Home > Shadows in Death (In Death #51)(72)

Shadows in Death (In Death #51)(72)
Author: J.D. Robb

“The grass is all spongy,” Callendar commented.

“Well, we’ve had a bit of wet weather.”

Grinning, she lifted her face to the rain. “I like it.”

“It’s this way. Those are fine boots,” he said to Baxter. “They’ll be mucked up in no time. We’ll see what we have for you.”

“Santiago, Carmichael, with McNab, second house. Jenkinson, Reineke, Peabody, Feeney, Roarke, with me. Abernathy, take your choice.”

“I’ll stick to the main.”

“Commander?”

“The same. Commander Whitney.” He held his hand out to Robbie. “This is beautiful land.”

“It is all that. Is it your first time in Ireland then?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, sure you must come back for holiday,” he said as they walked on.

“They’re treating it like a game,” Eve said to Roarke.

Roarke shook his head. “They’re not. It’s not your way, but it’s theirs. It’s complicating things, Christ knows, but you can count on them.”

“Feeney’s got stars in his eyes.”

“He’s an Irishman at the heart of it, isn’t he? You know he’ll be steady as a rock when you need him.”

They walked through the light rain as the walk gave her a chance to study her ground, to look for potential attack points, escape routes.

And all the while she heard one of the cousins talking to Feeney about where Feeney’s people were from, if he had any cousins in Clare.

She ignored the cows when they crossed the next field—what choice did she have? But she kept an eye on them, just in case.

Smoke drifted into the sky—gray against gray—from the chimneys of the big stone house.

She spotted a couple of horses. “I need them to get the horses inside. Maybe he rides, or he’ll try to. Or just kill them.”

“I’ll see to it,” Robbie said over his shoulder. “Not to worry.”

Not to worry? Was that the phrase of the damn day?

Chickens clucked in their chicken place; pigs snorted in their pig place.

And Sinead stepped out the back door.

She had her hair, that quiet gilded red, tied back and wore sturdy black trousers with a sweater as gray and soft as the smoke. Her eyes, sweetly green, smiled as she opened her arms to Eve, then to Roarke.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “So sorry to bring this trouble to your door.”

Her eyes stopped smiling, went to slitted sparks as she cuffed him on the side of his head.

Eve felt her own mouth drop open, but imagined it was nothing compared to the stunned look on Roarke’s face.

“Never did I take you for such a lurk, and insulting with it. Are we your family?”

“Yes, but—”

“Yes is all. Don’t let me hear such a foolish thing come out of your mouth again. Now.” She cupped his face, kissed both his cheeks. “Come inside, out of the wet, and we’ll see what’s to be done about all of this. Your friend Brian’s just arrived.”

Eve gave Roarke a quick look. “Brian?”

“I asked him to come, got a jumper for him.” With Eve, and the rest behind them, they stepped into the kitchen, where a fire simmered in the hearth and the air smelled of warm bread.

“Will you box my ears again if I ask you, out of love, to please take Mary Kate and go safe into town?”

“I won’t, but Mary Kate might—box your ears, that is. And no, though I know you mean it with love, I won’t be driven from my own home.”

“It’s not being driven,” Eve objected. “It’s just a couple of hours. Just a few hours.”

“The man who’s coming here thinks of the man who murdered my sister, my twin, as his father. He would murder the child she gave that vicious man, the child who is mine now. And so, I ask you, would you leave and sit and wait? Do you think my man would, my boys would, my brothers?”

“I’m a cop.”

“And we’re not, but this is my home, and Roarke ours as he is yours. Now, I know some of your friends here, but not all. You’re all welcome. I’ve got the kettle on, so we’ll have some tea while you tell me what you need.”

“We really don’t have time for tea,” Eve began.

“I could use a cup.” Brian walked in. The Dublin publican and Roarke’s oldest friend went straight to Eve. He lifted her right off her feet, planted a kiss on her mouth. “Ah, Lieutenant darling, how I’ve missed you.”

“Thanks for coming,” Roarke replied.

“Well, of course.” He set Eve down. “So it’s that bloody wanker Cobbe again, is it? He’s always been trouble, but we’ll end that now. And my God, would you look at all the cops!”

He grinned hugely at Roarke. “Times change, don’t they, lad?”

“That they do.”

“They look like cops, and that’s the problem. I need them to look like farmers. Irish farmers,” Eve added. “Who are out there doing farm stuff.”

“Ah, I see, aye, I see that very well.” Sinead beamed at them all. “We’ll fix you right up. Mary Kate!” she called out. “Darling,” she said to her husband, “there’s some wellies and caps and such in the mudroom that should do.”

He nodded, then kissed her. “You make me proud every day.”

“Aw, go on then.”

“Reineke, Jenkinson, once you look like farmers, take your positions. Constant contact,” she added. “Feeney, there are too many windows in here. He may have field glasses. I don’t want him spotting you working e’s. There’s that little room off the living area.”

“You’re wanting the side parlor. I’m happy to show you. Feeney, is it? I went to school with a Bridgit Feeney,” Sinead said as she led him off.

 

 

21


“Teams,” Eve reminded everyone as, a little bemused, she watched Whitney put on a brown cap. “Reineke with Robbie and his group, Jenkinson with Aidan and his. Abernathy, I want you with the commander in the barn. There’s a loft, and you’ll have a clear view of the south.

“You believe he’ll try for the house, which is where you want him.” Abernathy shrugged into a tan work coat. “I intend to stay close to the house.”

“First, most of the family has Irish white or ruddy skin tones. Santiago is Latino, Reineke is mixed race, but their skin tone is light enough not to catch the eye right off. You, the commander, and Podock are very dark-skinned, and may have Cobbe taking a closer look. Which is why you and the commander are on watch in the barn, and Podock will be in the second house.”

She watched him assess that, reluctantly.

“Second, while I know the commander can handle himself, I don’t know if you can when it comes to hand-to-hand. Any of your agents who can’t pass as one of the family also need to keep out of sight until we have him in the box. He’ll want the house because he figures he’ll find Roarke’s aunt, maybe some kids inside. Easy targets. Possibly, he’ll wander over to one of the men working outside as if he’s asking for directions, but the house is more likely. Either way he kills close up.”

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