9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Declan

H er face turns as pale as a ghost's , as if she’s seen one, sitting right here, next to us on the bed. The joke I made earlier about envelopes laced with arsenic or anthrax doesn’t seem so funny anymore. And I want to pry the goddamn thing out of her hand to see what’s made her so upset, but I know that if anyone did that to me, I’d be pissed. So I let her tell me of her own accord. My only hope is that after I told her the story about me going to see Krystal, that she’ll still trust me enough to tell me.

I watch her open the letter, so slow that I want to rip it out of her hands and tear the thing in two. I’ve never felt more protective of a woman as I do now. With Krystal, I didn’t really give two shits. She had a mouth on her and half the time she ran it off, and she deserved the bullshit she got handed, but not Moira. This is a lass with class. Respect. Integrity. And as I watch her face drain of color, all I can think about is taking any pain that she’s suffering from, away. “What is it, lass?” I ask again, only this time, softer.

She turns it around so that I can see the address on the upper left-hand corner. It’s from a Correctional Facility, arriving via Airmail. The redirect concealed it so one couldn’t tell its origin until it was opened. “Shit. Is that from your da?” I raise a hand and shake my head. “Sorry, lass. Of all the stupid questions to ask.”

“No, it’s okay.” She says, trying to get a handle of herself. “I’m just glad that Shana didn’t see this. I never told her about my da. I wouldn’t want to scare her off, or anyone, for that matter. That’s why I didn’t want to even tell you about him.”

“I get it, Moira. But there’s nothing to fear with me.” I tell her, hoping to bring some comfort. “Go ahead, lass. Open it. It’s just a letter. He can’t hurt you with it.”

“Well, this means that he’s found me, Declan, so that isn’t exactly true.”

I place my hand on her leg. “Aye, but he’s in jail, lass. In Scotland. He has no means to reach you other than by post.”

She lifts a brow. “You don’t know my da, Declan. His relentlessness is the reason why I left Scotland, without a forwarding address. He must have hired someone to find me. I know that Richard wouldn’t do that for him. He would rather have died first.”

“You don’t know that, Moira. Everyone has a price.”

“Aye, but da almost cost Richard a lifetime stay in prison. He wouldn’t have anything to do with him again. He’d be a fool.”

“How about we worry about that after we see what it is he has to say? For all you know, it isn’t even him, maybe it’s a prison guard or someone else. Also, if it is him, he could just be reaching out to make sure that you’re okay, especially if he found out that you emigrated to the states. He may be worried about you.”

“It’s been years, Declan.” She argues kindly. “That’s not the way that my da works.”

“How about you open it and find out? You won’t know until you do. I can give you privacy if you like, lass. I don’t mind.”

She grasps my leg. “No, please. I want you to stay.”

I smile warmly. “Then I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to.”

After she sticks her finger inside and tears the seal, she opens it, and she covers her mouth with her hand. A tear falls down her cheek, and I’m almost afraid to ask what she’s reading. “Oh my God.” She gasps, and then swallows, as a stream of tears falls down her cheek.

My voice is almost a whisper as I turn so that I can read what she’s reading. “He’s dying, Declan.” She answers before I get a chance to read it. “It’s cancer. Pancreatic.”

I don’t know what to say. What do you say? I can’t think of anything that would make her feel better, so I just rub her back. “What can I do, Moira?”

“Nothing.” She breathes. “Pancreatic cancer is almost one hundred percent incurable. And patients die very quickly. He hasn’t got much time left.”

I read through the document, looking for...what…I don’t know. But I don’t get far enough to see what she’s seen, and she pulls it away, stuffing it back into the envelope, as though hiding it will make it untrue. “What else does it say, lass?”

“He wants to see me one last time.” She answers, wiping the tears from her eyes.

I’m careful with my words. “How do you feel about that?”

A quick exhale. “He’s my da, Declan. It wouldn’t matter if your da was in prison for murder, you’d see him, right?”

I nod, knowing full well that I would. “Aye. But you should take heed, Moira. Your da is much different than mine.”

A hand goes to her waist, while her face changes, as does her tone. She’s irritated. “Declan, I know that your da isn’t incarcerated, but he’s also not dying, like mine is. I haven’t seen him in years, and I never wanted to. I’m not even sure that I do now, and I don’t know what that means.” She exhales again, and a fresh batch of tears falls down her cheeks. “God, I used to run to him, and I’ve been a sucker to him all along, I just...I couldn’t handle it anymore. I knew that I had to create distance between us, or he’d ruin me.”

“So, don’t go, Moira. Nothing is forcing you to go. If you feel it in your bones that it isn’t good for you, then don’t do it.”

“And then my da dies in prison, alone.” She says, voice flat. “And I’m the worst daughter that ever lived.”

“You are not the worst daughter, Moira. You even said yourself that he was awful to you, that you had to get away. He’s also responsible for murdering someone, for taking a life. Maybe this is like his karma. An eye for an eye.”

She rakes a hand through her hair. “God, I don’t know, Declan. I bring lives into the world, and sometimes I save them, too, and letting a person die alone goes against everything that I believe in.”

“I get that, Moira. But you also have to think about yourself here. I know that I’m far removed from the situation, but your da will be gone soon, and maybe that’s the best thing for you, lass. He’s not good for you. You’ve said so yourself.”

With a swallow, she looks at me, and I’d pay a billion dollars to know what she’s thinking. I want to say so much more to her, but I’m afraid of overstepping. I’ve never met her da, and I’ve only known her for a short time, so it isn’t my place.

“I can’t...I can’t deal with this right now. I have to go to work.” She says, squeezing her hair with her hands.

“That’s okay, Moira. Don’t feel guilty for this. He’s the asshole here, not you. Remember that.” I change the subject. “Look. I'll go make you some breakfast while you shower, okay? If you need to focus on something else, then so be it. This is your life, Moira. And you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s not your fault that your da made poor choices.”

It takes her a moment, but she nods, as if agreeing or just processing, but either way, she seems to have calmed down some. She’s not pulling her hair out like she was a minute ago. That’s when I make up my mind to help her in any way that I can. Moira is not afraid to tell me if I’m crowding her. I can grab our company jet anytime she wants, if she wants, and fly her out to Scotland to see her da. There is nothing stopping that from happening, if that’s what she wants. And if she decides to let him die, without seeing him, then I’ll support her on that front, too. As far as I’m concerned, I wouldn’t want to be involved with someone who’s offed someone else, unless it was for a good cause, like defending someone you love, or something like that. But from what I understand, her da did it for unsavory reasons.

I go to her kitchen and see what’s in the fridge. “Oh, who the fuck am I kidding.” I say to myself. Unless there’s a carton of milk in the fridge and a box of cereal in the cupboard, I’m a sitting duck. She’s already in the shower, so I grab her keys and lock up, taking my cell phone with me, downstairs. The coffee shop up the street has nobody in the drive-thru, so I grab coffee and bagels, and head back, just in time for her to get out of the shower. As I walk inside, I can hear the hair dryer, so I set everything down and catch up on some emails as I wait.

“Smells good.” She comments, all dressed and ready to go.

“You look fantastic.”

A modest wave. “It’s amazing the difference a good night’s sleep can do.”

I search for the right words. “I’m glad you’re not...letting this thing with your da get you down.”

She sighs, picking up a bagel. “Declan, I work best under pressure, and I make my best decisions on the fly. This is no different. The answer will come to me when it’s meant to come. Today, I’ve got a patient that needs tending to, and she’s my top priority. The answer will be in there somewhere, I believe.”

“You are wise, lass.” It’s going on seven o’clock, and I need to get back, so I grab my coffee and bagel. She watches me.

“I should take this to-go, too.” She says, and I love it that she’s not going to make me feel guilty for leaving.

I kiss her goodbye as we leave the apartment together. I watch her as she pulls out of the parking garage, and I decide that I have something more important to address before I get into today’s tasks.

Cullen and Connor, our security guys, are sitting with da in his office. They look more laid back than normal. I tip my head in greeting. “Morning.”

“Morning, Declan.” Da says warmly. “Did you have a good night with Moira?” The way he says it is like I’ve been at a sleepover party with girlfriends.

“Aye. How are the investigations going?”

“Not a lot on the home front, I’m afraid.” Connor replies. “It sure made our lives easier when that old man shot Mike Wilson. Now we’ve just got to nail Nathan Mackenzie and we’re home free.”

“For now.” Da warns kindly. “There’s always going to be some trouble, lads. That’s why I keep you on the payroll.” He looks at me. “What have you got for me, son?”

“Ah, not so much trouble, just a hunch.”

He tips his chin upward. “What sort of hunch?”

I draw in a deep breath and let it out. “This isn’t part of any investigation, but I’d like someone to do some digging for me, if it isn’t too much to ask.”

“Tell me what you need, Declan.” Connor says, and I notice Cullen’s ears perk up.

“Moira McTavish, she’s an obstetrician/gynecologist here in North Carolina, and she’s emigrated from Scotland. Her da, James McTavish, he’s in custody in Scotland for a murder investigation.”

“Son, I told them about Moira.” Da says, bringing me up to speed.

“Right, right. I forgot that Maverick had the skinny on that.” I add, and I notice that I’m pacing nervously.

“What’s on your mind, Declan?” Da prompts, helping me to focus.

“Well, she got a letter from her da in the mail, and it’s...pretty upsetting to her. He says that his days are numbered. Cancer. And it’s tearing her up inside.”

“That’s a shame, Declan.” Da frowns, hearing the tension in my voice.

I clear my throat. “Anyway, as twisted as this sounds, the man isn’t exactly known for his honesty. I’d like someone to dig in. Find out if he speaks the truth, just to make sure that Moira’s not being taken for another ride. I’m not sure how much anyone can find out, given that the man is incarcerated, and it’s to do with his health records, so highly confidential, but I’d like someone to see what they can find out.”

Da looks at Connor, who nods, and then he looks at me. “Not a problem, Declan. I have people on the inside in Scotland, as I’m sure you’re well aware, and I can find out how many times a day an inmate shits if you need to know that.”

“That’s reassuring.” I nod. “But I can’t help but wonder what will make me feel better.”

Da catches on. “If he’s dying, it’ll tear her up, but if he’s lying, it’ll do the same.”

“Aye. Exactly.” I shake my head. “I’ll kill the bastard myself if he’s lying. That poor lass has been through enough because of that asshole.”

“Tell me, Declan.” Da says. “Why is it he wrote to her? Why wouldn’t he just call? Seems to me that if he found his estranged daughter, that he would just pick up the phone.”

“The letter originally went to her former business address. It was forwarded, so he probably didn’t have the means to call her.”

“Either that or it’s a tighter alibi, mate.” Connor states. “If he knows that she forwarded her mail, sending her a letter to the old address looks more convincing than just picking up a phone and claiming that you‘re on your death bed.”

Da lifts a finger at him. “That’s a good point.”

“She did say that he’s shrewd.” I agree.

“I’ll let you know what I find out ASAP.” Connor states.

“In the meantime, son, is she going to visit him?” Da asks me.

I shrug. “She hasn’t yet made up her mind, da. It’s not as simple as it may seem.”

Da frowns. “I like her. She’s not a spontaneous person. She thinks things through before reacting. Wise.”

I nod, listening.

“Either way, Declan, if you need the company jet, just say the word. We can get her to Scotland on a flight anytime she needs.”

“Thanks, da, I appreciate it.”

He rises, pats me on the shoulder, and says. “Anytime, son.”

“So her da is AWOL for years, and suddenly he sends her a fucking letter?” Jack Ford, here for a meeting, asks. Him, Dalton, and Chas Ford are meeting with us to discuss their latest project, and where their money is best to be going.

“I’m not sure if it’s been years, as Moira hasn’t given me specifics on that, but you get the point.”

Maverick cranes his neck back. “Twenty bucks says that if you check him right now, his pants are on fucking fire, man.”

Chas Ford high fives him. “Let me in on that one, dude.”

“Sounds to me like that dude plays with fire.” Ethan interjects. “If I was being held for murder and I found out my days were numbered, I’d just hang myself and get it the fuck over with. I wouldn’t be reaching out to my rich, long-lost daughter, man.”

Maverick scoffs. “Yeah, fifty bucks says that he’s going to ask her for money to pay for his funeral...like five million or so...that should cover it, right?” He teases, tilting his hand from side to side.

I raise a hand. “Okay, guys, let’s just pipe down here. What happens if the motherfucker is telling the truth?”

Ethan frowns. “Then he gets his just desserts, man. He fucked over everyone in his life, including his loving daughter, he killed someone, and now he gets the sweet release of death? If you ask me, he’s getting off easy.”

“Yeah, that dude should be left in a fucking room with rabid dogs for what he did. Chances are, if he’s got terminal cancer, he’s going to get all the best painkillers, courtesy of taxpayers’ money, and he’s going to go out having served a minimum for his crimes.”

“Your guys are checking him out, right?” Chas checks.

“Definitely. I won’t see Moira suffer for this shit. She deserves better.”

“Good. You mean, she didn’t hop on a plane to go see him straight up.” Dalton confirms.

“No. She wasn’t born yesterday. Moira is a doctor. She’s got more brains than I’ll ever fucking have, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, and how is she going to feel if you find out that her da’s still a crook, man?” Jack asks. “She’s going to fucking hate you, dude.” He chuckles mirthlessly.

Dalton turns on his swivel chair and interjects. “I disagree. If I found out some shit about someone trying to snow me over, I wouldn’t care who it was from. I’d just be grateful that I didn’t get snowed over and that someone saved my ass.”

“It’s different when it’s a lass, dude. Plus, he’s already been sniffing around her business.” Maverick states.

“Aye, thanks to you, asshole.” I seethe, only half joking.

“Hey, I did you a favor, man, and don’t deny it.”

“Don’t be so fast to pat yourself on the back, brother. Be thankful that Moira’s a level-headed lass. If she’d been any less, you would have fried for that.”

He shrugs. “Hey, that Gill Rogers dude is something else, huh.” Maverick says, changing the subject.

“I wasn’t surprised by that.” Chas says, shaking his head. “Old guys are like that. Colton’s neighbor, man, he’d lay anyone on the floor if they asked for it.”

“Aye, didn’t he kill Julia’s ex-fiancé?”

Dalton nods emphatically. “Shot him dead, right in the goddamn kitchen.”

“Yep. Old people are the original ‘fuck around and find out’ folks.” Jack adds. “My old man sent us all to the military so that we wouldn’t fuck around and look where we’re at.”

Maverick interjects. “Our da was the fucking military. Dougall Harris can take on any goddamn drill sergeant…with one hand tied behind his back, too.”

I worry that the boys may take offence to that comment, but then they chuckle, and I’m glad. While it is quite clear that Dougall Harris is not exactly the warm and fuzzy type, I'm certain that living under his roof is nothing compared to being on the front lines.

Jack circles back to the discussion regarding Moira. “So, are you going to be straight up with her, and tell her if you find out that her dad is still a fraud? Or are you going to let her go see him and figure it out for herself?”

“I'm not really sure yet, to be honest. I guess it depends on what the truth really is here. Something tells me that Moira is smart enough and she'll figure it out herself.”

“You're forgetting that she is a doctor, dude. Chances are, if he is really as sick as he says he is, it's going to be as obvious to her as the nose on my face.”

Jack interjects. “Not necessarily. If it's early on, it could be pretty easy to hide. Even if she is a doctor.”

“But she's not his doctor. And she's also a gynecologist, dude.” Dalton points out.

Jack waves. “So what. A doctor is a doctor. Besides, if he's been in the slammer long enough, it's likely he's not going to look like a Gucci model.”

I frown. “True.”

And in the next forty-eight hours, I get the pleasure meeting Mister James McTavish…