Because You're Mine(5)

“An accident, you say? He was injured. Sheila, Liam’s been injured,” he said to his wife, who must be standing near.

“No, Thomas. He was . . . killed.” Her voice broke on the word. The stricken pause on the other end of the line brought more tears rushing to her eyes. Even though they disliked her, she knew the pain they were going through. “He was riding with his friend Jesse Hawthorne.”

“No,” Thomas whispered. “It’s a cruel joke you’ll be playing, Alanna. Tell the truth now.”

“I wish it weren’t true,” she said, a sob breaking through her resolve to be strong, “but I saw his body myself. I’m bringing him home on Friday.”

A moan came through the phone, then a click. Thomas had hung up on her, and she was thankful she didn’t have to hear his grief. Her own was quite enough to bear.





Three


The green hills of Ireland greeted Alanna with an uncharacteristically fine day. She was the first out of the terminal, and her mates crowded behind her. They had managed to get onto her flight at the last minute.

Barry motioned to the driver of the van he’d rented, and the man opened the back to lift their bags inside. “The casket is being transported for you, so we won’t have to worry about that. The driver will take you to your apartments. I have some business to attend to, but call me if you need me.”

“Thank you, Barry. You’ve been grand. My mates will take care of me from here.”

“Of course.” He helped her into the van after her friends, and his hand lingered on her arm for a long moment before he stepped back. The van pulled away.

Fiona turned to look out the window. “The first thing I’ll be having is a big plate of black pudding and a spot of real tea. Americans don’t know how to make it.”

“I want mash and bangers,” Ena said. “And to smell the city.” She sniffed the air.

Alanna listened with half an ear. The first thing she had to do was go see Thomas and Sheila, but she dreaded it. They would blame her for Liam’s death. At least she would be able to tell them about the baby.

Ciara took her hand and seemed to read her mind. “C’mere. Do you want me to go with you? To see his folks?”

Alanna squeezed her friend’s fingers. “Would you mind?”

Her chin jutted out. “Thomas won’t be bullying you with a witness alongside.”

“You don’t know him.” Alanna let her gaze wander over the bustle of traffic outside her window.

“I’ll be finding out,” Ciara said, scowling.

Alanna drank in the beauty of the city she loved. When they passed Leinster House, where the parliament of Ireland convened, her smile faded. Thomas was an Oireachtas senator, a member of the upper house of the Irish legislature. He was much loved by the Irish media and his blokes in the Seanad éireann, the equivalent of the United States Senate. He was probably there right now, imposing his will on his mates, just as he’d always done to her and Liam. Escaping to her music had saved them both.

The van stopped in front of Alanna’s flat. Barry had offered to get her a hotel so she didn’t have to face the empty rooms, but she had to do it sooner or later.

All the members of Ceol had flats in this building. The van driver helped pile their suitcases on the sidewalk. Alanna paid him and stood looking up at the old brick building.

“Shall I be coming up with you?” Ciara asked.

“I need to do this alone,” Alanna said. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to go to Thomas’s house.”

Ciara squeezed her fingers, then grabbed her two bags and hauled them toward the entrance. Alanna inhaled and did the same. Entering the building, she realized she’d forgotten how old the place smelled. It was old, built back in 1829. She took the lift to the third floor and carried her suitcases down the hall.

She set her bags down in front of the door and fumbled for the key in her purse. The lock took a bit of persuasion, as usual, but too soon the door swung open, and Alanna looked at her life the way it used to be.

The tiny living room still held the old green sofa they’d bought when they were first married. Liam’s collection of fishing flies sat on the coffee table. Alanna stepped across the stack of old mail and flyers the postman had left on the floor. The flat smelled stale and shut up.

Empty of Liam’s presence.

She blinked back the moisture in her eyes. Maybe it was just as well she didn’t sense Liam here. Her gaze went to the pile of old mail. Anyone who mattered knew how to contact them on the road, and all their bills went to a box at her accountant’s.

She carried the pile to the kitchen and began to toss each piece of junk mail into the garbage. The return address on one envelope caught her attention. It was from the private investigator she’d hired. The last she’d heard, he’d failed to find any trace of her sister, and that was over a year ago. She hadn’t expected to hear from him again.

She slit open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. The investigator had turned up one small bit of information during inquiries into another matter. From what he could gather, her mother was last seen at a Traveller’s village outside Dublin in February. One month ago. Alanna didn’t particularly care about her mother’s whereabouts, but she hoped that finding her mum might lead to her sister, Neila.