by Terri Reid
Still staring into space, Bradley nodded. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “But, you know, it was more... I love her... I want to be with her for the rest of my life.”
“You forgot about all that complicated stuff in between, huh?”
Bradley nodded slowly. “I really hate weddings,” he admitted.
Sean sat down on the edge of his coffee table, unbuttoned his uniform shirt and slipped it off. “Well, if you thought you hated weddings before, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” Sean said. “An Irish wedding is the wedding of all weddings.”
Bradley dropped his head into his hands. “Think we could elope?”
“Hah, not if you want my mother to ever speak to you again,” he said. “She’s waited her whole life to plan Mary’s wedding.”
Bradley sighed. “Well, it’s only one day.”
“Oh, didn’t you know,” Sean said. “Irish weddings last a week.”
Bradley’s head shot up. “What?”
Sean laughed at him. “You should have seen your face. Priceless!”
“Not funny,” he said, and then he noticed a large scar on Sean’s arm. “Wow, that looks bad. Knife wound?”
Sean looked down at his arm. The scar had been there so long he barely thought of it. There were four slashes, evenly spaced and a puncture mark at the end of the one on the bottom. Even though they had healed years ago, they still had an ugly pink look to them.
“No, I got these when I visited Ireland when I was twelve,” he said. “We were playing hide and seek near my grandmother’s home and I went to hide in the woods. I must have encountered a pretty fierce thorn tree because I came out all bloodied and woozy. My brothers found me steps away from the woods and helped me back to the house.”
“Wow,” Bradley said. “Remind me to stay away from Irish woods.”
Sean laughed. “Oh, the woods are nothing compared to Irish women.”
They spent the evening watching basketball and complaining about the referees’ eye-sight. It was nearly eleven when Sean grabbed a couple of blankets and a pillow and handed them to Bradley before he went to bed.
“I think I might have an extra toothbrush in the bathroom,” he said, “In one of the drawers.”
Bradley nodded, “Thanks, appreciate it.”
Once Sean closed the door to his bedroom, Bradley sat down on the couch next to Tiny and pulled out his phone. He punched in Mary’s number.
“Hello,” a slightly drowsy voice responded.
“It sounds like I woke you up,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ll call back tomorrow.”
“Bradley?” her voice sounded more alert. “No, don’t call back. I’m awake.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “Are you home? Do you want to come over?”
He relaxed against the back of the couch and absently stroked Tiny. “I’m in Chicago,” he said. “I’m at Sean’s place.”
“Well then you must have met Tiny,” she said.
He could hear the laughter in her voice.
“As a matter of fact, I do believe that Tiny is sharing his bed with me tonight,” he said.
She laughed. “Well, you won’t be cold.”
“I met Pete O’Bryan today.”
“Really? Pete’s a good guy. We’ve known him forever.”
“He’s going to help me find my daughter. And the guy is amazing.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “I’ve never known Pete to lose a case.”
“Yeah, he seems like the guy you want on your side,” Bradley agreed. “I really feel hopeful about finding her.”
“You should,” Mary said. “You will.”
He paused for a moment. “Mary, I can’t begin to tell you how much meeting you has changed my life.”
She laughed nervously. “Yeah, well, that whole seeing dead people can alter things a bit.”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “No, I mean without you ...there are so many things that happened today that are a direct result from meeting you.”
“Bradley, Mike told us what you had to do today,” she said. “I’m so sorry. How did things go?”
“Well, actually, much better than I thought,” he admitted. “Bernie was great. He really knows what he’s doing.”
“Yeah, he’s the best.”
“I’ve got to ask, how many nephews does that guy have?”
Mary laughed. “There’s got to be hundreds of them.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting me into your life and into your extended family,” he said. “I know things moved faster and smoother because I was a friend of the O’Reilly clan.”
“Well, that just part of the deal,” she said softly.
“What deal?” he asked.
“When one O’Reilly loves you, the rest of them do to.”
“Mary, that makes me slightly uncomfortable knowing Sean is sleeping in the next room.”
She laughed again. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Mary.”
“Yes Bradley.”
“I love you.”
She sighed. “I love you too.”
“Good night. Sweet dreams.”
“Yeah, you and Tiny too.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Mary smiled and slowly sunk back into her bedding, she was just so much in love it almost scared her. She chuckled as she reviewed the conversation in her mind. She’d have to thank Sean for bringing Pete in on the case. She felt even more hopeful that Bradley was going to find his daughter.
She yawned and stretched her arms. It had been a busy day and tomorrow she was going to be even busier. Katie Brennan called after dinner and had a chance to speak with both Andy and Maggie. But after the phone call, there had been homework to do, baths to supervise, stories to read and arguments to mediate. She really didn’t know how Katie did it every day and look so young and fresh. She was exhausted.
Closing her eyes, she quickly drifted into a deep sleep.
The room was getting colder and Mary automatically reached for her thick quilt, but could only find a thin cotton blanket. She pulled it up over her shoulders, but she was still cold. What had happened to her down quilt?
She opened her eyes and looked around. She was confused, the room was too dark. Did the streetlight outside burn out again?
She reached out towards her bed stand, but found her hand was tied with a thick rope. What the hell?
She sat up and realized she wasn’t in her bed. Instead, she was on a couch in a cold, damp basement. She was there again. Looking down at her body, she saw her swollen abdomen and felt the child move inside of her. Reaching forward, she placed her hands against her stomach and felt a tiny kick vibrate against her hand.
A combination of awe and fear warred within her. This child, her child, was in danger. Instinctually defensive, she leaned forward softly rubbing against the tiny foot ledged against her skin. “I’ll protect you,” she promised. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“I’m the one who will keep her safe,” a deep voice taunted from the shadows of the room. “She’s my daughter.”
Scooting back as far as she could, Mary pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, protecting the baby. “Get away from me.”
Gary strolled out of the shadows, a blanket in his hands. “But, darling, if I leave who will keep you warm? Who will give you food?”
“I don’t want anything from you,” she whispered fiercely. “I want you to leave.”
He slowly stroked her from the top of her head down along the side of her face, his hand lingering on her cheek. “But, if I leave you, your baby will die,” he said. “You don’t want your baby to die, do you?”
She whimpered. “Please, please don’t hurt my baby,” she cried.
He sat next to her on the bed and smiled, “Oh course, I won’t hurt her,” he said. “As long as you do what I say.”
He licked his lips and brushed her hair away from her face. “
Will you do everything I say?”
She nodded, tears flowing down her face.
“Good girl,” he mocked. “Now lie back on the couch so I can look at you.”
She hesitated.
“You don’t want your baby to die, do you?”
She unwrapped her arms and slowly leaned back against the couch.
“Excellent, excellent,” he said eagerly. “Now, straighten your legs.”
She lowered her legs to the couch and stared up at the pipes crisscrossing on the ceiling.
He lifted her shirt, exposed her belly and rubbed it slowly with both hands. “Oh, yes, our baby. Our creation,” he murmured.
His touch made her skin crawl. She wanted to be sick. “Please don’t touch me,” she begged. “Please don’t touch me.”
“Oh, Mary, this is just the beginning of what I’m going to do to you,” he said softly, sliding his hands to the waist of her pants. “And I’m going to enjoy every moment of it.”
Panic filled her. She knew what he was going to do, had done before. “No,” she screamed. “No, don’t touch me.”
Ian rushed into her room. “Mary, darling, listen to me,” he said with a calm but forceful voice.
“Please, don’t touch me,” she cried.
“Darling, it’s Ian,” he said. “You have to fight him. You have to be stronger.”
She tossed her head back and forth on her pillow. “He’s going to hurt me again,” she cried. “He’s touching me...oh, no, please make him stop.”
“Mary, you lift your leg and you kick him with all you’ve got,” Ian commanded.
He saw her thrash her leg under the cover and kick out.
“Aye, that’s my girl,” he said. “Now kick him again. Harder.”
He moved closer and sat next to her on the edge of the bed. “Now you’re winning the fight,” he said. “Are your hands loose, darling?”
“They’re tied,” she whimpered, “He’s tied them with rope.”
“Well, darling, you just need to pull them apart and you can break through that rope,” he said. “Just pull at them, you’ll see.”
He watched her jerk her arms in her sleep. “They’re off,” she said, her breathing short and panicked. “They’re off.”
“Aye, now you can give him what for,” he said. “You’re in charge, Mary O’Reilly. Kick his ass.”
The quick right cross seemed to come out of nowhere, but one moment Ian was sitting on the side of her bed and the next he was on the floor, nursing a bruised jaw. “Well, you probably took him down with that one,” he said.
“Ian, is Mary going to die?” Maggie cried from the doorway. “Is someone trying to hurt her?”
Ian got up and hurried over to Maggie. He wrapped her in his arms for a moment. “Ach, no, she was just having a nightmare,” he said. “That’s all. And when our Mary has nightmares she gets a little loud.”
Mike appeared next to her. “I’m sorry, I tried to comfort her, but she was worried about Mary.”
“Ian,” Mary sat up in her bed. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh nothing,” he said. “Nothing t’all.”
“You was having a scary nightmare,” Maggie said. “You was yelling really loud and I was scared.”
Mary felt her heart drop; she slipped out of her bed and hurried over to Maggie. “Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry I scared you,” she said.
Maggie moved from Ian’s arms into Mary’s. “A bad man was trying to get you,” she said. “I thought the bad man was in the house.”
Biting her lower lip and blinking back her tears, Mary held the little girl close. “Oh, no, sweetheart, you’re safe in this house,” she said. “You have Ian and Mike and me to look after you. We won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“But the bad man was hurting you,” she said. “I heard you screaming.”
“Only in my dreams, sweetheart,” Mary explained. “And then Ian came in and helped me. Sometimes big people need protectors too.”
Maggie looked over at Ian. “He protects you too?” she asked. “Like Mike protects me?”
Mary nodded. “Yes, he does,” she said. “He’s very good at that.”
Maggie yawned widely, “I’m going to marry him,” she said with a sleepy voice.
“Well, that’s a wise choice indeed,” Mary said, cuddling the child for a few more moments. “Can I put you back in bed?”
“Mmmmm-hmmmm,” Maggie mumbled.
Lifting her up in her arms, Mary carried her down the hall. Ian opened the door and drew down the blankets. Mike hovered nearby as Mary placed her into the bed and kissed her forehead. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” she whispered to the little girl who was already asleep.
“I’ll stay in here, just in case she wakes up,” Mike whispered.
Mary nodded and she and Ian softly closed the door and walked down the hallway. Ian motioned for Mary to follow him downstairs and she led the way without saying a word.
He walked over to the stove and put the kettle on. Mary sat at the table and cradled her head in her hands. “I frightened her, Ian,” she said. “I woke her from her sleep and frightened her.”
He came over and sat next to her at the table. “You didn’t mean to do it,” he said. “And judging by how quickly she fell back to sleep, there were no residual effects.”
“But what if I keep having them?” she asked, looking up at him. “What if I never get over...”
He shook his head. “You’ve had less than a week to get over a traumatic situation. Why don’t you give yourself a bit of a break?”
“But, we don’t know if I’ll ever get over it,” she said.
“Aye, but I believe as we change the circumstances in your dreams, so you’re not the victim anymore, the dreams will lessen.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “I remember hearing your voice,” she said, concentrating on the memory. “I remember you telling me to kick him.”
“Aye, and you did.”
She nodded. “I did. And I kicked him again and then I broke the ropes he tied on my wrists.”
“And then you gave him a fine right cross,” Ian said, rubbing his chin.
Her eyes widened. “Oh, Ian, did I hit you?” she asked.
“Me own fault,” he said. “Here I am acting like your boxing coach and don’t have enough sense to stand out of the way.”
She allowed herself to smile. “I knocked him out cold,” she said.
“That’s me girl,” he said. “You’re a fighter, Mary O’Reilly, not a victim. You just have to try and remember that.”
Chapter Thirty
The bar was nearly empty. The owner was wiping down the tables and collecting the glasses. But in the far corner, two men sat together in the shadows nursing their glasses of beer.
“Okay, Wally, what’s the big emergency?”
Wally sipped his beer, leaving a trail of froth on his upper lip. “Do you remember Rosie Meriwether?”
“Yeah, she’s a real estate broker in town now,” he replied. “Still looks pretty good and I hear she’s widowed again.”
“She came to see me,” Wally interrupted, “Wanted access to the high school.”
“So?” he responded. “What’s the big deal?”
“She’s got this friend who’s a parapsychologist.”
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s a ghost hunter,” Wally said. “They use all this equipment to see if there are really ghosts in a place.”
“Yeah, so, this is like reality TV, Wally.”
“She wants to investigate the death of Coach Thorne,” he said, lowering his voice.
A glass of beer dropped on the table and splashed over the rim. “What the hell?”
Wally nodded. “Yeah, she wants access to the Chemistry lab so they can see if it’s haunted.”
Wally’s companion took a deep breath and then sat back in his chair. “So what,” he said. “I’ve seen those TV shows. All they do is report there’s a ghost there. No big deal. They can’t
prove nothing.”
Wally shook his head. “That isn’t all,” he said. “Rosie, she told me the reason this guy contacted her and wants to work with her...”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because she can talk to ghosts.”
Chapter Thirty-one
“Bradley, it’s so good to see you,” Maggie O’Reilly said, giving him a warm hug. “I’m so glad you could come for breakfast.”
“Thank you for inviting me,” he said. “It smells great in here.”
She smiled. “Well, thank you,” she said. “One of my Timmy’s favorite meals is breakfast, so we try to have it together as often as we can.”
“Morning, ma,” Sean said, dropping a kiss on her cheek and sweeping the petite woman up into a bear hug. “How’s the new washer.”
She put her hands on her hips and tightened her lips. “It’s fine,” she said. “And if I see either you or your father sniffing around it, I’ll bring my rolling pin to you.”
Sean grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Um, is Mr. O’Reilly, I mean, Tim, around?” Bradley asked.
Maggie nodded. “Yes, he’s in the living room with the twins,” she said. “Why don’t you join him in there while I finish making breakfast?”
“Come on, Bradley,” Sean said. “I’ll bring you in.”
Bradley took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”
They entered the living room to find Mary’s father arguing with his sons, Arthur and Thomas. “Are you both daft?” he asked. “He was clearly fouled.”
“Are you talking about that play in the second quarter?” Sean asked as they walked in the room.
Mary’s father, Timothy, turned and looked at them. “Bradley, good to see you,” he said warmly. “Yes, Sean, it was a clear foul.”
Sean nodded. “I agree, but Bradley thought he was fine.”
“What? You thought the call was good?” Timothy said, incredulously.
Bradley felt his stomach drop to his feet. “Well, from my point of view,” Bradley said, with a gulp. “It looked good.”
“See dad, we told you,” Art said.
