Guarding the Treasure (14 page)

“He said he didn't know a Professor Kian Smith.” Gates gripped the edge of the desk as he leaned closer. “A. J., I didn't tell him Smith's first name.”

Thick silence filled the room, and their eyes locked.

“Sir?” a voice came from the open door. “May I come in?”

A. J. motioned for his senior investigator, Detective Wells, to join them.

“Here is the report you ordered on a Professor Smith, first name Kian, sir.”

“What did you find, Wells?”

“We found out that he's not a professor, at least not at any of Ireland's universities or colleges. As a matter of fact, sir, he doesn't teach at any high schools, grade schools, or daycare facilities in the entire country, either. His profile is pretty clean except for one incident.”

“What incident is that?” Kevin asked, holding his hand out for the file.

“It came back that just over thirty-six months ago, Mr. Smith had made two threats. One was to a female history professor, something about failing him, and the other to a university's female vice president. He had said that the university was prejudiced against men, and he was going to see to it that they paid for it. From what I found, both confrontations took place on the same campus. He cooperated with the authorities, sir, but made it clear in his statement that he would take his revenge out on professional women, that they were going to pay the price for him not receiving his full education. His statement is in the report. He was arrested, but the charges were dropped.”

“Dropped? Why were they dropped?” A. J. asked, walking to the front of the desk to join Gates.

“From what I can make of this,” Kevin said, “is that all pending charges were pending were dismissed, no reason given.”

“Is that all we have?” A. J. asked.

“I'm afraid so, sir,” said Wells.

A. J. turned without a sound and looked out the window of the five-story office building. “Wells pull the files on that case with the three missing women in Ireland. You'll find it filed under foreign-cold. Get it to me as soon as you can.”

“Yes sir.”

“So what are you thinking, sir?”

Still deep in thought, A. J. turned from the window. “Kevin, are you sure Ms. Hanes had been up front with you about this professor of hers?”

Kevin tossed the file he was holding on the desk, his brows narrowing. “A. J., she's been in communication with Smith for some time.” He stopped and sighed, trying to regain some of the composure he was beginning to lose. “Look, she has a reputation that is second to none. She's not hiding anything, sir.”

“Okay then, if Smith doesn't teach language or history anywhere in Ireland, then what was his motive for telling Ms. Hanes that he did?” He sat again, opening the file on Smith. “Have you talked to Ms. Hanes since she left?”

“Actually, she called earlier this morning.”

“Has she made contact with Smith yet?”

“She had agreed to meet him at a pub called Folks a little later today. Why, A. J.? What's rolling around in your head?”

“I'm not quite sure. After those files from three years ago come in, I want to start making some comparisons between the women who ended up missing and Ms. Hanes. I wish there was a way of tracking her to see if there are any similarities in her movements. I'd like to know if she frequents any of the same places the women did in our earlier case.”

“I have that covered, sir,” Kevin said, his voice low but confident.

A. J. slid his chair from the back of his desk in front of Gates. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Kevin carefully contemplated his next words. He was well aware that using surveillance equipment without authorization was against unspoken rules. “Ah, before Sophie left, I put a tracer in her phone. It was successfully activated this morning.”

A. J. leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Who authorized that little trick, Gates?”

“No one, I acted alone, sir.”

A. J. shook his head. Without missing a beat, he looked directly at Gates and asked, “Does Ron still do inventory at the Washington branch?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I'll get that cleared up, but get clearance before you do something like that again, would you?”

The warning look he got from A. J. came from a superior, not a best friend, and Kevin knew he had crossed the line.

“Did you tell her to keep the phone on at all times?”

“I did, sir, but she's a really smart girl—” he stammered. “Well, she doesn't know it's on her phone.”

A. J. laughed. “What else have you not told your friend, Kevin?”

He smiled, feeling the tension ease slightly between them. Just then, there was a brief knock on the door. It opened, and Theresa walked in.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, making brief eye contact with each as she made her way to a chair opposite the two. She smoothed her skirt as she sat down and opened the folder she held, laying it in her lap. She looked up to see both men staring directly at her. She lowered her glasses. “What?” she asked in an authoritative voice.

A. J. cleared his throat. “Nothing, Theresa, I was just admiring how nice you look today.”

“Yeah, nice legs,” tumbled from Kevin's mouth as he sized up his fifty-something coworker.

“Thanks, Gates, I keep them shaved. That's more than I can say for your face.” She leaned forward. “If you don't mind me saying, I always liked the way you looked when you were working undercover. You know, that clean sexy thing you used to have going on—not the constant shadow you're sporting now.” She cleared her throat and moved the discussion forward. “Sirs, I have the photocopy of the diary with me and have gone through the first one hundred pages. I must say this is the most interesting personal document I've ever read. I'd like some information as to where it was found and if the family to whom it belongs might have the original in their possession?”

Gates shifted in his chair. “All I can tell you is that Sophie found it in a relative's home. She didn't say if it belonged to anyone in her family tree. Why is that important?”

“Gates, there's a lot of history in this diary, and a relative may have information—even if it's a minuscule amount—that could shed more light on all the tragedy that took place in the life of the woman in this document.” Theresa turned her attention to her superior. “And sir, there's something else. As I read between the lines—”

Kevin interrupted her as he moved closer. “Read between the lines? Why read something into the diary that isn't there?”

“That's where you get most of your information, Gates. Such as how Anya knew there was more to it than her brother using her for business deals and revenge against their father. Those goals would have been easy for Sean to achieve. No, he had an even greater motive. I would think with all your specialized training you would have known that. Or does it take a woman to solve things around here?” she asked, directing her full attention to Kevin, who was now a little too close for comfort.

“Theresa, what is this greater motive you're talking about?” A. J. asked.

“Sir, there's another woman he wants, but for what reason I'm not sure. Her name is Olivia Neely. But I believe there's a force—I'm not sure what—that doesn't allow Mr. O'Connell to get close to her. It angers him, making him more determined than ever in his pursuit of her. The writer is very descriptive about her brother's behaviors where they concern Miss Neely. He treats Anya like a princess at times. But when Miss Neely rejects his advances, he's out of control— evil, as Miss O'Connell puts it. Again, I'm puzzled as to what his motive is for wanting Ms. Neely. It doesn't make sense that Sean wants her only for sexual pleasure. There's got to be something more. I thought perhaps money or connections that would advance his business empire. But in my research of the Neely family, I found that they lived in the country and had little monetary resources. There's got to be another reason,” she said, looking blankly at the file in her hand. “Sir, there was also Sean's alcohol use. It continued to increase along with his attempts to abuse his sister.”

“You read all of that between the lines?” Kevin asked, leaning down to look at her notes.

Theresa smiled as she continued to report her findings. “Sir, absolute control is what motivated Sean O'Connell, and he was willing to do anything to get that control. The man would use revenge to any degree.”

“Okay, so what does this have to do with anything?” Kevin asked.

“Gates, I can see why Ms. Hanes was drawn to this diary. It's a magnet of the strangest type. It's incredibly compelling. Even within the first few pages, I found myself pulled in—one page, and then another page—into a world of emotion, turmoil, and conversations I've never experienced the likes of before. I believe all of it has something to do with Three. He has become somewhat of a guide or mediator, I'm not sure yet. But reading this provokes me to book a flight to Ireland myself.” She glanced A. J.'s way. “Do you think that would be in the budget sir?” she asked, smiling with her eyes. Her look and tone quickly changed. “Sir, I realize this document is very old, but some Irish people are very illusory and imaginary. If this ever fell into the wrong hands,” she looked at her file and sighed deeply, “it could be duplicated to set up a tragic scenario.”

“Theresa, finish interpreting that diary and fill Gates in on every detail. And I mean everything. I want him to know the way it makes you feel and anything else that comes to mind from a woman's perspective.” A. J. stood and walked briskly toward the door. “Gates get packed. You'll be leaving for Ireland in five days, maybe less, but before you go you need to clear a few things up in Washington. I want you back here in New York in two days max. You'll be working with Theresa here at home base. I'll arrange for an agent to work with you when you get into Dool.”

“Gipson, sir?”

He hesitated. “No.”

“Why, sir?”

“I think you know, but I have a hunch, and if it comes together—” he stopped in mid-sentence. “Gates don't make contact with Gipson until you're back from Washington. He already knows you're connected with Ms. Hanes. And whatever you do, don't let him know you'll be on your way to Ireland. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, now you both have things to attend to, so I suggest you get out of here and get it done.”

Sophie opened her eyes wide as they approached a large gray and white structure built of large cut stone, well-weathered and crumbling some around the edges. It was the Castle Goregoo, and it looked just as Sophie had pictured it in her mind. Two towers several feet above the rest of the castle were quite majestic, giving an old but strong and dignified impression. Anya had commented that the two towers were built strictly for a show of power and were of little use except for storage. Sophie looked to her left, seeing an area that could have been where Anya spent much of her time—
one of the gardens
, she thought, remembering how Anya had written so fondly about them. It was obviously overgrown and slightly unkempt, yet there was a silent beauty all the same. Sophie could almost feel the young woman's presence as her eyes scanned the great property. She recalled the eastern garden that Anya had referred to so often in the diary and wondered if that was it off to her right. And what of the small trail near the wall? Could it be the one Colleen had used as she arrived to serve the O'Connell family? Had it been preserved over time by constant use? If so, by whom and for what reason?

The car slowed, coming to a stop. Her voice cracked. “Are we stopping, Professor?” she asked, questioning his unexpected action. He didn't answer. A quick twinge of panic flickered, and she reached for her stomach. She needed to say something but didn't want to sound alarmed. Professor Smith mentioned that they'd only be driving around the estate that afternoon. He had also made it clear several times while at the pub that the arrangements to spend time on the estate would be in a couple of days, but he had said nothing about stopping today.

The professor glanced at her with a stern look then stared back through the windshield. “You look frightened, lass,” he said, his voice low and his eyes fixed, not looking toward her.

“Frightened? Why would I be frightened?” she asked, tightening her grip on the bag holding her phone.

Professor Smith formed a tight-lipped smile as a deep, low laugh crept up from his throat. He continued to focus his gaze out the front window. “I could see Anya in your face just a minute ago, Ms. Hanes.” He turned his shoulders to square himself to her. “As you may recall from her writings, she was frightened of what she perceived as impending danger.”

Impending danger
, she thought, searching her intellect for answers. The professor may be a little unstable emotionally, but these days that's not uncommon. Dangerous had never entered her mind. “Yes, I do recall that, Professor,” she said quietly as her heart raced in her chest. Sophie tried to figure out what he was driving at.

“But as you may also recall, Anya had good reason to be frightened. Her danger was real. I, on the other hand, have no danger to fear. No danger to fear at all.”

His eyes enlarged, looking as if they would swallow her up. She saw something cold and dark in his gaze. What was looking back at her? It wasn't normal, and whatever it was penetrated more than her mind, it penetrated her soul. She turned away to look at the castle. “Professor, I'm ready to go,” she said, still feeling the discomfort of his eyes on her.

There was a long silence. “Of course, Sophie,” he said, putting the car in reverse. He reached over, touching her shoulder as he turned the car.

She gasped and moved away from his touch.

He smiled like he hadn't noticed. “You don't mind me calling you by your first name, do you?”