Harbor Island by Carla Neggers

Author:Carla Neggers [Neggers, Carla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781460330296
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-08-26T16:00:00+00:00

18

After interviewing everyone at the Bristol house, the detectives whisked Emma back to BPD headquarters with them. Colin didn’t blame them. In their shoes, he’d have demanded access to her files—FBI and Sharpe—on her serial art thief. She’d have told him to go to hell. Not in as many words, maybe, but he’d have gotten the message. He expected the detectives were getting that message now.

She’d be right to hold firm, he thought. It was tempting to cast a wide net in a homicide investigation, but it wasted time and seldom yielded results.

He found Finian Bracken standing outside a boutique women’s clothing shop on Charles Street, the main retail and restaurant street for upscale Beacon Hill. Through the shop window, Colin saw Aoife O’Byrne unfolding a cobalt-blue scarf. “Boston’s colder than she expected?” he asked Finian.

“She didn’t say. It’s not any colder here today than in Dublin.”

“Maybe it’s just a pretty scarf, then.” Colin thought the weather was fine, but he’d done a lot of walking that afternoon. Finian didn’t look cold, either. “Did you see or hear anything unusual when you stopped by the Bristol house?”

“Visiting people in shock over a murdered loved one is unusual in my world,” the Irishman said. “Thank God for that.”

Colin explained about Oliver Fairbairn’s door to the face. “Did you see anything, Fin?”

He shook his head. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. It was late afternoon now, gloomier, rapidly getting dark. “Only Maisie Bristol, her father and the bodyguard—I forget his name.”

“Danny Palladino. I think he and Maisie used to be an item. A lot of sparks between them.”

“I noticed.”

“I don’t necessarily have an eye for that sort of thing, but sometimes it’s obvious.” Colin stood back as two men went past them with a big, skinny, expensive-looking dog. He couldn’t think of the breed. He watched the trio a few seconds, then turned back to Finian. “It’s like you and Aoife. I don’t need a two-by-four over the head to get it that you two have some kind of history.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m a priest now.”

“Before you became a priest. After your wife died.” Colin peeked into the shop window again. Aoife now had the blue scarf around her neck. “During that year of torment and alcohol, maybe a beautiful artist showed up in your life. Maybe you two shared something that you haven’t yet put to rest.”

“I wouldn’t be a priest if I were in love, Colin. It’s not how it works. It’s not how I work.”

“Did I say love? I said shared something. Want me to spell it out? Because I can. I’m an FBI agent. I can spell out awkward things without breaking a sweat.”

Finian gave him a small smile. “That’s a way of saying you can be a heartless bastard, isn’t it?”

Colin grinned. “It is.”

The Irishman sighed. “I should have known that wouldn’t bother you.”

“I know you’re a priest now, but before that—you were just a guy, Fin. Then you took the worst blow a man can imagine. You got through it, but it had to be pure hell.

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