An explosion of silverware bouncing on the floor reverberated throughout the cabin.
Both Gail and Flynn shot up. Flynn rubbed his eyes. "On second thought, let's get down there."
Gail smoothed her wrinkled shirt, trying to look somewhat presentable. Would Tom notice she'd worn the same outfit yesterday? He wasn't the most observant man, especially for a videographer. Probably not.
Twisting her hair into a bun, she followed Flynn down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Wearing a woman's tattered pink apron, Blarney stood at the stove. A gigantic pot of steaming liquid gurgled on the burner. Cutting boards green with herbs, knives, and forks were strewn all over the countertop. Tom sat at the table with a napkin stuffed down the front of his shirt.
"Looks like someone had a good night." Tom gave Flynn a wicked grin, and Gail thought she'd shrivel up with embarrassment. He had noticed the shirt. That, or she'd left her bedroom door open.
Flynn walked over to Blarney. "What are you making?"
"Rabbit stew." Blarney brought the spoon from the simmering water and tasted. "Went a'hunting this morn. Caught a whitetail in ane of me traps."
Gail covered her mouth with her hand. She wasn't a vegetarian or anything but still, the thought of Blarney slaughtering a bunny rabbit for their breakfast made her stomach churn.
"Smells good." Flynn gave Gail a steady look. "We should all try some."
Gail bit her lip and sat down in the farthest seat from Tom. Blarney had set the table, and the dishes and silverware shone like new. At least the old man knows how to clean them. Maybe he isn't all that crazy, after all. Flynn was right; the stew did smell tasty, even if the broth was made with an animal that had been prancing outside their cabin a few hours ago.
Blarney served steaming bowls of broth with chunks of rabbit meat and floating herbs to everyone at the table.
Flynn took a seat next to her and picked up his spoon. "So, Gail, are you going to show Blarney your findings about the fish populations today?"
If it had been the night before, she would have rolled her eyes. But after hearing of his sister's condition and Flynn's quest to bring her one magical moment before she died, a sense of urgency overcame her. "Of course. Right after breakfast."
"Good." Flynn brought his spoon to his lips and sipped. "This is delicious, Blarney."
"A man daesna live in the woods for years and nae learn naething." Blarney grinned.
Tom had finished his bowl before Gail had even tried hers. "Flynn, let's go out and get some more footage while Gail and Blarney confer. I'm itching to get some shots of Urquhart Castle and the water surrounding it."
Flynn gave Gail a questioning look.
Gail tried a spoonful of Blarney's stew. Rich tastes danced on her tongue. Not only had the woodsman cleaned all the dishes from last night, but he'd gotten up early and made them all breakfast. The crazy old man had won her over, and she didn't mind spending the morning tracking Nessie's movements with him.
She gave Flynn a nod. "That's fine. We have a lot of work to do."
"All right." Flynn shrugged uneasily.
Gail touched his hand and whispered, "I'll be fine." They couldn't do everything together twenty-four seven. Although after the night before, there were things she wanted to explore with him. We'll have our time. Right now we have to find Nessie.
Tom gagged and coughed across the table. "Keep it in your room, guys. Unless I can join in?"
Blarney pointed a finger at Tom. "Give them a brak, lad. The sweethearts are in luve."
"I've had enough of this." Tom wiped his mouth and stood. He pointed to Flynn. "Meet you at the dock. I've got to set up my equipment."
"Sure thing." Flynn saluted Tom as he left.
Blarney watched Tom leave with a skeptical twinkle in his eyes. "I'm tellin' ya, that man's got a black hert."
Gail stared at Blarney. It was the only time she'd ever heard him say anything bad about anyone. "Why do you say that?" Was it because Tom hadn't complimented him on the stew?
Blarney pursed his lips. "I can see it in his eyes."
"Wait a second here." Flynn put both hands up. "We all know Tom's got some manners to work on, but a black heart? Really? L-PIB hired Tom thinking he was the best man for the job. We should honor their decision."
Gail tilted her bowl to collect the last spoonful of stew. "How long has Tom been a videographer?"
Flynn raised his eyebrows. "I don't know, but he's been taking some great footage of the lake. Have you seen any of his footage yet?"
Gail shook her head. She'd been too wrapped up in her own studies to take a look. "No, but I'll take your word for it."
Flynn brought his bowl to the sink. "Great meal, Blarney. I'll get the dishes when I get back."
"No need, lad." Blarney clapped him on the back. "You go oot thare and find me somethin' good, eh?"
Flynn smiled. "I will."
As he left, he bent down and kissed Gail on the cheek.
Excitement rose up inside her. The entire side of her face burned with heat. She couldn't remember the last time someone had kissed her good-bye.
Flynn whispered in her ear, "See you later, Nessiegator."
It was the most ridiculous pet name anyone had ever called her, but it made her melt into her chair. Gail had fallen hard, not only for Flynn but also for his purpose, and there was no chance she was getting back up anytime soon.
Chapter Sixteen
Evidence
"Here's a chart of the life cycle of the brown trout." Gail pointed to a picture with three fish swimming side by side. "Late summer, just about now, the young trout have grown to a substantial size. They frequent the shallow waters where the oxygen concentration is the highest to pick insects off the surface."
"And whit of them?" Blarney sipped a mug of tea made with leaves and herbs he'd collected form the forest floor after breakfast. He'd offered Gail a cup, but she'd politely declined.
"They are one of the species that drops in population corresponding to Nessie sightings." Gail opened a map of Loch Ness and pointed to the places where she thought the population would thrive. "I would guess they'd be found along this bank, in this shallow area, and right here in front of Urquhart Castle."
"Nah. Nessie's already bin thare, thare, and thare." Blarney leaned over, chewing on his lower lip. "What aboot pike? I've haurd fisherman talk of drops in thair population as weel."
"Pike favor rich, submersible vegetation because they are ambush predators." Gail's fingers tapped on the map, glad to finally make use of her specialty. "Just like you said, their populations decline during the same time. They migrate during spawning season in the spring, so I'd say right around now the population would be the highest."
Interest sparked in Blarney's sharp yes. "Whare'd they be?"
Gail traced the line of the Northern shore. "I'd say over here, where the trees hang over the water and the leaves fall directly into the shallow areas."
"Interestin'." Blarney held up a pencil and circled a few spots on the map. "I've seen traces of Nessie here and here, but nae here." His gaze met hers. "Nae this year. Nae yet, at least."
"Then that's where we would set up a stakeout." Gail dismissed her doubts about it all being hogwash. Flynn needed her to find Nessie, and that was what she'd do.
Gail folded the map and stuck it in her pocket. "Let's check it out in the daylight. That way we'll be able to find a path better in the evening."
"Guid idea, lass." Blarney placed his mug on the coffee table with a final chink.
"Let's go." Gail shoved two water bottles and a handful of granola bars into her backpack.
"Why gae brakin' yer back haulin' that whan you can fend susteenance from the land?" Blarney stuck his arms into his camouflage jacket and topped the look with his raccoon-furred hat.
Gail gave him a wary look and hefted the pack on her back. "I'll take my chances."
They set off for a clearing across the lake. She estimated it would take half the day
to reach the spot where the pike swarmed and get back. They'd certainly get back before Flynn and Tom. Still, she'd left a note saying where she and Blarney headed. With Loch Ness monsters running around, she could never be too careful.
And to think, when I first got here I thought the only beasts I'd see were those mountains. Now she checked over her shoulder with every bird caw or fluttery leaf, expecting Nessie to jump out at her.
Blarney took the lead, crossing the forest floor with stealth and elegance. He knew exactly where to place each step and leave the fallen branches undisturbed, all the while keeping his boots dry. Gail stumbled after him like a football player in a crystal shop, already muddied up to her shins. The old man was such a paradox — well-mannered yet wild, intelligent yet incoherent at times, eccentric yet seemingly right on top of things.
Gail pushed a branch out of her way, thinking it would be a great time to get to know him better and get more pieces to the puzzle. "So how did your mom come up with the name Blarney?"
Blarney turned back and flashed a grin. "She daedna. It's a nickname my shipmates uised to call me. I spake of Nessie all the time, and thay thoucht it was a bunch of hooey."
Gail nodded, using the lull in the pace to catch up. Made sense. One of the definitions of blarney was deceptive or misleading talk.
"Me birth name is Barnabas McCleary the Third. Raither a haughty name for someone so raggitie, eh?"
"I think it's a nice name." If he'd introduced himself with his proper name, maybe she wouldn't have thought him so crazy in the first place.
"Gah!" He waved his hand. "Too hie and michty for me."
Gail misjudged the incline of the path and stumbled forward. She caught herself on a branch, the rough bark cutting into her palms.
"Watch yer step, lassie." Blarney came over.
"I'm fine." She tried to right herself, but the fall had taken the wind out of her. Her hands shook as she remembered the trek she'd taken with her father in the White Mountains and how she'd fallen again and again before he'd taken her hand.
Why was she thinking of that day now?
Finding Nessie was so different than finding Bigfoot. For one, there was hard evidence in the sonar calls, the tooth, the fin imprint in the sand, and the scale. Way more evidence than the muddy holes in the ground her father had claimed were tracks. Two, she was an adult now and able to come to her own conclusions. This trek was way different than her father's Bigfoot hike.
Or was it?
Blarney bent down and examined the root that had caught Gail's foot and thrown her to the ground. His face scrunched up as though angry at it for tripping her, which only added to Gail's embarrassment.
"It's okay, Blarney. I'm fine. Let's keep going."
"Wait a wee maument." Blarney held up his hand to stall her.
Gail's heart started to pound. Were there more tracks? "What's the matter?"
"This daesna leuk naitural." He brushed away a pile of leaves to expose a rusty metal hinge protruding from the ground.
Gail's eyes widened. She felt like Boone and Locke when they'd found the hatch on Lost. Surely Nessie didn't store her belongings in a compartment underground?
Blarney twisted the metal and pulled. A piece of the ground came up with a squeal of rusty hinges. Loose moss and ferns covered the door.
"I canna believe I hivna seen this afore."
Gail tried to keep her body from shaking with anticipation. "It's because you know how to walk in these woods, and I just tramp around like an elephant."
"Ye will learn." Blarney propped the metal hatch up with a stick. He dangled his legs over the darkness. "Lat's take a lookie."
Before Gail could stop him, the old man lowered himself down and jumped. A low thud reverberated as he hit the bottom.
Gail bit her lip. Her blood pressure rose as she waited for his response. "Blarney?"
He swore in a litany of Scottish before Gail could understand anything. "Bluidy hacks, tryin' to water down the legend."
"Blarney, are you okay?" She swung her hiking pack around and started to dig for a flashlight. It had fallen to the bottom beneath her extra sweatshirt. She brought the flashlight up and clicked it on, shining the golden beam into the hole.
Blarney stood in a storage compartment, holding what looked very much like a plastic fin. Gail's stomach lurched. No, it can't be.
She lowered herself down and jumped the remaining few feet to the floor. Her flashlight shone on a wall of sonar equipment much like hers. Next to the equipment laid a pile of plastic dorsal fins of all shapes and sizes. "What is all this?"
"Blasphemy. That's whit it is."
Gail walked to the equipment. It was an older model. Some of the dials had rusted from being stored in such a damp place,and the screen was cracked.
Would it work?
She took a breath and flipped the switch. Red and blue lights flashed, illuminating the controls. Her fingers shook as she pressed the replay button. In her time at Loch Ness, she'd gone from wanting to catch the hoaxers to wanting to catch Nessie. The last thing she wanted to hear was the call they'd heard that night on the water.
A guttural, melancholy drone erupted, echoing against the dirt-packed walls. Gail knew the swells and cadences so well she could sing with it. It was the same call.
Betrayal slapped her in the face. Her whole body turned numb.
This isn't happening. "It's not real. Nessie's not real."
"Daena believe it, lass." Blarney put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Thay taped her ain call to uise against her. It's like sticking a fause horn on a unicorn so mair fowk can see it."
"But the fin." She examined the plastic. Sand still crusted the edge as if it had been recently used. "It has the same shape as the tracks we found the other day." Even the pattern of webbing fit.
If it had been a few days ago, she might have thought this was all planted to lead her away from the truth. Scotland, Flynn, and the lure of finding love had played with her mind, making her believe a scale was thousands of years old and a dinosaur lurked in the woods. Hearing about her father's failure had woken her up to reality and stuck a knife in the optimistic dreamer hiding in her heart. How could she follow in her father's footsteps and chase a lie someone else had engineered?
How would she tell Flynn?
The truth would destroy him. He'd resent her for finding the hoaxing equipment and for being right all along. If she told L-PIB and they called off the search, it would pull them apart. Gail's fingers tightened on the fin, her nails digging into the plastic. She had to report this to L-PIB. If anything, she'd call out the fakers for her dad, and all the other dads out there wasting their time on a fabricated dream.
Once L-PIB knew of the hoax, they'd stop issuing the grant money and close the operation. Gail's stomach fell to her feet. Her adventure was over and so was her romance. She'd been living in a dream world these past few days, and it was time for it to end. She'd have to take the first flight home. Maybe she could even make the memorial service for her dad that her mom had mentioned on the phone.
A small ladder lay against the back wall. Gail picked it up and leaned it against the edge of the forest floor. She started to climb, forcing one foot above the other. As she emerged into the light, the world seemed a lot less magical than it had a few minutes ago. Her heart felt like a lead ball in her chest.
"Whare are ye gaun?"
"I'm going to do what L-PIB hired me to do. I'm going to report the hoaxers and call off the search."
"You canna quit now. Nae while we're so close!"
"Watch me." Gail brought out her phone and dialed the number for the president of L-PIB as she walked back to the cabin.
He picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"
Gail recognized his voice from their video chat interview when she'd accepted the job. The moment of silence hung in the air. She froze, her tongue refusing to move and her finger over the end call button.
"Hello?" His voice was more insistent.
So m
uch of her wanted to forget they'd ever found the equipment and continue her quest with Flynn, but she'd be living a lie. As much as she didn't want to tell him, he deserved to know the truth.
Gail hardened her resolve and took a deep breath. "Dr. Jenkins, this is Dr. Phillips from the research team. I have something to report."
Chapter Seventeen
Fireworks
Flynn watched the waves roll against the Nessie's hull with giddy joy. Spending the night with Gail had calmed his anxiety, healed his heart, and intoxicated his senses all at the same time. He hadn't felt this way in years. Ever since Tabitha had been diagnosed, he'd focused on her and ruled love out of his life. Somehow with Gail, love had found a way back in. Maybe if they established a strong enough connection, when all this was over he could convince her to stay longer.
"You like her, don't ye?" Tom glanced over his video camera. The lug must have caught Flynn smiling, watching the hill where the cabin sat nestled in trees.
Flynn reluctantly let go of last night's memories and came back to reality. "She's a great woman."
"If she removed the sonar pole up her curvy behind." Tom laughed.
His comment insulted Flynn on so many levels. "Hey, she's a scientist. She has to have a decent amount of conviction."
"I wasn't even talking about the science part."
"Just keep your eye on the water, okay?" Was Tom sour because Gail hadn't chosen him? The more he grew to know Tom the less he liked him, and Flynn hated how judgmental he'd become.
He watched Tom film out of the corner of his eye. Why did Blarney have such a low opinion of Tom? Although he didn't know Blarney very well, he could tell the comment about Tom's "black heart" was unusual for him. When the old man had spoken it, his eyes had hardened with suspicion and caution like someone watching a bear across the river, waiting to see if the beast would wander to his side.
A string of red light shot from the docks and exploded into a fiery red ball in the sky. Flynn squinted to see clearer just as another flaming star arced beneath the sun.
Was someone shooting fireworks at midday?
Love on Loch Ness Page 10