Ann’s eyes opened.
“You have to be so wary, so wary about who you trust these days!”
I woke to a scream. Or had I screamed? I thought I’d caught myself but something had woken me. I was sure it had been the sound of a scream. My eyes flew open. Someone was standing against the back wall. A shape in the pitch darkness of my room.
I gasped—trying for sound. Blinked. The shape was gone. Panicked, not sure if I had dreamed it or seen it, I sat up in bed and reached for the lamp switch.
The room burst into light and color. Heart still thudding in my chest, I looked around.
Nothing. I was alone in my room. The door was closed. I had dreamed it. I had dreamed about Betty and Ann, and then dreamed that someone was in the room. My mouth was dry. My heart was pounding.
Go back to sleep.
But sleep wasn’t going to come. Better to go down to the kitchen for a hot toddy. That might help steady my nerves. Hell, maybe I’d just take a few shots of the whiskey on the counter and knock myself out.
My robe felt soothing and warm as I slipped it on and opened the door, tying the belt as I went, and paced down the hall. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I noticed we’d left the light on in the front closet—must have been from when we’d hung up our coats earlier. It seemed to create shadowy images. I was going to open it and click it off when I thought I heard a shout and a bang far off in the distance. It almost sounded like “Help!”
Oh lord, my imagination was running wild tonight. Who needed a drink that bad? I hurried back up the stairs to my room. There was another pill in my purse that would do the trick. The door to Liam’s room was closed. I debated checking on him to make sure he was safe and not being attacked somewhere by Nick. My phone was tucked into the pocket of my robe. It was one in the morning. Naturally he would be sleeping. I paused, no longer hearing anything. I was just being silly.
The next morning I awoke to a wet pillowcase and rawness in my throat that hinted I’d been crying. I did that sometimes when the nightmares seemed too real. I’d probably been dreaming again, but the extra pill had done the trick. I clumsily pushed aside the drape that hung in the guest bedroom and fumbled to get the window open. I could still smell that sweet stench that always accompanied my nightmares.
The old-fashioned clock on the dresser ticked. Dawn was breaking, and there was just enough light to see as I rummaged through my suitcase for joggers and a T-shirt. I needed to clear my brain. I closed my eyes, shaking off the tears as I walked down the hall so as not to disturb Liam, but as I descended the stairs I heard noise coming from the kitchen. My soon-to-be brother-in-law stood at the sink chugging a glass of water.
“Mornin’, lass,” Liam said, turning to smile at me. There were dark circles under his eyes. “Would ye like a cup a tea?”
I nodded. I would have preferred coffee but I didn’t want to be rude. “It feels like a Danish type of morning. Do you have any?” I asked, noting the unappetizing bowl of fruit on the counter.
Liam frowned and shook his head. “There hasn’t been much call for them lately. I live alone and I’m trying to eat healthy, saving all my calories for my nightly pub visits. I do have a few blueberry-bran muffins.”
“I’ll take one of those with lots of butter and a side of chocolate?”
“Sorry. Would ye believe I’m out of both?”
“You’re killin’ me here,” I said, and smiled.
His bible lay open along with several other books. One book in particular stood out to me Four Blood Moons: Something Is About to Change, by John Hagee.
The papers beside it were marked up with pen and marker and there were more strewn all over the table. I noticed the words, phenomena of the four blood moons was highlighted and underlined heavily. He’d obviously been doing some early morning studying.
“What’s all this about?” I asked, accepting the cup of tea and muffin.
“Tis nothin’ to hold water—just an end-of-the-world biblical prophecy.”
I remembered my Gigi mentioning something about it many years ago. She never had much tolerance for religion and doomsday prophets in particular boiled her blood. I stood up and walked to the fridge to grab the milk. “You think the world is gonna end in September?”
Liam shrugged. “Of course not, I’m only after lookin’ into it so that I may put others at ease.”
My eyes darted to a small matchbook on the floor by the counter. It was the one Nick had given me with his hotel room written on it. It must have fallen out of my purse or jacket. Scooping it up, I quickly pocketed it and wondered if Liam saw, and if I should say anything. I took a deep breath and decided against it. It would be hard to explain the address of your ex-lover’s hotel room in your possession. Besides he’d probably been too busy with his research to notice.
“Who would believe such nonsense?” I asked, adding milk to my teacup before putting the milk away.
“Plenty.”
I sniffed the air. “What’s that I smell?” The smell turned my stomach, reminding me of my nightmare.
“Peanut butter. I had a piece of toast an hour ago.”
“No, it’s kind of a sweet smell. I think it's pipe tobacco.” The gold tin of Sweet Kilarney from Cullen’s that I’d once mistaken for candies came to mind—minus the peanut butter. I was sure Cullen said the Sweet Killarney belonged to his brother, or was it his Da? “Are you a smoker?”
“I’m not. And yer a right feisty modern-like woman, now aren’t ye? Sweets and pipe tobacco for breakfast. Jaysus, Móraí would have a fit if she heard ye.”
I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. I could picture Móraí’s scandalized look.
Liam smiled and held his index finger to his lips. “I shan’t tell a soul. But should you want to curse and grow a beard, I suggest ye keep away from her. She can be a wee bit judgmental of proper lady stuff.”
I burst out laughing. “I swear I don’t smoke and I’m usually a much healthier eater. I’ve just been around Leslie for too long. Besides I’m gearing up for a run so the carbs will do me good.”
Liam walked by me and I got another wiff. “But seriously, what is that smell?”
“It must be after driftin’ in from outside then. A lot of the old timers walk along the road here. I’m a bit stuffed up this mornin’, so I don’t really smell it myself. Sorry, lass.”
“That’s all right. I’m obviously imagining it.” I broke off the top of my muffin but instead of eating it, just stared at it. “What are you up to anyway besides predicting the end of the world?”
“Ponderin’ the existence of evil…” Liam said with a chuckle.
“Funny, that’s what I was just doing.”
Liam took a sip of his tea. “Awe, love, ye needn’t worry about that bastard ex of yours. He won’t find ye here and he won’t get through the likes of me.”
I didn’t bother to mention my dream.
“Oh, by the way, I found something. I think it belongs to you.”
My heart fluttered—so he’d found the matchbook after all. Oh, well, I would come clean. It’s not like it was my fault Nick gave me his number and address. I was being silly about it. I broke the piece of muffin in my hand in half and nibbled on it. I couldn’t talk if my mouth was full.
Liam lifted his bible and picked up Rochus’ brown leather book. He flipped it open to the life cycle script. It was the first thing I’d ever read from the book. It was in Persian so I’d had it translated.
“It’s an interesting book. Where did ye get it?”
“From the library,” I answered, practically choking on the dryness of the muffin. It must have fallen out of my bag in the car when I was rummaging through for my wallet.
“What language is that?”
I swallowed. “The page you opened it to was Persian. Actually it’s funny you opened it to that page, because it’s about spirituality.”
“Well now, that makes sense, doesn’t it? The Lord is always teachin’ me. So now, what does it sa
y?”
I hesitated for a moment. I hadn’t even shared any of this with Cullen, but Liam was a Priest. It couldn’t hurt to talk philosophy with him.
“It’s a theory on life. It talks about a revolving door of light and how we use it to pass between Heaven and Earth. It also says that two or more souls are always sent together to make sure that if one soul gets lost, the other can bring it back.”
“It sounds very Buddhist,” Liam said.
“Yes, it does seem to point to reincarnation, although not in the typical fashion. It doesn’t say that we’re all meant to reincarnate but that occasionally when souls are sent, one soul can get dazzled by the devil and lost. Because this soul then refuses to go through the revolving door of light, he keeps reincarnating on Earth.”
“You said he,” Liam questioned, surprised. “Does yer book say only men are evil or ‘dazzled by the devil’ as ye put it?”
“No,” I laughed. “I didn’t mean to accuse only men, but fair is fair. You were being a touch sexist earlier, commenting on my diet. Anyway, this becomes a curse to the other soul or souls bound to that one and consequently everyone continues to relive the same old mistakes.”
“Is there any way to cut the ties with him?” Liam said, smiling as he emphasized the word.
I was suddenly feeling weird talking about all this, especially since it was my reality. “I don’t know.” I glanced up at the clock, stood, and sighed. “I hate to cut and run on this topic, but I need to...”
Liam rose, too. “Run. I know. Can’t have ye eatin’ all that unhealthy bran without running it off.”
I smiled, bending over to tie my shoelaces. “Yes, well, and if I leave it any later, I’ll be roasting under the sun.”
“In Ireland—ye’ll probably be okay.”
I opened the door and a squirrel scampered into the dewy grass and away from my shoes as my feet shuffled down the porch step and hit the gravel. I lifted my gaze, watching as the sun rose over the horizon like a bright, fiery globe. I concentrated on the trees, praying Mother Nature would entrance me, but my mind drifted back to the scene in my head of the woman oozing blood on the floor.
I headed back through the cemetery, briefly pausing when I’d reached the stones we’d seen earlier. I leaned on one, catching my breath, and read it. Nioclas Lamentz Colley. His middle name was Lamentz? I suddenly got chills. Lamentz was the last name of Nico, the man who’d tried to kill me in my last life. The man obsessed with the Purple Delhi Sapphire, my family heirloom. The man who started this all—could this be a coincidence?
I turned away and headed back for the road, picking up the pace. Lamentz was such a unique middle name. Cullen’s ancestor, Gabrielle had lived in France. I ran faster, pushing myself, muscles burning. Could it be that it was just a popular name? I pumped my legs harder, but I couldn't outrun the thought.
Was this Gabrielle the same woman who’d guarded me like a watchdog when I’d been imprisoned in Monaco Palace in 1857? Was Cullen’s great-great-grandfather, Nioclas Colley—Nico’s son?
Chapter Forty-Five
Dead Reckoning
His mind was clouded by a thick fog that sent a roaring pain through his head and reminded him of a rusty chainsaw. Nick opened his eyes, but he still had no idea where the hell he was. Thirsty, he thought. I’m so thirsty. He attempted to gather some saliva in his mouth by moving his swollen tongue, but he could not. When that failed, he reached for his mouth but his hands seemed heavy. Like his wrists were anchored behind his head. His legs would not move either. For a moment he faded. Then a monstrous cramping occurred inside his stomach and he flailed back toward the shore of consciousness. Breathe. His vision was almost gone. Everything in the room danced in flickering yellow light.
He had the sudden feeling that there was some sort of presence in the room with him, a shadowed form that looked his way. Oh, shit. He had to kick this drug habit. Waking up strung-out on strange people’s couches was getting to be depressing. Only he wasn’t on a couch. He was on the floor. And clasped around his hands was a thick rope threatening to cut off his circulation. Wiggling around unsuccessfully, he tried to stand up.
He was in some sort of basement. There were candles lit in the corner. He got to his feet but vomit threatened to rise, so he dropped to his knees. The last thing he could remember was exchanging blows on the floor at the Boars Head Pub on Capel Street.
There had been an eerie stillness the moment he walked into that place and his mind had screamed Turn back! He’d found a seat at the bar next to some old Saint. The man had regaled him with stories of his youth when he’d been a cop. Tales of sex and violence—that was just what he’d been in the mood for after dealing with Bexx Senior. His father was always bugging him to get his life together, and now he was threatening to come and get him by force. Two beers later, a crowd of rough-and-tumbles had appeared. The guy had lipped off and someone had mentioned HER. His heart was beating even faster now as he recalled the details. Shit! It was a set-up. From the moment that note arrived in his hotel room, he had been suspicious. There was absolutely no way SHE would have wanted to meet up in a seedy pub. Blood trickled down the side of his face and tickled his clammy skin.
“Help,” he managed to whisper.
Just then he heard something, and as he turned he recognized a shadow holding a steel pipe. The shadow arched and rose over him.
“Father, what are you doing here? I told you I’ll leave Sophia—”
Chapter Forty-Six
No Man Left Behind
“Ye’r ex-fiancé was jumped in a bar,” Garda Connelly said. “Beat to death. We found his body dumped in a back alley this mornin,’” he stressed, his tone quiet but menacing.
Slumped in a chair in the living room of the O’Kelley’s country home, I stared at the man. Full of disbelief, I watched as he plopped the crime scene photos down in front of me.
I reeled back, not even recognizing the bloody, battered mess that was Nick. Tears streamed involuntarily down my face.
“Do ye know who did it, Miss?” Garda Connelly asked, leaning forward.
“Awe, now, Connelly, did ye have to do that?” Liam demanded, quickly placed the tray of tea he carried on top of the bloody images. He grabbed the Kleenex box from the table and handed it to me. Then he turned to the garda. “Ye know the type, it's drugs.”
“We don’t know that,” the garda replied. “The American lass was murdered not two weeks ago. It’s an odd coincidence, don’t ye think?”
“Not really—seems pretty clear to me. The eejit, pardon my language, dear, probably got into a lovers quarrel, flew into a rage and threw the lass over the railing, then felt bad—or, more than likely, scared—and went on a binge. Picked a fight with some real tough lads and got himself all messed up. So sad. The end. ”
“And what do ye have to say about the message from Ms. Marcil?”
I balled the Kleenex up in my left hand and took the tea Liam handed me. It was hot, but I took a sip anyway.
“What message? I didn’t leave a message.”
“Sure ye didn’t, lass?”
“I didn’t.”
“Did ye speak to the victim regularly? Had ye seen him recently?”
“No! Well, yes.”
“Which is it?”
“We didn’t speak, but I ran into him on the street. I told him to leave me the hell alone, but then he showed up at my house, the…”
The cop scribbled madly on his little pad of paper. I took another sip of the tea. It was black. I hated black tea.
“Ye mean Cullen O’Kelley’s home? That is where ye live, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“And have you ever visited the flat where Mr. Bexx and his girlfriend were stayin’?”
“No. Of course not. I don’t know where he was staying,” I stammered, pressing my head into my hands. A headache was emerging.
“Ye’re sure, Ms. Marcil?”
“Ye deaf? She said so, didn’t she?” Liam interjected, coming
once again to my defense.
I reached out and patted Liam’s hand. The poor man’s face was beet red.
“It’s all right, Liam. Oh wait, that’s a lie. I did know where he was staying. Nick gave me a matchbook that day on the street. It had the name of the place on it and he’d written his flat number down on the back, but I never went there.”
“And ye sure ye never contacted him?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I lost it, actually.”
“And yer whereabouts for last night?”
“Awe, ye’re a bloody fool,” Liam cut in once again. “Ye can’t possibly think she had anything to do with this.”
Liam’s annoyed expression matched my own.
“Unbelievable,” I said. “Nick can’t even leave me in peace with his death.”
“For all that is holy,” Liam said, “ye can’t possibly believe that Sophia killed him. What is wrong with ye?”
The garda looked at Liam and I could tell he was exhausted. “Of course I don’t believe it, but both families are rich and breathin’ down my neck, I don’t have a choice but to question everyone who knew the victim. Not if I want to keep my job.”
“This is bull and ye know it,” Liam said, clearly not having any of it.
“It’s not his fault,” I said. “Both Betty and Nick’s families carry a lot of clout all over the world and they’re used to getting everything they want. While Betty’s family might accuse me, Nick’s dad will know that I’m not behind this.”
“Well, they’re outsiders around here and I would expect the good garda here not to play favourites, perhaps he could instead try looking for evidence.”
The garda sighed. “We have to be thorough, Liam. Ye must get that.”
“Oh, I get it, all right and ye’ll be getting’ it—after I call the station.”
Liam turned and stormed out of the room. Sometimes it struck me as odd that Liam was a priest, but then again this was Ireland. The garda turned back to me, glaring as if he’d just seen his window open up.
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