“You! You planned all this. You’re the kidnapper. What did you do with Clare?” Sorcha opened the passenger side door. “Maeve, let’s get outof here.”
“No, I would never hurt her.” Griffin grabbed Maeve’s wrist and wrestled the notebook from her hand.
“Let go of me.” Maeve screamed. “You’re a monster. We’re calling the Garda. You probably killed her, and you’re luring us here with this fake stone to establish your alibi.”
Sorcha was already out of the car, running down the road, while Maeve struggled, twistingher arm and pulling to get away.
Griffin didn’t like to hurt a woman, and ordinarily, he would have let her go, but she was his only link to Clare. He wrestled her back into the car.
“I’m sorry. I can’t abandon Clare,” he said. “I have to rescue her. Since you can read Old Irish, I want you to read the rest of the plan from the notebook and direct me.”
“You might have killedher and not remembered,” Maeve shrieked. “You’re scaring me.”
“I have no choice.” He leaned over Maeve and fastened the seatbelt on the passenger seat. “You have to help me. If I indeed hurt Clare like you said, then let Sorcha call the Garda and hunt me down. But before they do, I need to stop whoever took Clare from carrying out the plan.”
He pressed the ignition button and gunnedthe engine, swerving just in time to avoid hitting Sorcha who was on the phone calling for help.
“Set the navigation system for Gallagher Castle,” he said. “I’m sure that’s the scene of the crime.”
“It is,” Maeve said, her voice shaking. “It says you have a bedchamber set up underground. It says the Heart of Brigid will take you and the sacrificial victim back to the twelfth century.Once you kill her and bring Brigid back to life, Ireland will never be conquered by the Normans or anyone else.”
“It’s insanity,” Griffin said, not knowing why his convictions were so strong. “Clare told me to treasure what is real. What is in the here and now. To be mindful of the present moment and not dream about do-overs.”
“Uh, yes, Clare is very mindful,” Maeve said. “Can youslow down?”
“No.” He passed a lorry and almost clipped a fence. “Keep reading and tell me more clues.”
“Oh, crap.” Maeve gaped at him. “Tonight’s the night of the vernal equinox. It’s resurrection night. If you were meaning to sacrifice Clare, you’re almost out of time.”
“If I were meaning to sacrifice her, would I have called you and Sorcha to interfere?” He bit his wordsand added a sneer. “Stop accusing me.”
“You don’t remember what you were trying to do,” Maeve said. “The evidence is in here. I bet this is your handwriting.”
Maeve’s cell phone rang, and she picked it up. “Sorcha, we’re on our way to Gallagher Castle. Did you call the Garda? Yes, we have to hurry. Something’s going down tonight.”
“What do you mean they don’t believe you?”Maeve asked. “How about those two officers who searched our apartment. Do you have their card? Call them.”
She hung up and blew out a huff.
“Did Sorcha figure out anything else?” he asked.
“She’s calling the two men who searched our apartment.”
“What were they searching for?” Griffin’s heart plummeted. “Are you saying someone else was after the diamond, too?”
“They said they were from the Garda, but Sorcha says the Garda never sent anyone to search for mythical treasures. They think Sorcha is playing a prank, or she’s drunk. You won’t believe how many times they’re called about fairy sightings.”
“What did these two gentlemen look like?” Griffin asked. “Was one of them old and the other young?”
“Yes, they were. How did you know? They bothhad electric blue eyes,” Maeve said with a sigh. “The younger one was quite big, and spoke with a roguish brogue.”
“Was his hair wavy and shoulder-length?”
“Why, yes, it was,” Maeve said. “He had that watchful look of a fugitive. Didn’t miss a thing.”
“How about the older one?” Griffin made a sharp turn, almost missing an exit. The car lurched and fishtailed before rightingitself.
“Wore horn-rimmed glasses,” Maeve said. “But his eyes were large behind them. Like a real detective.”
