Fiona had just managed to introduce her father when Glenna appeared at her side, also giving her a big hug.
“I just got here. Are you okay?” she asked anxiously. “I talked to your mom earlier. She told me about the break-in.”
“I’m fine,” Fiona assured her. “It’s just my townhouse that isn’t.” She turned to Casey and Claire. “These are friends of mine, Casey and Claire. They’ve helped me out a lot since last night. Thanks to their referral, my house is being put back together.” She went on to complete the introductions. “This is Glenna Robinson, Rose’s assistant. She was as dear to Rose as if she were her granddaughter.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Glenna,” Casey said. “We’re so very sorry for your loss.”
Glenna’s eyes glistened with tears. “Thank you. I still wake up each morning and expect to go to the antique shop after my classes and see Rose’s smiling face. I can’t believe she’s gone—and in such a horrible way.” She blinked back her tears. “But this is supposed to be a celebration of her life. She’d want it that way. So no more tears. Time to eat, drink, and share stories about—” She broke off, this time her eyes widening with dismay. “Oh, no. Not again. And not here.”
Casey didn’t even follow Glenna’s gaze. She didn’t need to. She’d sensed the detectives’ presence and their scrutiny since she, Claire, and Fiona had walked in the door.
Fiona, evidently, hadn’t. She looked confused, glancing around just as Alvarez and Shaw headed their way.
“That’s right; I forgot they’re here.” She swore under her breath. “I’m so not in the mood for this.”
“Hello, Fiona,” Alvarez said as they reached her side. “Glenna.” She nodded at Rose’s assistant. “Fiona, how are you holding up?” she asked, her voice unusually quiet.
“As well as can be expected.” Fiona’s reply was terse. “I’m also here to honor my friend. So, with all due respect, any additional Q and A will have to wait.”
“That’s not why we’re here,” Shaw quickly responded, his voice equally soft.
“I know. You’re just doing your jobs. I apologize.” Fiona blew out a breath. “I’m just very, very weary.”
“We understand.” Alvarez was already assessing Casey and Claire. “We’re just guests, paying our respects.” Her point to Fiona was clear and explained their subdued manner: Don’t blow our cover.
They were there on a mission—to figure out if the murderer would show up. It wouldn’t be the first time a seasoned killer would come back to admire the aftermath of his handiwork, especially if he or she was an insider.
“Lucia Alvarez.” The detective reached out her hand to shake Casey’s and Claire’s—and to find out who they were. “And this is my friend, Harry Shaw.”
“Casey Woods,” Casey replied. “And this is Claire Hedgleigh.” She watched the comprehension on both Alvarez’s and Shaw’s faces as handshakes were exchanged all around.
“We’re also here as guests, and as Fiona’s friends, to support her at such a difficult time.” Casey met Alvarez’s stare directly. Now was not the time to get into a pissing match. It would be bad for all of them.
“A pleasure,” Alvarez replied, clearly on board with the arrangement. Whatever probing she planned to do with FI, she’d do at another place and another time.
With that in mind, the four of them exchanged a few more pleasantries and then went their separate ways.
“That was unexpectedly painless,” Glenna said, her brows drawn together in noncomprehension. “I assumed they’d... Why didn’t they ask us more about—”
“Because they want to fly under the radar,” Casey interrupted her quietly. “And we have to help them do that. If they have a lead on someone who’s here or even if they’re just taking people’s temperature, they’d hit a stone wall if anyone knew who they were. So let’s just think of them as Lucia and Harry, at least for tonight.”
“Okay.” Glenna gave a shaky nod.
“I didn’t even know they had first names,” Fiona muttered. “But I’m thrilled that they’re leaving us alone. And I’d be even more thrilled if they actually turned up something—or someone—here tonight.” She glanced around. “Although it’s very hard for me to imagine any of these people wishing Rose harm, much less killing her.”
“People aren’t always what they seem,” Casey replied. “Lucia and Harry are just covering all their bases—as they should.”
Claire touched Fiona’s arm. “Let’s change the subject. I think the four of us should get some food. Glenna, show us which of Rose’s favorite dishes you made. I want to try those first.”
Across the room, Niall watched the entire scene with interest, even as he polished off his Guinness—only his second, since he had every intention of staying sharp. Pointedly, he avoided approaching Fiona right away. No sense in looking too eager. Plus, he wanted to wait for the right moment—a moment that wouldn’t come until the barrage of guests had anxiously questioned her about her well-being. Even reaching her side would have to be done with casual grace, given the watchful eyes of the two detectives milling around and the obvious presence of the two women flanking Fiona on either side. Idly, he wondered who they were. Close friends? Probably. There for emotional support? Doubtless.
Fiona was shaking her head, and a glint of light shimmered from her earlobes. Earrings. Good. Maybe these would have a connection, as well. He’d have to get close to see every detail.
In the meantime, he continued with his social pleasantries, letting the evening unfold.
A couple of hours passed.
The crowd was thinning out, and the detectives were chatting with the remaining guests. Niall had rather enjoyed answering their subtle questions about his relationship to Rose. Given he was one of her best clients, it wasn’t hard to offer both knowledgeable praise and deep sorrow. And given his well-known standing as a millionaire real estate developer and connoisseur of the arts, the cops had barely spent five minutes with him before they decided he wasn’t even a blip on their radar. They’d graciously excused themselves and continued on their mission.
In the meantime, Fiona had been fielding ongoing questions from the crowd. She looked totally worn out. She’d be relieved to speak with someone who didn’t pry into her life. And she was momentarily alone, other than her two friends, who weren’t about to disappear any time soon. They were all chatting and nibbling on pieces of Irish soda bread.
Niall disengaged himself from the group of church congregants he’d been chatting with and walked toward them.
Fiona was chewing reflexively, barely aware of what she was tasting. It had been an eon of Yes, finding her like that was horrible, No, I’m holding up fine, No, nothing was taken, and I have no idea why any of this happened. Hugs and hand squeezes and offers of help—all the gestures were lovely but making Fiona panic all the more. If it weren’t for Casey and Claire’s support—steering conversations in a different direction, suggesting that they all grab something more to eat, or just drawing out the introductions—Fiona would have had a total meltdown. As it was, she was feeling trapped and freaked out about how much longer she’d have to stay.
“Hang on,” Claire murmured. “A half-dozen people have already left. Stick it out for a little while longer and then we’ll say our good-byes. Your parents will understand; they’ve been worrying about you all evening. I can see it in their eyes.”
Fiona nodded, her anxiety easing a bit. She couldn’t wait to get into the car and head for home—wherever home would be for the night. “Okay.”
“Hello, Fiona.” A deep voice with an Irish brogue interrupted their brief conversation.
Fiona turned, once again forcing a smile to her lips. “Niall. Hi.”
“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through,” he said simply. “But I’m glad you were up to coming tonight to celebrate Rose’s life. We both know what a fine human being she was, as well as how brilliant she was in her field. She’ll be dearly missed.”
Fiona nodded, bracing herself for the next round of questions.
Niall surprised her.
“Are these lovely ladies friends of yours?” he asked. Definitely respectful and in no way a come-on. Also in no way belaboring a Q and A with Fiona.
“Yes.” Fiona almost wept with relief. “Casey Woods, Claire Hedgleigh, this is Niall Dempsey.”
Casey’s brows rose as she shook his hand. “The real estate developer?” she asked.
“Guilty as charged.” He smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you, as well.”
“Niall was kind enough to offer available apartments in his buildings to out-of-town guests,” Fiona said, as Niall shook Claire’s hand.
“That was very gracious of you,” Claire said in response.
In truth, she was having a hard time responding at all. What she really wanted to do was recoil from the handshake and back away. The surge of dark energy that emanated from the brief contact made her skin crawl. There was something very ugly about Niall Dempsey. Who he was? His past? Both were filled with darkness and shadows.
How dark? Was he a killer? Claire couldn’t discern that. The shadows were too obscuring. She’d have to hold his hand for longer than a handshake to try to break through them. And she couldn’t—not just because it would look ridiculous but because his very touch was making her physically ill.
“Miss Hedgleigh?” Niall was speaking to her, looking very concerned. “Are you all right? You’re white as a sheet.”
“I’m fine, just light-headed.” Claire was furious with herself for not doing a better job of hiding her reaction. “I think I’d better finish this soda bread. Meeting and chatting with so many people made me forget to eat. I filled a plate of food and barely touched it.” She took a healthy bite of her bread. “I apologize if I scared you.”
“Nonsense.” Niall indicated the sofa in a now nearly empty living room. “Sit down. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
Claire wanted to refuse, but she’d already screwed up enough. “Thank you; that would be wonderful. And maybe a glass of water, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course I don’t.” Niall strode off.
“What is it?” Casey quietly asked as she and Fiona sat down beside her on the sofa.
“Later.” Claire settled herself, retaining the drawn expression that accompanied her claim to be light-headed.
“Are you okay?” Fiona asked anxiously, oblivious to what was really going on. “I feel like a selfish brat. All I’m thinking about is me, and the two of you are about to drop.”
“We’re just fine,” Casey assured her. “Claire just needs some sustenance. It’s been a long day.”
Niall returned quickly, handing Claire a plate that was laden with a variety of food. He pulled over a side table and placed a glass of water on it. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I brought you options,” he said.
Claire was already forcing herself, not only to eat but to look ravenous as she did. “I so appreciate this.” She smiled, taking a few healthy gulps of water. “I’m feeling better already.”
He nodded. “You look better.” Abruptly, he frowned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his vibrating cell phone. He glanced down at the caller ID. “My office,” he explained. “Would you excuse me?”
“Of course.” Fiona was almost sorry to see him go. He’d been a shred of normalcy in an otherwise unbearable evening.
Claire was thrilled to see him go. She inhaled sharply, then drank more of her water and ate enough of her food to make her whole scene believable. All the while, her gaze followed Niall Dempsey, wondering who the man really was and why he was so shrouded in unknown darkness.
Niall would have ignored his regular cell. But this was his private one. It meant Donald was reaching out to him.
Standing in a quiet corner, he put the phone to his ear. “Talk to me.”
“Air traffic. Take a different flight.”
Frowning, Niall disconnected the call. His computer guy was still trying to get access to Fiona’s pictures. But Donald needed to see him on another matter—right away.
Any further communication with Fiona would have to wait. Besides, he’d seen her earrings up close and memorized every detail. And he’d taken care of the other matter he needed to.
Time to say good night.
Claire watched Niall thank Maureen for everything and shake Colin’s hand. Clearly, his phone call had required him to leave. That moment couldn’t come fast enough for her.
She endured his good-byes with her, Casey, and Fiona, as well as his outwardly sincere offer to help Fiona in any way he could.
“You’re welcome to stay in one of my buildings until your townhouse has been restored to livable conditions,” he said.
“Thank you so much.” Fiona clearly liked and respected the man. “I’m staying at my brother’s. But if the work takes longer than expected and Ryan gets tired of having me underfoot, I might just take you up on your generous offer. Hopefully, I won’t need to. The workmen are moving quickly.”
“Well, if anything changes, the offer stands. Just give me a call.” Niall pulled out a business card and handed it to her. “All my contact information is there.”
He gave them all a parting smile. “Good night.”
Claire felt her whole body relax as he walked away.
That relaxation didn’t last long.
Abruptly, she was accosted by a different but equally powerful sense of awareness, one that drew her gaze to the wall where the tapestry panel with the Galway sheep hung. It was just as she remembered it. Ostensibly, nothing had changed. So she wasn’t sure what her awareness was all about, but it eclipsed her lingering reaction to Niall Dempsey and compelled her to act.
“Excuse me for a minute,” she murmured. She put down her plate and walked across the room to the tapestry, stopping to study it up close. The intensity of the pull she felt was so strong that she almost gave in and touched the woven fabric. But there were still guests in the room, not to mention Maureen McKay, who would definitely not appreciate Claire putting her hands on the panel.
Still… Claire’s gaze was drawn upward until it settled on the rod from which the tapestry hung.
It was askew. Just a little. Not enough to attribute to anything but a guest bumping into it.
But no guest had bumped into it. Claire’s flashes came fast and furious. Someone had touched it, rubbed it between curious fingers. And photos. They’d taken photos of the panel.
Why? Did they know something about the tapestries’ significance that FI had yet to figure out? Was it Niall Dempsey? Was that why she’d reacted so powerfully to him? Or was that assumption based only on the fact that these two onslaughts of awareness were so closely timed? Niall’s darkness had been deep, but it encompassed his past. That didn’t mean he wasn’t also guilty of more. But was he?
Claire was being assaulted by a barrage of questions—questions to which she had no answers. But she had to take the next logical step to find some.
She glanced back at Casey and Fiona, signaling that she needed to use the powder room. Fiona gestured toward the hall where that was. Her brows were drawn together as she looked curiously from the tapestry panel to Claire and back. Casey showed no such puzzlement. She merely nodded, realizing that Claire was doing what Claire did best.
Claire headed off, grateful that, given the traditional layout of the house, the hall bath was near bedrooms. Because her real destination was the master bedroom.
It was time to see—and this time to study—the only tapestry panel she had yet to set her eyes on. Had it been handled and photographed tonight, too? She didn’t have a clear sense of that. All she knew was that it was time to complete the circle of viewing all the panels that made up the full tapestry. And this time, she’d have the chance to truly scrutinize one of those panels—and whether or not the pull she felt for it was as strong as the pull she felt toward the one in the living room, she’d take advantage of her solitude and touch it.
She was taking a major risk and she knew it. If either Maureen or Colin found her in their room, there’d be no explaining why she was there. And if they caught her with her fingers on the tapestry, Maureen would be furious. But she had to take that chance.
Because if the killer had been here and if he was one step ahead of Forensic Instincts, Claire intended to close that gap. And if Niall Dempsey was that killer, she intended to channel all her own energy into figuring that out, too.
Locating the master bedroom was easy. It was larger than the other rooms clustered around it—those obviously being the children’s bedrooms before they’d grown up and moved out.
Claire crossed the threshold, her eyes searching the semi-darkened room even as she did. Basic furnishings—a queen-sized bed with nightstands on either side, a double dresser, an armoire, and a small unit with a TV set and DVD player. A wall mirror hung over the dresser. And directly across from the bed, Claire could make out the outline of the tapestry panel. Clearly, it was the first thing Maureen wanted to see when she woke up and the last thing she wanted to see when she went to sleep.
In one bold move, Claire flipped on the overhead light—and held her breath, waiting.
The distant voices of the lingering guests in the living room were all she heard—that and Maureen McKay’s voice as she chatted with them.
So far, so good.
Claire pivoted, and her eyes widened as she caught her first real glimpse of the tapestry panel. No wonder it was Maureen’s favorite. It was, quite simply, magical.
Artistically breathtaking, it depicted a crystal bowl nestled inside a flowing lotus blossom. The blossom had leaves of violet, pink, and cream in a variegated pattern and its edges were curled around the bowl like loving fingers. Knowing Ryan and Fiona’s family, Claire would bet that it was a Waterford bowl, since the Irish brand of crystal was so world famous. The bowl itself had a crackle effect with tiny fissures as the texture. Unusual for Waterford, but uniquely beautiful. A pale blue background with the same soft green border and symbols that graced the other panels Claire had seen. The images, the panel as a whole—it was like one masterpiece inside another.
Claire also didn’t miss the influence this tapestry had on the earrings Fiona was wearing tonight. The shape of the earrings’ pearl teardrops matched the shape of the lotus leaves wrapped around the Waterford bowl and the whites in the leaves had the same pure cast as the pearls. Fiona’s interpretation was a tribute to her great-grandmother’s creation.
Walking right up to the tapestry, Claire waited a heartbeat to see if any images flashed, if any energy emanated from simply viewing the panel. When that didn’t happen, she acted without hesitation, lightly placing her palm against the woven fabric.
First came a sense of stillness. No one had touched or photographed this panel. Whoever had done so to the Galway sheep panel either hadn’t wanted to risk exploring the rest of the house or wasn’t aware that another panel was hanging elsewhere.
On the heels of that awareness, a different energy flowed from the panel to Claire’s hand. A sense of urgency. A story being told—one that had to be understood. A piece of a jigsaw puzzle stranded, waiting for its counterparts to interlock with it so as to be united into one. A plea. A search.
And an absolute awareness that nothing else would flow through Claire’s senses until all the panels had been assembled.
She turned away, frustrated, and her gaze fell on the four-poster bed.
Her heart began slamming against her ribs.
Danger. Imminent. Personal. Invasive.
Maureen and Colin.
Whoever had tampered with the panel in the living room was coming back, not just to touch but to take. And to use whatever means necessary—violent or otherwise—to learn where the other panels were.
***
Claire made her way straight to Casey, not even aiming for subtle.
“We have a problem,” she said quietly, tension underlying every word. She glanced at Fiona. “Don’t react to what I’m about to say. It’s a matter of safety and urgency.”
“You’re scaring me,” Fiona said, her eyes wide.
“Please,” Claire replied. “Let us do our job.”
She didn’t wait for Fiona’s nod, although she got it.
“Casey, we have to call Patrick and get additional security for Maureen and Colin. One-on-one when they’re out and reinforcements for Al when they’re home. The house is being watched. Someone’s coming back for the tapestries—all of them.”
Fiona’s hands balled into fists, pressing deep into the sofa cushion. But she forced herself not to cry out.
“Done,” Casey said, already reaching for her cell phone, simultaneously rising to find a private spot. “Is there more?”
“We can’t leave, not until all the guests have gone. We need to talk to Fiona’s parents alone. We must convey the danger involved and convince Maureen to let us take the panels with us tonight. And when we do take them, we want to do it openly, so whoever’s watching the house will see us and know the panels are no longer here.”
“That’ll ensure they look elsewhere—most likely at FI once they see who takes them—so the house won’t be a target anymore. But that won’t do anything to protect Fiona’s parents from people who want answers,” Casey replied. “You’re right; we need one-on-one security for them. I’ll call Patrick.” She half turned to Fiona, whose entire face was drained of color. “Your job is to get the guests out of here. I don’t care how you do it. Just do it. We need your parents alone.”
That snapped Fiona into action. “They’ll be gone by the time you get back.”