“Mine, either,” Padgett said. “I’ll get moving on the flight details. Tell Emma not to dawdle or we won’t make Logan in time.”
Colin headed upstairs. Emma was already out of the shower, her hair damp as she slipped into fresh clothes and dug a suitcase out of the closet. She moved stiffly, but she wasn’t trembling, wasn’t shivering. He noticed bruising along her neck, probably from the choke hold, but didn’t point it out. There was more bruising on her wrists, where she’d been bound. He didn’t point that out, either. Instead he relayed Yank’s instructions.
“I’m fine with Padgett tagging along,” Emma said, “but I’m not sitting next to him on an overnight transatlantic flight. He needs his own row.”
Colin didn’t blame her. “Are you up to this, Emma?”
She smiled. “Of course I am.”
That was Emma Sharpe, ex-nun, art crimes expert, federal agent. She was strong, smart, stubborn and relentless. He understood her reasoning for wanting to go to England herself. No one knew as much about Oliver York as she did, except, perhaps, Wendell Sharpe. Colin wouldn’t be surprised if Emma had her grandfather fly in from Dublin and meet her in England. Lucas, her brother, was in Dublin, too.
Just as well Sam Padgett was accompanying her.
Colin pushed back his tension. “Will you need to stop at the apartment for anything?”
“I have enough here. I doubt we’ll need to stay in England more than a day or two. You’re on your way to the Plum Tree?”
“I put it off to look for you.”
“You can’t see the shed where I was held from the Plum Tree. It’s not far, but it doesn’t mean Mike’s friends are connected to what happened to me. They could have stumbled into the middle of something Oliver’s cooked up or dealing with—although it doesn’t sound as if these guys are stumblers.”
“Always have to be careful about being driven by assumptions,” Colin said, watching her zip up her overnight bag. He stepped forward and lifted the bag off the bed.
“Thank you,” she said. “You’d rather I stayed here and painted, wouldn’t you?”
He attempted a smile. “You’ll be missing your lunch with my mother.”
“Oh, that’s right! I was looking forward to it. She wants to take me to her favorite restaurant in Kennebunkport. I’ll call her on the way to the airport.”
“She’s not in a great mood. She knows we’ve been holding back on her.”
“She’s a wise woman,” Emma said, some of the life coming back into her eyes.
“You should get checked out by a doctor,” Colin said.
“I’d say the same thing to you if you were in my position. I’m fine, Colin. Really. I never would have made it out of the shed if I’d been seriously hurt in the attack, and I’m very happy to have jumped out of that window.” She stepped toward him, the ends of her hair dripping into her white shirt collar. “I’d be dead if killing me had been the plan. Leaving me in the shed, not caring whether I lived or died, is different.”
Not different enough, but Colin made no comment.
“Do you need to tell Mike to be careful?” she asked him.
He shrugged. “Mike is always careful.”
“He’s your brother, Colin,” Emma said. “This is personal for you.”
“And you? Don’t you make it personal?”
“I’m a federal agent. Mike isn’t.”
“Mike can take care of himself.”
“No question,” she said. “I just want to be sure your head is screwed on straight.”
“I’m seeing things very clearly, Emma.”
She smiled then, unexpectedly, but said nothing. She started to take her suitcase from him, but he stood back with it, allowing her to go ahead of him into the hall. She didn’t falter, but she did keep a hand on the rail as she descended the stairs.
Padgett was waiting in the entry. “Kevin left,” he said, addressing Colin. “He said for you to stay in touch and he’ll do likewise. It’s good he’s doing this your way for now, but I wouldn’t hold my breath it’s going to last. This bastard assaulted a federal agent on Kevin’s turf.”
“I can’t say for certain if it was a man or a woman,” Emma said.
“Point taken,” Padgett said. “Speaking of turf—what about Kavanagh? Guy’s got a solid reputation. He might be freelancing and bending the rules, but that doesn’t mean he’ll appreciate us interfering.”
“Not relevant.” Colin grabbed his jacket out of the living room. “Kavanagh has a lot of questions to answer. I want to know why he was in that gallery in London and then went out to Oliver York’s farm.”
“He might not know about our interest in Oliver,” Emma said.
“Then what—he stirs up trouble by accidentally stepping into York’s business? I’m not going to blow any cover Kavanagh’s established for himself, but I’m not giving him free rein, either.” Colin shrugged. “If this get-together at the Plum Tree is a reunion and a job fair, no harm, no foul. If it’s more than that, we’ll find out.”
“Someone attacked Emma and locked her in that shed.” Padgett picked up her suitcase. “We’ll take my car.”
“You’ll have to hoof it,” Colin said.
Padgett grinned. “That’s why we’re taking my car instead of Emma’s car.”
He went out ahead of her.
Emma turned to Colin and tucked her hand into his. He drew her close. “Emma,” he whispered. “Be safe.”
“I love you.”
“I’d have found you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I do. I did. Knowing it helped me get through the night.”
He kissed her softly, then felt her hand slip out of his as she turned around and headed down the front steps. Padgett was already in his car, waiting for her.
Once they were on their way, Colin texted Mike that he was resuming his delayed visit to the Plum Tree. He’d already let his older brother know that Emma was safe, and to continue to keep her situation to himself.
Mike responded. Okay.
Colin still had his phone in his hand when Kevin texted him. Watching shed. Stay in touch.
Kevin would stay out of sight and let Colin know if anyone stopped by.
Colin got his truck key. He’d settle down on the short drive to the Plum Tree. When he arrived, he’d be Mike’s brother, the FBI agent home in Maine for the weekend who also happened to have a few questions he wanted answered.
It’d work fine.
23
An attractive woman with dark, curly hair and hazel eyes greeted Colin by a moose statue in front of the Plum Tree Inn and told him they were just back from snowshoeing. Colin thought his head would explode. What the hell was he doing here? But he steadied himself and picked up a pole she’d dropped.
“You must be the second-born Donovan,” she said as she took the pole, thanking him. “Mike said you’d be arriving soon. I’m Naomi MacBride. Good to meet you, Agent Donovan.”
“Likewise, Ms. MacBride.”
“Naomi, please. Mike’s gone inside. He’s looking for a Father Bracken–approved whiskey. His words.” She grinned. “I think we got to him snowshoeing. If he tells you I almost fell in the ocean, it’s not true. I did fall.”
Colin couldn’t help but like her. “Where was this?”
“On a trail on the other side of the inn. I thought I might as well take advantage of being here this time of year and get a taste of snowshoeing on the rocky Maine coast. Stunning views. The trail took us close to the water. Buddy Whidmore and I hit an ice patch and our snowshoes went out from under us. Buddy avoided the water but I went in. Mike says it was just a tide pool.” She kicked a hunk of ice off her boot and grinned at Colin. “It was salt water. Therefore, it was the ocean. Isn’t that right?”
“Worth arguing. Sounds as if you had a good time.”
“It was incredible. The perfect cure for jet lag.” She squatted down, setting her pole neatly beside her, and tugged a snow-encrusted strap off the heel of her boot. “I
had to borrow boots. They’re too big. I think that contributed to my fall. Not that I’m looking for excuses, mind you. The boots did keep my feet dry.”
“I don’t know how you stayed dry if you fell in the ocean.”
She laughed. She didn’t seem to care one way or the other if there were legitimate mitigating factors for her fall, or even if it had been a real fall. She had nothing to prove. She kicked off the snowshoe, using enough force that it skittered across the icy walk and under the moose statue.
“It’s going to be a while before you see daffodils up here,” she said, laying on her Southern accent as she stood up. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I understand from Mike that you’re a crisis management consultant. A lot of pressure with that work. It must feel good to get a break.”
“If you want to call this a break.” She picked up her pole, tucked it under her arm. “You’re not here just to see Mike, are you, Agent Donovan?”
Colin warned himself not to underestimate her. “Father Bracken is a friend of mine. You saw him on Wednesday at the Aoife O’Byrne show in London. He’s visiting Oliver York at his farm. I’d like to hear about this injured man you helped.”
Naomi didn’t seem surprised at the question. “Not much to tell. If Mike repeated what I told everyone at lunch, that’s all there is.”
“Was anyone else there?”
“Just Johnny, the farmworker, at least that I saw.”
“Who else knows about this incident?”
“Everyone here. I have no idea who Martin Hambly and Johnny told. Oliver York wasn’t there at the time. That’s what Hambly said, anyway.”
“Were you hoping to meet him?”
“Not particularly, no.”
She scooped up her second pole. She seemed comfortable answering questions. Skilled, even. Colin remembered she’d worked as an intelligence analyst with the State Department under difficult circumstances.
Mike eased out of the inn. He had on a flannel shirt over a T-shirt and didn’t look cold or stressed after the snowshoe trek. “I see you’ve met Naomi.”
Colin wasn’t sure how to read his brother’s tone and decided he didn’t need to.
“Mike and I go way back,” Naomi said, collecting her errant snowshoe from under the moose statue. She tucked it under the other arm from the ski poles. “What else can I do for you, Agent Donovan?”
“A courier picked up a package on Wednesday at the dovecote where you found Hambly. Know anything about it?”
“Not a thing.”
“Why did you go to the dovecote?”
“A public pathway goes past it. I thought it would have a good view of the farm. As it turns out, I didn’t even notice the view. Hambly was in rough shape. I couldn’t tell if he’d been attacked, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“So all this is a bunch of coincidences? London, Oliver York, Aoife O’Byrne, the incident with Hambly?”
“I doubt it, don’t you?”
Colin noticed Mike stiffen but kept his focus on Naomi.
“But I doubt whatever is going on has anything to do with me,” she added. “I just was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or the right place, if you’re Martin Hambly.” She glanced at Mike. “Works out that way sometimes. One person’s wrong place, wrong time is another person’s right place, right time.”
Mike picked up her second snowshoe off the walk.
Colin noted the tension between Mike and Naomi. There was clearly a subtext to her comments that Mike understood, and that Naomi knew he’d understand.
Not going there, either, Colin thought.
“I was doing research,” Naomi said. “I knew Reed Cooper was planning to talk to Mike about contract work and one thing led to another. I don’t have to follow an evidence trail. I can dive in and go with my instincts and training and see where they take me.”
“Why Oliver York?” Colin asked.
“Mad curiosity once I saw him at the London gallery.”
“It was out of your way to go to the Cotswolds before heading here.”
“Well, I didn’t know I was headed here until Reed showed up at my Cotswolds inn and told me about this get-together. That was after my walk to the dovecote. Reed drove me to the airport. I avoid renting cars whenever possible.”
Colin studied her a moment. She wasn’t defensive, he decided, but she knew she was on the hot seat. “You planned to fly home to Nashville that night. The Cotswolds were still out of your way.”
“I’d never been to the Cotswolds. Have you, Agent Donovan?”
Mike inhaled sharply. Colin ignored him. “Not yet, no.”
“Beautiful, classic English countryside.” She adjusted her snowshoe and ski poles in her arms, her cheeks flushed, her eyes alert, focused on Colin. She tilted her head back slightly. “I thought the York farm might be a good place for Oliver York, aka Oliver Fairbairn, to hide and then stage the return of his stolen art. Although he’s returned most of it in the past few months, hasn’t he? Since that awful murder in Boston.”
Colin and Mike both were silent.
Naomi blew a stray curl out of her face. Despite her breezy manner, her expression was serious. “If I could connect the dots, Agent Donovan, so can someone else.”
“If you want to take her in,” Mike said, “I can help with the handcuffs.”
Colin shook his head. “Ms. MacBride is welcome to draw her own conclusions.”
Naomi narrowed her eyes, shifting from Colin to Mike and back again. “What are holidays with the Donovan brothers like? You guys throw each other in the icy harbor for fun on Christmas Eve?”
Colin glanced at Mike, but his older brother kept his gaze pinned on Naomi, as if she were fulfilling every frustrating, negative expectation he had of her.
“Where all did you go in Rock Point yesterday?” Colin asked her.
She walked over to a pile of snowshoe gear next to the inn’s entrance and tossed hers on top of the heap. She turned, grinning. “Getting snowshoes on and off is harder than snowshoeing itself. Winter’s a lot of work up here. Mike knows what I did in Rock Point. He was with me the whole time.”
“Not before your car dropped you off,” he said.
She shrugged. “The driver had no reason to dawdle, but I’m not familiar enough with Rock Point to know if he drove me straight to your folks’ inn.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her stance suggested she was alert, on guard. “Mike took me to breakfast at Hurley’s. Your two youngest brothers joined us. Quite an experience.”
“You had breakfast with Ted Kavanagh in England yesterday,” Colin said.
“He’d finished his full English by the time I joined him. He was drinking tea. Shocked me.” A flicker of humor in her eyes. “T.K. and I worked together on a number of projects in Afghanistan. Apparently he arrived in the Cotswolds on Wednesday afternoon, about the same time I did.”
“Which was?”
“Me? Four o’clock. I didn’t know he was there. I didn’t see him until breakfast. Ships passing in the night and all that. I had an early drink and bite at the pub and went to my room to do some work.”
“Was Agent Kavanagh alone?” Colin asked.
“As far as I know.”
Colin doubted he would get anywhere but decided to ask all his questions. “Did you see him at the York farm?”
“No. And we didn’t discuss Oliver York or the York farm at breakfast.”
“How did he get to the airport?”
“We didn’t discuss travel arrangements, either.”
“Did he know Reed was picking you up?”
“I didn’t know Reed was picking me up. How would Kavanagh know? Reed told him and not me? I guess anything is possible, but I don’t know what difference it makes.”
Colin didn’t know, either. He turned to Mike. “Do you trust her?”
He set her second snowshoe onto the pile. “I’ll keep a close watch on her.”
Naomi rolled her eyes. “My turn to go find whi
skey.”
After she headed inside, Mike took in a deep breath. “I tossed her room before I got word Emma was safe. I didn’t find anything.”
“Mike...” Colin looked at the moose statue, as if it could remind him of simpler days. He flashed on a camping trip with his brothers, peeking out from their tents to watch passing moose. He turned again to Mike. “You know I still want you to go back to the Bold Coast, right?”
“Not doing that. I can talk to the people here.”
“You’re not a trained interrogator.”
Mike grinned. “The hell I’m not. How’s Emma?”
“On her way to England with another agent.”
His older brother narrowed his eyes. “I’ll let you tell me what you can. I’m not asking questions. I take it she’s okay if she’s flying tonight.”
“She got a few scrapes and bruises and survived a choke hold. She says it’s nothing a few ibuprofen can’t handle. She cleared herself for her flight.”
“You wouldn’t have cleared her,” Mike said.
“I have to trust her. She was in trouble for longer than I realized. That’s hard to take.”
“For you. Emma’s cool. In a few months, you and I will be standing in a convent garden, watching her walk down the aisle to marry you. It will happen.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“What about Yankowski?”
“In Virginia.”
“Probably a good place for him to be right now.”
Colin debated before he continued. “We’re still looking for the Saint Brigid’s cross Oliver York sent to Emma.”
Mike nodded. “Got it. Kevin’s on this thing?”
“Yes. Be careful, Mike. What do I need to know about you and Naomi MacBride?”
“I participated in an operation that got wilder than it should have because of bad intel. Kavanagh and Naomi were involved. Naomi saved the day but exposed herself. A couple months later, she was grabbed by some very bad people. My guys and I rescued her.”
“Mike. Hell.”
He shrugged. “I was a soldier. I did what I had to do.”
“What about Reed Cooper?”
“He was at a desk. He’s ambitious. He expected to make a career in the military and move up, but he quit not long after I did and went to work for one of the big private contractors. Now he’s out on his own.”
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