Merchants with Evil Intent (2 page)

      
Eoghan sighed, “Declan, it’s been two
years since the lass passed. Ye mustn’t do this to yourself.”

      
Declan ran a hand through his wavy jet
black hair. “I’m no’ doing anything that I doona deserve,” he hissed.

      
Sir Eoghan
squinted
his blue eyes against the bright sun. Declan was always narky and the
anniversary of her death made him more so.

 
     
“When
did you last take holiday?” Eoghan asked.

      
Declan eyed him, crossing his arms over
his chest.
“Ne’er.
Why?”

      
“Me thinks ‘twould do ye well to travel,
to get away from all that haunts ye.”

      
Declan scoffed, “Does that include you as
well?”

      
Eoghan’s eyes narrowed as he tapped his
fingertips against the hilt of his sword. He wished he could teach the boyo
manners. “By the saints ye are a mistempered fool!” he bellowed and promptly
disappeared.

      
Declan clenched his jaw. He wasn’t used
to Eoghan suddenly appearing and disappearing. It unnerved him. Hell,
everything since that day two years ago unnerved him.

      
He continued to pace at the edge of the
cliff a while longer, thinking of what he could’ve done to prevent a great many
things back then. Irritated he threw his hands up and yelled, “Feck it!”

      
Perhaps Eoghan had it aright. Maybe
holiday across the pond to see his sister Molly and her brood would do him
well.

*
     
*
     
*

Chicago, IL

      
Camryn stuffed her phone into the pocket
of her jeans and returned to her parent’s dining room. It was a typical Sunday
night in the O’Mara household. Siblings Ryan and Claire, Uncle John, her parents
Grace and Patrick were seated around the mahogany dining table with a Van
Morrison CD playing softly in the next room.

      
“Camryn, come sit next to your favorite
uncle,” John smiled.

      
She sat beside him as her father said a
brief prayer of thanks before they dug into the pot roast dinner.

      
“Cam, you should turn off your cell.
Don’t those people you work for know Sunday is a day of rest?” Ryan asked with
a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

      
“Being a crime reporter has
disadvantages, I’m afraid,” she replied.

      
“I never thought I’d say I was happy to
leave the force, but dammit, I am,” John muttered.

      
Grace nodded, “Yes and soon you’ll be
taking a much-needed vacation, right?”

      
John grinned, “Yes, a two month tour of
Ireland. I purchased my plane ticket the other day.”

      
Camryn’s phone buzzed in her pocket and
she excused herself and went into the kitchen.

      
Paul Young, her supervisor, told her she
was granted an interview. Listening to him she overheard the banter from the
other room. “Can’t the girl get a decent meal in her? For chrissakes, she’s
already skin and bones!” Uncle John roared. Camryn rolled her eyes and walked
to the porch.

      
“Got it, Paul.
I’ll be there tomorrow at ten sharp. Thanks.”

      
She walked back into the dining room
apologizing. “Sorry. I shouldn’t get anymore calls tonight.”

      
“Was it work or that twit you’re seeing?”
Uncle John questioned.

      
“What makes Viktor a twit, Uncle John?
He’s a cop just like you,” Claire asked.

      
Uncle John slapped his hand on the table
and roared, “Camryn, I’m tellin’ you, stop seeing him!”

      
She narrowed her eyes. “Are we going to
get into this again?”

      
His cheeks now matched the color of his
red hair. “There’s something not right about him, cop or not. Don’t you roll
your eyes at me, missy!”

      
Camryn looked around the table at her
family. Ryan smirked; Claire stared with rapt attentiveness while her parents
continued to eat. Since they didn’t intervene on her behalf she closed her eyes
and took a deep cleansing breath. With her eyes still closed she replied
stiffly, “Give me one reason for your distaste of Viktor.”

      
John growled, “He’s a bloody Russian!”

      
Camryn waved her hand dismissively.
“We’re bloody Irish!”

      
John turned to Patrick. “Talk some sense
into her.
This guy’s bad news.
I feel it in my gut.”

      
Ryan chimed in, “Maybe it’s indigestion.”

      
Camryn stifled a laugh, winking at her
brother.

      
“He’s decent enough. I don’t understand
why you’re getting yourself worked up,” Patrick said.

      
John glared at his younger brother. “Mark
my words, this will end in disaster.”

      
“Who’s ready for more pot roast?” Grace
asked, diffusing the situation.

      
Camryn pushed away from the table. “I’ve
lost my appetite, mom. I’ll start cleaning the kitchen.”
    

      
“Me too, so I’ll help Cam,” Ryan
muttered.

      
Camryn closed the Dutch doors between the
kitchen and dining room and began filling the sink with soap and water. “Why
does he think my personal life is any of his business?” she whispered to Ryan.

      
He shrugged, “He’s always been that way with
you. You’re his favorite, you know.” Camryn’s eyebrows knitted together and he
continued. “Come on don’t tell me you haven’t noticed in twenty-five years how
he dotes on you. He always gives you more gifts at Christmas and on your
birthday. He takes you shooting at the range and on trips. Cam, are you that
dense?”

      
“He takes me on fishing trips and
shooting because you don’t do manly things like that,” she teased.

      
“Just because I’m a computer geek doesn’t
mean I don’t enjoy that other stuff. Are you going out with Viktor later?”

      
Camryn tucked a strand of auburn hair
behind her ear and smiled, “Yep.”

      
“So, is it getting serious?” Ryan raised
his eyebrows up and down and twisted a fake moustache.

      
“Hardly.
We’ve
only been dating for a short time. What kind of girl do you think I am?”

      
“The smart sort…mostly.”

      
She dried her hands and turned to him.
“What does…
”

      
Ryan stopped her with a raised hand. “I’m
just saying Uncle John was a lieutenant for Chicago for years, Cam. You should
look into this guy’s background a bit more.”

      
She glared at him for a long moment. “I’m
sure they conducted thorough background checks and psychiatric tests before
they hired him.”

      
The
Dutch doors opened and Grace entered followed by Claire, both with armfuls of
bowls and plates. Sitting her share on the counter Grace gently patted Camryn’s
shoulder. “He means well, honey. He worries about you. Now why don’t you and
your brother join us for dessert?
Chocolate cake, your
favorite.”

*
     
*
     
*

      
“Cam, any news on the latest missing girl?”
her mom asked while slicing the cake.

      
Camryn settled next to John who gave her
hand a reassuring pat; it was his way of apologizing. She glanced at him,
smiling warily. “Her name is Amanda Yates. Nothing new yet, but tomorrow I’m
going to interview her family.”

      
Grace shook her head. “I can’t imagine
what they’re going through not knowing if she’s dead or alive.”

      
“Have you heard anything about the case?
Could it be related to the other women who are missing?” Patrick asked John.

      
John shot Camryn a warning look.
“Off the record, Cam.”
He sighed and continued, “There’s
been talk the three cases may not be related. It’s odd no one has seen anything
and no bodies have been found.”

      
Nodding Camryn replied, “Yeah and you’d
think if these women were murdered eventually their bodies would show up
somewhere. It’s been a month since Callie Stewart went missing and then three
weeks later Diana Miles disappeared.”

      
Camryn rubbed her arms as the goose bumps
erupted.

      
John lowered his coffee cup from his
mouth. “The damn thing is the cops can’t find a connection between these women
other than they’re white and under the age of thirty.”

      
Camryn’s dad looked up from his plate and
looked at her intensely. “I hope you’re being safe while you’re out on the
streets.”

      
“I think with the self-defense classes
I’ve taken thanks to you and Uncle John anyone who tried to snatch me would be
in for a rude awakening.”

      
“Still, Cam, we worry about you digging
up information for your stories,” her dad replied.

      
She rose from her chair and wrapped her
arms around her dad’s neck and nuzzled him. “I’ll be fine.” She grinned at her
uncle and replied, “I’m datin’ a cop!”

      
John shot her a disapproving glare as she
walked into the kitchen.

      
She was followed by Ryan again. “Just
love to push those buttons, don’t ya, Cam?” he laughed.

      
“Yep!” she laughed.

      
“What are you two doing tonight?” he
asked.

      
“We’re going to a concert in the park.”

      
“Anyone good?”

      
Camryn shrugged, “It’s an Irish folk
group with pipers.”

      
“As in bag-pipes?”

      
“Yep.
You should
come with us,” Camryn offered.

      
“I can’t. Gotta dead-line to meet,” Ryan
frowned.

      
John walked into the kitchen with his
plate. “Did I hear you say a pipe band is playing in the park?”

      
Camryn turned, rolling her eyes. The last
thing she wanted was him tagging along.

      
Ryan hesitated, “Um, yeah.”

      
“It’s too bad I already have plans. I
would’ve enjoyed spending time with you, Camryn,” John murmured.

      
She turned and grinned, “Just as well
since Viktor is going with me.”

      
He frowned, “Be careful around him,
girl.”

      
“Honestly Uncle John, ease up,” she
sighed and wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Speaking of which, I have to get
going.” She kissed them both on the cheek before going into the dining room to
say goodbye to the rest of her family.

      
John and Ryan watched her climb into her
prized possession, a 1965 Camaro.

      
A tugging at his gut, John decided to
change his plans. She was more important than a poker game.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Camryn strode up the walkway to the front
door and knocked. A few minutes later Viktor opened the door wearing nothing
but a towel around his hips and a smile on his lips. His shoulders glistened
with water drops.

      
Her jaw dropped. She’d never seen him
shirtless.

      
“Like what you see?” he grinned.

      
She regained her composure. “Do you always
greet your dates wearing a towel?”

      
“No, but I like the effect it has on
you.” He opened the door wider and waved for her to enter.

      
When she brushed past him he gently
grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer. “Don’t I get a kiss?”

      
She blushed, “As long as that’s all
you’re asking for.”

      
He drew away, “I’m shocked that you’d
assume I was asking for more.”

      
Camryn waved her hand up and down in
front of him. “What am I to think when you answer the door wearing a towel?
Don’t give me a sad puppy dog look, either.”