Page 70 of The Scald Crow
“What do you know about her? What was she doing here?” The Doc folded the tissue into a neat square and returned it to his breast pocket.
“She came, and she left. There’s nothing to tell.” I planted my hands on my hips, standing my ground.
The suit held my gaze.
“Did she happen to mention her plans? Where was she going next? Why she’s visiting Ireland?” The Doc smoothed his flabby palm over Calla’s photo.
“Hmm. What did you say you do?” I engaged him with a friendly smile.
“I am a specialist in DNA recovery. Evolutionary genetics. The reconstruction of extinct species.” His watery eyes gleamed. His exuberance made my stomach heave.
“DNA?” My mouth dried.
“Ms. Sweet submitted a sample that showed extreme irregularities. We must find her and speak with her.” He gazed lovingly at the glossy image.
“Are you talking about one of those ancestry kits?” I swept my hair behind my ear.
“Doctor Hamstead.” The suit placed his hand on the doc’s shoulder.
“Yes, exactly.” He nodded.
“What does that mean? Irregularities?” I covered my mouth with my hand, my thoughts flying like a black cat on a broomstick.
“Ancient genomes were present. I’m sure you understand the importance of this discovery. Perhaps the sample was compromised. Perhaps there was a glitch. Whatever the reason, further investigation is necessary. Where was Ms. Sweet going next?” The Doc looked over my shoulder, searching the corners of the pub.
“I have no idea what her plans were.” I shook my head back and forth, willing them to leave.
“Do you have her contact information? A cell phone number? Did she pay by credit card?” The suit pressed forward, his stance threatening.
I considered my next move in that game of cat and mouse.
I thought of my friend and what I knew, what she had revealed in confidence, what she had just recently discovered. It wasn’t hard to figure out how that happened. Calla arrived in Ireland with no friends or family. She had no idea she was not entirely human.
A DNA test would prove an unbelievable theory—that Faeries existed. I looked to the future and saw our little town swarmed with nut jobs of every kind. The notoriety would put Ardara on the map, not just for the Cup of Tae Festival.
Jaysus fecking Christ. That would ruin Calla’s life.
“Let me have a look around. I might have something.” I turned toward the twirly-dex filled with yellow cards, flipped through Orlaith’s recipes, and stopped at the letter S. “No. I’m sorry, we’ve nothing. It looks like she paid cash. If she comes this way again, I’ll call you.” I slammed it shut and sent it spinning.
“All we have is an email. It seems Ms. Sweet hasn’t accessed the Internet in several days.” The Doc searched for another tissue.
“Yes, well, the service is up and down. It’s not very reliable.” I picked up the Doc’s card and slipped it into my pocket.
The hinges creaked, and the door swung open. Tadgh filled the frame, his shadow stretching across the stone floor. Behind him stood Cillian, straight-faced and scary in his own right.
I smiled with delight.
The suit didn’t flinch. The Doctor took a step back.
“Is everything all right, Saoirse?” Tadgh’s glance moved over the two men, his gaze resting on the suit.
“Aye. Aye. These yokes were just after leaving.” I glanced at the suit, and my heart stopped.
“We’ll be in touch, Ms. Dunne.” He snapped the folio shut, curling his lips into a sneer. He seemed to gain inches, towering over the pallid doctor.
I held my ground, refusing to show any fear.
“Looks like you’re finished here.” Cillian’s eyes held that fiery O’Donnell temper in check.
