“It was in Leslie’s bag. I searched her stuff after I got that phone call. I was hoping I’d find some sort of clue as to where she was. This was the only strange thing. What is it?” he asked.
“It’s Liam’s journal,” I replied, looking through it in morbid fascination.
“I guess she was readin’ it,” Sam said, moving to look over my shoulder.
“That sounds like Leslie,” I agreed. “I’m not sure how much Leslie told you, but we sort of suspect Liam is somehow alive.”
Sam looked up, startled. “Cullen’s brother, ye mean, the one who tried to kill all of ye two months ago?”
I nodded.
“Leslie said that ye buried him.”
“We did, but what if the body they buried wasn’t his?” I said. “His family comes from money. He could have paid the right people off.”
“They would have used dental records,” Sam replied.
“Maybe they didn’t,” I countered. “Maybe they just assumed that it was him, and neglected to do the proper tests, or, again, maybe he paid people off.”
“That would make for a pretty big conspiracy, lass.”
“I know, but it all points to him and it would make the most sense.”
“Let’s say that ye’re onto something—where would the bloody devil keep her? Where was his home?”
I opened a page in the book where Liam had doodled the image of stained glass onto one of the pages.
Suddenly it dawned on me where he would keep Leslie—exactly where he kept us—but could I really set foot back inside there?
“What is it, Sophia? Ye look like ye figured something out.”
I shuddered, thinking of the mini cathedral where Liam had held us all captive.
“I might just have.”
“Well, what are we waitin’ for? Let’s go.” Sam said, putting his hand on my arm.
“Maybe we should wait,” I replied, feeling nerves squeeze at my insides.
“For what?” he said.
“I don’t know,” I replied, swallowing hard. “The Inspector.”
“We haven’t the time, lass,” Sam dismissed. “He’s not exactly takin’ our calls and every second we wait here increases the chance that somethin’ bad might happen. Are ye coming or no?”
“I’ll come, but let’s try the Inspector once more.”
Sam’s face went red. “Just give me the address and I’ll go myself. Who knows what the sick bastard could be doin’ to her right now.”
I thought of my friend who’d died in the basement of that church at the hands of Liam and slipped on my shoes.
“I’ll drive,” Sam said, tugging at my sleeve.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Home for the Holidays
The church loomed in front of us, its large stained-glass windows looking beautiful in the afternoon light. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, I thought to myself.
“This may all very well be a wild goose chase,” I said, climbing out of the passenger seat of Sam’s car.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
I paused.
“Wait a second,” I said, as Sam walked up the path. “You don’t know Liam. He’s a psychopath.”
“What are ye yammerin’ about now, lass?”
“I’m just saying we need to think this through. He’s powerful. Storming in there isn’t the right thing to do. It could be a trap. He’s very clever.”
“Ye don’t have to come,” Sam said. “Wait here.”
“It’s not that,” I replied. “If you go, I’ll go. I just mean we need a plan or something.”
“I’ll protect ye, Sophia,” Sam said, pushing open the gate.
I looked off in the distance. I could almost make out Liam’s grave. It had been raining earlier and the air smelled of damp and dirt. I could only imagine what the tunnels would feel like. Would we have to search them too?
My phone rang just as Sam attempted the door handle.
“Oh, thank God, maybe the Inspector has time now.” I reached for the phone, but the number wasn’t Ó Cléirigh’s.
“Sophia Marcil?”
“Yes.”
“I’m callin’ from the hospital.”
It was the nurse who had been so kind to me.
“I’ve some news about yer man, Cullen. He’s woken. He says he wants to go home for the holidays.”
***
I stepped out of the elevator and headed down the hospital corridor alone. Only immediate family was permitted so Sam had dropped me off outside. He promised to go back to the cathedral with the Inspector for backup once he dropped me off. I just hoped he’d wait for the Inspector before he headed in. The worry was etched on his face. Not that I could blame him. The guilt over leaving the place was eating me alive. Especially, when we were on the doorstep of possibly rescuing Leslie, but at the same time, something had felt so wrong about the situation. After everything I’d been through—I knew a setup when I saw one. I would let the Inspector handle that place.
Nurse Donahue greeted me at the nurse’s station on my way in. “Try not to get your hopes up, dear. He doesn’t remember what happened and he may not remember ye yet either.”
I nodded, grateful he was awake at all and eager to move on and see him.
“The kidnapper who took him has taken our friend Leslie now. We really need him to remember where he was held or who took him. Can I ask him?”
“You can’t push him, dear. Pressure will only make things worse,” Nurse Donahue said. “Tell him everythin’ ye can remember about that night. I know it’s graspin’ at straws, but there’s always the slim chance it will jar somethin’ in his memory—somethin’ ye can use to find yer friend, but it’s important not to push him and take things slowly,” she warned. “He’s been unconscious now for a week. He’s bound to feel disorientated.”
“Thank you,” I said, as we turned the corner to reveal Cullen’s room. “Have you told the police that he’s woken?”
“Just,” she said. “They wanted to be the first to see him, but Cullen needs to see a friendly face – he doesn’t need an inquisition.”
Through the glass I saw Cullen, propped up against a pillow, his eyes open. It was the best thing I’d seen in weeks.
“I’ve brought someone to see ye,” Nurse Donahue said, entering the room. I followed behind, and when he saw me he smiled so wide that his dried lips cracked and bled.
“I’ll leave ye to it,” Nurse Donahue said.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, moving inside the room.
“Like I got hit over the head for a week straight.” He locked his gaze on mine. “I can’t remember a thing, Soph”
I smiled at the sound of my name. “You remember me?”
He reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Of course I remember ye. What kind of question is that? Yer my favourite girl.”
I felt a blush creep up my face. The words were simple, but the depth of emotion in his eyes had my heart beating a little harder and faster.
“C’mere and give yer man a hug. What took you so long, anyway?”
I chuckled and threw myself on him. He winced but didn’t move me off. “God, Cullen, you scared me. I didn’t know what to think. I couldn’t understand why you’d cancel the alterations on my wedding dress. I thought you didn’t want to marry me anymore.”
“I would never have done that, Aeval. Ye’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Now get up here.”
I climbed into the bed with him and snuggled close. We didn’t speak for two minutes. I didn’t even allow myself to think. I just reveled in the comfort of his arms. Then I remembered Leslie.
“Have the doctors told you anything, Cullen?”
“Aye, they’ve explained a little,” he said, his face appearing somewhat vacant. “But I can’t say I’ve taken much of it in, really. I know I’ve been in a coma for a week.”
“Do you remember anything about what happened, anything at all?” I asked, knowing that this sort of convers
ation wasn’t what Nurse Donahue would have had in mind.
He shook his head and glanced at the door. “Where’s Les? Ye two are never far apart.”
“She’s, uh…had to make a pit stop,” I said, grasping at the first excuse that might pass muster.
Cullen frowned and I knew he didn’t believe me for a minute. He was my own personal lie detector.
“What’s goin’ on, Sophia?”
“I hate to pry, Cullen, but I need you to remember what happened.”
Cullen looked up at the ceiling. “Lord, I wish I could. It’s all kind of fuzzy. I remember looking at buildings with you and Leslie, and I remember you kissing me goodbye and then I had to get ready…” He shook his head. “But I don’t remember why I was even getting ready.”
“It’s the concussion,” I said. “In a day or two, it will probably all come back. Why was your brother’s journal out? Were you reading it?”
“I can’t remember. Damn it!” He banged his hand on the railing and I jumped. “Sorry.” He gave me an apologetic look. “Do ye have any idea how frustratin’ it is to know that somewhere in yer foggy brain is the answer to why someone tried to kill ye and not be able to access it?”
I glanced over at the door to see if the Nurse had heard us. I had no doubt Cullen would be okay, physically, but the longer his memory took to return, the more likely Leslie would be hurt.
“Tell me why I was gettin’ ready to go out, maybe it will jog somethin’.”
“Your stag night, honey,” I said. “You were supposed to meet the boys on Grafton Street.”
“Aye,” he said, looking as though he was trawling through his mind for buried clues. “The weddin’– ye said I cancelled yer dress. Did I cancel the weddin’, too?”
“No, the wedding is still on.”
“Good. Good. All is right in the world then.”
I bit my lip, wondering whether or not to tell him. “It’s not. I’m sorry to tell you this but Leslie’s missing. I think it might be the same person who took you,” I said.
“What?”
“Is it my turn yet?” Móraí interjected, coming into the room. “I snuck in when that nosy nurse turned her back.”
“Móraí? You’re back from your trip?” I said, getting down from the bed. I suddenly wondered if she’d seen Sam and I on her property the hour before.
“Aye, I hurried back as soon as I heard what happened.”
I backed up out of the way and she walked to Cullen’s bedside and kissed him on the forehead. It was the most affection I’d seen her give her grandson. She’d always favored his brother. Perhaps the near loss had melted some of the ice around her heart.
“I’ll wait outside. I don’t want to upset the nurses.”
“Wait just a minute there, Aeval. You need to be after tellin’ me about yer wan,” Cullen said.
“We’ll talk after. I’ll be in the hall.”
He frowned but didn’t try to stop me again.
“I don’t think I should have told him about Leslie,” I lamented, as I sat outside the room with Da on a couple of plastic chairs. “You should have seen his face.”
“Ah, Cullen’s a tough lad. Besides, he had to find out sometime.”
“He didn’t have to find out now.”
“Maybe he did,” Da replied. “Look who just arrived.”
I looked up to see Ó Cléirigh and O’Brien talking with Nurse Donahue. They turned and Ó Cléirigh spotted us instantly. “Sophia,” he said.
I stood up. “Inspector, did you get my messages about Leslie?” I asked.
“I did but we haven’t found her yet. Ye’ve already spoken with Cullen?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Anythin’ we might be interested in?” he asked.
“He can’t remember anything,” I said.
Ó Cléirigh nodded, as if that was what he had expected.
“I’m sorry about earlier when ye called to tell me about yer friend,” He said. “It wasn’t a good time to talk but I should have heard ye out first.”
I was taken aback by the apology. “That’s okay.”
“I understand how frustratin’ all this is,” he said, glancing over to look at Da.
“Are you going to speak with Cullen?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “Although we don’t expect him to be able to help, if what you and the doctor say is true.”
“Right,” I said.
“We’ll do our best not to upset him,” O’Brien promised. “Oh, have ye seen Sam lately?”
“He dropped me off. That’s who I was with when you called me back about Leslie.”
“Do ye know where he was goin’?”
“To his flat.”
Chapter Sixty-Eight
A Talk to Remember
“Thank the lord, ye’re back,” Cullen said, as I walked into the hospital room.
“Like I could stay away,” I smiled, giving him a kiss and then sitting down in the chair next to the bed. He looked better than when he’d first woken but still groggy.
“Has the Inspector told ye anything new,” Cullen asked, closing his eyes briefly as if he had just suffered a blast of pain.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
Cullen grimaced.
“Are you okay?” I said, rising from the chair. “Nurse!”
“Don’t fret, love,” he said. “The doc said I would get some twinges from time to time. The body’s way of telling me I’m not dead.”
“Amen for that,” I said.
“Ye poor thing. C’mere. Ye’ve been through hell.” Cullen broke out into a series of gasping coughs.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” I asked, my panic once again rising.
Cullen nodded.
“Time for a checkup,” The Nurse said entering the room, she looked at me. “Ye can stay if ye’d like. It’s just a routine bandage change. Minimal nudity.”
“Don’t tell her that. Sophia’s a real firecracker. She’ll get jealous if she knows how yer always getting’ me naked,” He said with a wink.
The nurse laughed and I grinned. “Lie still ye wee pervert, and hold yer tongue for once while I check those bandages.”
“Where did Da go?” Cullen asked as the nurse went about her duties.
“He took your grandmother home. She was driving the staff nuts and he looked like he could use a break.”
The nurse made notes on Cullen’s clipboard and hung it back on the end of the bed. “All done, and looks good. Do ye need any pain meds?” she asked.
“I’m brilliant, Thanks,” Cullen said.
She held up a plastic tube with a remote attached to it. “Well, if the pain gets too bad, just push this little button and help will be on the way. No need to be so bloody stubborn.” She gave us both a nod and exited the room.
“She’s sure got your number. You sure you don’t need the drugs?” I asked.
“They make me sleepy, and we need to talk.”
I gave him a scolding look.
“I promise I’ll take them as soon as we’re done.”
“Okay,” I said. “What’s up?”
“I’m after rememberin’ somethin’,” he announced in between the trailing coughs.
“Really?”
“It’s all pretty vague,” he said. “But I think I remember two voices. One female and one male, I just can’t place them yet. It’s like a nightmare. There are shapes and voices—the woman referred to me as her son.”
“Her son?”
I know that’s not possible. Gah, I sound daft. I know Ma is dead, so I’m confusin’ things. It’s just so frustratin’, Aeval.”
“It’s okay,” I soothed, noting Cullen’s anguished expression. “Give yourself a break. You almost died. You get several memory-lapse-free cards for that.”
“I know but I think I used them all up yesterday.”
“You’ll remember more things, given time.”
“But we haven’t the time.” He sat up straight in the bed and w
inced.
Lie back down. You’re not supposed to sit up like that.
“This mornin’,” He said, ignoring me, “when I woke, I was sure I saw a man. He was starin’ at me through the window. He was blurry but I blinked and he was gone.”
“It was part of a dream?”
“It could have been, or just my imagination. But it seemed real.”
“Maybe it was one of the hospital staff?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Damn it!”
I cringed a bit as Cullen pounded his fist against the bed rail.
“What did he look like?” I asked.
“Middle-aged, maybe,” he said. “It’s hard to say. Dark hair, I think. I don’t know, Soph. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said, wondering whether Cullen was actually capable of remembering anything accurately. “I just can’t help but wonder...do you think Les is still alive?” I asked, tears welling up in my eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything bad has happened to her.”
Cullen bent forward and embraced me. “I’m sorry for upsetting ye. I’m gonna remember and we’re gonna find her. Get comfortable,” he said and pointed to the chair. “We’re gonna work together.”
I poured us both a glass of water and slipped into the chair. Cullen reached for a pad of paper and pen on his table and handed it to me.
“Okay. So what is the last thing you remember from Saturday?”
He stared at the wall for several seconds, his brow creased. “I remember cleanin’ out the attic, takin’ a nap and I definitely remember ye crawlin’ into bed beside me to kiss me goodbye. Ye looked so hot in that little white jumper. That would be impossible to forget.”
He smiled for a moment, and then his expression turned thoughtful again. “I remember thinkin’ I needed to shower. I turned on the radio. Then I got myself a beer and the phone rang.”
“Who was it?”
“I can’t remember.”
“What song was playing on the radio?”
He frowned. “I don’t…no.” He looked at me. “I don’t know. Why don’t I know? Why is that important, anyway?”
“I helped a medical student one time. They were writing a paper on amnesia and how the brain works. One of the case studies was about a DJ who had witnessed a murder but couldn’t remember anything until the song that had been playing during the shooting came back on and it triggered his memories and with it the identity of the killer.”
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