by Donna Fasano
He glided along the expressway as fast as he could, thankful that the downtown rush hour traffic had long gone. Long gone. Like Michael. Like his chances of finding Devin and taking him home to Fiona tonight. Gone like the dream that had slipped through his fingers once again—the dream of ending the shame that his forefathers had brought and getting on with his own life.
Twas the lure of that very thing that had been his downfall. He had been right to steer clear of it all this time, if one week with Julia could make him this careless.
From this moment on, he thought, renewing the vow he had once made, I will keep my mind and my heart on one track. He would rid himself of the curse of the stolen gold once and for all and see Devin safely home before he dared to dream of sweet Julia again.
He swerved hard to the right and guided the car into St. Patrick’s parking lot, then cut the engine. A familiar figure stepped out from the doorway and approached the car.
Craig popped open the passenger door and slid in before Cameron could voice a protest.
“I don’t think you should go in,” he said, rubbing one knuckle up his nose to adjust his glasses. “One visit from the cops tonight has already got this place in a stir.”
“Relax, no one here knows I’m a cop.” Cameron actually chuckled at the cloak-and-dagger routine Craig was trying unsuccessfully to pull off.
“These are street people, O’Dea. You go in and ask a lot of questions and someone will figure it out.”
He had a point.
“I can tell you what you need to know, and everything else will still be there tomorrow.”
Cameron dropped his key into his parka pocket and reached for the door handle.
“Look, O’Dea, I know there isn’t any love lost between us. I don’t fully trust you, and you don’t think you can fully depend on me.” The young man adjusted his glasses, a move Cameron had pegged as his ‘tell’ that he was preparing to do battle. “But this involves Julia,” Craig said, his expression as earnest as his tone. “I think we can work together for her sake, don’t you?”
Cameron gave a curt nod of agreement.
“Good.” He shifted in the seat. Placing his back against the door, he jerked up the collar of his dark jacket. He skulked down low, like a secret informant trying to conceal his identity. “Now, first things first. How’s Julia?”
“Shaken, not stirred,” Cameron said in his best James Bond imitation.
“Huh?”
He shook his head. “Twas a joke. Julia is fine, tucked away safely in her little home. Now, tell me what you know.”
The sounds of the city, of cars whirring by, the throbbing beat of music swelling then fading, and the occasional siren gave background noise for Craig’s assessment.
“I told you most of it already. About how I stayed late to get some work done that I’d neglected in today’s chaos.” He twined his long arms together over his narrow chest. “And how after I helped serve the evening meal, I went upstairs to the offices and discovered all the doors standing open.”
“And that alerted you that something was wrong, since the protocol is that everyone lock their doors before they leave?”
He shrugged. “Actually, I thought maybe it had been overlooked. I certainly was distracted enough to make that kind of mistake today. And I did notice that you and Julia skipped out in kind of a big hurry.”
He pursed his lips as if waiting for some kind of explanation.
Cameron would not give him the satisfaction.
“Anyway” he said with a disgruntled sigh. “I didn’t really know anything was wrong until I flipped on my light switch.”
“That’s when you saw that the locks had been forced?”
Craig nodded. “Like I told you on the phone, nothing had been touched except the safe—it had been picked, but since we’d had today’s donations taken straight to the bank, they didn’t get anything.”
“Hmm.”
“What are you thinking, O’Dea? Is Shaughnessy capable of safe-cracking?”
“If you’re asking if he would sink that low, the answer is yes.” Cameron rubbed one knuckle against his jaw.
“Does he have the skills?”
A slow smile quirked up the comer of his lips. “Anyone who ever busted into a piggy bank has the skills to open that pathetic old safe of yours, my friend.”
“Oh.” The young man looked properly chagrinned at that news.
“What else can you tell me?” He pressed on. “Was there nothin’ else tampered with? Nothin’ disturbed?”
Craig’s glasses squeaked softly as he fidgeted with the earpiece. “Only in Julia’s office.”
“Julia’s office?” That alarmed him. “What about Julia’s office?”
“Well, things were rifled through pretty thoroughly there. Papers everywhere, drawers left open, that kind of thing.”
His heartbeat drummed in his ears. He fished his car key out of his pocket. “Why didn’t you tell me this first, lad?”
“The police officer who took the report said that wasn’t odd, that the intruder was probably just looking for the safe’s combination.”
“And I’ve just told you, he wouldn’t have needed one.” He started the car and yanked it into gear.
“Hey!” Craig braced himself straight armed against the dash. “What do you think you’re doing, O’Dea? Where do you think you’re going?”
“Back to Julia’s.” His tires squealed as he tore towards his destination.
“But I have work at the shelter,” Craig protested even as he grabbed the seatbelt and latched it into place with a definite metallic click.
“You want a job to do, then do something useful.” He jabbed his chin toward the cellular phone lying between the two bucket seats. “Pick that up and dial Julia’s number. You’ve got to warn her.”
“Warn her?” Craig asked, even as he did as he was told. “What should I warn her about?”
“Warn her that she has just become Michael Shaughnessy’s next target.”
~*~
Julia’s hair crackled with static electricity as she wrenched off her black sweater. The top cascaded into a puddle of cast-off clothing along with the jeans that she had worn today.
Cameron had teased her unmercifully for not wearing green today of all days. She’d explained to him that she’d been so caught up in the logistics of the event that she’d forgotten all about what the day commemorated.
He’d accused her, using a very bad Freudian accent, of choosing to dress in black because she harbored hidden hostilities toward him and his event. When she denied it, he offered to let her borrow one of the dark green laces from his hiking boots, or at least to let him pin a paper shamrock to her collar.
She’d countered that he’d pinned enough on her already. She reached down to her nightstand and plucked up the tracking device. She slid into an oversized sweatshirt—an eyepopping, kelly green oversized sweatshirt—and tugged on a pair of jogging pants—forest green jogging pants. Humming quietly, she pulled the long hair pressed against her back free from the neckline of her shirt.
With the tracking device clutched in her hand, she padded barefoot down the hall. As she passed the front door her thoughts went once again to the moment when Cameron had almost kissed her. She took a deep, shaky breath. She could still smell the subtle scent of him, feel the rush of precious anticipation, taste his mouth on hers, even if it only had been for an instant.
She sighed. Foolish, foolish dream. Still, something compelled her to open the door again, to step outside onto the darkened porch where she and Cameron had stood together.
“It’s the sky,” she murmured.
The sky had drawn her out, she decided, recalling how vividly the stars had glittered overhead. Leaving the front door standing open so she could easily run for her phone if needed, she sat down on the top porch step and gazed upward. The moon looked like a giant wheel of cheese, with just a sliver shaved off one side. It beamed benevolently down upon her.
Julia let out a long, soft breath. She was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for her many, many blessings. Her mind turned to those less fortunate, and she offered a silent prayer for Devin and Fiona, that they would be together soon, and for the shelter and all who ran it and all who depended on it.
“And for Cameron,” she added, looking up at that brilliant benevolent mood. She was not the type to get on her knees with a wish list, asking that it be filled. “If I were to ask for anything more tonight, I suppose it would be for peace.”
She shut her eyes tightly and gripped her hands together, the tracking pin biting into her palms.
“Peace,” she went on, “for my heart. Peace about my work. Peace about my life. Peace in the knowledge that even though there is no future for me with a man like Cameron O’Dea, it is enough to have known him, to have had him touch my life.”
She tilted her head up to take in the gorgeous sky, seeing it this time through a film of tears. Her nose tingled and her chest ached just a bit, but she felt better for having given voice to her feeling? As she fingered the golden pin in her hands, she wondered if Cameron would ever know just how much he meant to her.
“That was lovely, sweet Julia.”
She gasped, narrowing her eyes into the darkness. “Cameron?”
No answer came.
A sudden foreboding rippled through her. She leaped up from the step and stretched inside the door to flip on the overhead light.
Whipping around, she called out, “Who’s there?”
Again, no answer.
Could she have imagined the soft Irish tones? She placed her hands on her hips. “Whoever you are, show yourself. I’m in no mood to play games.”
Nothing.
She rubbed her thumb over the pin in her hand and exhaled noisily. “Great. Now I’m imagining leprechauns lurking about my house in the night.”
She turned her back to return inside.
“Twas no trick of the imagination, Miss Reed.”
She spun around to see the leering face of Michael Shaughnessy as he stepped into the yellow circle of light.
“And I am no leprechaun.”
~*~
“C’mon, Julia, pick up the phone.” Craig ground the request through clenched teeth.
“Still no answer?” Cameron maneuvered through the streets of her suburb as fast as he could safely go. He had to get to her. Had to see for himself that she had just stepped out for a walk or into the shower. He had to know that no harm had come to his sweet Julia.
Craig pressed the ‘end call’ button and set down the phone. “She’s not going to answer.”
“Do me a favor.” Cameron turned the wheel hand over hand to maintain control. “There’s a small black electronic device on the floor. Pick it up and see that it is switched on.”
Craig leaned down and pulled up the receiver, looking it over slowly but not doing as he was told. “This?”
“Yes, yes.” The delay grated on his already worn patience. “Turn it on, man!”
Craig complied with a stroke of his thumb. “What does it do?”
“God willing, lad, it won’t do anything.”
“That’s certainly helpful.” Craig let it fall into his lap. Cameron turned down Julia’s street then stomped down on the brake as the headlights of an oncoming car slashed across his windshield. He swerved. The plain white car whizzed by, but he gave it little notice. His gaze stretched farther up the street to the small house with the yellow porch light.
“You don’t really think she’s in danger, do you?” Craig asked.
“Now there’s a fine question out of the mouth of someone who is suspicious of everyone who gets close to the lady”
“Not everyone,” Craig mumbled. “Hey, what does it mean when a little green light comes on?”
Craig’s innocent question made Cameron’s blood run cold. “When? When did it come on?” he demanded. Cameron tried to steal a glance at the device while still keeping Julia’s house in sight. They were close enough to pick up Julia’s signal in her home, he reminded himself.
“I guess about the time we passed that car,” Craig replied. They would have come into range by then, Cameron thought. That could actually be a good sign.
“Gee, now it’s gone off and a red light is on.”
That was definitely not a good sign. Cameron slowed the car to turn into Julia’s drive.
“Pull out the antenna and point it in the direction of that car,” Cameron ordered.
Craig fidgeted with the gadget.
“Do it now, man!” He shifted into reverse. If his apprehensions were real, he’d be taking off again—in pursuit of Julia.
Craig whisked the antenna out and pointed it down the street. “It’s green again.”
The car jerked backward.
“What are you doing?” Craig squawked. “I thought we came here to help Julia.”
“We did, and that’s what we’re doing. The only way we can help her now is to follow her. She’s in that car.”
“No, she’s not.” Craig clutched at the armrest on the passenger door as Cameron gunned the motor and the car lurched backward. “She’s right there in her driveway.”
Cameron braked hard.
Craig’s head whipped back against the headrest. “Ow. Where’d you learn to drive? Clown college?”
Cameron stopped in the street and stared at the vision of Julia, her hair ruffled but otherwise looking fine. She ran toward the car.
He rolled down the window. “What happened?”
“Shaughnessy.” She gasped for breath. “He was here.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She shook her head and gulped down more air. “We struggled. He tried to haul me into his car, but my neighbor, Norman, came out and scared him off.”
Cameron smiled. Julia was safe. “Remind me to thank Norman for watching out for you.”
“As though you thought he wouldn’t.” Her blue eyes sparked. “You have a way of catching up everyone you run across in your little schemes and dreams. Norman’s inside calling the police right now.”
She reached for the handle on the back door.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“We have to go after Shaughnessy.” She pressed her hand to the lowered glass of his window. “While I was trying to get away from him, I was able to slip my tracking pin into his pocket.”
“You did?” Cameron blinked then chuckled softly. “Of course you did. That’s my girl.”
She grinned. “Hey, you aren’t the only one who watched old TV spy shows. Just let me hop in and we’ll go after him.”
“We aren’t going anywhere.” Cameron circled her wrist with his hand. “This is between Shaughnessy and me. You’re not involved.”
“If I wasn’t before, he just got me involved.” She tried to twist her hand from his grasp.
He held firm. “I can’t waste time arguing with you about this. You have to stay and talk to the police. I’m going after Michael.”
“Norman can talk to the police,” she protested.
“Craig?” Cameron craned his neck to speak to the other man while he kept his hand on Julia. “Remember when we agreed that the one thing we agree on is protecting Julia?”
“I’m way ahead of you, O’Dea.” He popped his door open and got out.
“I will not be treated like a child,” Julia called out as Craig came around the front of the car. Her hair whipped across her face as she confronted Cameron. “By either of you.”
“If you don't want to be treated like a child, stop behaving like one.” Craig took her by the arm.
Cameron released his hold on her.
“I am not—” The momentum as she yanked her hand away threw her back against Craig. She almost—almost—stomped her foot down on his.
Julia swiveled back toward Cameron at the sound of his unabashed laughter. He figured he should take credit for saving Craig’s instep.
She glowered.
Cameron tipped his head in farewell and put the car in gear. “Hopefully, I’ll have Devin home with his mother and Michael in jail before the night is over. Don’t leave Julia alone.”
“I won’t,” Craig said, his arm around the sulking woman.
“Good night, sweet Julia.” He could not meet her seething gaze. He sighed and tried not to think of the implications for his heart as he added, “All goes as planned, you’ll be well rid of me once and for all come morning.”
He did not look back, sorely tempted as he was. He just placed the tracking device on the dash and drove, hoping the precious moments wasted arguing with Julia would not cost him his prey.
“C’mon,” he urged the black box. Gritting his teeth, he practically willed the tracking light to change from red to green. “Lead me to Michael.”
The scenes of the suburbs rolled past him. He glanced down a series of dead-end alleys and found them empty. The light stayed as red as the traffic signal over the intersection ahead. He stopped.
“Tis no use,” he muttered. “Michael could be anywhere.”
He hammered his fist against the steering wheel. His jaw clenched. The traffic light turned green. Cameron moved the car forward at a snail’s pace. The tracking device stayed red through the intersection and all down that block and the next. Cameron was on the verge of throwing in the towel when another red light caught him off guard.
He punched the brakes hard. The car jolted to a stop. The tracking device spun on the dash, then plummeted to the floor. Cameron reached down to retrieve it, and his hand froze in midair.
Green.
The antenna extended over his shoulder. His quarry, he realized, lay behind him.
A quick glance in the rearview mirror confirmed it as he witnessed a plain white car dart into an alley two blocks back. He immediately turned the car around. Michael no doubt thought to hide out until Cameron had given up. Either that, or his lifelong friend, the man as close to him as his own brother, had just laid a trap for him.
The alley in sight, Cameron turned off the ignition and let the car coast in neutral to a stop along the curb. He opened the door with such control it barely registered a sound. He slid out, crouching to use the car for cover from peering eyes—and anything else that might target him from the depths of the dark alley.
