Rock Point (Sharpe & Donovan) Read Free Page B

get in touch with the proper authorities without delay.
    Becan had said, “ I hear you know a detective in Dublin. Sean Murphy. Do you trust him? ”
    “ With my life , Becan. And so can you. ”
    Finian hadn’t seen Becan Kennedy since and didn’t know where to find him—and he couldn’t give Sean his name.
    “You want to find this man,” Finian said, “but you don’t know who he is. Would it help if I encouraged him to contact you again?”
    Sean got up from the table, shaking his head as if just realizing the implications of what his friend was saying. “No, Fin. Don’t go to him yourself.”
    “If he comes to me?”
    “Would he?”
    Finian shrugged without answering. It was possible if not probable.
    Sean rummaged on the dresser, produced an index card and a black marker and jotted down a string of numbers. He handed the card to Finian. “If he comes to you, give him this number. No one but me has it. Tell him to call me. Tell him nothing else.”
    “You know more than you’re saying, aren’t you?”
    He pointed to the card. “ Only if he comes to you, Fin. I mean it.”
    Finian looked out a window, across a sloping lawn and fields turning green to the sea. The sun was up now, burning off the morning mist. His throat tightened. He was certain of his call to the priesthood and the vows he had professed at his ordination. But Ireland...being a priest here...
    He couldn’t deny the truth. Everywhere were reminders of his loss. Of the man he’d been and was no more. Husband, lover, father, businessman.
    “You’ll be leaving Declan’s Cross this morning?” Sean asked.
    Finian nodded, turning from the window. “You?”
    “Back to Dublin for me.”
    A dozen questions about why Sean Murphy was looking for Becan Kennedy rose up in Finian’s mind, but he didn’t ask even one of them as he saw his friend off to the barn and then headed out to his car.
    Father Callaghan would still be at the O’Byrne House Hotel, enjoying his last days in Ireland. Given his melancholy mood, Finian wouldn’t disturb the older priest, but he knew what he would do after he left Declan’s Cross.
    This tiny village, the O’Byrne House Hotel, Father Callaghan, Sean, the sheep....Becan Kennedy. All of it, somehow, was providential. Finian felt that truth deep inside him.
    As soon as he could, he would get in touch with his bishop and talk to him about spending a year in Rock Point, Maine.

Chapter 3
    Spring blossomed across Ireland, and it was done—Finian would leave in June to serve Saint Patrick’s Church in Rock Point, Maine.
    Joseph Callaghan would get his year in Ireland.
    The next weeks flew by, and finally June was upon him. Finian spent his last few days in Ireland with his brother and his family at their home in the hills outside Killarney. He’d emailed Sean Murphy about Maine, receiving back only a terse “And you think Irish winters are bad.”
    Finian hadn’t seen Sean since their visit in Declan’s Cross in March, but he’d kept watch for stories on special criminal investigations. He hadn’t noticed any that suggested Sean Murphy’s or Becan Kennedy’s involvement. Finian had been tempted to contact Becan, but he’d heeded Sean’s advice—Garda advice—and focused instead on his preparations for his temporary move to Rock Point.
    Until the morning before his departure to America when he received a cryptic text message that could only be from Becan Kennedy.
    Becan wanted to meet.
    * * *
    Early the next morning, on his final day in Ireland before his year in Maine, Finian dragged Declan out to Old Kenmare Road, a trail that ran through mixed terrain between Torc Waterfall and the attractive market village of Kenmare. Declan’s wife, Fidelma, and their children—two boys and a girl under the age of ten—dropped them off at the abandoned church near Ladies View, where Queen Victoria’s ladies-in-waiting had admired the stunning views of the lakes of Killarney in 1861.
    Finian paused and looked