Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
The door on my side opened, and Alexander stood to the side of it so that I could get out. I didn’t respond to Brady’s informative talk about an apple tree he seemed proud of. The man could be odd.
Climbing out, I pulled the coat that Brady had given me before disembarking the plane tighter around me. I’d grown accustomed to the weather in South Florida. The cold dampness in the air was biting, and I shivered. It didn’t look like spring here. In fact, it was similar to Boston this time of year.
“Now, there isn’t much to see of a city nearby. We are out a ways from one, but the property is a wealth of intrigue,” Brady prattled on as if he were some tour guide while he walked around the front of the Bentley toward me. “The castle ruins are safe enough to explore, and if ye will look out that way, there is color to be seen on the forestry, unlike the ones closest to the house. The Cornelian cherry trees are a bright yellow right now and one of my favorites. The stables have several tame horses available for a slow trot along the land, but beware, we don’t have a Western saddle available. I can order one if ye prefer. A tennis court is out back, along with a heated pool. But like I said, it won’t always be excellent outdoor weather.”
He started up the stairs as he continued to talk, and I followed.
“The estate has a full library with classics to contemporary. Over ten thousand titles. There is also an art studio with everything one needs to paint, I know ye have an interest in that. My grandmother loved nothing more than to spend hours in front of a canvas, creating. Her paintings were mostly a disaster, but she didn’t seem to mind.”
We reached the front door, and it opened, as if on cue. An older woman with a black dress and white apron stood back with a friendly smile. I didn’t feel like smiling in return. I’d much rather weep, but she’d done nothing to me. It was Brady who had taken my life and happiness from me.
Brady motioned for me to enter first.
“Maeve,” he said. “As ye know, this is Eamon’s Salem. She is incredibly unhappy about her arrival, but we can show her that the Irish are a much better sort, can we not?”
There was pity in Maeve’s kind eyes as she looked from him back to me. I wished she wouldn’t do that. I’d start crying. I didn’t need any more encouragement. And I wasn’t Eamon’s. Not anymore.
I turned to look anywhere else but at her understanding expression.
The openness and natural light made the space appear massive. Six marble columns were proportionally spaced throughout, and centering it all was a domed ceiling with a glazed atrium.
“I will do my very best to make sure Mrs. Murphy has all the comforts of home,” Maeve replied.
That would be impossible, but I didn’t say so.
“I know ye will. As much as being home is a welcome treat, I need to leave Salem with ye and be on my way to handle business.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
“Try to enjoy yerself,” Brady said to me. “Anything ye need for yer art let Maeve know. She’ll get it. I’ll be out of sight, so ye won’t have to use yer energy and focus on shooting me loathing looks of disgust and hate.” His voice was jovial, as if he thought it was humorous.
He had the hate and loathing correct.
15
Tex
I paced back and forth at the far end of the library while listening to Liam on the phone with Blaise Hughes’s computer tech genius, Wilder Jones.
Four days and nothing. We had no fucking lead. I’d not slept, and I’d barely eaten.
Liam had driven down to help me look for her.
Marlana Newbury was expected to arrive in ten minutes. The DEA had called Liam. We hadn’t called them. Marlana knew something about it that she had said would help, but she needed to meet in person. It couldn’t be said over the phone.
“Wait. Let me put you on speaker,” Liam said, looking up at me from where he sat behind his desk.
“Come here,” he told me. Then he laid his phone down in front of him. “Play it again,” he said to Wilder—the man who broke into everything from banking accounts to private security systems to phone lines for the Southern Mafia.
Music played faintly, and I got closer to listen. It sounded like something you’d hear playing at a pub on St. Patrick’s Day.
“Sounds Irish,” I said. “What is it?”
“It is Irish. ‘Raglan Road,’ The Dubliners, 1972,” Wilder said over the line.
“Why are you playing it?” I asked, not needing a fucking lesson on the damn thing.
“It is playing in the background of the security footage when Salem walks behind the storage building. It cuts off moments after she is out of sight,” Liam told me.