Hehung up before I could mention that the sun was hours away from setting or thatmy mother had been dead for years. With the mobile held tightly in my hand, Itipped my head to the sky and groaned, loud and guttural. Finley came to standat my side and rested a hand against my shoulder. His eyes reflected thesympathy of a man who couldn’t understand my pain and stress and hoped he neverwould. It was a distinct blend of pity and gratitude, and I couldn’t stand it.He could look that way at the poor woman lying on the rock, but I did not wantthat look aimed at me.
“Stopstarin’ at me like that, Finley.”
“Doye need to get to him?”
“No,”I said, before groaning and pinching my eyes shut to the dreary world aroundme. “Yes. Yes, I fuckin’ do, because if Idon’t, he’ll worry. And whenhe worries, he gives the orderlies a hard time. Icannaelet him do that again. So,” I shook my head, “I guess I’mgoin’.Damn it all to bloody hell …”
“It’sall right, lad. I have it covered over here. I’ll bekeepin’ye posted.”
Inodded and thanked him, before trudging my way out of the damnedCoilleFeannag, and I’d be lyingif I said I wasn’t a little grateful for my father’s weak, fragile mind.
***
“How’syerstew,laddie?” Dadasked, leaning over his end of the table expectantly.
“Great,Dad,” I mumbled, taking another glance at my mobile.
“Whydo ye keeplookin’ at that thing? We’reeatin’ supper.”
Inodded and took another bite of lukewarm, microwaved stew. “I know, Dad. ButI’mwaitin’ for my partner to get in touch with me.”
“Whatpartner?”
“Mypartner, Dad. Finley. I’ve told ye about Finley.”
Hisbrow crumpled with confusion, the way it did when he tried too hard to remembersomething but couldn’t. Then, he shook his head, dismissing all efforts torecall who Finley was, and asked, “What news are yewaitin’for?”
Itwas pointless to really talk to him now. His doctors repeatedly told me so, butthe stubborn part of my brain that dwelled in denial refused to accept that Icouldn’t tell my father about the ongoings in my life. So, I said, “The casewe’reworkin’ on. A body was found inCoilleFeannag, and now, I’vegottafigure out who put it there.”
Putit there. Put it there. Why did I say it like that?
Mybrain began to chug along, as my father nodded. “Aye. People have beenturnin’ up dead in those woods since I was a weebairn,yergrandmother told me.All of those cliffs, they’re made for accidents.”
Inodded absentmindedly. “This one is a young woman and American.”
“Dothey know why she was here?”
“Onlyjust found her. Those detailshavenaebeen worked outyet,” I muttered, as I continued to mull over my earlier thought.
Putit there …I rubbed at my bristled chin.Was the bodymoved from somewhere else? I know she hadn’t fallen, that much is obvious, butwas she killed there, on that stone, or was she murdered and then placed?
“Theyneed to ken why she was here. That’s good detective work. Ye find out why shewas here and what she wasdoin’ and ye’ll setyerselfon the right path tofindin’how she died and who killed her.”
“I’massumin’ she’s on holiday,” I muttered.
“Withsomeone? A husband, perhaps?”
Ishrugged, as the wheels in my head began to turn. “Dunnoyet. I’m sure we’ll figure it out soon enough.”
“Well,once they find that out, they’ll know where to go from there. If she had aboyfriend or husband here, there ye go. Number one suspect.”
“Aye,”I replied, nodding. “I’m sure we’re on it, Dad.”
“Good,”he replied, then dug back into his bowl of now cold stew. “Now, eat. Ye have along day at school tomorrow. Idinnaewant yegoin’ to bed on an empty stomach.”
CHAPTER FIVE
ROSIE
