie didn’t actually have the treasure in his possession but had only left some kind of clue, which this person hasn’t discovered as yet,” Sean explained. “I’m assuming the killer wanted timing. Eddie and Sean gone at once, or practically at once, or why kill Eddie without having the treasure? Unless the killer was certain there was a clue that would lead him—or her—to the treasure whether Eddie was around or not. Or, Eddie was growing suspicious and the killer had to take the chance that he/she would still find the treasure.”
“So we’re going out looking for treasure?”
“Yup.”
“And you think we’re going to be able to find a treasure no one else has been able to find?” she asked skeptically.
“Exactly. Not even the killer, who probably thought he had it figured out, then discovered he’d killed Eddie and gone after Sean prematurely. Why is he still trying to kill? Fear of exposure. Or fear that he won’t get to the treasure first.”
Deadly Gift Page 19
