Family Affairs Page 9

  Snapping back to reality, Flynn literally shook out his shoulders to relieve the tension. Before he had time to analyse or brood, Jo and Frankie arrived as the greeting party. He stepped forwards to catch Frankie as she moved directly into his embrace. Wrapping his arms tightly about her, he laid his chin briefly on top of her head.

  “Hey there, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be fine now. I promise. Okay, now, okay.”

  As he held her, the sound of Dev’s jeep pulling to a skidding halt on the gravel drew his attention. Turning, with Frankie still tucked into his side, he watched as his brother barrelled across the open space, frustration and anger blatantly apparent on his face.

  “What the fuck took you so long to get here?” Dev demanded hotly. “A frigging turtle would have made better time.” Glaring at Frankie, who seemed to burrow further into Flynn at the tone of Dev’s voice, he stood, legs apart, hands on hips and his chin belligerently angled towards them.

  “Enough!” his mother interrupted before her boys could come to blows. “Let’s all sit down on the patio at the back, have a drink and talk this through.”

  Leading the way, she walked swiftly round the side of the house, arranging chairs and plumping cushions as she passed. Flynn sat on the low stone wall surrounding the flagstones as the women settled themselves in chairs. Dev paced. Flynn was heartily glad that Toby and his granddad were absent, though chose to not analyse fully which one of them was better off out of the discussion. Leaning forwards, his elbows resting casually on his knees, Flynn looked directly at Frankie, effectively addressing her alone.

  “I’ve spoken with the detectives in New York and brought our boys here up to speed – at least those who need to know. They have some IT whiz kids following the computer trail, but I’m going to have to take your laptop containing the latest contact with me. I’ve had copies of all the previous letters faxed and emailed to my office in Dublin and distributed to a couple of the lads who I trust in these matters. Was there only one email this time?”

  Frankie looked at Caro. “Did you see any others? I didn’t even look at the one you read out – I’m such an idiot and I hadn’t opened my computer in weeks until this morning.”

  “I only saw the one but, truthfully, I didn’t actually look for others, so maybe we’d better let Flynn take a look now. I’ll go get it.” She started to get up, but Flynn simply raised his hand.

  “No need. I’ll take a look myself in a while. And you,” he turned back to Frankie, “are not an idiot. You’ve done nothing wrong and I want you to stop blaming yourself. I thought we had that covered before?”

  “I know, I know. I was doing okay, really. But I hadn’t checked my laptop before and without thinking, I only did so this morning. I don’t even know when this latest was sent.”

  Dev suddenly stopped pacing as if struck by something. “Before? Just how long have you known about this crap?” he demanded, glaring at his brother.

  Flynn raised his eyebrow at Frankie, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “Frankie and I had a long discussion about the whole issue when she first arrived in Dublin. I got hold of some of the info from New York then and so already had contacts, which will help with this ongoing investigation.”

  “Bloody great!” Dev dragged his hand though his hair. “So I’m the useless eejit left in the dark, am I? Always the bloody last to know! Well, since I’m obviously not needed and Big Brother has ridden in to save the day, I’ll leave you to it.”

  “No, Dev, wait . . .” Frankie called after him as he strode back to his jeep, flung open the door and sped off down the lane.

  “Leave him go, pet,” Jo said quietly. “He’ll be back when he calms down. Devlin’s a ‘fixer’, just like his big brother, and right now he can’t fix this, so his frustration and indeed worry are getting the better of him. God knows,” she mused, “how he ever has the patience to take a decent photo!”

  “Oh,” Caro interjected sarcastically, “is that what he does when not acting like a spoilt brat?” She threw one leg over the arm of her chair. “Jesus, Flynn, I don’t know how you keep your cool with that idiot!”

  “That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” he smiled wryly. Unfolding himself from the low wall, he indicated for Frankie to join him as he headed into the house. “No, you two stay here,” he said to Jo and Caro as they began to rise as well. “Frankie and I’ll go take a look through her inbox and see what’s what.”

  With all the drama that had taken place in the study earlier that morning, Frankie was feeling slightly apprehensive as they entered the room. Flynn walked directly to the desk and settled himself at the computer. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he looked through her mail. Frankie sank into the chair she’d occupied a few short hours earlier. Calmer now, she shuddered, embarrassed at her emotional display and general falling apart, as she saw it.

  “Stop it!” Flynn ordered quietly without even looking up from the screen.

  Frankie gaped at his back. “How do you do that? How do you know what’s going on behind you? Maybe I’m sticking my tongue out at you, not shivering like a fool.” She attempted to add humour to her voice as she spoke.

  “At the risk of repeating myself, me and the big bucks?” He swivelled round and smiled at her. “I’m going to hang out here for a while and when I have what I need, head back to Dublin. They’ll trace the email better than I can and that’ll let us know if we have something to worry about.”

  “What do you mean if? That creep knows where I am! He said so. You read it yourself.” Frankie rose and started pacing, her arms tightly folded.

  “He could be blowing smokescreens and as a tactic to frighten someone – I can see it’s working.” He raised his eyebrow as only he could.

  Frankie grimaced as she realised she was rapidly wearing a hole in the carpet.

  “Now, here’s the plan.” He got up from the chair and enveloped her in a “Flynn special” hug. “First things first.” Resting his chin back on the top of her head, he simply kept his arms snugly around her as she leant into his long body.

  He smelt good, she thought, kind of soapy and wise, if that made any sense. As she took comfort in his embrace, a wayward thought crept into her head. This is how it should feel with Devlin. Safe and secure. Warm and totally non-threatening.

  It didn’t. Not any more.

  It was jumpy and odd and not at all comfortable. Damn him, anyway! And Flynn was gorgeous to look at – all long and angular with cropped chestnut hair and those ridiculously amazing aqua eyes. But it was the deep blue of the younger brother’s that she saw in her head now. Reluctantly, she pulled away from her eldest “sibling”. “Thanks. My knight in shining armour.” She smiled as she rolled her shoulders, releasing some tension.

  “You and I both know that knights in any kind of armour are pure fiction, so let’s just say I am here to serve!” Flynn closed the laptop and gathered the various attached wires. “Come on, we’ll go out to the others and I’ll explain how I want you to handle things from here on in. Go on ahead of me; I’ve a couple of quick calls to make.”

  Frankie closed the door quietly behind her and made her way thoughtfully back to the patio.

  Chapter 8

  Life, as she now knew it, went on. Flynn had departed for Dublin the next morning, staying overnight at the insistence of Jo, who guilted him with her worries about how tired he’d be, doing a round trip in one day. Jo and Patrick were now packing up to return home also, and Caro and Toby were already on their way back having left at, in Frankie’s opinion, a ridiculously early hour that morning.

  Since Flynn had phoned to say the email had been sent from Idaho through a now defunct account in a small internet café that didn’t have security camera or surveillance, four days had passed. The local police in Boise, the nearest city, had checked it out and there were simply no leads.

  A dead end.

  The email had been sent three weeks previously and nothing new had arrived since then. Flynn had advised her that it app
eared perfectly safe for her to stay on in Clifden to relax and enjoy herself as much as possible. Like that was going to happen.

  He’d alerted the local Gardaí to keep an eye out for any suspicious strangers, which could, he admitted, be a tad difficult. Summer in Clifden was packed to the brim with tourists, strange and otherwise, but Seamus and his boys agreed to keep an eye on her and any unusual comings or goings near the lodge.

  It was decided that it was as safe as anywhere for her at the moment and as long as she kept aware of anything odd, she should be fine. That said, Flynn gave her an emergency number to contact should she feel in any way threatened or felt something wasn’t quite the norm. Frankie had to swear to use it if necessary, a condition she was only too happy to comply with.

  Dev remained the one thorn in her side – one she tried hard to extract. He’d returned the evening of the email trauma in time for dinner, acting as if nothing was wrong and as if he hadn’t, in fact, stormed off like a child. He and Flynn had obviously spoken since his abrupt exodus earlier, as they immediately fell into an intense but not antagonistic discussion as soon as he drove up. They’d then spent the rest of the evening as if they’d never had a cross word in their lives, retelling old stories to make the assembled company laugh so much that at one stage Toby snorted out his ginger ale all over the dessert, which made them laugh even harder.

  No one bothered to draw attention to the fact that much of their merriment was definitely owing to a measure of relief that Flynn was now in charge and that everything was out in the open. Dev made it known, in passing, that although he’d nearly finished his assignment for the magazine, he’d be staying around for another week or so to catch up on his exhibition portfolio. In other words, Flynn had assigned him Frankie-sitting duty.

  The meal that evening had been long and leisurely, the clean-up quick and easy, the coffees sipped slowly as the night settled in. Bats dipped and spun overhead and stars sprinkled the darkened sky like diamonds. The fragrance of honeysuckle wafted on the air and faraway laughter broke the stillness every so often. Toby lay sprawled on the swing seat reading by the flickering light of a citronella candle. The professor lazily puffed on a sweet-scented cigar, the smoke curling seductively up into the night. Jo sipped her coffee as she sat propped against his arm watching her offspring, plus one, play poker around the old worn table.

  Caro was the surprise repeat winner, accused each and every time of some serious cheating by her disgruntled opponents. Remaining smug, she gathered yet another pile of matchsticks towards her and finally dragged Toby upstairs to bed. That was the signal for everyone to retire and as Frankie had snuggled under her duvet later, she wondered how one day could have been so fraught and terrifying on the one hand, and so immensely calming on the other. Is that how it is in all families in times of crisis? Did other families rally and support each other, when not shouting each other down, or arguing about everything and nothing?

  And so, four days on a new routine had begun. Dev left early in the morning and was gone all day. He returned late afternoon, when he and Frankie shared cooking a meal. All conversation was kept on an extremely light footing.

  Their first evening alone again, Frankie had tentatively brought up the subject of Dev’s behaviour in the den the day of the email. She decided she needed to know exactly where she stood with him. Well, turned out that was easier said than done.

  “Why did you kiss me?” she’d asked straight out over their meal of cold salmon and baked potatoes.

  “That was a mistake. It won’t happen again,” was the blunt reply.

  “So that’s it?” she’d asked.

  “Yup – subject closed,” was the answer.

  And, strangely, it was. It should have been awkward, but both she and Dev were pretty adept at keeping up appearances and conversation moseyed along just fine. They had so much shared history that initially, reminiscing was what kept things easy. By last night they’d started arguing about the best concerts they’d ever been to – Rage Against the Machine for him, Leonard Cohen for her. Frankie had happily continued with the domestic chores as she referred to them. She was still without her laptop, which was in some ways a relief and an escape, and in others, a bit of a bind.

  Early afternoon saw Frankie heading into town with shopping bag in tow. Usually she cycled, unless the groceries were going to be too heavy for the bike ride home.

  Today was one such day.

  She squeezed her car into a spot in the dim underground car park and emerged to a fresh, bright afternoon. It was Thursday and the market town was packed with farmers and horse breeders alike. Frankie scanned the tables outside the pub restaurant on the bend and saw one free chair. Taking a risk she rarely did but pulling her baseball hat down a little further just in case, she approached the other occupant of the wicker table.

  “May I join you or is this seat taken?” she asked in as neutral an accent as possible.

  The young woman already seated looked up with a wide smile “Why, sure, honey, you go right ahead and pull up a chair. I’m almost done here, so please make yourself right at home.”

  Frankie almost groaned aloud at the southern accent and wished her request had been denied. She was much more likely to be recognised by a fellow American, as she regularly promoted specific products on TV and was involved in numerous celebrity charities. Even if this person didn’t go out to movies, she most likely knew the face of the household name about to sit next to her.

  Oh, what the heck, Frankie thought, I’m seriously in need of a cappuccino and sitting in the sun chatting to a stranger, even signing a few autographs, won’t kill me. She thanked the woman, pulled up her seat and laid her purse on the table. MJ, one of the usual waiters, swung by and asked her companion if she required anything else. Upon her negative reply, he turned to Frankie.

  “Tall skinny cap with an extra shot for yourself, is it?”

  “Thanks, MJ, that would be perfect. And I’ll have it to go, please.”

  “Oh my gosh, he knows you. Are you a local? Am I sitting next to a real native Irish person?” the woman enquired.

  Frankie looked directly at her for the first time. She was younger than first appeared, maybe late twenties – her styled blonde hair and pink lipstick giving her a slightly old-fashioned sugary appearance. She wore the tourist uniform of rain jacket, jeans and trainers, although the day was bright and sunny. Obviously, she’d been told to expect showers and had taken it to heart.

  Frankie smiled politely. “I’m not an actual native but have visited regularly over the years. MJ’s just very good at remembering customers’ orders.”

  The southerner simply beamed. “Why, you Irish are just so cute! Everywhere I go y’all are just so friendly!”

  Frankie realised her Irish accent must be better than she thought and figured at least she hadn’t been recognised. Her coffee order arrived and the woman began chatting about the area and her visit – a bus tour – her coach mates – all simply adorable – and back to the local area – equally simply adorable. Frankie just nodded and made agreeing sounds as she prattled on enthusiastically.

  Suddenly, she let a shriek out and leapt to her feet, waving madly. “Larry! Larry, hun, I’m right here! Cooeee!”

  And the object of her gesticulating appeared at the table, seemingly a tad embarrassed at the commotion.

  “Jeez, Mary Louanne, calm the heck down,” he mumbled, pulling over another seat and positioning himself opposite the southerner. “Ma’am.” He touched an imaginary hat in Frankie’s direction as he settled himself.

  Well, southern manners haven’t gone out of style yet, Frankie smiled to herself. She tried to remember the last time she’d visited below the Mason-Dixon Line and if it had made an impression. She was intrigued despite herself.

  “Excuse me, but is the whole tour from the southern States?” She directed the question to Mary Louanne, who beamed back at her.

  “Why, yes we are! How clever of you to figure that out. Isn’t she just
so smart, Larry?” She angled another beam at the young man. “These Irish are just so darned smart!”

  Frankie instantly wished she hadn’t opened her mouth, as Larry turned and looked intently at her for the first time. His eyes were ice blue and his stare never wavered as he spoke.

  “Do I know you, ma’am? You sure look awful familiar.”

  Frankie took a deep breath but Mary Louanne butted in before she could answer.

  “Why, Larry, I was just thinking the very exact same thing! I truly was!” she announced. “I said to myself, she sure looks like somebody! Are you somebody?” She posed the absurd question directly to Frankie, a bright smile plastered to her face.

  Frankie simply gathered her things together, picked up her coffee cup and, smiling, rose to her feet.

  “Of course I’m somebody. Aren’t we all?” And she drifted off into the crowd before her “companions” could interrogate any further.

  “And she started pretty much every sentence with ‘why’ and seemed to speak as if everything she said needed an exclamation point at the end.” Frankie took a sip of decaf tea as she relayed her encounter to Dev later that evening sitting outside following the meal clean-up.

  Dev laughed at her “take” on the accents she’d heard and admired her linguistic talents, as they were pretty damn spot-on.

  “Actually, she seemed quite harmless but he, Larry, kind of gave me the creeps.” She shivered slightly.

  “Oh, how so?” Dev asked, sitting up straight.

  “His eyes were icy blue and he stared at me.”

  Dev sat back. “Yeah, ’cause no one ever stares at you. Must be shocking.” He drank from his mug. “I mean, ice-blue eyes? Yup, known to be the colour of every stalker on the FBI’s most-wanted list. Yeah, you should be scared.”

  “Oh, shut up, you!” Frankie leaned over and punched him in the arm.

  “Watch my coffee!”