“Wonderful.We'll see ye soon,” Constable Sharp replied in a jovial tone, then hung up.
Standingthere at the bottom of the stairs, I allowed a few more tears to fall, as therelief of knowing Alec was fine warmed my heart. Then, with a deep breath, Iran up the stairs to give Rick the happy news and prepare myself to face mysister's killer.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ALEC
Twohours earlier …
Itwasn't lost on me, the symbolism of the place Finley had chosen to get our drink,as I stared at the hanging sign for The Lazy Crow, swaying over the speakeasydoor. The large window through which Grace Allan once spotted James Eddingtonwas illuminated with faerie lights and filled with the jolly faces of men andwomen alike. It was so unfair, to think that Grace had once been in there,having a good time and not realizing her hours on earth were severely numbered.I wished she had gone home with James. I wished she had made that oneexception, and then, maybe she'd still be alive today.
Butwould I have ever met Rosie, then?
Ipursed my lips and shook my head at the thought. It wasn't right of me to thinkthat way. Grace's demise wasn't worth the days I'd known her sister. I justwished I could talk my heart into believing that, too.
Climbingout of the car, I surveyed the street and quickly determined that Finley wasn'there yet. But October had brought a slew of happy tourists, who slogged theirway over the cobblestones in a drunken stupor. I stood by the car, watchingthem all closely, as I waited for Finley to finally make his appearance.
AsI waited, a cluster of women approached me with unlit cigarettes hanging frompainted lips and one asked, in a distinct American dialect, if I had a light.
“Sorry,no,” I replied, shaking my head apologetically, as I kept a watchful eye on thestreet.
Onebrazen lass took her pointed fingernails and slowly traced a line over my lapeland down the buttons of my coat. “Well, maybeyahavesomethin' else I can have,” she drawled, looking upat me through hooded lids and spidery lashes.
“Cannaesay I have what ye'relookin'for, miss,” I said, growing increasingly impatient with both her attempts toseduce me and Finley's tardiness.
“Oh,come on, baby. Don't y'allloveAmericans?” she asked,gigglingand dropping her hand to the waistband of my jeans.Her group of friends simultaneously laughed and groaned at her drunkenpromiscuity.
“Aye,”I said, brushing her fingers away. “And Idinnaethink my girlfriend would approve.”
Then,I walked away to stand further down the street, silently berating myself forcalling Rosie mine, while wishing it were true, when finally, I spotted Finley.
Hisback was leaning against a dark grey car I didn't recognize. It could've beenhis wife's, I considered, and I decided to focus instead on his demeanor. Hiseyes darted this way and that, as his shaking hands fidgeted over his stomach.His toes tapped against the street, his chest heaved laboriously, and his browshone with sweat despite the chill in the air.
Everythingabout him could only be described as guilty, and he knew I had him.
Imade my approach, and he saw me. His jaw locked and his eyes focused intentlyon my pursuit, as he stepped away from the car. His hands dropped to his sidesand curled into tight fists, as I came to stand before him.
“Brodie.”
“Finley.”
Theuncomfortable silence dropped heavily on us, spotlighted by a nearbystreetlamp. We sized each other up, burning holes through the retinas of theopponent. I had hoped he'd come easily. I had wished there wouldn't be a fight.But I was also prepared for violence, and judging from his hostile stance, thatwas exactly where this was going.
“So,should we get that dram?” I asked, standing tall and using the inches I had onhim to my advantage.
Hepursed his lips and glanced around me toward the bright and vibrant Lazy Crow.“Maybe we should talk first,” he replied, and gestured toward the car behindus. “Unless the alcohol would make it easier for ye.”
“Makewhat easier?” I narrowed my eyes at the statement.
Finleysighed exhaustedly and wiped the back of his hand over his glistening brow.“Come on, Brodie. Ididnaewannado this—”
“So,why did ye?”
Hecocked his head. “Why did I, what?”
“Christ,Finley,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Iknowwhat ye did, man, allright? I've put it all together. Yedinnaehave tolie anymore. Just come clean and--”
“Whatthe fuck are yegoin' on about?” He cocked his headcuriously and took a step toward me. “Wait, are ye seriouslytrynaepin this on me?”
