“Pardon?”
Jackson laughed. “Sorry. Something my mother used to say.”
They could see Skye and Zach and their leprechaun prisoner and quickened their pace to reach the pair.
“What happened over there?” Zach asked worriedly. “We saw the craziness, the hysteria, and we weren’t sure—”
“I don’t care what’s going on! I won’t tell you where Colleen is!” Elizabeth the leprechaun shouted at them.
Jackson hunched down and looked at her, shaking his head. “Elizabeth, we found Colleen. Now, you get to go straight to jail.”
“No!” she cried, and then she began to sob and despite the horrible thing that she had done, Jackson found himself feeling sorry for her. Maybe they’d eventually understand.
“Shall I take her in?” Conor asked quietly.
Elizabeth suddenly erupted in fury. “No, no, no. You’re not taking me anywhere. Don’t you idiots see what’s going on here? This whole awful thing was his idea. If Sean adopted me and Conor married me, he’d have all that money!”
*
Angela
In the ambulance, the paramedic allowed Angela to sit by Colleen and hold her hand. There was an IV in place, a solution set to help remove drugs from her body while giving her the rehydration that she desperately needed.
Deidre was hovering over the girl, but she looked at Angela and smiled.
“She’s going to make it!” Deidre told her.
And that was wonderful, something that made the banshee very happy.
Colleen’s eyes flew open and she saw Angela. And it seemed that she saw the banshee, too. She smiled, feeling the way that Angela was holding her hand, and she whispered, “Am I . . .”
“No, sweetheart, you’re not dead and you’re not dying. You’re . . .”
She paused; the young paramedic was watching her, too.
“You are surrounded by friends, all who want you to be well—and who are going to make it so!”
“I . . . the leprechaun! The leprechaun that took me . . . I saw leprechauns and banshees! And all the other dead in coffins and screams and . . .”
“Colleen—”
“It was Elizabeth!” Colleen said suddenly. “I saw her briefly when she didn’t realize, when I was lying in the coffin. Why? I . . . I always thought she was my friend. My grandfather was so good to her.”
“We don’t know,” Angela said softly. “We can never really understand the workings of another person’s mind.”
They arrived, and the ambulance and hospital employees were extremely efficient. And when she was led to a waiting room, Angela found that Sean Donegal was already there. He was pacing, a man frantic to know if his beloved grandchild was going to live.
But he wasn’t alone.
There was a man with him Angela quickly believed to be a cleric or pastor, and he was assuring Sean, telling him that they’d heard already—Colleen was going to be fine. He could most probably bring her home that night, it was just a matter of cleaning out her system.
“I’ve spoken with her!” Angela said quickly. “She is doing beautifully, Mr. Donegal. She’s awake; and when they hospital staff have her all set up, you’ll be able to be with her!”
“As I told you, Sean!” the man with him said.
“Thank you, thank you, both!” Sean said. “Oh, my manners! Angela, this is Patrick. Sorry. Special Agent Angela Hawkins Crow, please meet Father Patrick O’Leary. He’s been with me here since I arrived and . . .”
“Father Patrick,” Angela said, smiling.
