'I did.'
'Did you think someone was hiding in the courtyard?'
She nodded, dropping onto a chair at the table.
'The gate was unlocked,' he said. 'You did the right thing, Sophie. Don't second-guess yourself. Maybe someone in the neighborhood's reported a burglary, saw someone suspicious--' He stopped. 'You get what I'm saying, right?'
'I do. Thanks.' She glanced out at the courtyard, dark now, cozy in the glow of lights from neighboring apartments. 'Did you hear from your friends in Ireland?'
Scoop stood by the chair across from her but didn't sit down. 'They located the Healys in Killarney. Percy wasn't there. He stayed with them the night before he met you in Kenmare. Just him. Helen was already on her way back here.'
'It wasn't Percy who was just out there whispering in the courtyard, if that's what you're thinking. He's not...' Sophie hesitated, giving herself a moment to get her bearings before she said the wrong thing. 'Percy's not the sort to sneak into a courtyard or follow someone to a remote island.'
'Unlike his father?'
'His father could be impulsive and a little tyrannical at times, and he loved a good adventure. I didn't know him that well, as I've said, but I've never heard anything to suggest he was dishonest. If you're thinking there's some father-son rivalry at work here--'
'I'm not thinking anything,' Scoop said, still not sitting down.
'I asked Wendell Sharpe if he thought Percy Sr. had arranged the break-in at the museum himself in order to steal the Winslow Homer painting--for the insurance. Wendell said no. The Carlisles have no money worries.' Sophie rose suddenly, aware of Scoop's gaze on her--she felt as if she were hiding something when she wasn't. 'Even if Percy Jr. feels he doesn't measure up to his father and has tried to find ways to prove himself, I don't believe he would frighten or hurt me.'
'A month ago I wouldn't have believed a police officer would place a bomb on the back porch of another police officer--of anyone--but it looks as if that's exactly what happened. It's called keeping an open mind, Sophie. Don't rule anyone or anything out until you know for sure.'
She knew he was right. She'd given herself the same lecture. 'If Percy let himself be used, he'd be furious and embarrassed.' She stared out the window, seeing her reflection. 'If he did something stupid like get involved with a crooked art dealer who turned out to be a serial killer...' She didn't finish and smiled at Scoop. 'Don't you just want to take a drive up to Vermont and go leaf-peeping?'
He came around the table next to her. 'Enough's enough, Sophie. It's crazy to stay here alone with what's been going on. Jeremiah Rush has an old crush on you. I'll bet he'll give you a break on a room.' Scoop brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. His hands were steady, warm. 'The alternative is for me to stay here with you.'
There was no separation of space in the tiny apartment and just one bed. The sofa that was too short for either of them.
Which he had to know.
'I shouldn't have left you up here last night,' he said. 'Did you even sleep?'
'Not much. I'm not fooled, by the way. You want to keep an eye on me.'
'Ah-huh.' He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her lightly, then stood up straight and grinned at her. 'For a number of reasons.'
'You're going to regret that in about ten seconds.'
He laughed. 'I doubt it.'
'I'll get my stuff.'
She retreated to the bedroom and pulled out her backpack. She was happy not to argue, even if a five-star boutique hotel wasn't in her budget. But what was she doing? She'd just sworn off getting herself deeper into this mess, and here she was, about to head off with a Boston detective--a man obsessed, understandably so, with finding out why a fellow police officer had been found dead yesterday amid bomb-making materials and dark Celtic symbols.
Never mind head off with him. She'd just kissed him. Again.
And not for the last time, she thought, gritting her teeth as she threw clothes together, including some prettier tops that Taryn had left behind.
She went back out into the courtyard with Scoop. She slung her backpack over one shoulder and didn't even think to protest when he put a hand on her hip as they went back through the archway out to the street.
20
Without even trying, Scoop came up with a half-dozen reasons not to stay in the same hotel as Sophie, but he ignored them all as he stood with her in the elegant little lobby of the Whitcomb. Jeremiah Rush maintained a neutral expression behind his desk. 'I have you on the third floor,' he said, handing her a real key, not a flimsy key card. 'You're down the hall from Detective Wisdom, as requested. Your room overlooks the back of the hotel, but I think you'll be pleased.'
'I'm sure I will be, Jeremiah,' she said, smiling. 'Thanks. I won't cause any trouble, I promise.'
'Right. That was what Lizzie said last month, and I had cops and spies all through the place.' The younger Rush shook his head. 'I want to enjoy life. I have a golden retriever, friends and a good job. I don't need to kick butt like Lizzie, and her dad--' He stopped himself as if he'd gone too far, then leaned toward Sophie and whispered, 'Uncle Harlan threatened to bug the lobby if we all didn't behave.'
Scoop grinned. 'Good for him. What does he think of Will Davenport?'
Jeremiah stood up straight and gave a long-suffering laugh. 'You don't think he'd tell me, do you? Enjoy your stay, Sophie. Let me know if there's anything I can do to make you more comfortable.'
Scoop took the elevator up with her and walked with her down the hall to her room. He'd offered to carry her backpack a half-dozen times and finally had taken the hint that she was doing this herself and wasn't sure about any of it--the whispers, calling him, kissing him, now moving into the Whitcomb. As she unlocked the door to her room, he leaned against the wall and said, 'You're thinking right now you never should have gone to check out Keira's ruin when you did.'
'It's not really her ruin, is it? She'd be the first to say so, I imagine. It belongs to the farmer who owns the pasture.'
'Not my point.'
Which she obviously knew, but she held open the door and said, 'After you,' as if she accepted that he'd have to see inside for himself, make sure she would be safe there.
He went in, and she followed him and set her backpack on a rack, obviously used to being on her own, traveling. Feeling secure. She'd regained her composure, but her expression was still tight, tense, as she turned to him. 'We'd have met on the plane,' she said. 'It would have been the same. Somehow, we'd be here right now even if I hadn't gone to the Beara when I did.'
'Are we talking fairy dust?'
That brought a spark to her eyes, and she even managed a small laugh. 'Maybe we are.'
Scoop stood at the window, aware of the shortening days. Where would he be come winter? Not here, he thought. Not at a five-star Boston hotel. Back at the triple-decker? On Yarborough's sofa bed? He glanced at Sophie and wondered where she'd be, but pushed aside his questions. 'Tell me the rest about the cave,' he said quietly, seeing immediately that he'd caught her by surprise. 'Never mind the objective facts. I want to hear about the subjective parts. Don't be a scholar. Be someone alone on a tiny uninhabited island off the Irish coast.'
She unzipped her pack but didn't open it up. 'Where will that get us?'
'I don't know. Maybe you'll remember something you wouldn't otherwise.' He turned from the window. 'I want to hear from Sophie, not just Dr. Malone.'
'Do I ever get to hear from Scoop, not just Detective Wisdom?'
'Maybe you are right now.'
She glanced around her room, everything spotless, perfect. 'The Whitcomb's a beautiful hotel, isn't it? Jeremiah's insisting on paying for the room, but we'll fight that one out later. It's decent of him.'
