“What is Elizabeth’s last name, sir?” Angela asked. “You mentioned her before.”
“Elizabeth Fitzgerald. If you think that she can help you, please call her! I know she would be more than happy to do so. I believe she’s taken a few hours’ rest, but our work number andher home number should be with all the paperwork that you’ve received.”
“Thank you!” Jackson told them.
They left the two and made their way to the car. Angela pulled out her phone.
“Good call; hopefully, we’ll know where we’re going,” Jackson said. “I imagine that there are a number of parks—”
“Got the address, in the GPS,” Angela assured him, looking at her phone and texting the address the banshee had surely given Zach so that he could text it to her and Jackson. “I had figured it had to be close; an unknown tunnel could only go so far.”
“True.”
“Ah, and get this!” Angela had pulled up the park on the web. “Start the wearing o’ the green with fun and games! Haunted houses, mini gold with leprechauns, pixies run amok!” she read. “But . . . why would someone kidnap Colleen to take her to a park?”
“I’m wondering about the leprechauns,” Jackson said.
“We’re going to go and play mini golf?” she asked.
“Let’s just get there. If this leprechaun spirited her through a tunnel to this park, there might just be a way to catch a leprechaun.”
“And Colleen Donegal would be our pot of gold!” Angela said softly.
“Can you try and call Elizabeth Fitzgerald, please,” Jackson said.
“Good idea. We can see if we can meet up with her,” Angela agreed. “And she just may know something that Sean Donegal doesn’t—or she might see someone who isn’t as nice a person out there than Sean thinks. She’s probably close to the man and may judge people with a harder resolve.”
“So true!” Jackson agreed.
But when Angela called the work number, she was told that Elizabeth was off. She’d been so consumed by what was happening, she needed a break.
When she tried Elizabeth’s personal number, she reached voicemail.
“Sorry,” Angela told Jackson. “I agree with you, though. We need to reach her.”
Her phone rang as she spoke and she answered it quickly. It was Elizabeth. The young woman asked if they could meet in the morning. She’d been joined by members of her family and didn’t want to leave them.
Of course. It was growing late. Darkness would start falling soon. And Angela imagined, the park they were at would truly come alive. The truck selling special “St. Paddy’s Day” drinks would start to do a booming business.
“We’ll meet her in the morning,” Angela said.
“All right; we need some time here anyway,” Jackson said. “With luck, Skye and Zach—and our banshee—will be along; and they may see who they need to see.”
They arrived at the park—a nice large one—and followed the directions through to the parking for the St. Patrick’s Day park event.
“Interesting that they do this for a month before the day!” Angela noted.
Jackson laughed. “Hey, Christmas events in parks open before we get to Thanksgiving all over the place. I think it’s cool that they have events—”
“That last forever?”
“That give people a chance to enjoy a holiday. And as you have taught me, the real St. Patrick truly loved people and wanted them to have the best lives possible. So—”
“I can’t let one lethal leprechaun ruin in all, right?” Angela asked.
“Exactly. The day is great with shamrocks and green everywhere and parties—but it honors a man who was simply good, no matter what one’s beliefs.”
They had parked the car. Angela looked out on the grounds. She could see the mini golf took up a large section of lawn to their left while straight ahead, a large—but temporary—structure advertised “The Haunted House. Brighid Banshee Welcomes You! Enter if you Dare!”
