“That,they did,” he muttered with a sigh, before wincing at the sting of aparticularly deep wound. Then, he asked, “If ye do want her, then why the hellare yerejectin’ her?”
“Iseem to rememberhavin’ this same conversation nottoo long ago.”
Notalways one to tolerate sarcasm, Rick groaned and tossed the bandage wrappersinto the rubbish bin. “I get it, ye don’twannagetinvolved with a woman who lives thousands of miles away andwouldnaebe able to see ye for months at a time—”
“Ah,well, when ye put it that way, itdoesnaesound sobad,” I quipped, smirking in his direction, as I made myself comfortable on thesofa.
“Fuckin’hell, ye gobshite, let me speak,” he exclaimed in jest, laughing as he shookhis head. “What I wasgonnasay is, even though itwould be a shite situation, don’t ye think ye’d be stupid to just let her go,if ye truly like her so much?”
Iopened my satchel and pulled out the notepad I’d been writing on. I staredstudiously at my scribbled handwriting, while thinking about what Rick hadsaid. My eyes saw the black ink, the crossedT’sanddotted I’s, but I wasn’t registering what was written or what should come nextin the investigation. All I could focus on was how badly I wanted to rushupstairs and have my way with her, and how horribly I felt for making herbelieve I regretted what had happened between us.
“She’skeepin’ me fromthinkin’about the case,” I admitted. “She’s a bloody gorgeous distraction. And, notonly that, but every fuckin’ timesomethin’ happensbetween us, it upsets her. Idunnoif it’s the guilt,grief, or both, but Idinnaethink she can handlethis on top of all that.”
Rickscoffed from his desk, and I looked up to see him shaking his head. “And whothe fuck areyouto make that decision for her?”
“Ah,fuck off,” I fired back, thrusting a hand in his direction.
“She’sa big girl, Alec. I think she knows what she can handle.”
“I’mnottalkin’ about this anymore,” I concluded brashly.“Ye can focus on howyouhavnaebeen with awoman in a fuckin’century, andkeepyernose out of my own business.”
Laughingat my attempt to scold him, my friend raised his voice to a shrill tone andsaid, “Yewillnaespeak to me like that, young man. There’llbe no supper for ye tonight. Now, get up toyerroomand think about what ye just said.”
Witha hearty chuckle, I crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it in his direction.Then, without another word, we turned to our respective work and settled intothe melody of the cuckoo clock behind his father's antique desk. The monotonoustick and tock lulled me away from Rosie and back toward her sister, as I staredat the notes I'd jotted down during the endless nights of pondering. Finley'sname stared back in big, bold lettering—and underlined twice and circled in afrantic spiral for good measure—and as always, with a mind of its own, my handreached to tug at my hair.
Hedid it. Idinnaeken where, Idinnaeken how, but he fuckin’ did it.
Theclues were all there. His suspicious questioning, his sudden silence in thecar, the abrupt need to see me outside of work. And of course, I couldn'tforget the mysterious appearance of Grace's ring on the stone and the messagedirectly intended for me. Few people were aware of my private investigation,and of them, Finley was the only possible suspect. Every clue lined up in aneat little row, each one fitting into place to point directly at my partner,but my mind struggled to come to terms with it.
Butit also made sense. Rosie had said Grace was a suspicious person by nature andwary of trusting strange people. She hadn't even given herself the permissionto sleep with a man she'd enjoyed the company of because she hadn't known himwell enough. The area she'd been in would have been busy, it always was, and apublic abduction seemed unlikely without someone noticing.
“No,”I muttered aloud, shaking my head. “Shewouldaebeenlured by trust. He'd have been someone she could trust …”
Ifhe had shown her his badge, she would have trusted Finley. If she'd been madeaware that he was a detective, he could've gained her initial cooperation withease. And then, once she was within his grasp, well …
“Butwhy can’t Iseeit?”
Bothhands were thrusted into my hair,grippingand tugginguntil my scalp ached. The signs were all there, but Finley just didn't fit theprofile. There wasn't a malicious bone in the man's body. He had two youngchildren, a lovely wife, and an enviable home. It was true we rarely know whosomeone is beneath the façade they show the world, but something about thiswasn't right.
Withthe help of another scribbled note, I remembered I was meant to head back toThe Whispering Crow to check their guest books. After collecting my things fromRick's study and wishing him a good day, I left the room and hoped I'd findsomething at the inn to steer me in a different direction.
***
TheWhispering Crow was bustling with activity when Rosie and I arrived once again.Guests greeted local friends with hugs and kisses, while others sat in theplush and welcoming lobby before the crackling stone fireplace, with books andlaptops in tow. The scent of coffee and freshly baked bread wafted through theair, mingling with something faint and sweet, and I embraced the cozyatmosphere with one final deep breath, before approaching the desk and theunfamiliar woman sitting behind it.
“Ah,goodevenin', sir,” she greeted us with a bright,cordial smile. “Would ye beneedin' a room? OurLovers' Suite, perhaps?” She looked between Rosie and me with a knowing nod ofher head.
Withoutbothering to mention that the Lovers’ Suite was still occupied, for all intentsand purposes, I replied, “Thatwillnaebe necessary.”Then, taking out my badge, I continued, “Inspector Brodie, and this is myinformant, Miss Allan.”
“Oh!”The woman eyed my badge with surprise, gripping at the pendant around her neck.“Isla mentioned ye'd been around. Such a shame about that nice, young girl.Those woods are just full of treacherous things, aren't they?”
Inodded solemnly. “I triedleavin’ a message for yethe other day. Did ye get it?”
Herbrows pinched together, then she shook her head. “No, I’m sorry about that. Inever think to check my voice messages.”
“Nota problem. Do ye remember Grace Allan?” I asked, eyeing her with suspicion as Itucked my badge away and straightened the lapels of my coat.
Shenodded solemnly, as her golden curls bounced against her shoulders. “I'm onlyhere once a week, mind ye; I have other inns I tend to. So, I only saw her onceor twice that I can recall. But she was a sweet girl, alwayssmilin' andsayin' hello.”
