sides. 'I suppose that's why she's an archaeologist and not a fisherman.'
Myles leaned casually against a post. He had no apparent worries, either, about falling into the water. 'What caught the attention of her restless soul, natural curiosity and investigative mind a year ago?'
The Irishman squinted out toward the mouth of the harbor. 'A tale of invaders and treasure.'
Josie gritted her teeth. 'Well, that narrows things down nicely, doesn't it?'
O'Donovan rubbed the toe of his scuffed boot across a thick rope tied to a fishing boat that presumably belonged to him. Myles nodded at the battered boat. 'Looks as if she's seen a gale or two. Did you take Sophie somewhere in her?'
'Many times. She's a serious scholar and game for anything. Have you met her?'
Myles shook his head, and Josie said, 'What about you? How well do you know Dr. Malone?'
O'Donovan leveled emerald-green eyes on her. 'What business is that of yours?'
'None,' Josie said, and gave him a cheerful smile. 'You seem protective of her. I can understand. Here's a woman far from home--'
'She was born in Cork. Her family owns a house here in Kenmare.'
'All right, then. She's Irish born but her parents are American. She attended college in Boston and did graduate work in Ireland. Now she's returned to Boston. She's rather rootless, wouldn't you say?'
O'Donovan took in a breath and held it as if he didn't want to answer Josie's question but knew he would. Finally he exhaled and said, 'I would, indeed.'
'Is she reckless?' Myles asked.
'We say a person's reckless when things don't work out. When they do, we say that same person is brave.'
'One can be both reckless and brave.' Josie managed not to look at Myles, although she expected he knew she was talking about him, too. 'I'd like to win your trust, Tim. Whatever happened to Sophie last year involved you and obviously troubles you.'
Myles edged closer to Josie, for no apparent reason that she could discern. 'Did Sophie talk you into searching for Celtic treasure?' he asked.
'No. She talked me into taking her to a small island down the bay so she could look into a story I'd told her.'
Josie bit her lower lip. This was how Keira Sullivan's ordeal had started three months ago--with an old story. She'd been researching a book she was writing and illustrating, as well as dipping into her own complicated past.
'Would finding lost treasure help Sophie land a job?' Myles asked.
O'Donovan squatted down and started unlooping a thick rope from metal cleats, his fingers callused, his hands obviously very strong. 'She says it's the opposite. She's a serious scholar. She's no treasure hunter. If she'd believed she'd find anything, she'd have called for a proper excavation.'
'How often did you take her out to this island?'
'Five or six times. The last time, she discovered a cave and nearly didn't come out again.'
He didn't elaborate, but Josie could see the regret in how he tore at the rope, how he'd bit off each word. 'What happened, Tim?'
He shook his head. 'Who's to say?'
'Why did she go out to this particular island?'
'She was writing her dissertation. She said exploring the island got her away from her work and helped clear her head.' The muscles in his arms were visibly tensed, and he stood up again, the rope in hand. 'On that last trip, she talked me into leaving her overnight. She'd never done such a thing. She had me believing she'd have a good time camping. She'd be safe. I left her there.'
Myles had taken a few steps toward the middle of the wide pier, keeping quiet as he watched the fisherman. Josie didn't move. 'Did she get hurt?' she asked softly. 'Did someone follow her out there--'
'Talk to her.' The fisherman tossed the rope down into his boat and moved to tackle the next line. Dark clouds had moved in overhead, the spits of raining turning to a steadier drizzle. He didn't seem to notice. 'I wasn't there.'
'Sophie could have wandered into a dangerous situation through no fault of her own,' Josie said. 'Or yours.'
Myles narrowed his gray eyes on O'Donovan but made no move toward him. 'You're worried that whatever happened to her isn't over.'
'Maybe,' he said, squatting down, pulling on a thick knot. 'Again, I wasn't with her on the island. I only know what she's told me.'
'And what's that?' Josie asked.
'She says she came across a cauldron of gold artifacts in the cave. She didn't have a chance to examine them before she heard whispers. At first she thought it was me--that I'd decided not to leave her out there after all and had come back.'
'But it wasn't you,' Myles said.
O'Donovan sighed heavily. 'No, it wasn't. She saw branches smeared with blood--or what looked like blood-- and she hid deeper in the cave. She hit her head somehow and lost consciousness. When she came to, there were no more whispers. I came for her the next day, as agreed. I had to look for her. By the time I found her, there was no sign anyone else had been on the island.'
Josie shuddered. 'Frightening. Was Sophie in the cave all night?'
'She was,' Tim O'Donovan said tightly. 'She believes whoever stole the cauldron left her for dead.'
'Do you think she made up this story?' Myles asked.
'No, but that doesn't mean it happened the way she believes it did.'
Myles frowned, the gray of his eyes now a deep slate. 'Fairies? Ghosts? What are you suggesting?'
'As a boy, I heard tales the island's haunted. Sophie could have been pulled there by dark forces.' Tim rose, shrugging his big shoulders. 'The island's very small. It took me less than an hour to find her. She was hurt, cold, angry, afraid. She doesn't remember how she got her concussion. More than likely she experienced something she couldn't explain and hid for her life in that cave, and she's tried to make sense of what happened ever since.'
'What about you?' Myles kept his gaze steady on the fisherman. 'Did you sneak back to the island and steal this cauldron filled with gold? Fake the blood to frighten her, then take it with you to make her look less credible?'
Josie could have pushed Myles off the pier herself, but O'Donovan didn't seem to take offense. 'I did not.'
'You believed Sophie's story enough to call the guards,' Josie said. 'Did they look into boats that might have passed the island while Dr. Malone was there, anyone who might have heard her discuss her trips there, or this particular trip, or might have seen her--'
'Ask Seamus.'
'Seamus said Sophie wasn't seriously hurt and there was no evidence a crime had been committed. Unintelligible whispers, blood and gold only she saw--the guards had nothing to go on.'
'She survived, thanks be.' O'Donovan abandoned the rope and rose again, his movements smooth for such a large man. 'I don't even know you and here I've told you more than anyone else since that day. Do people always voluntarily tell you things, Josie Goodwin?'
She smiled. 'Not always voluntarily.'
He didn't smile back. 'I wish I knew more.' When Josie started to thank him, he cut her off. 'Just see to it no harm comes to Sophie.'
'We'll do our best.'
Josie didn't know why she included Myles in her statement, but Tim O'Donovan nodded and said, 'If there's anything I can do to help...'
'Call Seamus if you remember anything else about Sophie's experience on the island,' Josie said.
He jumped down into his boat. The worsening conditions didn't seem to faze him. Myles started toward the road, and Josie lingered a moment, watching the fisherman go about his routines to set off down the bay, hoping she hadn't missed anything--even just a question that could help jog his memory.
She joined Myles at her car. She glanced back at the harbor, O'Donovan's boat chugging along in the wind
