Epilogue

“I still can’t believe they caused so much pain and misery with such a confused and convoluted plan,” Angela said.

Jackson rolled over. “Nellie wanted the castle in the worst way. She felt it was owed to her. And Sam Hall wanted to be more than he was. He wanted a title more than anything in the world, something that got stuck in his head. We can look into it more, I suppose. Bad childhood? We’ve learned that many things, such as low self-esteem, can cause such twists in the human mind. And while I don’t know what was behind Sam’s desperation to be the lord of such a place, he and Nellie, odd as it may sound, apparently started something while Moira’s granny was still alive. They were a couple, but he would have sacrificed her, too. They needed a plan. If Nellie had immediately produced the will, Moira would have fought it. Their goal was to make Moira so miserable she’d be ready to give it all up.”

“So they killed all those people.”

“Apparent suicide, an accident. And they wanted a tourist to die, seemingly of natural causes. But they had four more patches,” Jackson said.

“How—?”

“Sam. We never checked on Sam’s comings and goings. He found out that despite their illustrious careers, the Millers were drowning in debt. He discovered all that by being almost as good on the web as you are. Doctor Miller was facing a malpractice suit, and Sam threatened to say he’d also seen the man, was treated off the books, and nearly died.”

Jackson scratched at his scruff. “So, the Millers were roped into the plot. All they had to do was get the frog toxin. When they arrived with it, they learned Sam would kill them if they didn’t get close to a guest. So, they did. But we suspected them, and Sam caught on. That’s why he suddenly wasn’t working. The man was a security expert. He could easily get by the police at the hotel. And with them gone, he planned to go along with the celebration and then wait a bit and kill someone else. When Moira was truly miserable, Nellie would produce the will and offer to take the place off her hands. Subtly threatening, of course, that she would do so one way or the other. But they didn’t plan for Moira’s American cousin—and her husband, of course,” Jackson added, grinning.

“So horrible,” Angela said but leaned back.

It was over.

Moira was still devastated that people she loved and trusted had come up with such a horrible and twisted scheme, but she had Mark with her.

And they were doing very well.

The paperwork had taken days and happened in Ireland and the United States, but they’d had time between the tie-up work to visit St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin Castle, Temple Bar, and more.

Angela would always love Ireland. And, yes, it was great to have a cousin who owned a castle.

But now they were lying on a gorgeous beach in Hawaii, arranged with some help from the McFadden brothers, Mary, and of course, Adam.

Angela felt the sun’s warmth and took a moment to realize she cherished her life. She was lucky.

No, she didn’t have a castle.

But she had a man who loved her, a job that made her feel as if she mattered, her children, and she was rich in ways so many others might never know.

“We do have to go back, you know,” she said, rolling to looked into Jackson’s eyes.

“We will.”

“I’m not sure I thanked the banshee enough,” she said.

He smiled. “Just the banshee?” he queried.

She laughed, smacked him on the shoulder, and raced for the surf.

He ran after her.

And she knew.

He always would.

* * * *

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