Chapter Twenty-Five

Secrets and Truths

"Are you busy, Devon?"

"No…" I shook my head as I looked up from my ongoing battle with the accounts to see Edward standing in the open doorway to my downstairs office. He held up two glasses and an unopened bottle of my favourite Irish whiskey.

I was tired and should have been in bed a few hours ago. But I felt too restless to sleep and had the bookwork needed to finish.

I smiled as I put aside my pen. "Not so busy that it can't wait until tomorrow," I replied quickly, closing Michael's business ledgers with a deep sigh of relief over the welcome distraction. "Please, come on in and sit down."

The hour was late and after a convivial evening spent talking with and getting to know our son, Carolyn had finally made her excuses and gone up to bed. Edward had soon retired, as well.

I'd remained downstairs because I needed some time alone to keep ahead of the constantly expanding Knight Investigations business. Michael's reputation for getting the business done properly, and in good time for a fair price, was bringing in more clients than they could handle.

But my heart and mind hadn't been in it tonight, and now that my son had sought out my company. I was quietly pleased. I didn't feel tired anymore.

"I just couldn't sleep," he said simply as he walked closer to sit in the chair before my desk. "I… haven't been able to do so for quite some time now. Too much going on in my mind."

He shrugged as he opened the bottle and poured two stiff measures of the amber liquid. "I found this in the liquor cabinet. It's always been a favourite of mine, as well. I remembered from after the wedding, that you liked yours without ice. Me too."

He leaned forward to push one glass toward me before he sat back with his drink cradled between his palms. He sat frowning down into the crystal glass. The minutes stretched between us, marked by the steady ticking of the mantle clock.

"Would you care to talk about whatever it is that's been keeping you awake?" I finally asked cautiously, lifting my glass in salute before I took a mouthful of the liquor. "I've known more than my share of sleepless nights when something wasn't going my way."

I waited, keeping my gaze down as I slowly swilled the excellent spirit around in the glass. The taste of it always took me home to Ireland again. I closed my eyes and inhaled the rich peaty scent as I allowed the thoughtful silence to stretch out between us. It was enough that we were together.

If my son wished to talk, then I would listen. If he didn't, there was time enough for us to sit here with our whiskey and listen to the warm hush of the night. Through the room's open windows, I could hear the rush and retreat of the waves on the sands of Butterfly Beach below the house. It was a soothing sound and I relaxed back into my chair.

Either way was fine by me. Our son was here, with us, for two whole weeks and that was all that mattered, for now...

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I leaned my elbows on the balcony rail of my small, beachside cottage and stood looking out to sea. The dark restlessness of the vast Pacific exactly matched my distracted mood. I was tired, but I couldn't seem to fall asleep.

After a couple of hours of staring at the inside of my eyelids, I finally got up to get something cold to drink. To my annoyance, I found I didn't have any wine chilling in the refrigerator. I'd been too busy and had forgotten to go to the store. With a discontented grimace, I decided to raid my little-used liquor cabinet.

I now cradled a glass half-full of expensive Irish whiskey between my palms. But the drink had gone untouched for some time and the ice cubes had slowly melted.

The aromatic and peaty liquor had been a favourite of Mrs Greig's. She said it always reminded her of her late husband, who'd been a sea captain. She'd given me a bottle of it for Christmas. Her last gift to me before she died.

I'd tried to like it for her sake, but I still preferred a fresh, crisp white wine to spirits. On impulse, I decided to drink some of the whiskey tonight, in her memory.

"Your house is in very good hands," I whispered to the salty and warm night wind. "I made sure of that for you. Devon and Carolyn will take great care of it, with my help. You may rest easy."

I sighed as I lifted my glass in a salute to the night and then shivered suddenly. I could almost swear I caught the sound of laughter. Both masculine and feminine, mixed on the soft breeze. And, in my half-asleep state, I could almost be certain I felt someone lightly kiss my cheek.

I shook my head as I finally tasted the warm liquid in my glass. "Go to bed. Now, you're imagining things." The rich spirit burned a fiery path down to my outraged stomach.

I took one final look down to the beach below and saw a young couple walk hand in hand from the shadows of the cliff edge and back out onto the moonlit sands. I told myself it must have been their laughter I heard as they paused to fully embrace before moving on again, holding hands once more, as they slowly disappeared from view into the darkness.

"Bed…" I instructed myself severely. "And stop thinking so much. It's not doing you any good."

I saluted the warm, salty night with my glass and then drained it. I coughed as the earthy fire of the liquid caught in the back of my throat and burned a fresh path down to my stomach.

The hour was late, and I knew I should have been in bed and asleep hours ago. But I couldn't rest because the events of the past afternoon kept replaying inside my head.

I'd finally made my escape from Gull Cottage, and those distractingly gorgeous blue eyes, as soon as it had been polite. Devon and Carolyn were kind and generous people, and I hadn't wished to offend them. But I was better off on my own in all things, both business and personal. And Edward Bridges seemed to have taken a sudden and perverse delight in teasing and confusing me with his constant nearness and the subtle muskiness of his aftershave.

Unwillingly, I'd lowered my eyelashes and made the fundamental error of watching him as he moved about the kitchen, seemingly at home in such a very domestic setting. He fetched clean plates and served us slices of a delicious cherry pie and whipped cream.

Against my will, I admired his economy of movement. He didn't hurry, every task was completed with neat precision. I found I couldn't stop watching his large, sun-browned hands as he deftly used the knife to cut and serve the pie.

I finally managed to drag my eyes away from temptation. I didn't want to acknowledge him as I inhaled his masculine warmth unwarily whenever he came close enough to refill my coffee. His watchful blue eyes had seen my consternation and confusion and he'd decided to play on them for some twisted purpose of his own.

I knew Carolyn was watching me and making her own assessments. I tried to appear unaffected and casual as I quickly finished my meal, but I suspected she wasn't fooled. I knew I looked flustered It irked me that I could be so transparent.

After making my rushed excuses and driving away from the house, I'd spent the rest of the afternoon and evening working solidly among my own things and trying to forget all about the man. I had a week's grace before I returned to Gull Cottage.

Carolyn had ordered and paid for some of her favourite flowering shrubs for me to collect and plant out along the driveway next week. I would slip in and plant them with minimal fuss and leave again. Hopefully, the family wouldn't be home, and I could do my work without any unwanted hindrance.

"Pull yourself together…" I turned from the view, shaking my head at my body's thoughtless betrayal.

"You should've learned your lesson the last time after Marcus finally walked out on both you and me," I told my traitorous emotions severely as I washed my glass in the kitchen before, I climbed back into bed and lay down once more.

But behind my closed lids, the distracting scenes returned. My cheating ex-fiancé's eyes had been a mediocre shade of brown, not deep, crystal-clear blue. And Marcus hadn't spent time watching me like I was some intriguing puzzle he was determined to work out to his satisfaction.

"I'm better off on my own. I'm certainly not looking for any new entanglement…" I turned over and thumped my pillows into submission and lay down again. "I know better now. And when you know better…" I sighed.

I consoled myself with the thought that Edward Bridges would be gone back to Boston soon enough. Then my well-ordered and predictable life would return to normal, and I could breathe once more...

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"It's this latest case of mine…" Edward began slowly after several long minutes had ticked by. "This two-week continuance is what's been keeping me awake." He stared down into his glass. "It's the sixth we've had so far."

"Go on…" I encouraged. I now felt alert and eager to help in any way I could.

"Okay…" He took another long swallow of his whiskey. "The case should have been open and shut. Straight embezzlement fraud 101. But the opposing counsel somehow managed to prevent their sleazy client from going to jail. Which is where he so rightly belongs for embezzling every last cent from his firm's pension fund. The blasted man has more lives than any stray alley cat. He's very sure he can still beat the case and win."

He shrugged. "I know I've had a dozen such cases and I shouldn't let it get to me, but this one does. It seemed no one cared, but me."

He finally looked up at me. "I've combed the case files over and over, searching for answers. For any opening I can exploit. I've always thought that facts and figures could be balanced and weighed. Sifted for that last, tiny kernel of truth. I've always trusted them more than most people."

I turned my empty glass between my palms. "The fact is you're a lawyer, not a forensic accountant. The answers will be there, you're just not trained to see them. If the man is that sure of himself, there will be errors, however small. That final, tiny kernel of truth you've been searching for will exist."

"What are you saying?" he asked as he leaned forward to refill my glass. "That I'm too close to it all? That I care too much?"

"That's part of it," I allowed quietly, feeling my way forward. I put my hand on the pile of bookwork next to me. "These ledgers are from Michael Knight's investigation business. I've become his accountant out of sheer necessity. It all takes time and patience. And the right mindset."

I shook my head. "That was once my work, my whole existence when I was with FLAG. It was all I'd known for more than twenty-five years until the day your mother walked back into my life and saved me for a second time. I'd become cold and closed off. I didn't like the man I was back then."

"I see…" Edward's brow creased. "FLAG? Should I know the name?"

"No…" I shook my head.

I knew it was now the time to confess everything. I needed to lay my past bare on the desk and allow my intelligent son to make his own judgement. There would be no more secrets between us. It was the only way we could then go forward if that was what he wanted. I prayed it was.

I exhaled roughly. "FLAG is a secret, crime-fighting organisation, dedicated to battling criminals who operate above or outside the law. At times, we've worked beside the FBI. But we were privately funded, and our powers went far beyond theirs." It felt odd to be saying such things again. Wilton's mantra that I'd once so earnestly believed in.

"The acronym stands for The Foundation for Law and Government," I explained with a look of distaste that told my watchful son I now detested the name. "It was set up by Wilton Knight, an old and trusted friend of mine. He took me on board when I decided to leave the State Department."

I looked down into my whiskey and moved the liquid around in the glass. "After Wilton's death a few years ago, I took over as chairman of the foundation. Then, on one unbelievable day, I met your mother again and everything changed."

"After she was shot at Michael and Stevie's wedding, by an underworld criminal, who's now in prison awaiting trial for his crimes, FLAG and I parted ways."

I closed one hand into a tight fist on the desktop. "That bullet had been meant for me. It was the final straw. I was about to resign when they decided I was no longer fit to be their leader. They got someone else more efficient and ruthless who likes to play hardball."

I grimaced. "They're old news, now. But accounting for every last dime and penny was what I once did for a living. It kept the board happy and off our backs while Michael and Kitt did the hard work of keeping the world and people safe."

I shook my head. "After four years of putting his life in constant danger, Michael decided he'd had enough, and he quit. He had Stevie then, and now their daughter, to worry about and protect. I certainly didn't blame him for wanting to quit. I should have done the same, years ago."

I huffed a rueful laugh. "But I got too comfortable and set in my ways. I didn't realise I was living inside a walled prison of my own making. Back then, I felt like a king in his castle. The undisputed lord of all I surveyed."

"Wow…" Edward whistled long and low. "I know Mum said you two were once spies for the British Secret Service…" He shook his head. "But that was years ago. But I understand now, how she came to get shot. Thank you for being so frank with me. I didn't even suspect the half of it."

"That was a terrible situation that should never have happened," I admitted quietly. "I was careless and I'm trying to make it up to Carolyn every day. It won't happen again. You have my word on that."

"Yes, it's all in the past and should remain there," my son replied, as he watched me levelly. "Lucy, Danny and I have agreed on that. Lucy said Mum was obviously so miserable without you. Sedona was my sister's idea for getting you two back together and it worked. Mum needed you; we all saw that."

"Thank you," I acknowledged with a nod. "As I will always need her. Nothing will ever harm her again."

"Fair enough. I can respect that." He drained his glass and sat staring down at it for several seconds. "So, you're saying I'm just not looking in the right places for answers with this case of mine. I thought I'd turned over every rock and stone."

"If you feel you could use a fresh pair of eyes…" I breathed a sigh of relief that he'd readily accepted every word of my explanation.

I reached out one hand to close and push aside the Knight Investigations books. "Do you have any of the evidence with you?" I asked, sounding a shade too eager. "I mean, I'm happy to give them a look over for you if you think it will help at all."

"Yeah, that would be a great help if, you're sure. The files are in my briefcase, which is in the boot of my car. After that last-minute meeting, I didn't have time to return them to the office. I would've missed my flight."

I rubbed my hands together. "Well, there's no time like the present to get started."

"Thank you…" For the first time, my son's usually stern expression relaxed, making him appear years younger. He put aside his glass and rose to his feet. "I'll go out and get them."

"The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll find something…" I nodded toward the door as I consumed the last of my whiskey.

It warmed my blood as I watched him leave and knew I'd made the right decision to confess everything. It felt good that we would be working together on something this important to him.

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"Mmmmm…" Carolyn rolled over as I got carefully into bed to lie down beside her. "You're late. Where have you been all this time?" She stretched sleepily against me before settling her cheek on my naked chest.

I laid one hand over her silk-clad hip and kissed the top of her head. "I've been spending the time downstairs with our son, working out some of the serious issues he's been having with his latest continuance. I think we've made a breakthrough. It'll take some more time to finalise it all."

"You have?" She opened one eye to frown at the bedside clock. "But it's almost four o'clock in the morning. I should've said, you're early. Have you two been up all this time?"

She settled back against me with a gusty sigh. "You must be tired."

I shrugged. "He said he couldn't sleep. He came looking for help. And once he showed me the issues, I couldn't sleep either. It felt good to be of use to him. We've worked out a strategy that should serve."

"All right, admit it," she said drowsily. "Once he came looking for help, you couldn't resist giving it. I love you for that."

"I haven't enjoyed myself so much in some time," I did admit honestly. "It was good to blow some dust off my forensic accountancy skills. And I think we made some considerable headway with it all. He can see his way clear, now."

"Then I'm glad you could help him…" Carolyn moved her cheeks against my naked chest. "Now that you've woken me up so early, are you sleepy?"

"Not at all…" I whispered against her cheek. "I'm too wide awake to sleep now..."

"Good…" She smiled at me with wanton desire in her eyes.

I sighed as I took my time to trace the sweetly curving lines of her body from the corner of her gently curved mouth to the flare of her hip. My fingertips whispered across her warm, scented skin as I reached further to draw her silk nightgown higher over her thighs. "There is nothing more than to love and be loved. That is all…"

"Yes, that truly is all…" she agreed softly as she rose over me. "'The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses…'" she whispered as she bent down to capture my lips with hers as I drew her nightgown up to her waist.

Behind us, fingers of early morning sunlight slowly began to illuminate the bedroom. But we didn't take any time to notice…

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Six days later:

"You know, Carolyn. You've done wonders with the garden out there," Michael commented as he walked back into the house through the living room's open French doors. "You haven't been living that long."

"If only I could take all the credit," I replied ruefully, as I bounced a gurgling Amanda on my knee. "But it seems that the house came with its own gardener. She's working on it all."

"Oh, that's right," Stevie commented as she watched me playing with her daughter. "Michael said a young woman came looking for you two while you were away on your honeymoon. She said she was the old woman's gardener. He said he told her to call back."

"Yeah, sorry. I clean forgot about her," Michael confessed with a shrug. "I didn't have time to stop that day. Kitt and I had a dozen urgent cases on and we were short-handed."

"But we were so happy to be able to help with the house," Stevie inserted quickly as she looked around. "It was the least we could do after all you and Devon have done for us."

Amanda suddenly began to fuss and rub her eyes. Stevie reached out to take her. "I'll go and feed her and then put her down in the portable cot we brought with us. Then we can eat our lunch in peace. Bonnie and RC said they'd be over as soon as they've finished with their last case."

"All right…" I surrendered the baby with a small show of reluctance.

It felt really good to be so close to such a young life again. I missed the times when my children were that small and needed my constant attention. They helped take my mind off the slow disintegration of my marriage and Ian's ongoing infidelities.

"Devon and Edward will be back soon," I said as Stevie left the room. "They've gone to buy supplies. They're dying to try out that huge new grill they bought yesterday. I swear they were like two big kids when they were putting it together."

"A man will always find any excuse to grill," Michael replied with a laugh as he walked toward the fireplace. "Thanks for inviting us over to try it out. Some time off is a rare thing these days."

He leaned one elbow on the mantlepiece, looking up at the portrait I recovered from the attic room. "Who's this old salt?" he asked, looking back at me as he jerked one thumb up at the painting. "He's a fiery-looking sort."

"I have no idea…" I rose and walked to his side. "I wish I did. I found him up in the attic among all the junk, cobwebs and dust up there."

Michael huffed a laugh. "Yeah, the place you wouldn't let me touch under the pain of death when I was supervising all the work on the house. I remember."

"It's just that I didn't want anything to be lost," I replied, frowning over my strange sensation of reluctance. "We've been documenting everything we do. We'll do the same in the garden. This old house has a story to tell, and I want it to tell me in its own time and its own way."

I stopped and shook my head. "Does that sound a little bit strange?"

"Not at all…" Michael leaned closer to kiss my temple. "It sounds just like a woman."

He turned back to the portrait. "I bet this old boy has a story or two to tell. He would've seen a lot in his time."

"I just wish I knew his name," I murmured, staring up at the painted canvas as if I could force it to reveal all its secrets. I touched the tip of one finger to the bottom of the heavy wooden frame.

"That's Captain Daniel Greig," a voice replied from behind us. "Mrs Greig's late husband. He… he was a sea captain."

We both turned to see Kat standing just outside the open doors to the garden, looking more than a little nervous about interrupting our conversation. She shrugged as she shook her head.

"Sorry…" she said, scrubbing the palm of one hand down the seam of her jeans. "I've brought those shrubs you ordered for the driveway. And I didn't mean to butt in just now."

She shifted her stance as she hooked her thumbs into the front belt loops of her jeans. "It's just that I know something of the history of the place. Mrs Greig told me everything. This whole house was built last century for the captain by the carpenters from his ship. But I didn't know you'd brought him down from the attic and put him back where he's always belonged."

"Where he belonged?" I queried in confusion. "I don't understand…"

On the very first day we arrived, I was sure the house had welcomed us. It had enfolded me in its quiet elegance like it had been waiting for us to come and find it. To rescue it. I had never been able to shake that feeling, which is why I'd insisted on being the only one to clear out the attic. There, the captain's painting seemed to direct me to its recovery.

I had the sense then that our buying the house was all meant to be. As I frowned at Kat and waited for her explanation, I felt again that same soft brush of air whisper across the back of my neck, almost like a caress. I put up one hand as I shook my head in wonderment.

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