by Anne Barwell
“Thank you,” Ethan replied some moments later, suddenly aware he’d drifted off again instead of giving Donovan the decency of a reply.
Not that it had been a question, but….
He’d come to Oakwood for one reason and one reason only. To find out what the hell had happened to Tomas. His friend had picked a great time to get lost.
That was all it was, right? Tomas had no sense of direction, especially when he got lost in his own thoughts. But he’d never been missing for this long before. A couple of days a few years back, but this wasn’t London; it was a backwater English village. He wouldn’t get far without some kind of transport, and none of the locals had seen him or reported any other strangers in the area who might have picked him up.
It was also surprising he’d pulled something like this again, especially after both Ethan and Kathleen—Tomas’s sister—had ripped into him that last time once he’d surfaced again.
So where the hell was he? Ethan wasn’t in the mood to lose any more friends. Tomas had to be somewhere. He’d turn up with some story, inspiration for whatever bloody novel he was working on this time. He always did.
If this time was different, if Tomas had been hurt or even killed, why hadn’t the police discovered any clues? They hadn’t even found a body.
Yet.
Without proof, it wasn’t real. If there was no body, then Tomas wasn’t dead.
Ethan bit his lip and tasted blood. He turned his attention to the view outside the window again.
The cottages they passed looked old although they were well-preserved. He felt as though he’d stepped back in time.
“You guys have Wi-Fi, right?”
Donovan laughed. “Don’t worry, we have the important stuff. You know, running water and all that.”
“All these old cottages had me worried there for a moment.”
Ethan had lost track of how long they’d been driving, so he was surprised when Donovan turned off the road into a smaller country lane. Another left turn took them into a long driveway. Ahead stood an old wooden building, covered in ivy. Crossroads Inn had been a family home in another life, according to what Ethan had read about it. He wondered if the original owner—Edgar Finlay—had been responsible for the climbing roses by the front door. Ethan didn’t know much about roses, but considering the growth on them, they’d been there awhile.
To the side of the inn, an oak presided over an empty field. It was old too, much older than the roses or even the house.
“Oak, as in Oakwood,” Ethan mused out loud.
Donovan pulled up in front of the inn and stopped the car. “Right,” he drawled, his American accent more obvious than it had been when they’d met. Was he emphasizing it for effect? “There used to be a forest of them, but now this is the only one left in the area. According to the locals, it’s nearly a thousand years old.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, almost like he was talking to himself. “I can’t help but wonder if Tomas and Mikey are right, and it knows more than it’s letting on.”
“Tomas and who? Who’s Mikey?”
“You’ll meet him soon enough. Mikey comes by most days to find out whether there’s been any news of Tomas and Cat.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Cat?” He climbed out of the car and retrieved his bags from the boot before following Donovan into the house. “Cathal, you mean?” Ethan still couldn’t get his head around Tomas falling for some guy. He would have been just as surprised if it had been a girl. At first he’d thought there must have been some mistake. Tomas kept to himself and would have never allowed anyone to get past those barriers he’d erected around himself. It had taken Ethan years to get through them, and even now there was stuff he and Tomas didn’t talk about.
Duncan being one of them.
“Yeah. He told Mikey that his friends call him Cat, and Mikey’s been using the name ever since. I guess it stuck,” Donovan said again. He closed the front door behind them. “Ethan, there’s a few things about Tomas’s disappearance that I haven’t told you yet. They’re connected to Cathal. I thought it was better if I didn’t tell you everything over the phone, especially as you were going to be here in a day or so anyway.”
“What few things?” Ethan took a step back toward the door. He’d been told Cathal hadn’t been seen since before Tomas’s disappearance, but Donovan had changed the subject when Ethan had asked if he thought Tomas and Cathal might have gone somewhere together. If Tomas had taken off to spend time with someone he’d just met…. No, Tomas wasn’t that trusting. “You’ve found something, haven’t you?” Why hadn’t anyone told him? “Tomas is in real trouble, isn’t he?” He took a deep breath, determined to stand his ground. “What kind of trouble? Or is he…?”
Ethan felt the blood drain from his face. Damn it. He should have come to Oakwood sooner rather than waiting to organize someone to take over his classes first, as he’d be away for a while. The school would have done it for him, given the circumstances. What kind of friend was he?
“Donovan, show Ethan to his room and get him settled before you scare him off with your theories.” A woman poked her head around the door leading to what Ethan guessed—considering the smells coming from that direction—was the kitchen. Her hands were covered in flour, and she had a tea towel thrown over one shoulder.
“Hi, I’m Heidi,” she continued, walking toward them. Her accent was American, like Donovan’s. “You must be Ethan. I’d shake your hand, but you probably wouldn’t appreciate it.”
Ethan managed a smile. She sounded friendly and welcoming. “It’s nice to meet you, Heidi, and yes, I’m Ethan,” he said politely. “I’m impressed by your deduction skills.”
Heidi grinned. “Elementary, my dear Watson. We don’t get a lot of guests, and Donovan told me he was going to the station to pick you up.” She winked, laugh lines crinkling around her eyes. “Besides, I heard Donovan call you Ethan, so it wasn’t that difficult to work out who you were.”
Donovan hadn’t answered any of Ethan’s questions. In fact he’d clammed right up as soon as Heidi had spoken. She narrowed her eyes at Donovan, and he shrugged.
“There’s that,” Ethan admitted. “I appreciate the hospitality, but I can get settled later. Whatever you’re keeping from me, I want to know now.”
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Heidi said, “and I apologize for Donovan. He should have known better than to alarm you like that. There hasn’t been any more news. If there had, we would have let you know immediately.”
“I forgot to charge my phone, so you couldn’t have contacted me, even if you’d wanted to,” Ethan said. He put his bags down in the hallway. “A cup of tea sounds wonderful.” He felt tired, and was relieved he’d thought it a good idea to stay at the inn rather than making a day trip of it. “I’ll put my bags away later if that’s okay.”
“As I said, we didn’t need to, so don’t worry about it.” Heidi gestured for them to follow her into the kitchen. “As you’re staying down here, Donovan can put the kettle on while I finish tidying up. There’ll be fresh scones to go with the tea and coffee in a few minutes.”
“I thought you—” Donovan stopped midway with whatever he’d been about to say. “I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?” he said brightly.
“Don’t eat all the scones,” Heidi told him. “Doug’s coming around for tea, and I promised him you’d leave some.”
Donovan grinned. “Who me?”
Heidi flicked him with the edge of her tea towel.
“What was that for?” Donovan protested.
Ethan sat down quickly at the table, before Heidi decided to target him next. Her relationship with Donovan reminded him more of siblings than of a couple. Despite her stature—she was at least six inches shorter than Donovan—she struck Ethan as someone he shouldn’t piss off. At least not intentionally.
His stomach growled, and he looked up in embarrassment, but no one seemed to notice. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and it was now midafternoon.
Donov
an put the teapot on the table, and a cup and saucer in front of Ethan. He then poured himself and Heidi a cup of coffee each. “I know you said you wanted tea, but there’s coffee too if you’d prefer.”
“No, thanks. I don’t drink it.”
“Not an addict like Tomas, then.” Donovan sat opposite Ethan, studying him for a moment. His eyes were an interesting shade. Gray, Ethan decided, like clouds in an overcast sky, and there was no missing the intelligence and sharp wit reflected in them. The gaze belied the man, and was serious enough that Ethan felt a shiver go down his spine in response to it.
“He’s never managed to convince me to join the dark side,” Ethan said, “although it wasn’t for lack of trying.” He poured milk into his cup from the crockery jug Heidi brought over when she joined Donovan at the table, then added the tea. “Let’s cut the crap, shall we?” he suggested. “We’ve danced around the real reason I’m here for long enough. I’m tired, and I apologize in advance for being short, but I need to know whatever it is you haven’t told me yet.” He wrapped his fingers around his cup and steadied his voice. “While I know Tomas can be a pain in the arse, and he’s not the easiest person to get on with, he’s my friend. Not only that, but I promised his sister I’d find him. What the hell’s going on here, and why do I get the impression that whatever I’m missing is something big? I don’t care that the police think he’s gone off with this mysterious Cathal or whatever his name is. He wouldn’t do that. And if that’s the case, why not just track this guy down and find them both that way?”
Donovan and Heidi glanced at each other.
To hell with this.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Ethan took several deep breaths, and tried to squash his temper. These people were his hosts. Alienating them wasn’t the way to go. “You know something. You’ve already told me you do!”
So much for staying calm. But he couldn’t just pretend when Tomas was missing.
“We’ve tried to find him—”
Ethan cut Donovan off. “Not very hard, by the sound of it,” he muttered.
“Hold it right there,” Heidi ordered. “Ethan, I know this is difficult for you. It’s not easy for us either. We haven’t known Tomas as long as you have, but he’s still our friend too. Listen for a moment, and at least give Donovan the chance to explain everything.”
“That’s the thing,” Donovan said. “We’ve tried to track down Cathal. Hell, we did that before Tomas disappeared. The locals just shake their heads like they know something we don’t, and the police have scaled back their search. And before you ask, yes, they did search the area thoroughly and question everyone and his dog, but they say there’s nothing more they can do.”
“Doug says there are no leads to follow, so there’s not much they can do. It’s as though Tomas just disappeared into thin air,” Heidi added. “The case is still open, and if there are any further leads, they’ll pursue them, but in the meantime, all we can do is hope and pray he turns up again.”
Who the hell was this Doug? Heidi had mentioned him twice now. Was he one of the local coppers?
“And…?” Ethan asked. He’d ask about Doug later, as there was still something they hadn’t told him about Tomas. He could hear it in Donovan’s voice. Yes, Ethan knew Tomas was an adult, and there were no obvious signs of foul play, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a logical explanation for what had happened.
Everything could be explained. It was just that some answers took a bit longer to find than others.
Donovan scratched at his neck. His hair flopped forward, and he pushed it back. “When Cathal disappeared, we tried to find him then, but the stuff we found….” He shook his head. “Yeah, we found mention of a guy by that name all right, but see, here’s the thing. He lived here in 1918.”
“And?” Ethan prompted again.
Heidi and Donovan glanced at each other as though unsure how to continue.
“Look, I just want to get to the bottom of this, whatever it takes. I haven’t come all this way for you to hide stuff from me.” Ethan frowned. “So, what’s some guy from 1918 got to do with Tomas’s disappearance? There’s no way he’s the Cathal that Tomas met. That’s crazy.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Donovan muttered but didn’t elaborate.
“It’s never a good idea to mutter something if you don’t want it overheard. So what else haven’t you told me yet?”
“We think Cathal’s disappearance is connected to whatever happened to Tomas,” Heidi said. “Tomas was—is—in love with him, and from what I saw of them together, it was mutual.”
“I interrupted them making out on the landing upstairs,” Donovan said.
“We are talking about the same guy, aren’t we?” Although they’d known each other since university, Ethan had never seen Tomas interested in anyone. Ever. As much as he thought of Tomas as a friend, he was still fully aware of Tomas’s shortcomings. He’d never let anyone close like that. They used to joke that Tomas would end up being the world’s oldest virgin, but Tomas would shrug and say he hadn’t met the right person yet. This Cathal must have done a number on him. It was the only explanation for what Heidi had just said. “Tall, green eyes, reddish brown hair? Not to mention he’s stubborn as hell and not the easiest person to get on with?”
“Sounds like him.” Donovan got up from the table and retrieved a folder from one of the kitchen counters. He laid it down in front of Ethan. “This is what we have so far.” Heidi poked him in the ribs with her elbow. “Hey,” he said. “All cards on the table and all that. Ethan here strikes me as a kind of guy who likes proof for stuff, so isn’t it better to get that part out of the way first?”
“What am I looking at?” Ethan opened the folder and picked up the photocopied sheet sitting on top of the pile of papers. “Or should I say who?” He peered at the sketch and shook his head. It showed a man about his own age. Ethan frowned when he saw the signature and the date. Alice Finlay had inherited the house from her father, Edgar. “How is a sketch of a guy who lived nearly one hundred years ago going to help?” Alice had written “Cat” in flowing script above her signature. As in Cathal. As soon as he’d learned of Tomas’s disappearance, Ethan had read everything he could find about Crossroads Inn and the village of Oakwood. He didn’t remember any reference to any Cathal, and the mysterious man Alice claimed to have married was called Christian.
“We took copies of the originals, as the owner wanted them back,” Donovan didn’t answer Ethan’s question. “Take a look at the one under it.”
“This looks like the same guy, although he’s a couple of years older in this one.” He turned it over. “There’s no signature on this one and no date. I doubt it’s by Alice Finlay.”
As much as he regretted his time with Duncan, the guy had known his art, and Ethan had learnt enough from him to notice the subtle differences in style between artists.
“I don’t sign my stuff.”
Chapter 2
ETHAN TURNED toward the doorway to see a teenager standing there. He looked to be about fifteen and had bright red hair and blue eyes. He hesitated when he saw Ethan looking at him, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his school blazer. Donovan gave him a nod, and he relaxed, giving Donovan a grin before he walked over to the table.
“You guys weren’t answering the door, so I let myself in.” The boy dumped his backpack on the floor and sniffed the air. “Heidi, are your scones burning?”
“Oh shit.” Heidi pushed back her chair and ran for the stove.
“You drew this?” Ethan asked. The artist had captured not only the likeness of his subject, but Ethan could feel the emotion behind the drawing too. The man he’d drawn was smiling at someone, his eyes bright. Ethan had seen that look before. He’d worn it himself once. The man in the sketch was in love, and it showed.
“You’re Tomas’s friend, Ethan, right?” The boy helped himself to the chair next to Ethan’s. “I’m Michael Flynn, but my friends call me Mikey. Cat’s my cousi
n, although I didn’t know that when I drew his picture.”
“Your… cousin?” Ethan narrowed his eyes. The man in the second sketch was Cathal? But that meant whomever he was looking at… could it be Tomas? If so, Heidi was right about their feelings for each other being mutual.
He held the two portraits side by side. They were definitely of the same man, although drawn a few years apart. More than a few years, if the date was right on the first one and Mikey had indeed drawn the second.
It didn’t make sense. Unless Cathal was the spitting image of his… great-grandfather or whoever was the subject of Alice’s sketch.
Heidi shifted the scones from the oven tray onto a wire cooling rack before carrying it over to the table and setting them down.
Mikey picked up one of the scones, then dropped it on the table. “Ouch. That’s hot!”
“That’s what happens when you help yourself without asking,” Heidi said. She brought over some plates, picked up the scone Mikey had dropped, and put it on a plate before giving it back to him. “Does your father know you’re here, Mikey?”
“Yeah, I told him I was coming over after school.” Mikey shrugged. “I’m not sure he was listening, though. He sounded kind of preoccupied.”
“I’ll give him a call so he doesn’t worry. Mikey, could you get the butter and jam out of the fridge and put some knives on the table?” Heidi paused at the doorway. “Make yourself a drink too. Something hot to warm yourself up. It’s cold out today.”
“Sure,” Mikey said brightly. “Thanks, Heidi.” He grinned at Donovan, pushed back his chair, and busied himself doing what Heidi had asked.
Donovan glanced at his watch. “I figure she’ll give Doug a call too while she’s at it. He’s late, and that’s not like him. Hope he’s okay.” He paused before continuing, giving Ethan a sideways look. “You know Mikey’s only here for the scones, right?”
“Am not,” Mikey protested through a mouthful of scone. “I’m a part of this investigation too. You said so.”