Fear Familiar Bundle

by Caroline Burnes

  "And now that Limerick's been stolen from the hideout, the party who wrote the notes is left out in the cold. So they snatched Mick, but now Mick doesn't know where Limerick is."

  Catherine lowered the tray of cookies onto the hood of the Rover and leaned against the warm vehicle. "This is like a spider's web. The deeper we look, the more entangled we become. It isn't just Limerick, now it's Mick and David Trussell and Kent and you and two other factions. Where will all of this end?"

  She looked so beset with anxiety that Patrick didn't think. He put his arm around her and drew her into the solid safety of his chest. "It will end with Mick and Limerick returned safely. The rest doesn't really matter, or at least not that much. There's criminal activity here, enough to keep the authorities properly busy for months. But that can be their worry. We've only to look out for the ones we love."

  "You do love that old man, don't you?" Catherine spoke into the warmth of his jacket. He smelled of horses and hay and maleness.

  "Mick's been like a second father to me, except he never put the pressure on me that my own father did. Sort of best friend and father."

  "And I've no doubt you love that horse."

  "No matter what else you think of me in the long run, Catherine, you have to know that I would never have deliberately endangered Limerick."

  Something in his voice made her slowly push back and look at him. "Is Limerick in some kind of danger? Have you learned something I need to know?"

  "All the way back I've been thinking. Something about what O'Day said kept troubling me."

  "Benjie said someone saw the horse and rider two nights ago, on the Clifden road…"

  "Exactly where I was seen by that old man. But it's the time. Two nights ago. Limerick's been gone longer than that."

  "Someone's gotten the time confused is all." Catherine didn't understand why Patrick was hanging so stubbornly to the topic. No harm had been done except a few ghost stories had been spawned. There were tales of banshees and walking spirits aplenty in Ireland. One more wouldn't hurt.

  "Except Benjie said he was seen by an entire family, and that he entreated them to take up arms for freedom, then jumped a stone wall and rode across a treacherous field toward the bogs."

  Catherine visualized it all. The gray horse thundering up out of the mists, the call for freedom by a cloaked rider, and the horse pounding over the wall and disappearing into the mists and the bog.

  "Highly impressive story. Someone's already embellishing the dickens out of your ride."

  "Possibly."

  "But what?" she pressed. He was looking past her, into the barn, as if some answer would come from there. She lifted her hands to his shoulders and felt the tension in him. There was something else going on with Patrick Shaw, something that had him strung tighter than high C on a concert harp.

  "What is it?" she asked again.

  "I'd like to go and find that family."

  "The ones who saw Cuchulain?"

  He nodded. "You see, if O'Day had his story straight, then the horse might very well have been Limerick." He finally looked at her, his blue eyes tormented by the possibilities he'd uncovered. "If it was Limerick, God help me, Catherine, it might be my fault. By accidentally starting that business with Cuchulain, I might have given some people the perfect opportunity to capitalize on it."

  Catherine swallowed. Her throat was unaccountably dry. "You think Limerick's been taken by rebels, by someone who deliberately plans to use him to ignite the passions of the people."

  "Passions and fears. That's the one thing I never considered when I hid him away in the bogs. And there's more." He forced himself to continue. "When my father died and my older brother didn't come home or even send word, I let it be known that if he ever returned again, I'd turn him in myself. I created some bad blood with Colin's mates. They might think it amusing to put me in a bad situation."

  "If they have Limerick, they won't care if they hurt or maim him." Catherine knew it, she only said it aloud hoping that Patrick would contradict her.

  "They wouldn't deliberately injure him, I don't believe. But horse care was never high on the list of requirements they had for membership in their little club." Patrick couldn't help the bitterness. "I mean, Colin destroyed our family, why should one horse more or less matter to his friends?"

  "Patrick, what can I do?"

  "The worst of it is that you're involved. It will give them double pleasure, you see. You're an outsider. You don't belong here."

  "So the blade cuts two ways. Vengeance and revenge." She felt the tears building and she had to divert them. She'd be willing to lose Limerick, to let him go without a fight, if she could only believe whoever had him would take care of him.

  "They would never have taken Mick, so I didn't even consider such a thing until I learned that whoever had Mick didn't have the horse. This is far more serious than I'd ever expected."

  "What are we to do? What can we do?"

  "Talk to the Adamses first. Then we can stake out the seacoast road. If it's Limerick, he'll respond to me." Patrick grinned. "I bred and raised that stallion. There are a few tricks left that no one could anticipate."

  Patrick's smile touched the cold, brittle part of her heart that had been frozen with fear. There was something special between Patrick and Limerick. Catherine accepted the full measure of what that meant. If anyone could save the stallion, it would be Patrick. She had to trust him and allow him to do whatever he planned to do.

  "I'll go with you," she said. "I can help." At the consternation that crossed his face, she reached up and touched his chest. "Patrick, I need to help, and I won't interfere."

  "Okay," he agreed. "Let's deliver these biscuits and grab a bite ourselves. We'll wait until you get your phone call, and then we'll travel to Clifden. Maybe you could arrange a different vehicle, one that no one would recognize as yours or mine."

  "I can do that." Mauve would gladly trade. She picked up the tray of cookies. "Shall we? As a team."

  "Why not?" Patrick took her arm and led her into the barn. He saw the startled looks on the faces of grooms, trainers and jockeys as they noticed the obvious bond between new owner and old.

  "So, you finally figured how to hang on to the farm?" Eamon McShane said, stepping out to confront them.

  "Have a biscuit, McShane," Catherine said. "A bit of sugar might sweeten up your attitude."

  "Well said, Miss Catherine," Jack said. He gave Patrick a wink.

  There was applause and several whistles of approval. Catherine felt herself flush with pleasure. Well, she'd wanted to be accepted by her employees. Perhaps she was on the way.

  "We've a bit of a problem here," Patrick said. He spoke clearly, but his tone was soft so that people stopped working and drifted around them. Catherine passed the cookies around until Timmy took the tray from her. It was his way of showing that he accepted her position, and didn't mind. She gave him a grateful smile.

  "As you know, Limerick is gone. We've begun to believe that his plight might be dangerous. There's been no ransom, no request for money or anything else. He's scheduled to race Saturday. That's three days from now. He has to run, and we have to get him back. Now, has anyone seen a stranger on the premises, someone who might have been over at Catherine's house to deliver envelopes or letters? Someone lurking about, watching?" Patrick kept his gaze on McShane. The assistant trainer looked down at the ground. If he wasn't guilty of something he surely acted as if he were.

  As if he felt Patrick's stare, McShane suddenly looked up. "Ask Patrick what he did with the horse. Everyone knows he took him. Him and Mick, and now that old codger's cut and run, leaving his work shuffed off on everyone else."

  "We're concerned about Mick," Catherine said softly. "He was last seen at O'Flaherty's bar."

  "He's not been home," Timmy volunteered. "Patrick said he was with his son."

  A murmur moved swiftly through the gathering of men. "Old Mick would never have left here voluntarily. I said that myself," Sean said.
"This was his life. If he's missing this long, something bad's fallen on him."

  "I'm afraid he's been kidnapped," Patrick said. As he watched, McShane twitched. Patrick had to clench his fists to keep from jumping the other man and pounding the truth out of him.

  "Well, we've got to figure how to get him back," Jack said. He gave Patrick a puzzled glance. "Mick is one of us. We can't forget about him. Not even for a horse, Patrick," he added softly.

  "We've no intention of forgetting him," Catherine assured him. "Now you all know the truth. Limerick's truly been stolen, and Mick has been kidnapped. Think hard. I've had five messages delivered to my house, all anonymously. The last one was a threat aimed at Mick. We've got to figure this out and be quick about it."

  "This isn't a game about Limerick's knee," Patrick said. He met the question in Jack's eyes. "I did take Limerick in the beginning. I wanted to rest his leg, and I wasn't certain Catherine would listen to me. What I did was wrong, maybe, but I'd no intention of keeping the horse."

  "That's a fine tale. You've taken him once, what's to make us believe this isn't part of your plan to keep him for yourself?" McShane's voice was ugly.

  "There are reasons. Plenty. If I had him, he'd be back in time to race Saturday, you can be sure of that. But as long as Catherine's sure, I don't have to worry about your doubts, McShane. In fact, I'm worried about your honesty. I get the distinct impression— "

  "Let's not make this personal," Catherine interjected. Her fingers on Patrick's forearm, light as her touch was, stopped him.

  Patrick recovered himself. "Keep a sharp watch, and let me or Catherine know if you remember or see anything."

  "We will," the men answered in chorus.

  Catherine twined her arm with Patrick's as they left the barn. "Keep walking," she said, moving toward the main house.

  "Why?" Patrick did as she requested but he looked down at her. Her face was pale, but her eyes were glittering.

  "McShane is trouble. I can smell it all over him. I want to make him believe we're as united a front as we can possibly be."

  Patrick's arms closed around her. "If it's united you want to show, then let's give them a real look." His lips claimed hers. What began as a teasing kiss deepened. Drawing back, he smiled. "This isn't a game of pretend, though, Catherine. In all of this madness, I can't stop myself from thinking about you."

  Catherine needed no explanation. She understood. Taking his hand, she led him away from the barn to a private spot sheltered by darkness and trees. This time, she was the initiator. When she was dizzy with the sensations of Patrick's kiss, she pulled away. Leaning her head against his chest, she sighed. "Would we have ever found our way here without Limerick and Mick and all of this tragedy?"

  "We're a stubborn pair," Patrick said, his fingers weaving through her hair. "A mule-headed team, I'd say. Perhaps it took a mighty kick in the butt to wake us up to what we felt for one another. But there's no doubt now what I'm feeling." He kissed the top of her head. "But I'll not speak of it until this is all settled between us. If Limerick is injured…"

  Catherine squeezed him tight. "Hush!" she demanded. She knew what he was about to say. If Limerick was injured, he'd assume the blame and the responsibility. He'd also leave. That was something she didn't want to hear. "Mauve will be ready to skin me if I don't get home for dinner," Catherine said quickly.

  "Does that mean you're inviting me to the big house to eat?" Patrick couldn't help teasing her, even with things as bad as they were. They needed some lightness between them, even if it was just a few moments of banter.

  "For dinner, that's correct. And to wait for that phone call. I need your help, Patrick." She took his hand. "It's a difficult thing for me to admit, that I need you. But I do."

  "I've a feeling that we both need each other a great deal." Patrick's fingers closed on hers as they walked through the darkness to the house.

  By the time Catherine and Patrick sat down at the table for dinner, Familiar had already sampled the feast and was reclining on an antique chair near the table. One front paw outstretched, he purred with contentment and gave Mauve a ripply meow whenever she came near him.

  "That devil knows how to live," Mauve said, balancing a tray with one hand and petting the cat with the other. "I'll bring your coffee."

  Catherine glanced at her watch. She'd been too nervous to really enjoy the food. It was drawing close to eight. When would the call come?

  "You can't rush it," Patrick said, picking up her hand and kissing her palm. "They'll call. Mick is of no value to them. What they want is the horse."

  "What will we tell them…?"

  The telephone in the hallway shrilled. Catherine clutched her napkin and remained frozen at the table. Rising swiftly, Patrick went to the phone.

  "The Nelson residence."

  "Patrick?" Mick's voice sounded foggy, confused. "Is that you? Patrick, they have me and they want the horse. No matter what they say, don't tell them— "

  There was a break and a new voice came on the line.

  "The old man can't take much more of what we've been giving him. If you want him back alive, you'd better hand over the horse."

  Patrick studied the inflection in the man's voice. No matter how hard he tried to sound tough, there was something else there, a core of educated pronunciation.

  "Perhaps you'd better speak to Miss Nelson." Patrick signaled her to the phone.

  "Don't hurt him," Catherine said before the caller had a chance to say anything. She felt Patrick's fingers squeeze her shoulder tightly.

  "Let them talk," he whispered to her.

  "We don't want to hurt him anymore," the caller said. "It's the horse. A fair exchange, I'd say."

  "What can you hope to accomplish? Even if you have him he'd be valueless to you."

  There was a pause. "The horse. We have to have him by tomorrow. If not, the old man suffers."

  "We don't have Limerick," Catherine said. "You're a little late on the thieving front. Someone has already taken him."

  "Don't play me for a fool!"

  "Check the barn! Check the hideout where Limerick was. Mick knew about it. Tell him to tell you. The horse is gone."

  "This isn't a game. We get the horse or the old man will suffer."

  Patrick took the phone from Catherine's hand. "She's telling the truth. Limerick's been stolen. Check wherever you'd like."

  "You've got him hidden until the race Saturday. You think you're going to trick everyone."

  "It's a fact. Let Mick go and we'll forget about this. This is my warning to you. If that old man is hurt in any little way, I'll hunt you down. You'll suffer tenfold anything you do to him. That's a promise." Patrick returned the receiver to the cradle.

  "Did he believe you?" Catherine asked.

  "I can't be certain." It was a definite gamble, and Mick was the stakes. "Mick sounded good enough. A bit confused, as if they'd been giving him something to keep him calm. If that's the worst of it, he'll come out of this fine." He didn't mention the fact that the kidnappers might not want to leave the one witness who could identify them.

  But Catherine was no fool. "Mick knows who they are. They won't forget that."

  "If they don't hurt him, then they have nothing to worry about. That man understood what I was saying. I gave him a way out where he can return Mick and go on about his business." Patrick turned Catherine's face to the light. "Are you okay?"

  She nodded, blinking back tears. "I'm worried about Mick and Limerick. I feel so helpless."

  "Was there anything about that voice that you recognized?"

  "He was trying to change his voice. He was trying to sound like he'd grown up on the streets, but he hadn't. He was educated."

  "My thoughts exactly." Patrick frowned. "I keep going back to Ridgeway with this."

  "And to think, I invited him in here. I showed him Limerick." Catherine shook her head and walked back into the dining room where Mauve had cleared the table and left coffee. "What a fool I've been."
>
  "We've no proof that Ridgeway has Limerick or Mick," Patrick reminded her. Light from the chandelier glittered on her bowed head. Her shoulders were slumped, her posture reflecting dejection.

  Unable to resist, Patrick moved behind her, circling her with his arms. "You did what you thought was right, Catherine. There was no malice. How do you think I feel about the horse? I stole him, and I lost him. My only excuse is that I did what I thought was right. If anything happens to him, or Mick, I'm to blame."

  Catherine turned in his arms. "There's no point in either of us blaming ourselves." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Oh, Patrick, if we could only go back to a month ago."

  He kissed the top of her head, remembering the way she'd ignited in his arms at the racetrack. Gently he released her. "Drink your coffee and grab a jacket."

  "To Clifden?" she asked.

  "To find the ghost of Cuchulain."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sitting in front of the fire in the Adamses' home, Patrick watched Catherine accept the cup of tea that Mrs. Adams offered. Before them a fire flickered in the quiet house. The children were in bed asleep. The two women smiled at each other, a shy offer of friendship. Patrick was momentarily struck by the openness that Catherine exhibited. How had he ever thought her cold and arrogant?

  "It gave us a bit of a scare," Ralph Adams said. "Tamara and me and the three children were walking home. There'd been a flat on the car and, of course, the spare was flat, too. The fog was thick and it was chilly, but not too bitter for a walk. It seemed the quickest way to manage."

  Patrick sipped his tea. "Where were you exactly?" he asked.

  "Not far from here. The sharp curve about a mile back. Right at the bend."

  It was exactly the point where Patrick had nearly run over the old man. "And this was two nights ago?"

  "Exactly." Ralph looked at his wife.

  "We'd been to visit my sister, Beatrice. It's our regular Sunday outing," Tamara said. "We'd stayed longer than we planned." She shook her head. "I won't be traveling that road at night again. I must have had ten years scared off my life."