“Mom?” She spun around. Mike was at her side. “Mom, you were going to call the constable.”
“Oh, yes.” Her hands flew to her cheeks, and she hurried to the phone. They hadn’t fought, yet she suddenly wondered if she was speaking to Justin or not. She hesitated, then decided that, yes, she would call him first.
She dialed the single digit to reach his house and waited while the phone rang. She expected him to pick it up, and was surprised when Molly answered instead.
“Molly, hello. It’s Kit. Is Justin there, please?”
“Why, no, dear, he’s not. He’d headin’ out there fer the cottage already, he is.”
“Oh.” Kit hesitated. “How long ago did he leave?”
“Well, now, let me see. Why, he should be there. I’m sure I don’t know whatever could be keepin’ him.”
Kit’s throat constricted slightly, and she had trouble saying goodbye. Then she found herself staring at the receiver. Would Justin have done such a thing? He had admitted that he wanted her to leave. If there was anything at all to her theory, she would be the murderer’s next victim. Would he do such a horrible thing to scare her away?
How could she love a man and still mistrust him? But where was he?
Frightened tears welled up in her eyes.
“Mom! Justin is here! And Mr. Johnston is here, too! I’m going to tell them what happened!”
“No, Mike, wait!”
She was too late. She could hear the door slam; Mike was already running out to meet the two men.
Nervously pushing up the sleeves of her red sweater, Kit hurried after him, struggling for composure.
Mike had already reached Justin. They were at the far end of the walk. Kit could hear her son excitedly telling Justin what he had discovered. She watched Justin carefully as he hunkered down to be closer to Mike. A frown formed across his forehead, and then his eyes darted to her. They were dark, shielded and speculative. He rose quickly, but he didn’t come to her. Instead he paused, bending down again to look at the doll, but without touching it.
Douglas Johnston followed, ducking down beside him. He was the first to speak to Kit. “Mrs. McHennessy, are you all right?”
She swallowed and nodded, then walked down the steps. Douglas stood, smiling with concern. “It’s only a sick joke, you know.”
“Probably.”
“You should call Liam, though.”
“Yes, I intend to.”
Justin looked up sharply at that, then stood, frowning more deeply. “You haven’t called him yet?”
She didn’t much care for his tone, but she didn’t have a chance to answer.
He had already pushed brusquely past her into the house. He paused only long enough to call over his shoulder, “Don’t go touching anything, now.”
Douglas Johnston cleared his throat. “He doesn’t mean anything by it, Kit, you know. He’s just… worried.”
Kit glanced at him quickly. He had never repeated his dinner invitation to her, and now she understood why: Douglas, like everyone else in this place, would bow to the desires of Justin O’Niall. She felt as if she were wearing a brand.
“Don’t defend him, Douglas. He’s being rude,” she said dismissively. And she smiled sweetly at him. “Have I ever really thanked you? You’ve done so much for Mike and me.”
“’Tis nothing, Kit. I’ve told you.” He watched her for a long moment, then ruffled Mike’s hair. “We should be going.”
“You’ll be okay, Mom,” Mike said confidently. “The O’Niall is here!”
He ran to Douglas’s car, and Kit watched him with growing concern. Where had a seven-year-old come up with such a choice of words?
Douglas looked at Kit, smiled ruefully and turned to follow his charge. “Don’t be worryin’ now, Kit!” he called to her. Then he paused, glanced quickly at Mike, and said more quietly, “Don’t be careless, though, eh? Keep the doors locked and don’t go wanderin’ off alone.”
Her throat felt very tight. Was she a fool to stay here? She tried to smile, but she wasn’t feeling very brave. “I will be, Douglas. Thank you.”
“I’m sure it was a prank.”
“Yes.”
“Or maybe a warning.”
“A warning?”
“That you should…leave.” He stared at her earnestly for several seconds, then cleared his throat. “Well, see you this afternoon.”
“Yes, thanks, Douglas.”
Justin came out of the house as Douglas waved goodbye. He was smiling, but Kit noticed his eyes narrowed in thought. “Liam O’Grady is on his way,” he said when Douglas and Mike were gone.
Kit nodded, but her eyes fell to the doll, and despite herself, she shivered.
“I called the airport,” Justin said.
“What?” Incredulous, she stared at him again.
“I’ve booked you and Mike on a flight out of Shannon at four tomorrow. Straight through to New York.”
“Well, I’m not going—”
“You are.”
“I’m not! Even if I did leave, Justin, it wouldn’t be for home. I know it’s beyond your ability to comprehend this, but I am here to work!”
He swore impatiently, settling his hands on his hips and staring at her angrily.
She wished he didn’t seem so tall and strong, that she didn’t long to forget everything else and move into his arms.
“Kit, is this book worth your life?” he demanded.
“My life hasn’t been threatened.”
“Well, this is hardly like receiving candy or a bouquet of flowers.”
“Justin, you can’t tell me what to do. Maybe I can’t leave. Maybe I have to understand what happened eight years ago. All this ties in—I’m sure of it—and I owe it to Michael to stay until—”
“Which Michael?” he demanded, suddenly and nastily.
Kit froze. “Michael, my husband,” she said coolly, feeling suddenly cold inside, but still aware of him—and painfully frightened. “And just what is the problem with that?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I was just hoping that you weren’t planning on perpetuating this living-legend idea for Mike, that’s all.”
She gasped, stepping away from him. “What are you planning on saying to him? You can’t say anything! You’d destroy him. He wouldn’t believe you, I’m certain. He’s never seen you before! You can’t just come out with something like that—”
“And what do you want me to do?” he said, interrupting and closing the distance between them in a single stride. He didn’t touch her; he just towered over her, and she realized faintly that he didn’t want to touch her because he was too violently angry at her. “Tell him at his wedding, perhaps? For college graduation? Never?”
She backed away again, clenching her fists at her sides. “No! I don’t know! But not now! I hadn’t thought—”
“That’s right, you hadn’t thought! Because you didn’t intend to tell me! Why? What was your game? Come here and check the man out? Then, if I was a murderer, if I’d gone daft, or if you simply didn’t care too much for my personality, you could just forget all about my role in his birth. Sorry, Kit. You cheated me out of seven years. But you won’t cheat me of any more.”
“What? Cheated you? My God! How do you think I felt? You might not have remembered me; you might not have cared!” She had known this was coming, but she still didn’t know how to deal with it. “You weren’t there! You don’t know what it felt like. I almost—”
She broke off, paralyzed, knowing exactly how he would react to her next words.
He was still. Dead still. And he was looking at her as if he would love to strangle her, then and there. Then he walked toward her again. She backed away a step, but it wasn’t enough. He caught her arms, and she felt the granite hardness of him, as cold and distant as the fall air.
“You almost what, Kit?” he whispered threateningly.
“Damn it, Justin,” she swore. “I was eighteen years old! I dreamed about this place, horrible n
ightmares, and I didn’t know what to think or feel. At first I didn’t even recognize myself! You can’t imagine how horrible that was!”
“I’m trying.”
“You’re not! You don’t understand anything about the real world!”
“It’s wonderful to be loved,” he said bitterly.
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t threaten Mike!”
“I’m not threatening him!”
“You are!”
“You’re the one who feels threatened, because you can’t begin to imagine that what you did might have been wrong. Or are you still embarrassed over something that happened eight years ago? Well, what about me? I can’t even go up to my own flesh and blood and hold him. I have to be a stranger. I have to smile and keep my distance. I—”
He broke off so suddenly that Kit instantly turned, aware that someone must be approaching.
The constable, of course. Or constables. Justin must have called them both.
Liam O’Grady and Barney Canail were perfect opposites, a Laurel-and-Hardy pair if Kit had ever seen one. Where Barney was tall and lean, Liam was short and as heavyset as a champion boxer. He had dark brown eyes the color of mahogany and a full head of graying hair that had once been bright red. His cheeks were perpetually red, giving him the appearance of a jovial Santa Claus.
He was a nice man, too. Kit would never forget how gently he had dealt with her when Michael had died. How softly spoken his questions had been, how he had gone above and beyond the call of duty to accommodate her wishes. He hadn’t thought that she should stay on after Michael died—no one had—but he had checked on her welfare almost as frequently as Justin. His gentle appearance was deceiving in one aspect, though; his small dark eyes were as sharp as pencil points, and he didn’t miss a thing.
“Mrs. McHennessy?”
She could tell that he was pretending that he hadn’t heard a word, though it would have been impossible for either man to have missed her angry exchange with Justin.
Liam stepped forward, stretching out his hand with a friendly smile. “I’ve been looking for a chance to see you, lass, e’er since I heard you were here. Welcome, welcome. I’m sorry to see you over this, though.”
He reached for Kit’s hand and pumped it. She swallowed back her temper and her tears and kissed his cheek. “Liam, you haven’t changed a bit. You look marvelous.”
“I need a diet,” he returned gruffly, then looked past her to Justin.
Barney came up behind him, hands in his pockets. He gave Kit an understanding nod while Liam asked Justin where the doll was.
Then they all went to stare at the mock sacrifice. Kit began to feel a bit silly for making such a fuss over it. It was just a prank, because she was an American, a foreigner, and she was seeing their precious O’Niall.
The men were all crouching down together speaking in tones so low that she couldn’t hear their words. Then Justin looked up abruptly, as if suddenly remembering that she was there.
“Why don’t you put on some coffee, Katherine?” he suggested mildly.
She felt like telling him to make his own coffee, but Barney looked up then, too, smiling. “I wouldn’t mind tea, Kit, if ye’d boil a kettle of water.”
She couldn’t very well be rude to Barney, so she started back to the cottage. Looking back, she noticed over her shoulder that Barney was holding up a plastic bag, and that Liam was picking up the doll and the stone, using a handkerchief. They were going to look for fingerprints. Kit was certain that they wouldn’t find any, but she supposed they had to make the effort.
In the kitchen, she dumped Mike’s half-cooked eggs into the garbage, set the kettle on one burner and the coffeepot on another. She didn’t realize how edgy she was until she jumped at the sound of a movement behind her.
“Easy, lass, ’tis me!” Barney told her quickly, smiling apologetically as he leaned against the door frame. “It’s upset you, badly then?”
She shook her head. “No, no…really. I’m sure it was just a prank.”
His face crinkled kindly. “Now, ye don’t believe that for a minute, do you, lass?”
“It has to be—no, no, I don’t. Oh…I don’t know what I think.”
“Well, now,” Barney murmured, moving into the kitchen. His voice was low again, as if he was afraid that the others would walk in at any second. “I’ve an idea. And I didna mean ta be listenin’ in, but the things I heard might have some bearin’.”
She must have flushed, because Barney apologized again. “I do beg yer pardon.”
“Please, I—we were yelling. I’m sorry you two were subjected to our private quarrels.”
He smiled. “Aye, quarrels. People must matter very much to one another to have them, eh? But supposin’ that someone did believe that Mary Browne’s child was Justin’s eight years ago, and so the lass died. This same person kens that a mistake has been made. Well, then, he’d be lookin’ for someone new. Then we’ve Susan Accorn.”
Kit sighed. “I said that to Justin the other night. He reminded me that that Susan had no child.”
“Aye, and she wasn’t really murdered properly.”
“Properly? I don’t understand.”
“Susan Accorn was gotten out of the way. To our murderer’s way of thinking, she wasn’t fit for the O’Niall. See what I’m saying to you, lass?”
The kettle began to whistle. Grateful for the interruption, Kit turned around to make the tea.
“Someone knows, Kit McHennessy. Someone else knows.”
She spun around, nearly scalding herself. “Barney…?” There was a trace of hysteria in her voice.
He quickly took the kettle and set it on the stove again. “Now, don’t go gettin’ wild on me, girl. Those two out there would be wringin’ me neck fer tellin’ me mind.” He gave her a crooked smile. “It’s not that they think ye’ve no sense, they’re just protective, especially Justin O’Niall. He’s that sort of man, and ye can’t go changin’ blood or breedin’. He’ll be that way all yer life, girl, no matter how ye try to tame him.”
Kit lowered her eyes. “I don’t know that I’ll be trying, Barney,” she said, as lightly as she could. “But—”
“Shush, now. I want ye to think. I want ye to think hard about who might be knowin’ about yer boy.”
Kit shook her head vehemently. “Barney, no one knows.” She lowered her head and whispered. “Justin didn’t know. Barney, it’s impossible. I left here—I never said a word. My God, I stayed away eight years.”
He cleared his throat. “Perhaps somewhere ye said something, ye gave some hint.”
“No, really.”
“Think on it, lass. It could mean yer life.”
She started to reply, then saw that Justin and Liam were coming in. She nodded quickly, then asked Barney how he liked his tea.
“Two sugars, lass, thank ye.”
Barney took his tea. Liam asked for coffee and smiled reassuringly when he took the cup. “A prank, as sure as day,” he said. “Don’t let it get under your skin.”
“I think she should leave,” Justin said.
Kit smiled sweetly. “She isn’t leaving,” she told Liam.
“Well, now, perhaps you might want to see Dublin fer a spell. Or fly over to London.”
“Back to New York would be better,” Justin said, his back to her while he poured his own coffee.
“Well…” Liam’s eyes met Barney’s across the kitchen. He shrugged. “Kit McHennessy, it’s true strange things happened when you were here before. And now, well, we do have an unsolved murder once again.”
“Liam, thank you for being worried. But I was in New York City when Susan was…when Susan died.”
“You shouldna be alone,” Liam said.
Justin turned around at last, eyeing Kit over the rim of his coffee cup. “She won’t be.”
She opened her mouth to protest. Why didn’t she just go home? she wondered. She could buy herself some time. It was hard to imagine how she and Justin would manage to get al
ong after their last argument. She had been a fool to come here.
But she’d had to come. She’d always known that she would have to come back sometime. Even if Susan Accorn had lived and Justin had married her and they had settled into pleasant domesticity—she would have had to come sometime. Mike did have a right to know the truth.
But not now…
“I’d best be gettin’ back to me own office,” Barney said. He set his cup on the counter and winked quickly at Kit. “You call me, lass, if ye’ve ever a need to talk. Tell yer boy I said hello.”
“I will, Barney.”
“We’ll dust for prints, Justin,” Liam said. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m not expecting much.”
“Thank you both for coming out. I appreciate it,” Kit said.
“Sorry it was fer the likes of such a thing.” Liam shook his head. “But then,” he brightened, “we’ll all be together soon enough fer a happier event. If yer still going to be with us, Katherine McHennessy, you’ll be at the celebration.”
Kit must have looked confused. Justin, who was watching her, said coolly, “All Hallows’ Eve.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Barney plays his pipes,” Liam said with a laugh.
“And I play ’em well, ye old coot,” Barney retorted.
“Ye’ll hear fer yerself,” Liam warned Kit, and she laughed. But when Justin walked the two men to the door, she shivered. All Hallows’ Eve. The night of the goat-god.
She was still in the kitchen when Justin returned. She stiffened; she had no idea what to say.
“So you’re not leaving?” he said abruptly, coldly.
“No.” He turned around and started for the stairs.
Kit exhaled, then wondered nervously what he was up to. He hadn’t said a word about Mike. “Justin?” She heard movement upstairs. He didn’t answer her. She bit her lip and moved to the bottom of the stairway. “Justin!”
“What?”
“What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
“Packing? My things?”
She took the stairs two at a time, arriving at the top breathless. He was in the bedroom; her suitcase was on the bed, and he was haphazardly throwing her lingerie into it.
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