“I’ll call Mr. Ryan from home.”
Doris shut the door. There was a round of handshakes and reassurances, and after Murdoch was gone, Katie gathered her own things. “I appreciate everything, Terry,” she said as he escorted her to the main door of the building.
“You’re not to worry about anything, you hear? Just leave all of that to us. I’ll be speaking to Reg Proser later this evening. Don’t forget to stop by and see Fran tomorrow first thing. She’ll have your new key all ready.”
“Thanks, Terry.” Katie shook his hand and made her way across the lawn to the faculty parking lot. She heaved a huge sigh of exhaustion. It had been a stressful day. She was tempted to call Mary or stop by Mary’s house on her way back to Pond House, but she was so tired, all she wanted was a hot bath and a cup of warm milk.
She glanced at her bag, and realized she had to stop at the library on her way home. She knew there was at least one book that Daphne had ordered for her. It wouldn’t be fair not to stop and get it. The woman was working so hard for her, she’d have to send Daphne some flowers when this was all over.
She walked into the library and was surprised to see that Daphne was nowhere in sight. Her bell wasn’t on the desk, either. How odd, thought Katie. She glanced around the comer into Daphne’s office. The door was closed, but through the glass panel, she could see Daphne sitting behind her desk, her face pale, John Sneed bending over her, with a glass of water in his hand.
“Daphne?” Katie knocked gently, peering through the glass.
“Oh, Katie!” Daphne beckoned through the glass. “Come in!” Katie opened the door, puzzled by how relieved the woman sounded. “I’m so glad you’re here. Come sit for a minute.”
Katie glanced at John Sneed. The big man was standing over Daphne almost protectively, like a guardian angel. “What’s wrong, Daphne? Are you all right? Are you sick?”
“Oh, no, no. I’m fine. Or I will be. That dreadful boy was here—he’s not a boy anymore, not really, but I can never think of him as anything but that pampered little Lord Fauntleroy-” She broke off and waved her hand at John Sneed. “Go put my bell out on the desk, will you, John?”
The man nodded silently at Katie and went to do Daphne’s bidding. When the door was shut behind him, Daphne leaned forward and put her head in her hands. “That dreadful boy.” She looked at Katie. “You know who I mean. Alistair. Alistair Proser.”
“He was here?” A chill went down Katie’s back.
“Yes. Just a little while ago. He came in screaming about books—apparently he’s the one who’s got the books you’ve been requesting, and you were right about one thing—he certainly doesn’t want to part with them at all!”
“What did he say to you?”
“He demanded to know who was asking for them. I tried telling him it was none of his business, and then he started raving about some Irishman. Someone named Reardon? Rordon? Something like that-anyway, he was just hysterical. And he grabbed the slip and saw your name—” Daphne broke off, looking distressed. “I tried calling you at the college, but I couldn’t get an answer. The department secretary said she didn’t know when you’d be in. And I left a message at your house, Katie, I think the man is crazy!”
“What did he do when he saw my name?”
“Stormed out of here. Didn’t say a word, actually. I saw him drive off in the direction of the college. No wonder you wanted things kept quiet. I never saw such behavior in my life. And in a library, too!”
“Daphne, I’m really sorry. I truly am. I had no idea Alistair would behave so…”
“So crazy?” Daphne shook her head. “It was a revelation to me, let me tell you. If he were my son, I wouldn’t care how much of a big shot he was at Yale. I’d spank him and send him to bed without supper. Goodness!”
Katie repressed a smile. Somehow, she didn’t think that punishment would be effective. “If it’s not too much trouble, I came to get the books.”
“Of course. Come with me.” She stood up and beckoned for Katie to follow her. She reached beneath the circulation desk and gave Katie the small stack of books. They had been bound together with a large rubber band. Katie’s name was clearly written on an index card on top. Inwardly, Katie groaned.
“Thanks very much, Daphne. I’ll—uh—I’ll speak to Alistair if I see him. He shouldn’t have acted that way at all.”
“You be careful, Katie Coyle. That man looked like he was ready to shoot someone.” Daphne wagged her finger at Katie and leaned on the desk. “Just be careful. There’s no paper in the world so important that anyone needs to get that worked up!”
Katie nodded in agreement and drove home slowly in the quiet afternoon. There was no sign of Alistair anywhere. Now what? she wondered. Should she go back to Terry Callahan? What was it going to take before he’d believe her? Or what would it take to convince him to talk to Proser about his son?
She pulled into the driveway just as the late-afternoon light was filtering through the nearly bare trees. She parked the car and walked around the house to the front door. She fitted the key in the lock. For the first time since she’d moved in, the key stuck. She jiggled it in the door, and finally the door swung open.
“Katie!” She heard Derry shout across the pond, and turned to look at him in amazement. He was waving his arms at her. “Katie!”
She smiled at him as her heart leapt in her chest. She hadn’t thought she’d see him ever again in the flesh, only perhaps in dreams. She waved back.
“Katie,” he called again. “Don’t go in the house!”
“What?” she called back, just as the phone began to ring.
“Don’t—” His words were lost as she stepped through the front door and grabbed the phone on the fifth ring.
“Hello?”
“Katie, it’s me, Patrick. I tried to get you at the college, and I know they said you’d call me, but I couldn’t wait. “
“What is it?” she asked breathlessly, sitting down. She saw Derry pacing along the periphery of the forest, pausing now and again to stare at the house with a grim expression.
“Reynolds, Fitzgerald, Magan—that was the breakthrough we were looking for. It must have been a piece of inspiration on your part, because there’s no way I would’ve connected the three, except for Fitzgerald, of course. Magan was a double agent all along. I found this in Reynold’s diaries. By putting it side by side with Fitzgerald, I was able to piece most of it together. There’s a letter in Magan’s papers, written by Timothy Kilmartin from Aix-en-Provence in May of 1800. He went to the Continent, not knowing that Magan was an agent. And he never got on that ship.”
“Which means that Diarmuid O’Riordan did, in his place.”
“Yes. That’s my theory, too. The brothers switched places. Timothy had a wife and a child in the spring of 1798 when the whole thing fell to pieces. His brother had no one.”
“So the Earl died in the shipwreck.”
“Yes, exactly.”
Get out now, Katie. Derry’s voice thundered in her head, and she gasped. Get out now.
“Are you all right?” Patrick was asking.
“I’m fine—listen, I just walked in the door. This is all great news and I’m so glad you called to tell me—”
Get out now, Katie Coyle! Now! She slammed the receiver down and bolted to her feet, just as Alistair Proser stepped out of the hallway, carrying a gun. Katie gasped, and felt the blood drain from her face. “Alistair?”
“Excellent sleuthing, Dr. Coyle.” He gestured with the gun. “Why don’t you just hand over all the materials you’ve managed to piece together on the Earl of Kilmartin, and we’ll just forget that this unfortunate little episode ever took place. I’ll even forget to mention it to my father, who’s itching for an excuse to fire you.”
“He can’t fire me,” Katie declared.
Alistair laughed. “Of course he can fire you. He can fire you any time at all within the first six months of your employment for any reason at all.”
> “There’s no law against researching a topic for a grant.”
“Do you think he’s going to look very kindly on your stealing my idea?”
“I didn’t steal your idea! The conclusions I’ve reached have nothing to do with you.”
He shrugged. “Are you sure you’d like to risk him buying that one?” He gave a little snort. “I didn’t think so. Now. Why don’t you just give me all the books and all the notes, and anything else you might have managed to collect on the Earl, and we’ll just forget all this. And thanks a lot for giving me the information I needed to solve the mystery.”
“At least this will be one paper you won’t be called upon to defend, right?” His face turned bright red, and the vein throbbed in his forehead. “How did you know—”
“My sister’s in Dublin. Remember?”
His face flushed an even deeper shade of red. “Give me the notes.”
Run, Katie. Run to the Stones.
Instinctively she turned and ran out the door before Alistair could react. She heard him shout a curse after her. Heart pounding, she raced as fast as she could over the footbridge, where Derry stood waiting. He grabbed her arm and pulled her along beside him. Together they crashed through the trees, Alistair in hot pursuit.
Within the Stones, Derry pushed her behind one of them and stood in the center of the clearing to confront Alistair. He burst into the middle, his face flushed, twigs and bits of leaves in his hair, still brandishing his gun. “I want those notes,” he roared.
“Easy, man,” said Derry.
“You!” Alistair pointed the pistol at Derry and fired. Derry ducked behind a Stone while Katie shuddered.
“You can’t win this, man. Put the gun down and go away. Leave Miss Coyle alone.”
“And let her ruin everything I’ve ever worked to achieve? Not likely.”
Katie could hear Alistair moving cautiously through the leaves that covered the grass. If she could work her way back to the path, she might be able to get to the house and dial 9-1-1 before he could catch her. She dodged behind the next Stone. Alistair whirled and fired again. The bullet ricocheted off the Stone and buried itself in a tree trunk. Katie cringed. Maybe she’d be better off staying put.
There was a rush as Derry tackled Alistair. The two men grappled and the gun discharged again, just as Derry knocked it out of Alistair’s hand. “Grab it, Katie,” he called.
Alistair swung at Derry and connected with his cheek. There was the sickening crack of bone hitting bone, and a cut opened. Blood poured down Derry’s face. Katie reached for the gun, searching through the leaves. Alistair grabbed her by the waist and pulled her away, hurling her with a madman’s strength to the opposite side of the Stones. She hit the ground heavily and cried out as Derry wrapped his arms around Alistair and rammed his head against a Stone. “Run, Katie! Call the police!”
Katie picked herself up. The world tilted and spun, and she staggered. Out of the comer of her eye, she saw Alistair pick up the gun again. She took off down the path. There was another gunshot, and a blinding pain made her stumble. She fell to her knees, realizing that Alistair had shot her in the leg.
She heard Derry swear. He leapt at Alistair with renewed fury, bringing him down with one mighty blow. Alistair managed to fire one more bullet before Derry knocked the gun out of his hand. It flew in the air and disappeared among the trees. Derry hit Alistair again and again until the other man collapsed, unconscious.
Katie moaned. Derry ran to her side, picking her up in his arms. She placed her head against his shoulder. She felt rather than saw the sticky red stain that was spreading across his shoulder. “Derry,” she managed. “You’re hurt.”
“Shh. ’Tis no matter to me. You’re hurt, too. Here, I’ll carry you as far as I can.” He started off through the forest and she closed her eyes as nausea from the pain threatened to overwhelm her. Blackness descended on her like a whirling well. The last thing she heard was Derry’s voice from somewhere high above, calling what could only be her name.
When she opened her eyes, she was lying on the couch in the living room at Pond House. A man wearing a medical technician’s uniform was bending over her and a woman was taking her pulse. She started to sit up, and saw Derry seated in her desk chair. Another technician was binding his shoulder and a uniformed policeman was taking notes. Outside the door, she could see two more policemen talking to Sergeant Murdoch.
“Easy, miss,” said the woman. “You’ve lost some blood. We’re going to take you both to the hospital, but we wanted to make sure you were stable.”
“I-I’m fine,” Katie managed. She looked at Derry. “Derry?” she whispered. “You—you’re here?”
“And it’s lucky that I am, Katie,” he replied quickly, meeting her eyes with a meaningful look. “We’ll talk about this later.”
Sergeant Murdoch walked into the house. “Dr. Coyle. You’re going to be all right. We’ve got Mr. Proser in custody. I’ve got men out there now, looking for the gun.”
“He admitted he shot us?”
“Oh, not at all. But it’s pretty obvious to me that someone shot the two of you. And he’s the only one without a gunshot wound, although someone”—here he looked at Derry—“certainly managed to inflict quite a bit of damage on his own.”
There was a stir outside, and Mary Monahan burst through the open door. “My God, it’s true,” she blurted when she saw Derry sitting bare-chested in the chair. “I—I couldn’t believe—”
“Believe it, Mary,” he said with a wide grin, sending her the same look he’d given Katie. “We can talk it all out later.”
“Absolutely,” said the medical technician. He shut his bag and checked Katie’s temporary bandage. “Let’s get you both to the hospital.”
“I’ll be coming by to take a statement from you, Dr. Coyle, after all the fuss is over. All right?”
“Sure,” said Katie. There was still an unbelievable air to the whole thing.
“I’ll—uh—I’ll bring some clothes to the hospital for you, Derry,” said Mary as the medical technicians brought in a stretcher.
“Thanks,” he said with a grin. “In all the excitement, I seem to have lost my shoes.”
Much later, Derry, Katie and Mary sat around a fire in the living room at Pond House, open cartons of Chinese food before them, Katie’s leg propped up on pillows. The painkillers they’d given her at the hospital were doing their job.
Mary pushed her plate away with a sigh. “I can’t explain it, you two. I’ve no idea what happened. The only thing I can think of, Derry, is that you weren’t really quite as dead as you appeared. Or maybe hanging out in all the energy from the Stones somehow altered things for you.”
“Or maybe,” he said quietly, looking at Katie’s face, “Maybe even the fates couldn’t let us be parted once more.”
Mary looked from one of them to the other. “Maybe,” she said. Her voice was soft and the expression on her face was sad. She got to her feet. “I ought to get going. I’ll stop in tomorrow and see how you’re doing. Do you need anything before I go?”
“I’ll be fine,” Katie said, holding out her hand. “We’ll both be fine. Thanks for everything, Mary.” She squeezed Katie’s hand. “You’re very welcome. Don’t get up, either of you. I can let myself out.”
When she had gone, Derry settled next to Katie with a sigh. She tentatively reached out and caressed his thick, black curls. He picked up her hand and pressed a kiss into its palm. “I can’t believe this, Derry.”
He turned to her and his expression was at once solemn and merry. “Believe it, Katie Coyle.”
“How are we ever going to explain who you are?”
“An unexpected guest from Ireland?”
“It isn’t that simple, Derry. There’re things like visas and passports and social security numbers—” She broke off as he pressed his mouth on hers in a gentle kiss. “They’ll deport you.”
“That would be a bad thing,” he said, gazing into her eyes.
“That would be a very kind thing.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“Could you do that?”
For an answer, he gathered her carefully in his arms and cradled her head against his uninjured shoulder.
“Katie, my love, I’ve waited two hundred years to do just that.”
She snuggled close and sighed. The smell of baking bread filled the air, and in the fireplace, the flames danced higher. The wind whistled in the chimney with a low, keening moan. Derry looked up. “Hush now, you old house. We’re all home, at last.”
EPILOGUE
A gentle mist was falling as Katie and Derry climbed out of the little rented car onto the side of the narrow Irish road. They paused a moment, and Katie watched as Derry looked around. She stuffed the keys in the pocket of her jeans. Although he was rapidly adapting to life in the twenty-first century, driving a car was something he hadn’t yet tackled. She’d been a bit nervous to drive so far on the opposite side of the road, but their trip to Ireland wouldn’t seem complete without a visit to Derry’s ancestral home. It seemed only right that they should come here.
The road curved up and over a gentle rise, bordered with low stone fences, overlooking fields of emerald green. The mist caressed their faces, and the grass grew lush and thick at their feet. Cows grazed on the hills. “Do you recognize any of this?” she asked softly, loath to interrupt his thoughts.
He shrugged and shook his head before answering. “There were more trees,” he said at last. “It all looks so—bare. “
“The forests were cut down for the wood,” she said quietly. A pained look crossed his face as he gazed over the landscape. “Shall we go on to the village?” she said, after another long silence. “Or do you want to find the Stones?”
“I’d like to see the Stones,” he replied. “It seems sort of fitting, don’t you think? In a way, it’s what began it all.”
He held out his hand, and together they climbed over the low stone fence and tramped across the field. On a slight rise, beyond a small stand of spindly trees, the Stones rose gray and somehow twisted, as though the weight of the years had battered them out of their original shapes. They walked up the little hill until they stood within the inner circle.
The Ghost and Katie Coyle Page 20