The drive to Liam’s was a blur. She’d only been there twice but she was good with directions. She spent half the time wishing she had a cigarette to calm her nerves and the other half thinking about all the things she was going to say to that two-timing harlot. Her eyes lingered over the tin of Sweet Killarney pipe tobacco in the console and she thought about lighting it up, but in her condition that wouldn’t be very smart, not to mention she didn’t see a pipe.
The tires crunched on the gravel as the black sedan pulled in and came to a halt. She looked in the direction of Liam’s small stone cottage and then back to the chapel. Leslie decided she’d check the house first, although for Penelope’s sake it would be better if she were praying for mercy. Not only for cheating but for making them all worry, especially Sophia. She got out of the car and closed the door before noticing a crumpled-up wad of paper on the ground. She must have knocked it out of the car. She picked it up, so as not to litter, and the words Central Mental Hospital jumped out at her. This might be important, she thought, shoving it into her pocket and walking as fast as she could toward the house.
She checked both the main floor and the upstairs but the place was empty and, aside from a couple of dirty wine glasses, there was no indication that anyone was hanging around.
Outside, there was a shovel off in the distance next to a heap of dirt. Suddenly it occurred to Leslie how odd the situation was. Why was Penelope’s phone and pregnancy test at the house in Cullen’s sweater? Would he have tried to hide it from Sophia? They were getting married tomorrow. Her heart fluttered as she picked up her pace, heading for the grave. What if Cullen had needed to get Penelope out of the way? He couldn’t have her jeopardizing his wedding.
She took the last involuntary step toward it and saw that the grave was empty. Thankful, she backed away, rushing for the chapel doors. They groaned in protest as she heaved them open.
As soon as she made sure Penelope was all right, she was going to strangle her for scaring her like this.
“Penelope!” she shouted as she entered, doing nothing to keep the alarm from her voice. “Penelope! Get out here right now. We need to talk.”
Was Penelope even here? Maybe she’d returned with Cullen to the house to confess. The trapdoor gaped open in front of the altar—the doorway to the basement, she remembered. Beyond the doorway was a set of stairs, leading down into what should have been darkness but there was light. She descended the stairs, stepping carefully. Partway down, she turned, contemplating her decision to rush in. Something felt off. It would be smarter to leave now and go back, check on Sophia, but what if someone was hurt? She’d been making tea and she remembered the kitchen door opening... Who had come in? Fear knotted her stomach. It must have been Cullen. Was Cullen capable of hurting Penelope or even his own brother? She was no longer sure and her mind was just so fuzzy.
The stairs spiraled down, just as she remembered. The light grew stronger as she reached the bottom, and the steps widened out into the small cave-like room.
There was a table near the statues surrounded by battery-powered candles, casting an eerie glow over a humped shape covered in red.
What is that? She stumbled forward, pulling at the red velvet blanket.
At first all she saw was skin—a woman sprawled out flat. Ropes circled her wrists and ankles, attached to thick metal rings secured to the table. Is she alive? She thought in horror, and bile rose up in her throat. The woman’s arms and legs were bruised and her belly pooched ever so slightly. “Penelope?”
Leslie saw with a distracted, terrible pity that her blonde hair was matted with blood near her forehead. Oh, God...Why? She was beginning to hyperventilate, but forced herself to calm down. There wasn’t really that much blood. She could be alive. Couldn’t she?
“It’s all right,” she said into her hair. “It’s all right.” But the ground felt unstable under her feet.
Penelope’s eyelids fluttered, but they didn’t open.
No, Leslie thought, I won’t pass out again. She let out her breath in a sob. “Wake up.” She reached for the blanket, covering Penelope’s breasts and thighs with it.
As she leaned against the table, she felt the lump in her sweater pocket. She reached in and pulled out the crumpled paper. As soon as she unfolded it, she saw his name.
Her throat tightened.
She read it slowly; she could hardly keep it together.
Arrested for stalking behavior…admitted to Central Mental Hospital…the psychiatric hospital in Dundrum, for psychotic symptoms.
With a jolt of clarity, she realized whose car she’d driven. She and Penelope were pregnant by the same man.
She nearly collapsed.
Nick’s letter had not been warning Sophia about Cullen.
She immediately went for Penelope’s ropes, untying them as fast as she could. Her fingers hurt as she pulled and wrenched, but she didn’t care. She needed to get her loose and into the car before…before…he returned. She pulled Penelope’s cold, limp body toward her, bracing herself to lift.
“Leslie,” said a familiar voice, “I see you’ve discovered my little secret.”
He’d come down the stairs in utter silence, wearing a red hooded sweatshirt.
FORTY-FOUR
M y vision blurred and I instantly closed my eyes again. My teeth chattered. Deep in my ears my own erratic heartbeat backfired. I was so cold. In my mind I was back on the balcony, fighting for my life. I was dreaming and yet I was still afraid. I was pinned against the rough stone. I knew what would come next. I had relived this moment a thousand times. Scream, I thought. Scream and you’ll wake up from this nightmare.
A gentle caress jolted me from the memory and I was able to open my eyes. Candlelight was all around me. This wasn’t the palace. It was cold, though. At least someone had lit candles. I was dazed, confused for a moment. There was something about this room.
Heavy Irish brogue was whispered in my ear and yet I couldn’t decipher it.
“Cullen, what happened?” I mumbled.
“Ye keep passin’ out, darlin’. It’s not very hospitable.”
I opened my eyes wide. Jet-black hair caught my vision and pain lanced through my head. I put my hand up to touch the side of my face.
“Where are we?”
Then it dawned on me that he was attempting to bind my wrists.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Adrenaline pumped wildly through my bloodstream and I jerked my hands away.
“Liam, what the hell are ye doing?” Lucille screeched from the open doorway where she stood on the bottom step. I instantly recognized the basement of the chapel.
He jerked me upright and stood behind me. The rope fell away, but something sharp pricked my neck.
“Ow. That hurts.”
“Stay put, Ma, or I’ll slit her throat! I swear I will.”
I felt the blood trickle and I grabbed at it by reflex.
“Lucille! Thank God, but what are you doing here?”
“Cullen rang me.”
“Cullen!” I called out, searching madly about the room. I turned my head and my eye caught Liam’s. He glared back, a look of pure evil.
“Stop yer squealin’. I already took care of lover boy. He’s tied up in the back seat of the car, ready to be buried.”
Panic thundered through me like a herd of wild beasts, simultaneously tearing at my brain and my heart. Cullen. The love of my life, dead. Oh, Lord, no!
“I’m gonna throw up,” I said, falling to my knees.
“Cullen’s not dead,” Lucille shouted.
I let out the breath I was holding, turning on Liam.
“You drugged me,” I accused. His mouth was hard and firm, but it formed into a smile. His eyes, the dark gold of an antique frame—so similar to his brother’s, yet so much darker— remained dilated and fixed on me.
“Guess I’m not as harmless as ye thought. I wasn’t always a priest, was I, Ma?”
“No, ye were a dirty guarda,” Lucille screame
d and ran at him.
His eyes blazed with rage. He pushed me away and kicked out at her, hard. His booted foot connected with her ribcage. I could hear the woosh of breath as the wind was knocked from Lucille and the sound of her ribs cracking as she flew backward, landing awkwardly on her side.
“Ma!” Cullen screamed, hobbling the last step into the doorway. His lip was split and bleeding and he looked as though he’d been three rounds in a ring. “Enough, Liam,” Cullen said, coming to stand in front of his mother.
“Brother. How nice to see ye got loose. Guess I’ll have to work on my knot-tyin’ skills. Ready for another arse kickin’?”
I looked across the room at Cullen, wondering if we both rushed Liam if it would be possible to take him down. Cullen narrowed his eyes and leaned his head, signaling me to the corner where Leslie and Penelope were tied up. Liam charged at him, dagger in hand. It was the dagger I’d had made for Cullen’s wedding present—the one Liam had offered to pick up. Cullen swung his arm back and punched Liam as hard as he could in the face. Bone crunched under his knuckles. The blow sent Liam sprawling. He skidded backward on the stone floor, the knife flying from his grip. I ran toward the corner as the boys exchanged blows. Leslie was unconscious but she still had a pulse. Penelope’s body was freezing and if there was life in it, I couldn’t find it. A note lay crumpled at their feet. I recognized it as my letter from Nick.
Liam O’Kelley removed from the Garda Síochána after three years. Suspected of stalking behavior and admitted to Central Mental Hospital, the psychiatric hospital in Dundrum, for multiple psychotic symptoms.
Liam must have killed Penelope because of this. I placed my hand on her face. God, Penelope, why didn’t you say something? Tears escaped, but I sucked in a breath, realizing I should pull it together and get Leslie out.
Nervous sweat slick on my fingers, I pulled at the knot, freeing Leslie as the guys continued to brawl, trading insults like hockey cards. I looked back up just as Cullen darted forward, and a second later he was standing over a kneeling Liam, blade in hand.
Liam’s crooked nose was bleeding, the blood a scarlet streak across his face. He reached up and pulled his sweater aside, baring his neck. “What are ye waitin’ for, little brother?” he said. “Just do it.”
Cullen glanced at me and saw I wasn’t having any luck waking Leslie. “Sophia, go outside and wait for Garda Lynch. Lead him down here, okay?”
I approached and he handed me his cell phone.
“Do ye really think ye’ll save her? Do ye really think a whiny, pathetic Mama’s boy like yerself is worthy of the Delhi Sapphire?”
“Ye’re loony, just like yer mother,” Cullen said. “Everything they ever accused ye of was true. Da should have left ye locked up.”
A brief shadow crossed his face at the mention of his mother. I’d never noticed how crooked his nose was—like it had been broken more than once—I suddenly understood how he’d got the huge scar that ran down the side of his face.
“Everything they ever accused you of?” I repeated, thinking of the young woman in my dreams—the one who had fought so hard for her life. “It was you,” I choked. “You’re the one who killed Loni Switzer.”
“That’s right. I killed yer cousin. I found that bitch when I joined the Garda. I invited her here, anonymously of course, with the promise of a big story. She didn’t have the jewel, although it took a lot of torture to get that out of her. She was tough to break, Ms. Loni Switzer. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it, although I wished it was this one over here the whole time.” He motioned toward Lucille, who was unconscious on the floor. My heart fluttered and I hoped she’d only passed out from the pain and that I hadn’t missed him doing something fatal to her.
Cullen’s hand shook as he squeezed the dagger and I could tell he was on the verge of losing control. Now was not the time to leave the two of them alone.
“Stupid bitch,” Liam laughed and spat on the floor with precision before taking a pipe from his pocket and lighting it. “She’s the reason I turned out this way. That whore seduced Da from a perfectly happy home.” He blew out a ring of smoke and the smell of caramel tobacco hit my senses like a bag of two-pound bricks. “That whore killed my Mam!” Liam screamed in Lucille’s direction.
“Yer mother killed herself,” Cullen said, correcting him in a strained voice.
“True, technically she did.” Liam redirected his gaze at me.
Chills ran through me. The man was off balance; the way he could go from screaming to smiling was bizarre beyond belief.
“But she was driven to it. So embarrassed and shunned that she had no choice. Then the bitch had to take me in, didn’t she, but she didn’t want to. She poisoned my father against me. And then along came Cullen and it was clear that they never needed me.”
“Sophia, go!” Cullen urged.
I headed for the stairs but I couldn’t resist turning as Liam went on.
“You were a member of the Garda. You were supposed to protect and serve or whatever your oath is here,” I whispered, unable to fathom all that I was hearing.
“I only joined to male Da proud but the only thing he ever noticed was Cullen—do you remember when you found Great-Great-Great-Grandpa Tandy O’Kelley’s painting in Móraí’s attic? That’s when the dreams began, for both of us, wasn’t it, little brother?”
Surprised to hear this news, I fumbled the phone, dropping it. Cullen took a step toward me and Liam erupted off the ground, faster than my vision could handle, striking Cullen’s hand and sending the blade spinning out of Cullen’s grasp. The boys circled each other as Liam went on in his mocking tone. “I came across the old man’s notebook. It was all very dull until he mentioned the Delhi Sapphire. Suddenly I understood my dreams, so I researched and guess what I found—another book—written by Loni Switzer.” Liam chuckled.
My heart froze as Cullen struck out first, but Liam was clearly the less injured of the two and it wasn’t long before Liam had Cullen on the ground. I had to fight the nausea that climbed up my throat.
“You’re a monster. You stalked and killed her. You’ve been stalking me. How many others have you stalked? Oh my God, you were at Nick’s funeral, too. And that means you…”
“Beat him to a bloody pulp? Aye. That boy was nosin’ in where he didn’t belong. He got what he deserved but, then again, maybe I should have shown him some gratitude. It seems he did me a favor when he pushed ye off that cliff. I might never have found ye otherwise.” He turned to Cullen, rage filling his eyes once again.
“I should have been the one to pull her from the water. I saw her fall. Ye interfered and stole her from me so now here we are,” Liam said, picking up and caressing the sparkly chips embedded in the handle of the dagger.
Those damn cursed jewels, I thought. I should have just thrown them into the bottom of the sea. Rochus’s voice filled my head. You should have taken them back to the Temple of Indra. Liam looked up at me as if he could hear my thoughts.
“Any last words, little brother?”
Cullen stared up at him, his mouth streaming blood, “Half brother!” he spat out.
Liam bent forward, leaning his weight onto the dagger. Its tip cut into Cullen’s side. Liam’s face was inches away from Cullen’s, his voice a hissing whisper as he turned his face to mine. “Stay put or I’ll slit his throat.”
He tossed his right hand through his dark black hair, enjoying Cullen’s pain.
The dagger slid another fraction into Cullen’s flesh. Liam was still grinning.
I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I threw up until the dry heaves took over and I was wringing wet with sweat.
“You’re delusional,” Cullen whispered through gritted teeth.
I looked up just as Liam pulled the dagger out and stuck his finger into Cullen’s side, wiggling it. Cullen twisted in pain before Liam picked his head up and banged it against the ground.
I let out a scream and ran toward them. Cullen’s eyes were closed now. Liam co
ntinued speaking like nothing had happened. He just shoved me hard when I ran at him, and the wind was knocked out of me as I landed hard on my butt.
“Mulligans Pub,” I whispered when I could finally speak again. The man in the sweater. I could see him so clearly now. Why hadn’t I figured that out? Somewhere deep inside I must have known it was Liam, especially when I smelled that pipe at the country house. He was staring at me. His eyes resembled that of a shark, dark and perilous, as he puffed away on his disgusting pipe.
“Aye that was me. After that I began dreamin’ intensely about the past, once again rememberin’ the history we shared—ye, with yer pretty, angelic golden ringlets. Yer name was pronounced a little differently back then, wasn’t it, Princess?”
I swallowed hard, trying not to react. He smiled, face devious and twisted in the candlelight, as though he was back there in 1857 looking for the hidden jewels.
“I dreamed of it all. I dreamed of ye and yer scheming friend, Rochus. That’s when I saw the book. Isn’t it ironic that ye led me to the very thing I needed?”
He grabbed me, his grip punishing. He locked one hard arm around my waist, capturing my wrists in his other hand. “Sh-h-h,” he muttered against my face. I could smell the smoke on his breath. “Too bad Cullen didn’t know it was me—that I was the snake. He could have saved ye.”
I thought of the first time I’d ever seen Liam. It had been at Lucille and John’s, where Cullen had taken me after the hospital. I’d woken to voices. Curious like a cat, I’d climbed out of bed and tiptoed down the hall to eavesdrop on Cullen and Liam’s conversation. “Speak up, boy. What else was in the dreams? It’s been years since ye mentioned them.”
“She’s there, Sophia, but her hair is light and curly as a pig’s tail. And there’s a man with eyes as angry as all hell. He wears an oversized silver ring on his finger with a viper symbol. I always notice the ring. There’s somethin’ inside me that needs to protect her. Like I’m the only thing between her and death.”
Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four Page 44
