“They’re afraid of what you’ll do and I’m afraid of what they’ll do when they realize there’s no stopping you.”

  “It’s none of your business,” she said primly.

  “Of course it’s my business,” he shouted. “Connor was killed because he’d located me, the only living witness to an event that could destroy a politician’s career. You located me as well. You’re in danger because of me.”

  Her heart flip-flopped in her chest. She hoped John Griffith was hearing every word of this. “Do you feel responsible?”

  “Completely.”

  She was silent for a long time. “How is Heather?” she asked at last.

  “Well, thank you.”

  “And Claire?”

  “Claire is Claire.” He turned to her impatiently. “What difference does it make how Claire is? I want to know your intentions.”

  “Why?”

  “Damn it, Kellie. You know why. Don’t go on with this.”

  She stared straight ahead.

  He sighed. “What will it take to satisfy you?”

  “I want McGarrety charged with Connor’s murder.”

  “That won’t happen,” Tom said flatly. “It never does.”

  “I want Davies to step aside,” she continued. “He doesn’t deserve his position. It’s one of public trust. I certainly don’t trust him. Who could trust a man who allows others to murder for him?”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “Don’t we?” This time it was her voice that was raised to an angry pitch. “Do you really believe that McGarrety wouldn’t be reined in if Davies gave the order?”

  Tom didn’t answer.

  “Kevin Davies knows what’s going on, Tom. He isn’t the least bit sorry for what he’s done. He’s only sorry that he’s been found out.”

  “That may be true, but it doesn’t lessen your danger. Why do you have to be the one to expose him?”

  “Because you didn’t do it,” she shot back. “Because you didn’t reveal what he’d done, my brother was killed.”

  “That’s a twisted way of looking at things.”

  She shook her head and maneuvered into the far right lane to overtake another car. “I don’t think so.”

  Tom leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. She was right but she was also wrong. “We’ll see him tomorrow,” he said after a minute, “and we need McGarrety there, too.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then I’ll know what’s going to happen next. When I see them together, I’ll know.”

  “What will you do then?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Are you afraid now?”

  “Terrified.”

  “Why? They won’t hurt you. You spared them.”

  “Not this time. Not if they hurt you.”

  She was having trouble concentrating on the road. The fights on the motorway were always inadequate at night and she was more than a little interested in the way the conversation was going. “Why did you come here, Tom?”

  “I worry about you.”

  “Now, or just in general?”

  “Every bloody waking moment. I wonder how I could have let you go. I worry that you’ll meet someone else, someone wonderfully suited to you. I worry that you’ll never forgive me for Claire. But most of all I worry that if you don’t come back, I’ll never get over you.” He looked at her. “Are you coming back, Kellie?”

  She waited some time before answering. “I can’t think about that now. I’m in the middle of this and I’m still very angry with you.”

  He nodded. “I don’t blame you.”

  “She’s still there, isn’t she, living with you?”

  “She’s sharing the house, Kellie. She’s not living with me. I haven’t touched Claire in eight years and I have no intention of ever doing so again.”

  Her question was a whisper. When he heard the words every instinct told him to he.

  “You considered it, though, didn’t you?”

  He’d lost. He knew it before he answered. But if he was to go down, he would go down honestly. “Yes,” he said, “for exactly one minute, I considered it, but that’s all.”

  “You don’t have to explain, Tom. It’s all right. I understand.”

  He could see her hands on the wheel, tight, white- knuckled. “Does it matter that I’m quite sure I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you?”

  “That’s very nice,” she said mechanically, “but I wish you wouldn’t say things like that to me. It makes everything that much harder. Let’s just stick to the business at hand.”

  He stared out the window. “Will your friend mind my staying with her? I can find a hotel.”

  “Gilly won’t mind and, besides, I’d rather you be with me. That way we’ll both know what’s happening at the same time.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough. Tell me, Kellie, why did you attend the dinner?”

  Strange how circumstances compromised one’s character. She’d never known how skilled at lying she was. “Curiosity, and because he asked me to speak with his wife. I told her about Connor and Danny. Apparently she was quite upset at the thought of her beloved husband committing murder.”

  “Did you speak to her this evening?”

  “No. You showed up and there was no opportunity.”

  They were in Oxford now, heading toward the north end of town. Kellie pulled into a charming brick complex, obviously modern but built to look like it had weathered the ages. It was a few minutes past midnight.

  “Will your friend still be awake?”

  Kellie looked up at the window overlooking the garden. “Her light is on. She’ll want to meet you.”

  Gillian, wrapped in her bathrobe, was watching the last minutes of a late-night talk show. Her eyes widened when Kellie introduced Tom. She stood and held out her hand. “My goodness, it’s grand to meet you. I’ve heard a great deal about you and your daughter.”

  Tom grinned. “I’m not sure how to take that, but since you’re still speaking to me, I’ll accept it as a compliment.”

  Kellie stared. She’d never seen this side of Tom Whelan before. He wasn’t exactly flirting, but he had definitely charmed Gillian.

  “Kellie thought it might be acceptable for me to stay overnight here in your living room. If that’s not convenient I can find a hotel.”

  Gillian shook her head. “I wouldn’t think of sending you away. I was just about to go to bed anyway, I’ll bring out some blankets and towels and you’ll be set. Can I get you anything first? Maybe a cup of tea?”

  “Not for me, thanks,” said Tom.

  Kellie followed Gillian down the hall to the linen closet. “Thank you, Gillian. He showed up after dinner. I had no idea he was coming.”

  “He doesn’t have to stay on the couch, Kellie. You’re both adults and under the circumstances—”

  Kellie shook her head firmly. “Nothing’s changed. He’s still married and living with his wife.”

  “He’s very attractive. You didn’t tell me that.”

  “Yes,” said Kellie slowly. “I suppose he is.”

  Gillian stared at her. “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure.” She chewed the inside of her lip. “A month ago, I wanted him desperately.”

  “And now?”

  Kellie looked at her friend, her eyes bright and hard. “He rejected me. From one day to the next everything changed. He told me he loved me and then Claire came home and it was as if nothing had ever happened between us. When I needed reassurance the most, he let me down. How does one get over something like that?”

  “Kellie.” Gillian gripped her shoulders. “We’re all human. People make mistakes. The man is here. If he wanted to be with his wife, he would be there.”

  Kellie sighed. “I want this to be over. I can’t think of anything else besides Connor and Danny and Kevin Davies. It’s consumed my mind.”

  Gillian handed her a set of snowy sheets, two towels and a washcloth. “You’re a strong woman, Kellie Delaney, one of the strongest I know. Your background has done that for you. You’ll get through this. Whatever decision you make about Tom Whelan will be the right one.”

  Kellie kissed her friend’s cheek. “You’re a wonderful friend, Gilly. Thank you for being here.”

  “Don’t mention it. And if you’re truly not interested in Tom Whelan, be sure to let me know first.”

  Twenty-Five

  Claire was cleaning the kitchen floor, reluctantly. Housework had never appealed to her. Only the tacky feeling wherever she stepped prompted her to take on the unpleasant task of crouching on her hands and knees to scrub the pathway and corners where food and spills had collected.

  The ring of the phone was a welcome respite. When she listened further she was concerned and then angry. “I’ll be right there,” she said tersely.

  Replacing the phone, she grabbed her jacket and ran out the door. Damn Tom Whelan. Where was he? What was so important that he needed to absent himself for days at a time? She was tempted to call his mobile phone, but pride kept her from it. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she couldn’t cope.

  Mother Mary Patricia had come up in the world, Claire reflected bitterly. Years ago she’d been an eighth-level teacher. Now she was principal of the school Heather attended. Claire hadn’t cared for the nun when she was a student in her catechism class. And she wasn’t looking forward to this meeting.

  A mousy woman dressed in gray wool ushered her into the principal’s office. The nun sat at her desk, elbows perched on top, hands touching in a pyramid. Heather stood before her even though there were two empty chairs in the room. Claire gritted her teeth. She wished she had bothered to change clothes.

  “Hello, Mrs. Whelan,” said the nun. “Please sit down.”

  How long had Heather been standing? Suddenly Claire was angry. “I will sit down.” She pulled over one of the chairs. “Heather, love, you’ve been very ill. It isn’t good for you to strain yourself. Come and sit with me.”

  Obediently, the child climbed on Claire’s lap.

  Claire kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry, love,” she whispered. “It can’t be that bad. No one’s dead.” She looked at the nun. “Now, Mother. What exactly is the difficulty?”

  “It isn’t one difficulty, Mrs. Whelan. Heather isn’t herself lately. She’s done quite a few things that are uncharacteristic. Perhaps you can explain.”

  “What exactly has she done?”

  The woman ticked Heather’s transgressions off on her fingers. “For one thing, she pulled the fire alarm. When I asked her why she’d done so, she told me she felt like it. Then she refused to pick up the crayons and markers she was using for an art project. Her teacher asked her to clean up around her desk and she told her she didn’t want to.”

  Claire’s eyebrows rose. “Is that all?”

  Mother Mary Patricia exploded. “No, as a matter of fact, it isn’t all. But it is very unusual. Heather is normally a very polite, accommodating young lady. Lately, I would hardly describe her that way. We can deal with it, of course, but we’re not here to do that. We work with the total child. I, for one, would like to know if there is a reason she’s acting out.”

  Claire’s heart pounded. “Heather, love, please wait outside in the front office. Tell the secretary that you need to sit down.”

  Again, the child did as she was told.

  When the two women were alone and the door was tightly closed, Claire began. “I think my return has been a difficult adjustment for her. After all, to have a mother again after seven years is traumatic.”

  “I would think having a mother would be a positive addition to her life.”

  Damn the woman. “I didn’t realize you had a degree in psychology, Mother,” Claire said sweetly.

  Mother Mary adjusted her glasses. “I’ll be blunt, Claire Whelan. You were difficult as a child. I didn’t tolerate it then and I won’t now. This is a respected private school. We can’t have unacceptable behavior here. It isn’t good modeling for the other girls. I’m willing to give Heather a chance, given her previous record, but I have to know what I’m working with.”

  Claire’s instinct was to stonewall, but Tom’s advice about fitting in stopped her. There was Heather to consider. She sighed. “Heather is confused,” she explained. “My husband and I are having difficulties. I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I’m sure it’s affecting my daughter. Unfortunately, there isn’t a thing I can do about it. Please, be patient with her. I’ll do whatever I can.”

  The nun was silent for long seconds. “Thank you,” she said after a bit. “I appreciate the honesty and I’m sorry for your situation.” She hesitated. “As long as we’re having this discussion, may I ask if I should speak to Heather’s father?”

  Claire shrugged. “Not unless you’re a marriage counselor.”

  “Hardly, although there are those who are influenced by the clergy. Susan Whelan is one of those.”

  “I don’t think her son is.”

  The nun leaned forward. “How are you, Claire? We’ve all been quite worried about you.”

  Claire stood. “I’m weary, Mother, and dreadfully worried about my daughter. If you can help her, I would deeply appreciate it.”

  The nun nodded approvingly. “We’ll do what we can. Take a minute to talk with Heather and then send her in to me.”

  Claire was only too anxious to leave. In her haste to close the door and reassure Heather, she nearly bumped into a young woman standing at the copy machine.

  She smiled. “Hello, Claire.”

  Dear God, what now? “Hello,” Claire replied cautiously.

  “How are you?”

  “I’m well, thank you, and you?”

  “Fine.”

  The woman was lovely in the dark-haired, creamy- skinned way of Irish women. She looked familiar. Who was she?

  “I noticed Heather waiting outside on the bench. Is something wrong?”

  Claire cleared her throat. “A little misunderstanding, that’s all.”

  The woman lowered her voice. “If I can help, let me know. Even though James is gone, I’m still her aunt.”

  Shocked into silence, Claire stared at the woman. A relative, her sister-in-law, and she didn’t recognize her. Another reminder of how she no longer fit “You’re Kate Whelan from Dublin, James’s wife?”

  “Actually, I’m his widow.”

  Claire flushed. “I’m very sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kate had asked her something. She had no idea what it was. “I can’t stay,” she said. “I’ve got to find Heather. Mother wants to speak with her again and so do I.” She moved purposely toward the door.

  “I meant what I said,” Kate called after her. “Call me any time.”

  Claire didn’t answer. She would find Heather and then she would call Tom. Something had to change. She was tired of waiting. She wanted her own life.

  The lovely old building where the Irish members of Parliament had their offices was set back on Penbrook Lane across from Big Ben. Wooden benches, mature trees and a garden gave it a pastoral quality in a city where green trees and grass were relegated to Hyde Park. Tom opened the hand-carved oak door and motioned Kellie in ahead of him. Together they climbed the stairs to the second floor.

  Kevin Davies, casually dressed in tweed and khaki, stood and held out his hand first to Tom and then to Kellie. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “Please, sit down.”

  The office was plushly decorated. A Persian carpet covered the wooden floor, expensive draperies bordered the windows and a collection of fine art and family photos added color to the walls. The furnishings were comfortable and modern.

  “I was surprised to see you, Tom,” began Davies. “It’s been a long time. We’ve lost touch.”

  Tom nodded. “It was better for both of us that way.”

  “I want to assure you, as I’ve assured Kellie, that I don’t condone Dennis McGarrety’s actions.”

  “Where is McGarrety?” asked Tom. “I thought he would be here.”

  “He had to leave,” apologized Davies. “I’m sorry.”

  Kellie broke in. “You might not condone Mr. McGarrety’s actions, but you don’t condemn them, either.”

  “Actually, I do, Kellie. But I can’t take responsibility for every disenfranchised group that supports my candidacy. These people, unless they’re felons, are allowed to vote. They vote for whom they please. I can’t control them.”

  Kellie had to admit that his logic sounded sensible, but she was still angry. “My brother and nephew are dead because Connor was closing in on the details of the incident you told me about. How can you absolve yourself of responsibility?”

  “I had no knowledge of McGarrety’s plans. We don’t move in the same circles. We don’t speak or communicate in any way. I finished with all that years ago. Isn’t that right, Tom?”

  Tom Whelan, his eyes narrowed, forehead furrowed, shook his head. “I thought so, but now I’m not sure. You moved in the same circles last night. Kellie’s right. He’s acting with your implied consent. He knows your every move. It is your responsibility and you must do something. If that means revealing the truth about what happened, so be it.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.” Davies voice shook. “I’ll be ruined.”

  Kellie needed him to say much more than that. She interrupted. “The incident happened fifteen years ago. Surely there’s a statute of limitations.”

  “There’s no limitation on murder,” Davies said. “The women were innocent victims. I’ll lose my position and go to jail.”

  “Are you sure they were innocent?” Kellie suggested.

  “Whether they were or not, they didn’t deserve what I did to them.” He shuddered. “I can still see that car going up in flames.”

  She pressed him. “Was that the first time you killed anyone?”

  Tom looked at her strangely.

  “Lord, no,” said Davies, “but I’d never killed a woman, no matter what her affiliations were.”

  “It happened, Kevin,” Tom said gently. “You did what you did. Perhaps losing your position is your penance.”