CnC 4 A Harvest of Bones (25 page)

“I’d help you if I could,” she said, “but I simply don’t know what happened. As I explained, I was heavily involved with wedding plans and at that age, wasn’t thinking too clearly about anyone or anything else.”

Murray flipped her notebook shut. “I see. Thank you for your cooperation.”

I piped up. “Mrs. Finch, on a different subject, may I ask why you don’t want to sell the lot to Joe? I’ve spoken with your brother and he’s given his permission.” I held up the paper he’d signed and she paled as she looked at the signature.

“Yes, I’m also curious to hear your answer,” Mur said. “Why didn’t you want to sell the land, Mrs. Finch? Could it be that you knew the skeleton was there all along?”

I watched Irena wage war with herself. Finally she motioned for me to wait while she picked up the phone, hitting number five on speed dial. After a moment, she said, “Williams? This is Irena. Put through the sale of the lot that fireman wanted. Files. Yes, I said put it through. We have permission from my brother. Yes, from my brother. In writing.”

She replaced the receiver on the cradle. “You made your point. I’ll need a copy of that note for my lawyer. He’ll confirm it with the doctor. You can mail it to him—George Williams. He’s in the book.”

Turning to Murray, she added, “I had no ulterior motives in keeping the land away from Mr. Files. I simply didn’t think my brother was capable of giving the permission needed, but apparently it seems that you and Ms. O’Brien … she flashed me a searching look, “have taken care of that little problem.”

We stood to go. Murray said, “Mrs. Finch, one last question, if you would. Do you know why your brother might feel like he’d done something terrible to Brigit? While we were at the hospital, he broke down and began begging for her forgiveness.”

Irena froze. I could see her throat muscles contract as she breathed. Slowly inhale, slow exhale. After a moment she shook her head. “I can’t think of anything. They barely ever spoke. I’m surprised he even remembers her name.” She blinked and the reserved matriarch was back. “You have to understand something about my brother’s condition. Schizophrenia often includes both paranoia and delusions. Whatever he’s concocted in his mind about Brigit exists only within his own tormented imagination.” She gestured to the door. “And now, if you’ll both excuse me, I have a meeting to attend.”

Murray nodded. “Thank you for your time.”

“I trust you’ll be as discreet as possible about my brother’s information? I’d rather not have it come out now that he’s been locked away all those years.”

I couldn’t read the look on her face, but it wasn’t a good one. We took our leave and headed out for the truck, mulling over what Irena had told us. No concrete answers, and so much unsaid. I wondered if we’d ever find out the truth of the matter. That is, if anybody knew, after all these years.

Thirteen

 

 

SINCE JOE WAS coming for dinner, I decided we’d order Chinese takeout. I could hardly wait to spring the news that Irena had agreed to sell the lot after all, though I was still a little worried she might try to back out of the deal again. I glanced at the clock. Five-fifteen. The kids wouldn’t be home till near six and Joe had said he’d arrive around six-thirty.

On a hunch, I pulled out the pages I’d copied from Brigit’s journal and began reading through them again, to see if I could find anything I’d missed. And then—there it was. A story about her great-grandfather and the faeries.

I read through it, silently thinking about the Will o’ the Wisps. We’d barely seen them since the night I discovered the skeleton. Could their purpose have been to lead us to her? Perhaps they were the faeries that were watching over Brigit’s family. Now that we’d found her body, they could fade back to wherever it was they’d come from. I had a sudden urge to put flowers out for Brigit, to assure the powers that be that we were thinking about her. No doubt her bones would be returned home to her cousin, so Brigit would be going home, in a manner of speaking. I wanted her spirit to rest, as well.

Perhaps the only way to do that was to cleanse the lot. And perhaps that was the final key in bringing Sammy back home and returning Mab to her ghostly owner. Brigit had loved her cat; they rested together even in death. And maybe that’s why she was still walking the world, even after we’d discovered her final resting spot. She was looking for her cat.

I’d just started listing ingredients that went into the strongest exorcism ritual I was familiar with when a brief knock announced that Joe was home. He popped his head around the corner, wearing one of the biggest smiles I’d seen in awhile.

“I’m early. That okay?”

“Okay? Of course!” I dropped my pen and raced over to give him a big hug, breathing his scent into my lungs. He smelled like cinnamon and spice and cloves, and my desire flared as he gathered me in his arms and glanced at the clock.

“Do we have time before the kids come home?”

It was six o’clock. The kids got out of their after-school activities at six-fifteen and it would take another twenty minutes for them to arrive home.

“C’mon!” I grabbed his hand and dragged him upstairs. Quickies had their time and place, and right now twenty minutes in bed with Joe was one luxury I wasn’t about to take a pass on.

We tumbled out of our clothes, laughing. I reveled in the feel of his hands on my skin, on my breasts, on my thighs as he traced circles with his fingertips, drawing vines and tendrils. He leaned over and slid his tongue against my own and I welcomed his presence in my home, my bedroom, my body. Joe reached for protection and then rose above me, bearing down with the mastery of his ancestors—robust and full of vigor. As my legs entwined around his waist, I forgot all about ghosts and spirits and long-forgotten bones in a sweep of love that brushed them into the dark corners of my mind.

 

 

BY THE TIME the kids came trooping through the door, we were dressed and back in the kitchen. My heart ached at the look on their faces when I broke the news that Sammy hadn’t come home yet. Tears in their eyes, they headed into the living room to play with the kittens. I ordered the takeout, then Joe and I talked over coffee while we waited for it to arrive.

He leaned back in his chair. “You met with Irena today, didn’t you?”

I blinked. “Did she call you?”

“Her lawyer did,” he said, breaking into a wide grin. “The lot’s mine. He’s working up the final papers now. We can get back to work on it, though I have to tell you, that damned place scares me out of my wits. What the hell are we going to do about it?”

I went over everything that had happened with Brent and Irena and White Deer. “I’ve come to the conclusion that Brigit must be searching for Mab. The Will o’ the Wisps were there to lead us to her body, thanks to the pact the faeries made with her great-grandfather,” I said. “I’m thinking that if we clear the lot, Sammy and Mab will be able to exchange places and Brigit and Mab will be free to rest or go off and do whatever it is that spirits do.”

“Maybe so,” he said, musing. “Broken hearts and ghost cats and skeletons in trees … the stuff legends are made of. I wonder who killed her.”

“If you ask me, I think it was probably Brent. According to Irena, he was always unstable and, unless I miss my guess, for some reason he snapped and killed her, then tried to cover it up. When Irena heard that a skeleton was found on the lot, she must have put two and two together.”

“Maybe.” He toyed with his coffee mug. “Meanwhile, though, I want to talk about something else. Specifically, your birthday.”

I blinked. We’d barely discussed my birthday since we’d found the basement and the hauntings had started. “Yeah, tomorrow night. I’ll be thirty-seven. Joe,” I said, hesitating.

“What?”

Taking a deep breath, I took the plunge. “Do you think … in ten years, do you think our age difference will bother you? I’ll be closing in on fifty by then. Well, forty-seven, and you’ll still be in your prime.”

He stared at me, puzzled, then a look of understanding spread across his face. “Good God, woman! Has that
really
been worrying you?”

I nodded, blushing.

He laughed. “Emerald, I’m in love with you. Not your age. You’re beautiful and vibrant and everything I want in a woman. Whether you’re thirty-seven or sixty-seven, I’ll still love you.” With a soft look, he reached across the table and took my hands in his. I hung my head, embarrassed to have questioned him in the first place.

“Yes, you’re ten years older than I am, but does that matter? I’m not going anywhere. I’m not looking for anyone else. I’ve never been a player, and I don’t respect the sort of man who toys with a woman’s affections. Like Andrew.”

I blinked. Joe had a thinly disguised disgust for the man I’d been dating before he came into the picture. I didn’t blame him. Hell, it had been a bitter pill for me to swallow when Andrew dumped me. When he came crawling back a few months later, I’d been secretly overjoyed to be able to tell him thanks, but no thanks, not interested. We’d tried being friends, but that hadn’t worked out. He’d called a few times since then, once getting Joe on the line—which hadn’t been a pretty sight. Every time he’d sounded whinier and needier.

I looked up into Joe’s face. He held my gaze for a moment, questioning, and then I broke down and laughed. “Oh Joe, you’re so good to me, and I’ve been an idiot about this. Thank you for understanding, for not treating me like I’m crazy.”

“I never said you weren’t crazy,” he said sternly, but then snorted. “But, I’d never call you an idiot. Now, where’s dinner?”

The doorbell rang and I heard the kids come racing downstairs. “Mom, Mom! Takeout’s here!” Kip sounded overjoyed. Dinner could make or break his mood.

As Joe went to pay the delivery man, Randa sidled up. “Mom, I invited Gunner over. He’s supposed to be here in a few minutes. Is that okay?”

I gave her a long look. “Well, I wish you’d asked earlier, but yes, it’s fine. I ordered plenty of food. Go wash up.”

Kip was setting the table when the doorbell rang. I answered and there stood Gunner Lindemeyer. A tall boy, he was already my height. Skinny, blond, the picture of a young Scandinavian lad. But I could tell that he’d been crying recently, and could only imagine how lost and confused the boy must have felt as he tried to find a way to cope with the enormity of his situation. I wanted to wrap my arms around his shoulders, to let him cry. He needed a mother’s touch, and his own mother was fighting for her life.

“Come in.” I escorted him into the kitchen just as Miranda bounced back from washing up. Her gaze fell on Gunner and she almost tripped. Blushing, she stammered out a greeting. Oh yeah, she had it bad.

We gathered around the table and I took a long look at the boy. He’d survive, I thought. He might be hurting now, but he had a strong spirit. If his parents made it through, he’d help them recover. He was just that kind of kid.

As we dove into the fried rice and pot stickers and sweet-and-sour pork and almond chicken, Gunner didn’t say much but the expression on his face told me just how much he missed all of this—family and chatter and bright lights and companionship. I had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t too happy at his aunt’s house.

For once, my darling Kip had the good sense to keep from sticking his foot in his mouth. Not once did he approach the subject of the fire. Randa, on the other hand, morphed into a moon-eyed love child. She hung on every word Gunner said, as infrequent as they were. Her food sat untouched on her plate, until I gently prompted her to eat.

Joe and I glanced at each other. We weren’t the only ones in the thralls of love. Bless his heart, Joe launched into telling the kids that he’d be able to buy the lot next door after all and the conversation picked up.

Kip cheered. “Does that mean we can go back over there and look for Sammy?”

I nixed that idea right off. “No, it does not. We’ve been keeping an eye out for her but there’s no way in hell I’m letting you prowl around over there.”

Gunner cleared his throat. “Are you and Mr. Files engaged?”

I glanced at Joe and he grinned. “Not really, not yet.”

“I’ll ask her to marry me when I think she’ll say ‘yes,’ ” Joe said.

Kip and Randa stared at us, open-mouthed. I decided to change the subject. “Dessert’s in the freezer—Donna Linda’s ice cream.” The kids had developed a taste for a gourmet ice cream that we could only get at the Shanty Barn.

Thoughts of marriage forgotten, Kip and Randa raided the freezer. Gunner waited politely for a bowl, which Miranda prepared. He glanced around the kitchen and I could tell he was taking in the feel of the house.

“My aunt thinks that you’re an evil woman,” he said almost offhandedly. “She’s nuts, though, so don’t be offended.”

I stared at him. Where had
that
come from? “What?”