Chapter 6

With the others gone, Jackson excused himself for a minute to call Bruce McFadden, giving him a list of the information they needed. Bruce reminded him that Angela was customarily their information guru, but then he laughed and assured him it was an intriguing case, and they were on it.

“Financials are important,” Jackson reminded him. “And searches for any of these people who might have purchased a poison dart frog for a pet, or—because of that lab robbery in South America—anyone who might have traveled along the Amazon.”

When he returned to the office, Angus and Angela were talking about the interviews they’d conducted, shaking their heads. They suggested again that it seemed—at the very least—that Connie and Steve Miller were under suspicion.

Angela glanced at him, and he nodded.

Angus laughed out loud. “I don’t need to worry. You have the innumerable machinations of the FBI gathering the information we need on our guests. But our people are working, too.”

Jackson nodded at him. “And that’s great because night has come on. We have night crews, of course, but if your machine is whirring—”

“They’ll get what we need,” Angus assured him. “Mr. Meadows is still at the castle. And Moira hasn’t returned here.”

“Let’s find them,” Angela said.

And they did.

Mark was in the kitchen, chatting with Nellie about Irish food.

When they all filed into the room, he looked at them expectantly—and hopefully.

“Anything?” he asked.

“Nothing solid, no. Oh, except that Kevin is one good kid,” Jackson said easily.

None of them knew who had leaked everything about the murder at the castle to the press, but they were in silent agreement that no one else would get any information from them until the situation had been resolved.

“He is a good kid,” Mark said.

“Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” Nellie told them. “And forgive me if we’re not all spic and span. I’ve not had the cleaning crew in, being as, well, we’re not having others in at this time.”

“Of course. No worries,” Angela said. “And the castle is evidently loved and cared for. Trust me, none of us could clean a whole castle on our own. We’re grateful you’re such a wonderful cook.”

The woman smiled. “Ah, well, I worked for Colleen for decades, long before our dear Moira returned from the States. And here she is. Moira, where—?”

“Making sure our visitors were safely out,” Moira said.

“I was telling these lovelies about Colleen and my cooking expertise. She loved for me to experiment with food, adored the classics and all that came our way from afar—especially empanadas,” she said cheerfully.

“Nellie makes one hell of an empanada,” Moira said.

“Empanadas. Great,” Jackson murmured and looked at Angela.

She looked back at him with a slightly apologetic smile. She was about to do something he might not like.

“Mark?” Angela said. “Would you be willing to take us on one of your ghost tours? I can’t help but think it might help us if we knew more about what was going on that night.”

“Angela—” Moira began.

“No, no, Moira. It’s fine,” Mark said enthusiastically. “I love my tours. Come on, we’ll start over in the Great Tower.” Moira got up and walked out with him.

Jackson held back, catching Angela’s arm lightly and whispering, “Ghost tour? What if we see a ghost?”

“That’s just it, Jackson. We’ve been here, in a castle that’s likely seen more bloodshed than can be imagined, and haven’t seen even one ghost,” she told him.

“Maybe those who died are happy with their final outcome. It is now the Republic of Ireland,” Jackson reminded her.

“True,” she said softly. “I just hoped that…well, I hoped maybe Colleen Darien stuck around after she died.”

“But she was happy, too. Her beloved granddaughter was home, ready to take the reins of the castle and bring it safely into the twenty-first century,” Jackson reminded her.

“Still, why is this a ghostless castle?” Angela said.

“Hey. We’re doing the tour. We’ll see what we see, and hear what may be of interest later,” Jackson assured her. “Come on. We don’t want to look like we’re whispering about these guys.”

Mark gave an excellent tour. He started back—way back—telling them that the first instances of human beings was approximately thirty-three thousand years ago, with more evidence showing that Homo sapiens were populating the area by 10,500 BC to 7,000 BC. As the ice receded about that time, Ireland’s prehistoric era began, bringing in new evolution and populations. He then moved forward to more of what they both knew already, the history of the Gaels, Vikings, and Norse, and then onward to the British royalty, who would eventually claim the island.

“I believe you know about St. Patrick. He was brought here first as a young enslaved person, then returned as an adult. And, as you know, he might not have gotten the nonexistent snakes out of Ireland, but he did create a country of Christians. Sadly, religion was the cause of endless wars to come throughout the century as British royalty laid claim again and again, and revolts broke out. So, in the Great Tower, we have the ghost of Shamus, an Irish king brought low by the Normans. And in the courtyard, we have the ghost of one of the first of the family to call the castle home, Lady Siobhan Darien. She was hanged for what the invading English called treason, but she swore there was none when she merely fought for her own land on Irish soil.”

They traveled through much of the castle as Mark spoke, and as he told them more about Siobhan Darien, Jackson smiled.

He figured he was right. Those who had died were able to move on because this was now the Republic of Ireland.

“So many wars over religion,” Moira murmured.

Jackson was about to answer, but Mark did instead, shaking his head. “I’m sure religion was often given as an excuse, but you have to remember, the Catholic landowners were stripped of their property, which was then handed over to the Protestant followers of whoever was the English ruler at the time. We’ve seen it all over the world. Ideologies scare people and…seriously.” He grinned at Jackson and Angela. “I grew up in the States. I know why the Founding Fathers wanted to guarantee freedom of religion—which meant freedom for all religions, not just one’s own. They watched people use religion—you know, the devil turning women into witches—to further their agendas. Some were terrified, those who believed the darkness of the endless woods might well hold evils. But I still say that when people blame religion, there’s a deeper cause most of the time.”

“Well said,” Jackson told him. “We can see why you’re such a beloved guide.”

The man blushed, and Jackson smiled. Angela was giving him a nod of approval for his comment.“Well, look, it’s dinner time,” Moira said.

As they turned to go back to the Darien Tower, Jackson put his hand on Angela’s arm to pull her closer to him before whispering, “See? No ghosts. They’re happy now. The northern part of the island was populated by those who chose to stay British, and the south is now the Republic of Ireland. Our ghosts are all happy.”

She smiled and nodded. “Nothing like a happy ghost. Still. Cool castle, huh?”

“Very cool castle,” he agreed. “And even cooler after dinner.” They headed to the dining room. Nellie was already setting covered food platters on the table.

It had been set for all of them, including Mark and Angus.

“You didn’t have to have me here for supper,” Mark said.

“Nor me,” the inspector added.

“We’re delighted to have you both,” Moira assured them. “Nellie loves to cook for a crowd. I feel bad when it’s just Stewart, his family, and me. Nellie should have a restaurant or a pub so she can cook for dozens of people every night.”

They sat down and were soon joined by Stewart, Elizabeth, and Daniel. Again, the teen reminded Jackson of his son, Corby. Like Corby, Daniel had learned manners and how to be polite, yet still be a normal and energetic boy.

Naturally, Stewart looked from Angus to Jackson and Angela. “Anything?” he asked quietly.

“We just keep moving forward. This is one tangled web,” Angus told him. “So, what was up with the family McKenna today?”

“Rugby,” Daniel announced. “And my team won.”

“Daniel was the star of the show today,” Elizabeth said.

They talked about the game and the food. They discussed anything but the murder that had taken place at the castle.

When they were nearing the end of the meal, Nellie ran in to tell them she’d be right back. She wasn’t sure who was on duty, but she wanted to run a meal down to the gatehouse.

“That’s great, Nellie,” Moira said. “But you’ve worked all day. We’re all capable of picking up after such a lovely supper. Let us run down to the gatehouse and clean up for—”

“Nay, lass, nay,” Nellie protested. “You people just relax. I enjoy feeding the lads at the gatehouse. I’ll be right back, and I know how to do the pickin’ up meself.”

As soon as she was gone, Moira and Angela looked at each other. “Hell, yes, let’s do it,” Angela said. The two were up in a flash, sweeping serving dishes off the table. Jackson quickly got to his feet, as did the others, including Daniel.

They were an odd team, but a good one. In minutes, they had the table cleared. Moira loaded the dishwasher while Jackson and Angela rinsed the dishes. Stewart and Elizabeth wrapped and put away some of the leftover food with Daniel at their side, ready to gather what they needed and move things around in the refrigerator.

Even Mark seemed to fall right into a pattern as he listened to anything Moira said, ready to switch from place to place to help. When Nellie returned, she was stunned.

“Aw, lovies. How sweet and kind. And unnecessary. ‘Tis me job. But you are dear people, and I am grateful to you and ready for me bed.”

“And we need to leave so you all can get some sleep,” Angus said, looking at Mark.

“Aye. Right. Time to leave,” Meadows agreed. Then he turned to Moira. “I…just. Other people work for me and can handle things when I’m gone. I will be here anytime, day or night, if you need me.”

“Thank you, Mark,” Moira whispered.

He nodded.

“I’ll be here bright and early in the morning,” Angus said more matter-of-factly. “Of course, you can call me at any time, too.”

“Will do,” Jackson assured him.

The two left, and Elizabeth yawned. “I’m to bed.”

“We’re all to bed,” Stewart agreed.

“I could play a few video games,” Daniel said.

“I’m sure you could,” his father told him. “But, we’re to bed. And, as always, Moira, we’re here if you need us. Hopefully, we’re out of the way when you don’t.”

She hugged him, then squeezed Elizabeth and Daniel, making the boy blush.

They headed to their bedrooms.

Moira sighed.

“Ye sweeties cleaned me kitchen. Yah. I’m also to bed,” Nellie said.

“We’ll walk together,” Angela told Moira.

She smiled. They all headed upstairs, and Angela and Jackson watched Moira enter her bedroom and waited until they heard the door lock.

It did.

They moved into their room, where Jackson immediately pulled his wife into his arms.

She laughed, happy to be there. “Well, we can’t use the castle as an excuse anymore,” she teased. “I mean, you know…been there, done that.”

“I’ve been there time and again. And still…” He nuzzled her neck.

She laughed. It was an amazing way to shake off the day. Of course, showers were good first. Such sweet foreplay could be afforded in a shower, though they quickly found the bed once things got too slippery.

When Jackson finally slept that night, he felt strangely at peace.

Despite the odd murder they were so desperately trying to solve.

But they had suspects. Now, they just needed a few facts and the proof that was known as evidence.

* * * *

Angela heard it. A sound so soft in the night it almost wasn’t there…

It could have been the memory of a song, replaying in her subconscious mind, something on the whisper of a night breeze.

But it wasn’t.

She opened her eyes. Jackson slept peacefully at her side. She hesitated. He was a man who heard the slightest rustle, the smallest nuance of movement.

No one moved in the room. Yet she still heard the sound. It seemed to be coming from the courtyard.

But they had tried to find ghosts in the castle. If any resided here, they didn’t care to make an appearance. She wasn’t sure Jackson believed in the concept of the banshee.

But he believed in her. She knew it. And still…

She wondered if she could possibly slip from the room, go down to the hall, and then get out into the courtyard for a look.

As silently as possible, she slid from the bed, remembering when Victoria had been just a baby and she’d tried to tend to her at night without waking her husband. Jackson was a great dad. He’d been happy to handle any nighttime situations with Corby or Victoria. And while he was capable of most things, he couldn’t breastfeed. And while she’d worked from home in those early months, he had gone into the office. The Krewe of Hunters had a lot of perks, but they were a special unit. He took his job seriously—as they all did. But as field supervisor, he was determined to never fail their founder and great benefactor.

She made it out of their bed and quickly pulled on one of her long, white cotton gowns, warm enough for a bit of a walk through the castle.

She kept an eye on him. So far, he hadn’t moved. His eyes remained closed. His arm had been around her but now rested on the bed.

She hurried to the door and quietly went out into the hall.

Low, subtle lights lit the tower lest anyone need something—water or anything else—in the darkness of the night. It was easy for Angela to quicky run down the old stairs, through the hall, and to the small arched doorway that led out to the great courtyard.

And there she was. Dead center of the courtyard, where, so they had been told, the gallows had once stood. Now, there was just a large dais surrounded by beautiful flowering shrubs and small trees.

She stood there, looking at the Great Tower, dressed in flowing black from her hooded cape to her toes.

She was beautiful. Her hair was nearly as dark as her garment; her features perfectly aligned, eyes wide, and lips generous. And as Angela watched, she let out a soft moan like what had penetrated Angela’s mind, even as she slept.

Angela approached her slowly, and as she neared the dais, the banshee turned and looked at her. The low moan turned to silence as she stared at Angela in surprise and consternation.

“You see me,” she whispered.

“I do,” Angela said.

“And you’re…alive.”

“I believe so.” Angela smiled.

“Then you must help me. You must help me,” the banshee whispered desperately.

* * * *

Jackson had heard Angela moving around the room and assumed she was just restless or seeking something for the morning. He didn’t open his eyes but rather waited for her to lie back down beside him so he could slip an arm around her and pull her close to drift back to sleep.

But she didn’t slide back into bed. Instead, she quietly opened the door and slipped out of the room.

He jumped up, found a pair of jeans to wear, and then threw on a shirt without bothering to do up the buttons. He slipped into his shoes and headed out of the room.

She wasn’t in the hallway, so he hurried down to the kitchen, the dining room, and the office. There was no sign of her.

She was a capable agent, well-schooled in self-defense. He knew that. He also knew he loved her desperately, and they were at their best when working as a team.

But she was nowhere in the castle’s living areas.

Then it occurred to him that she might have slipped out to the courtyard, where they had thought they might meet up with a ghost.

He burst outside.

And there she was, standing before the dais.

And atop the platform…

Was a woman, ethereal and beautiful, clad in flowing black that almost seemed to be a part of the night.

The woman looked at him. Alarm crossed her features before she flickered as if she might quickly shimmer away into nothing.

“It’s all right. Please,” Angela begged the being. “Please, he’s with me. My husband. He sees you, too. And if anyone can help, believe me, it’s Jackson.”

The image became clearer.