by Nora Roberts
“It was a young man named Michael Hicks,” Eileen told him. “God rest him.”
“Was he working with you?”
“He was not.” Rebecca huffed out a breath, then added, “It’s a complicated business.”
“I’m good at complications.”
Rebecca looked at her mother.
“Darling, someone has died.” Eileen laid a hand on her daughter’s. “An innocent young man, by all accounts. Everything changes because of it. All this has to be put right again. If there’s a chance Jack can help do that, we have to take it.”
Rebecca sat back, studied Jack’s face. “Will you help see she pays for what she’s done?”
“If Anita had anything to do with murder, I’ll see she pays. You have my word on it.”
Rebecca nodded and, because she still wanted cake, folded her hands on the table. “You tell it, Ma. You’re better at telling.”
EILEEN WAS GOOD at telling and, Rebecca discovered, Jack Burdett was good at listening. He asked no questions, made no comments, only sipped his tea and kept his attention on Eileen while she spoke.
“And so,” she finished, “Malachi’s gone back to New York City to do what needs to be done.”
Jack nodded, and wondered if this nice, cozy family had any conception of what they’d gotten themselves into. “So this Cleo Toliver has the second Fate.”
“It wasn’t perfectly clear if she had it or knew where it was. The boy who died was a dear friend of hers, and she’s blaming herself over it.”
“And Anita knows who she is, but not where. At the moment.”
“As it stands,” Eileen confirmed.
“It’d be wise to keep it that way. If she’s killed once, it’ll be easy to kill again. Mrs. Sullivan, is it worth it to you? To risk your family?”
“Nothing’s worth my family, but they won’t be stopped now. I’d be disappointed in them if they did. There’s a young man dead, and that has to be accounted for. This woman can’t steal and murder without an accounting.”
“How did she get the first Fate away from you?”
“How do you know she did?” Rebecca demanded. “Unless she told you herself.”
“You told me,” he said mildly. “You called her a thief. And you put flowers on the grave of your great-great-grandfather, one Felix Greenfield, who’d been aboard the Lusitania. Up until recently, I believed the first Fate to have been lost along with Henry W. Wyley. The way this plays out, the Fate and your ancestor were spared. How did he manage it? Did he work for Wyley?”
“Felix wasn’t the only one who survived,” Rebecca began.
“Oh, Becca, for pity’s sake, the man’s got a brain in his head, and he’s used it. I’m afraid Felix stole the statue. He was a bit of a thief, but he reformed. He slipped the little thing in his pocket just as the torpedo hit. Though it might seem self-serving, I like to think it was meant.”
“He stole it.” A grin spread over Jack’s face. “That’s perfect. Then Anita steals it from you.”
“That’s different,” Rebecca insisted. “She knew what it was, and Felix didn’t. She used her dead husband’s business reputation when Mal took it to her for appraisal. Then she used her body to dull his common sense—and him being a man, it was easily done. She made a fool out of all of us and that . . . well, we’ll have an accounting for that as well.”
“If this is a matter of pride, you’d better rethink. She’ll eat a tasty morsel like you alive.”
“She can try. And she’ll choke.”
“Pride isn’t a luxury,” Eileen said quietly. “And not always a kind of vanity. Surviving when others died changed Felix. It, you could say, made a man out of him. The Fate was a symbol of that change, and it stood for it in our family for five generations. Now we know what it is, beyond that symbol, and we believe the three should be brought back together. That was meant as well. Maybe there’s profit in it, and we won’t turn from that. But it’s not for greed. It’s for family.”
“Anita has the first, and knows—or thinks she knows—how to get the second. You’re in her way.”
“And the Sullivans aren’t so easily pushed aside as she might think,” Eileen said. “Felix floated freezing on a broken crate while one of the grandest ships ever built sank behind him. He survived, while it didn’t. While more than a thousand others didn’t. And he had that little silver figure in his pocket. He brought it here, and we’ll have it back.”
“If I help you do that, help you put the three together, will you sell it to me?”
“If you meet the asking price,” Rebecca began, but her mother cut her off with one sharp look.
“If you help us, we’ll sell it to you. You have my word on it,” she said and extended her hand over the table.
HE WANTED TIME to think it through, so stayed over in Cobh another day. It gave him the opportunity to make a number of calls, begin a number of background checks on the players in what Jack was finding a very interesting game.
He trusted Eileen Sullivan. While he was attracted to Rebecca, he didn’t have the same instinctive faith in the daughter as he did in the mother. Because he wanted a second run at her, Jack bought another ticket for the tour and strolled down to the dock.
She didn’t look pleased to see him. The cheerful expression she wore while chatting with passengers went cold and hard when her gaze shifted, landed on him.
She snatched the voucher out of his hand. “What are you doing back here?”
“Maybe I can’t keep away from you.”
“Bollocks. But it’s your money.”
“I’ll give you ten pounds more for a seat on the bridge and some conversation.”
“Twenty.” She held out a hand. “In advance.”
“Distrusting and mercenary.” He dug out twenty pounds. “Careful, I could fall in love with you.”
“Then I’d have the pleasure of grinding your heart into dust. For that, I’d refund your twenty. Take your seat, then, and don’t touch anything. I’ve got to get started.”
He waited, let her wonder and stew as she maneuvered into the harbor and set her mother’s recording.
“Looks like rain,” he commented.
“We’ve a couple hours yet. You don’t strike me as a man who makes the same trip twice without good reason. What do you want?”
“Another invitation to tea?”
“You won’t get it.”
“Now that’s cold. Other than me, have you noticed anyone hanging around, taking this tour, walking by your house, maybe showing up along your daily routine?”
“You think we’re being watched?” Rebecca shook her head. “She doesn’t do it that way. She’s not worried about what we’re doing here in Cobh. She’s concerned with what one of us might be doing when we’re not at home. She tracked my brothers when they went off, and I think she did that through the airline tickets—the credit card, you know. It’s not that difficult to get such information if you’re clever with the computer.”
“It’s not simple either.”
“If I can do it, she, or someone she pays, can as well.”
“And can you?”
“I can do damn near anything with a computer. I know, for instance, that you were divorced five years ago, after one year and three months of marriage. Not such a long time.”
“Long enough, apparently.”
“I know your address in New York City, should I want to pay a call sometime in the future. I know you went to Oxford University and graduated in the top ten percent of your class. That’s not too bad,” she added. “Considering.”
“Thanks.”
“I know you have no criminal record, at least none that shows on a surface look, and that your company, which you started twelve years ago, has a strong, international reputation and has given you an estimated net—net, mind you—worth of twenty-six million American dollars. And that,” she said with the first hint of laughter in her eyes, “isn’t so very bad either.”
He stretched out his le
gs. “That’s a lot of digging.” And very impressive work, he thought.
“Oh, not so very much.” She waved it—and the six hours she’d spent at her keyboard—off. “And I was curious.”
“Curious enough to take a trip to Dublin?”
“Why would I want to go to Dublin?”
“Because I’m going, tonight.”
“Is that a proposition, Jack? And while my mother’s voice is coming through the speaker?”
“It is, but whether it’s personal or business is up to you. There’s someone in Dublin I need to see. I think it’ll be worth your while to tag along.”
“Who would this be?”
“You want to find out, have a bag packed and be ready by five-thirty. I’ll come by for you.”
“I’ll think about it,” she replied, but was mentally packing her bag.
Fourteen
“I knowI’m leaving you shorthanded, Ma.”
“That’s not what concerns me.” Eileen frowned as Rebecca rolled up a sweater like a sausage and stuffed it into her bag. “I said I had a good feeling about Jack Burdett, and that I trusted him to be an honest man, but that doesn’t mean I feel easy about my daughter going off with him after one day’s acquaintance.”
“It’s business.” Rebecca debated between jeans and trousers. “And if it were Mal or Gideon heading out like this, you wouldn’t think twice.”
“I’d think twice, as they’re as precious to me as you. But as you’re a daughter instead of a son, I’m thinking three or four times. That’s the nature of things, Rebecca, and there’s no point in getting sulky over it.”
“I know how to take care of myself.”
Eileen laid a hand on Rebecca’s tumbled curls. “You do, yes.”
“And I know how to handle men.”
Eileen lifted her eyebrows. “Those you’ve had dealings with up to now. But you haven’t dealt with the likes of this one before.”
“A man’s a man,” Rebecca said dismissively, and ignored her mother’s hearty sigh. “Mal and Gideon have been traipsing all over the world while I stay here, at the wheel or the keyboard. It’s time I had some part of the adventure of it, Ma. Now I’ve a chance to, if only to go as far as Dublin for it.”
She’s always fought to stand toe-to-toe with her brothers, Eileen thought. And had worked for it. Earned it. “Take an umbrella. It’s raining.”
She was packed and walking out the front door when Jack pulled up. She wore a light jacket against the steady rain and carried a single duffel. He appreciated both promptness and efficiency in a woman, and the independence that had her tossing the bag in the backseat before he could walk around to take it from her.
She kissed her mother, then ended up exchanging a hard, swaying hug before climbing into the car.
“It’s my only girl I’m trusting you with, Jack.” Eileen stood in the rain, laid a hand on his arm. “If I come to regret it, I’ll hunt you down like a dog.”
“I’ll take care of her.”
“She can take care of herself or she wouldn’t be going with you. But she’s my only daughter and my youngest child, so I’m putting the weight of it on you.”
“I’ll have her back tomorrow.”
Telling herself to be content with that, Eileen stepped back and watched them drive away in the rain.
SHE’D EXPECTED THEY’D drive all the way to Dublin and had prepared herself for the tedium of it. Instead he drove to Cork airport and turned in the rental car, and she prepared instead for the short flight.
She wasn’t prepared for the little private jet, or for Jack himself to take the controls.
“Is it yours?” She ordered her nerves to quiet as she took her seat in the cockpit beside him.
“The company’s. Simplifies things.”
She cleared her throat as he went over his checklist. “And you’re a good pilot, are you?”
“So far,” he replied absently, then shot her a glance. “You’ve flown before?”
“Of course.” She blew out a breath. “Once, and on a big plane where I wasn’t required to sit beside the pilot.”
“There’s a parachute in the back.”
“I’m trying to think if that’s funny or not.” She kept her hands folded as he was given clearance and began the taxi to his assigned runway. When he picked up speed, she watched the gauges, and when the nose of the plane lifted, her stomach gave one quick shudder.
Then smoothed out.
“Oh, it’s something, isn’t it?” She strained forward, watching the ground fall away. “Not like a big plane at all. It’s better. How long does it take to get a pilot’s license? Can I have a go at the wheel?”
“Maybe on the way back, if we have clear weather.”
“If I can pilot a boat in a storm, I ought to be able to fly a little plane in a shower of rain. It must be grand being rich.”
“It has its advantages.”
“When we have the Fates and sell them to you, I’m taking my mother on a holiday.”
It was interesting, he thought, that that would be her first priority. Not that she would buy a fancy car or fly to Milan to shop, but that she would take her mother on vacation.
“Where to?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Relaxed now despite the turbulence, she eased back to peer at the stacks of clouds. “Someplace exotic, I think. An island like Tahiti or Bi-mini, where she can stretch out under an umbrella on the beach and see blue water while she drinks some silly thing out of a coconut shell. What’s in those things anyway?”
“The road to perdition.”
“Is it now? Well then, that’ll be good for her as well. She works so hard, and she never complains about it. Now we’ve been throwing money around right and left when by rights it should be in the bank so she can feel secure.”
She paused, then shifted to look at him. “What she said to you yesterday, that it wasn’t about greed. That’s the truth for her. I might be greedy, though I prefer to think of it as practical, but she’s not.”
Greedy? No, a greedy woman didn’t fantasize about taking her mother to a tropical island and getting her plastered on coconut drinks.
“Is that your way of telling me when you get the statue back you’ll skin me over the purchase price?”
She only smiled. “Let me have a go at the wheel there, Jack.”
“No. Why haven’t you asked me why we’re going to Dublin?”
“Because you wouldn’t tell me, and I’d be wasting my breath.”
“That’s refreshing. I’ll tell you this instead. I did background checks on you and your brothers, and on Cleo Toliver.”
“Is that so?” Her voice cooled.
“You ran me, Irish, so let’s call it tit for tat. Toliver had some light smears on her juvenile record—underage drinking, shoplifting, disorderly conduct. Basic teenage-rebellion-type stuff. She got plugged into the system because her parents didn’t rush to get her out again.”
“What do you mean?” A combination of shock and outrage warred