Between Here and the Horizon(21)

“I did, yes, but…but I thought he was going to be alive while I was looking after them. He said he was going to be writing a book! I don’t…are you saying he planned this?”

Linneman shrugged, trickles of water now dripping from the hem of his coat, leaving tiny puddles on the kitchen tiles. “Ronan was a pragmatic guy. He always did consider the future. I suppose that’s why he did so well in New York. Never made any brash decisions with his money there, or so I’m led to believe.”

“He just f*cking killed himself! Those cops said he set fire to some feed barn just a minute ago. He clearly wasn’t sane. I can’t look after his kids!”

“Pssshhh. Ronan was eleven when he set that fire. And there was always speculation that it wasn’t even him. A long time’s passed since then.” He didn’t seem to be hearing the part where I told him I couldn’t care for Connor and Amie. He held out the pen to me like it was Excalibur and I was meant to try and yank it out of his hand or something.

“I think given the situation I should probably go back to California,” I said, using my most level voice—the one I reserved for unreasonable five-year-olds who wouldn’t do as they were told.

“I see.” Linneman closed his hand around the pen, dropping his arm to his side. “Well, that is a shame. Ronan seemed so sure you’d be able to get everything settled here if he were gone.” He paused, and then said, “If you don’t mind, I’ll leave the papers here for you to look over. If you reconsider, you can always call me on my cell and I can come and pick up the documents tomorrow morning, before the social worker gets here.” He said this so breezily, as if it didn’t matter either way what I decided. It did, of course. It mattered a great deal. State care was awful—Connor and Amie were in for a rough time. But I was only supposed to be their tutor. Their nanny. I wasn’t supposed to be legally responsible for their welfare at all times. It was too much to ask. Way too much to even think about right now.

“You’ve got my number, of course,” Linneman said. “Now, I’m sorry for the flying visit, but I have to get going. There’s more paperwork that needs to be signed, and Sully shouldn’t hear the news from those two buffoons in there. Better it comes from me.” He briskly closed his briefcase, leaving the stack of annotated papers behind on the kitchen counter, then hightailed it off down the hallway again, coat tails flaring out behind him, revealing a dusky gray suit underneath.

“Wait, Mr. Linneman? I’m sorry? Who’s Sully?”

Linneman paused, casting a brief glance at me over his shoulder. One of his ruffled, steel gray eyebrows twitched slightly. “You don’t know?” He sighed. “No, well, Ronan wasn’t likely to mention him to you, I suppose. He wouldn’t have brought him up if his life depended on it.” He smiled, perhaps a little ironically. “Sully is the benefactor of Ronan’s will, Ophelia. Sully Fletcher. He is Ronan’s brother.”





CHAPTER EIGHT





Ghost





Sully goddamn Fletcher.

If Ronan had a brother here on the island, then why the hell had he asked his lawyer to make me the legal guardian of his kids? It made no sense. None whatsoever. And yet I could see his blocky signature, countersigning all of the documents Linneman had left behind, shouting at me like a voice from beyond the grave. Take them! Take them! Wherever he was right now, Ronan was probably having the biggest laugh about all of this. I’d barely known him at all, but I could picture that just fine.

“The coroner’s guys can’t get here until tomorrow either now,” Officer Hinchliffe said. I hadn’t heard him leave the study, and my heart jammed itself as far up my esophagus as it could go as a result of my surprise. “We’re going to have to leave him here.”

“You aren’t leaving him here. You can’t.”

“I know. Only joking, Miss. We already put him in the car.”

I blinked at him. “How? I didn’t see you bring him out?” It wasn’t that I was desperate to get another look at Ronan, stiff and cold and blue, but it seemed impossible that they could have stretchered him out without me noticing.

“Took him out the window,” Hinchliffe said. “Seemed like the best bet. Didn’t want Connor or Amie catching sight of him now, did we?” He gave me a look, like I was the inconsiderate one. Winching a dead man out of a window seemed far more insensitive to me, but I wasn’t going to argue.

“Where does Sully Fletcher live?” I blurted.

Caruthers appeared through the front door, coughing into the crook of his elbow. “Down Kinkeel way, that one. Proper hermit. Bit of an *.”

“I should go and see him with Connor and Amie. He should see his niece and nephew. Perhaps he should be the one to talk to the children about Ronan.”

Both Caruthers and Hinchliffe began to violently shake their heads. “Not a good idea, Miss Lang. Sully won’t be pleased to see them. In fact, he’ll probably be crowing from the rooftops when he finds out what Ronan’s gone and done.” Caruthers got his notebook out and started scribbling in it. “He and Ronan haven’t spoken in years. You can bet your bottom dollar he’d rather claw his own eyes out than lay eyes on those children.”

Such a brutal thing to say. How could this Sully hate a five and a seven-year-old so badly? By the sounds of things, he’d never even met them. I got the feeling Caruthers was painting the situation a little bleacker than necessary. He tore a piece of paper out of his notebook and handed it to me. “That’s Sully’s number there. He’s the best carpenter on the island. The only carpenter really. Everyone knows his number off the top of their heads. Anyway. Call before you go swanning over there, Miss. He isn’t too friendly at the best of times. If he thinks you’re connected with Ronan in any way, he’ll probably shoot you dead.”