“So the owners gave them yer room.”
“But he let you take my cases, when you told him I’d been found?”
“Aye.”
“Then I don’t see a problem.”
Nick is here.
I kept waiting for some emotion to register. Maybe I should have been touched that he would spend the money to come all this way when it was in his best interest if I had died. He’d have the house, the restaurant, and the money he was going to use to pay me off.
But no. No emotion at all.
Unfortunately, the officers noticed.
“We’re getting divorced.”
They both let out a sigh of relief.
“Then its not so bad, then, that he brought the woman with him.”
“It’s probably just my friend, Tara, who was supposed to come on the trip with me.”
“Yer friend?”
“My best friend…until recently.”
They exchanged another look.
“What?”
“We told them about the party, yeah? They said they’ll see ye then.” They moved back to the door. “We’ll leave ye to it, then, shall we?”
“Actually, if you’re not too busy…”
“How can we help?”
“I need a ride.”
Those lovely officerswaited in the pub while I took a quick shower and dressed in blessedly clean clothes. I didn’t bother trying to straighten my hair because they weren’t the only ones waiting for me. And I didn’t take the time for makeup. I wanted Cian to remember me as the same woman he’d spent the last two days with.
Time after time, I sent a mental plea into the universe, hoping he could feel if not hear it.
I’m coming. I’m coming. Please wait!
CHAPTER 22
My heart hammered under my ribs when the police vehicle pulled off the road and into a shallow parking lot. Locked in the backseat with no door handles, I had to wait for Constable Reid to open the door for me. The other one, Fletcher, got out too, despite the hard rain.
“I’m so grateful. Thank you both.” I pulled up the hood on my coat, then gave them a little wave and hoped they’d take off, so they wouldn’t catch a glimpse of Cian in his MacInnis tartan.
The armory was a wonky-shaped rock barn with a high second story and a fat black chimney sticking out of it. No smoke, though. The stone was dark with age, and a large sign was posted beside the door, thick with layers of paint. It readClosed the first Saturday of the month. No exceptions.
I was a little stunned to see more proof of Cian’s story—more proof out here in the real world, not tucked away in Balnacoorie. And it gave my heart a little zing, just like it had when I’d asked about the armory and the hotel manager had mentioned John by name.
I mean, I believed it all. It was just nice to have a little reinforcement, a little vindication for taking that leap of faith in the first place.
“No sign of John,” Reid said, pointing to the dark glass in the door.
