Guarding the Treasure

by J. K. Zimmer

  “Yes sir.”

  “So what are you thinking, sir?”

  Still deep in thought, A. J. turned from the window. “Kevin, are you sure Ms. Hanes had been up front with you about this professor of hers?”

  Kevin tossed the file he was holding on the desk, his brows narrowing. “A. J., she’s been in communication with Smith for some time.” He stopped and sighed, trying to regain some of the composure he was beginning to lose. “Look, she has a reputation that is second to none. She’s not hiding anything, sir.”

  “Okay then, if Smith doesn’t teach language or history anywhere in Ireland, then what was his motive for telling Ms. Hanes that he did?” He sat again, opening the file on Smith. “Have you talked to Ms. Hanes since she left?”

  “Actually, she called earlier this morning.”

  “Has she made contact with Smith yet?”

  “She had agreed to meet him at a pub called Folks a little later today. Why, A. J.? What’s rolling around in your head?”

  “I’m not quite sure. After those files from three years ago come in, I want to start making some comparisons between the women who ended up missing and Ms. Hanes. I wish there was a way of tracking her to see if there are any similarities in her movements. I’d like to know if she frequents any of the same places the women did in our earlier case.”

  “I have that covered, sir,” Kevin said, his voice low but confident.

  A. J. slid his chair from the back of his desk in front of Gates. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Kevin carefully contemplated his next words. He was well aware that using surveillance equipment without authorization was against unspoken rules. “Ah, before Sophie left, I put a tracer in her phone. It was successfully activated this morning.”

  A. J. leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Who authorized that little trick, Gates?”

  “No one, I acted alone, sir.”

  A. J. shook his head. Without missing a beat, he looked directly at Gates and asked, “Does Ron still do inventory at the Washington branch?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, I’ll get that cleared up, but get clearance before you do something like that again, would you?”

  The warning look he got from A. J. came from a superior, not a best friend, and Kevin knew he had crossed the line.

  “Did you tell her to keep the phone on at all times?”

  “I did, sir, but she’s a really smart girl—” he stammered. “Well, she doesn’t know it’s on her phone.”

  A. J. laughed. “What else have you not told your friend, Kevin?”

  He smiled, feeling the tension ease slightly between them. Just then, there was a brief knock on the door. It opened, and Theresa walked in.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, making brief eye contact with each as she made her way to a chair opposite the two. She smoothed her skirt as she sat down and opened the folder she held, laying it in her lap. She looked up to see both men staring directly at her. She lowered her glasses. “What?” she asked in an authoritative voice.

  A. J. cleared his throat. “Nothing, Theresa, I was just admiring how nice you look today.”

  “Yeah, nice legs,” tumbled from Kevin’s mouth as he sized up his fifty-something coworker.

  “Thanks, Gates, I keep them shaved. That’s more than I can say for your face.” She leaned forward. “If you don’t mind me saying, I always liked the way you looked when you were working undercover. You know, that clean sexy thing you used to have going on—not the constant shadow you’re sporting now.” She cleared her throat and moved the discussion forward. “Sirs, I have the photocopy of the diary with me and have gone through the first one hundred pages. I must say this is the most interesting personal document I’ve ever read. I’d like some information as to where it was found and if the family to whom it belongs might have the original in their possession?”

  Gates shifted in his chair. “All I can tell you is that Sophie found it in a relative’s home. She didn’t say if it belonged to anyone in her family tree. Why is that important?”

  “Gates, there’s a lot of history in this diary, and a relative may have information—even if it’s a minuscule amount—that could shed more light on all the tragedy that took place in the life of the woman in this document.” Theresa turned her attention to her superior. “And sir, there’s something else. As I read between the lines—”

  Kevin interrupted her as he moved closer. “Read between the lines? Why read something into the diary that isn’t there?”

  “That’s where you get most of your information, Gates. Such as how Anya knew there was more to it than her brother using her for business deals and revenge against their father. Those goals would have been easy for Sean to achieve. No, he had an even greater motive. I would think with all your specialized training you would have known that. Or does it take a woman to solve things around here?” she asked, directing her full attention to Kevin, who was now a little too close for comfort.

  “Theresa, what is this greater motive you’re talking about?” A. J. asked.

  “Sir, there’s another woman he wants, but for what reason I’m not sure. Her name is Olivia Neely. But I believe there’s a force—I’m not sure what—that doesn’t allow Mr. O’Connell to get close to her. It angers him, making him more determined than ever in his pursuit of her. The writer is very descriptive about her brother’s behaviors where they concern Miss Neely. He treats Anya like a princess at times. But when Miss Neely rejects his advances, he’s out of control— evil, as Miss O’Connell puts it. Again, I’m puzzled as to what his motive is for wanting Ms. Neely. It doesn’t make sense that Sean wants her only for sexual pleasure. There’s got to be something more. I thought perhaps money or connections that would advance his business empire. But in my research of the Neely family, I found that they lived in the country and had little monetary resources. There’s got to be another reason,” she said, looking blankly at the file in her hand. “Sir, there was also Sean’s alcohol use. It continued to increase along with his attempts to abuse his sister.”

  “You read all of that between the lines?” Kevin asked, leaning down to look at her notes.

  Theresa smiled as she continued to report her findings. “Sir, absolute control is what motivated Sean O’Connell, and he was willing to do anything to get that control. The man would use revenge to any degree.”

  “Okay, so what does this have to do with anything?” Kevin asked.

  “Gates, I can see why Ms. Hanes was drawn to this diary. It’s a magnet of the strangest type. It’s incredibly compelling. Even within the first few pages, I found myself pulled in—one page, and then another page—into a world of emotion, turmoil, and conversations I’ve never experienced the likes of before. I believe all of it has something to do with Three. He has become somewhat of a guide or mediator, I’m not sure yet. But reading this provokes me to book a flight to Ireland myself.” She glanced A. J.’s way. “Do you think that would be in the budget sir?” she asked, smiling with her eyes. Her look and tone quickly changed. “Sir, I realize this document is very old, but some Irish people are very illusory and imaginary. If this ever fell into the wrong hands,” she looked at her file and sighed deeply, “it could be duplicated to set up a tragic scenario.”

  “Theresa, finish interpreting that diary and fill Gates in on every detail. And I mean everything. I want him to know the way it makes you feel and anything else that comes to mind from a woman’s perspective.” A. J. stood and walked briskly toward the door. “Gates get packed. You’ll be leaving for Ireland in five days, maybe less, but before you go you need to clear a few things up in Washington. I want you back here in New York in two days max. You’ll be working with Theresa here at home base. I’ll arrange for an agent to work with you when you get into Dool.”

  “Gipson, sir?”

  He hesitated. “No.”

  “Why, sir?”

  “I think you know, but I have a hunch, and if it comes together—” he
stopped in mid-sentence. “Gates don’t make contact with Gipson until you’re back from Washington. He already knows you’re connected with Ms. Hanes. And whatever you do, don’t let him know you’ll be on your way to Ireland. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, now you both have things to attend to, so I suggest you get out of here and get it done.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sophie

  Sophie opened her eyes wide as they approached a large gray and white structure built of large cut stone, well-weathered and crumbling some around the edges. It was the Castle Goregoo, and it looked just as Sophie had pictured it in her mind. Two towers several feet above the rest of the castle were quite majestic, giving an old but strong and dignified impression. Anya had commented that the two towers were built strictly for a show of power and were of little use except for storage. Sophie looked to her left, seeing an area that could have been where Anya spent much of her time—one of the gardens, she thought, remembering how Anya had written so fondly about them. It was obviously overgrown and slightly unkempt, yet there was a silent beauty all the same. Sophie could almost feel the young woman’s presence as her eyes scanned the great property. She recalled the eastern garden that Anya had referred to so often in the diary and wondered if that was it off to her right. And what of the small trail near the wall? Could it be the one Colleen had used as she arrived to serve the O’Connell family? Had it been preserved over time by constant use? If so, by whom and for what reason?

  The car slowed, coming to a stop. Her voice cracked. “Are we stopping, Professor?” she asked, questioning his unexpected action. He didn’t answer. A quick twinge of panic flickered, and she reached for her stomach. She needed to say something but didn’t want to sound alarmed. Professor Smith mentioned that they’d only be driving around the estate that afternoon. He had also made it clear several times while at the pub that the arrangements to spend time on the estate would be in a couple of days, but he had said nothing about stopping today.

  The professor glanced at her with a stern look then stared back through the windshield. “You look frightened, lass,” he said, his voice low and his eyes fixed, not looking toward her.

  “Frightened? Why would I be frightened?” she asked, tightening her grip on the bag holding her phone.

  Professor Smith formed a tight-lipped smile as a deep, low laugh crept up from his throat. He continued to focus his gaze out the front window. “I could see Anya in your face just a minute ago, Ms. Hanes.” He turned his shoulders to square himself to her. “As you may recall from her writings, she was frightened of what she perceived as impending danger.”

  Impending danger, she thought, searching her intellect for answers. The professor may be a little unstable emotionally, but these days that’s not uncommon. Dangerous had never entered her mind. “Yes, I do recall that, Professor,” she said quietly as her heart raced in her chest. Sophie tried to figure out what he was driving at.

  “But as you may also recall, Anya had good reason to be frightened. Her danger was real. I, on the other hand, have no danger to fear. No danger to fear at all.”

  His eyes enlarged, looking as if they would swallow her up. She saw something cold and dark in his gaze. What was looking back at her? It wasn’t normal, and whatever it was penetrated more than her mind, it penetrated her soul. She turned away to look at the castle. “Professor, I’m ready to go,” she said, still feeling the discomfort of his eyes on her.

  There was a long silence. “Of course, Sophie,” he said, putting the car in reverse. He reached over, touching her shoulder as he turned the car.

  She gasped and moved away from his touch.

  He smiled like he hadn’t noticed. “You don’t mind me calling you by your first name, do you?”

  She hesitated, and then took a shallow breath. “No, it's fine, Professor,” she said, trying to dismiss his touch from her mind.

  “Good and I would like you to call me Kian. No more professor, is that clear?” he said, the smile still on his face but a decisive demand in the tone of his voice.

  Uneasiness swept through her body. I’m not going to argue with a man I just met. A man I know very little about, she reasoned in her mind. “Yes, I think I can do that,” she said quietly before addressing him by his first name. “Kian,” she finally said, gingerly eking out a smile.

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” Kian said as he watched her open the car door and slip out.

  The minute her feet hit the ground, she hastily shut the door, wanting something solid between them. “No, I would really like to walk to town and meet you at Folks Pub again, that is, if you don’t mind?” she asked, peering through the open window. She watched him tap his finger on the steering wheel, his body language contemplating her answer. He leaned over to look directly at her.

  “No, that will be fine. Shall we say about two again?”

  She smiled for a moment, as warmly as she could fake. Was this the same Professor Smith she had talked with through email and met just hours earlier? His pleasantness was back, but who was that other man she had been afraid of just a short time ago, and would he return? “Great, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned quickly away from the car and started for the cottage.

  “Sophie, be watchful at all times, in the light and in the darkness,” sounded in her ear.

  She turned to see if the professor had spoken. He was still watching her, his eyes still looking after her, that same cold, twisted smile on his face. She turned back to the cottage and opened the door, shutting it hard behind her. “Be watchful at all times,” she repeated out loud but heard only the blood pounding in her ears. Sophie turned on the light and threw her bag in the chair. Her mind went at once to the diary. The old document lay open on the kitchen table along with the interpretation in the folder lying next to it. She was drawn to it and sat to look at it, focusing her eyes near the bottom of the page.

  “Three, you know of my brother’s plans in two days. Why does he long to carry out his evil wiles near the far wall? Yes, I know it is a beautiful place in the early afternoon, with its long shadows and heavy leafed-out vines supporting large hangings of flowers. But the night, the night brings out a smell of nauseating bittersweet dampness that signals the undergrowth is dying and in the process of decay. Why would my brother desire for his guests to witness such natural sickness and death? And why ask Olivia to the gathering? Each time she visits, he is taken in deeper by her exquisite beauty, yet is disgusted by a spirit or power that surrounds her as he puts it. What is his plan? It is as if there are two of my brother, each equally sadistic. Oh Three, his revenge has gone deeper to affect more than just his family. I witness that he enjoys what takes place.”

  “Anya, why do you fret so? Do not depend on your own understanding; trust in Three to protect you. And the walls you ask about? They are meant to protect those on the inside from the outside. But this wall must be torn down from the outside to rescue those within from themselves.”

  “Three are you saying that I must be rescued from myself? Diary, I hate and fear the words that I write next, will they be my—?

  “He is calling me again. My eyes steal to the door each time I hear him, Three, when he speaks my name. Oh diary, Sean asks to see me early. This makes it many days this week, always trying the handle on my locked door. I plead with him to leave me, but he insists on looking upon me, making it clear with his words that I am to be kept for him and his use.”

  “You will be rescued when the walls are torn down. So who will you put your trust in, Anya? Surround yourself with me, with the wisdom of Three and those I put on your good path.”

  Sophie jumped, her hand automatically gripping her chest. There was a sudden intrusion into her reading. It was her phone ringing. Her breathing slowed. “It must be Kevin,” she whispered with a pang of relief. She’d been so caught up in the diary that she had forgotten to call him. She looked at the flashing display—Gates. “Hello?”

  Kevin grinned.
Now, that sounded sheepish, he thought, pulling the phone from his ear to get a quick look at the face on the display. “Sophie, it's Kevin, is everything okay?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yeah, the phone startled me a little, but I’m fine.”

  She didn’t sound fine, but Kevin decided not to push the issue just yet. “I was wondering if you were going to give me a call before two in the morning, so I decided to take the chance you’d be alone, and if not, your Professor Smith is going to have to share you for a few minutes,” he said, pulling the towel tightly around his waist.

  In the rented cottage, Sophie shifted in her chair, trying to alleviate both the pain in her back from sitting so rigidly and the something that kept gnawing at her brain. “No Kevin, I’m alone.” At least in body, she thought as her eyes flitted to the diary once again.

  A smile came to his lips. “Good.” But there was something she wasn’t telling him. Kevin sensed it in her tone. Even so, knowing Sophie was alone was a welcome confirmation to go along with the joy he felt at just hearing the sound of her voice. But what had she been up to, he wondered? Something was definitely different. He started to put two and two together. His heart sank—she hadn’t fallen in love with the professor, had she? Can’t be, people don’t fall in love that fast, he thought, pinching his bottom lip nervously. But then again, he had, with the woman on the other end of the line. “Are you sure everything’s all right?” he asked again. “You sound different.”

  She thought for a moment and then touched her shoulder. The tension from earlier was gone and a relaxed feeling had taken over. Sophie knew why. It was the words of Three. ‘Those he puts on your good path.’ My good path, she thought. It had to be Three—her day had been anything but totally enjoyable. “Yeah, Kevin, I’m really good,” she said calmly.

  They both started talking at once then laughed.

  “You first, Sophie,” Kevin said, lying back on the bed.