"Thirty seconds. That's all you have to stop the bullshit, or your son is dead."
~~~~
Six years ago, Chelsea Doherty lost everything when her husband disappeared without a trace and left her to clean up his past. Now living in Ireland, she has piec...
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Baltray, Ireland
June 2024
~~~~
The sun sits bright on a cloudless blue sky, emitting warmth to celebrate the rich life of a blessed woman. Someone I'll miss dearly during my hours at the tea shop. Adele McKenna had been the mother of five, who had gifted her many grandchildren and who had held her hand at the very end. Something I've always wanted to do for my mother, but so far, I've given her more cause for grief than happiness.
Mam has placed her hand on my forearm as we slowly make our way to the graveside at the end of the procession. The service was nice, lots of tears but also a few smiles during the eulogy, and the obligatory funeral attendance will soon come to an end. I'm itching to get back home, hide in bed with a gallon of ice cream, and binge watch Virgin River for the fourth time, though knowing Mam, she will insist on dragging me to the get-together at the pub for a Guiness and some finger food. Since she doesn't drive, I'll likely have to take her. We reach Mrs. McKenna's last resting place and I catch Mam wiping away a tear.
I squeeze her hand. "You okay? Do you want to leave?" Tons of people surround us, so I doubt we'd be missed.
She shakes her head. "You know what they say. Death comes in threes. What if I'm next?"
"Trust me, the devil isn't ready for you yet. You still have a good few years in you."
Her smile carries the silent question.
What if I'm next?
She would be all alone.
About to squeeze her hand again, a short buzz in my suit pocket distracts me. My regular phone is on airplane mode, so this can only be Conor on the burner. And he wouldn't text me unless it were an emergency.
"Mam, I'll be right back."
She wrinkles her forehead but refrains from scolding me. I slowly back away and rush down the narrow path until I find a bench under an oak tree. Fingers trembling, I dial Conor's number. "What's up?"
"They found him."
The spit dries up in my mouth. "Are you sure?"
"Anton texted this Falk dude to get ready. They'll be leaving for Cambridge, Massachusetts, as soon as Bastian is done with his UN meeting, and since Falk doesn't get involved in the business side of things, it has to be Marcel."
I nod in agreement, even though it's silly since he can't see me through the phone. So Cambridge, Massachusetts, is where Marcel has been hiding. It makes sense. Deep down, he always wanted to attend college and picking a life in an Ivy League town would give him a sense of belonging to a crowd he could otherwise never be a part of. "But you don't have specifics on his exact location?"
"Unfortunately not."
Oh, well, there are other ways to find him.
I check my watch. It's only ten am. "Conor, do you think you could still get me on a flight this afternoon? I think I have an idea how to track Marcel down, but it only works on a Thursday." If I miss today's window, I'd have to wait until next week, and by then, he likely bit one of Bastian's bullets. Literally.
"There are four flights to Boston starting at 2:00, so I'm sure I can still book you a seat on one of them."
"Good. Just text me the confirmation number when you have it."
"Where are you?"
"At the funeral of our neighbor with my mam."
"Oh, man, I hate funerals. So depressing."
"Yeah, well."
"And be extra careful. They say death always comes in threes."
I smirk. "Since when are you superstitious?"
"Hey, there's some truth to those old wives' tales."
"If you say so."
"By the way, how are you on money?"
"Still got enough."
"I'll wire an extra hundred k, just in case."
Just in case is his code for all the things that could go wrong. Hospital bills, lawyer fees, bail money, a list that goes on and on and could even include my own funeral expenses.
Sudden apprehension cramps my stomach. "Don't worry, I won't take too many risks."
"You'd better not. The fam would be devastated if you couldn't come to visit. I pretty much promised them it would happen in the next few months."
I close my eyes. The path ahead is still so long with so much potential for a fuck up that he shouldn't make that type of promise. "Have to go. Text me as soon as you booked the flight and I'll let you know when I landed. After that, I won't contact you again until it's done."
"Okay and good luck."
I will need it. Walking back toward the graveside, I grin.
But thank you, Anton.
If he hadn't sent that text message to Bastian's phone when Bastian showed up trashed at my doorsteps, Conor could've never gotten Anton's number off the tower ping and tapped his cell. It turned into our lifeline after Bastian made his prick move and cut me off.
Hot tears flood my eyes.
The persistent pain of the past week takes another good whack at my heart. I lowered my shields and allowed him too far in. Now, I'm paying the price, although it's the type of pain that hurts like hell but fades just as quickly.
I'll be fine.
Reaching Mam, I wipe my face dry on my jacket sleeve.
Her brows crumble in alarm. "Is everything alright with you?"
I nod. "I have to go away again. Please don't ask questions."
"I stopped asking questions a long time ago." Wise, gray eyes drill into me. "Just keep in mind that two wrong things don't make it right. Nothing will ever bring Sean back, so ensure that when this is all over, you can still look at yourself in the mirror."
WP total word count: 27,628
Okay, guys, this was the kick-off for our big finale -- 11 chapters to go for the ONC part, with an extension to turn this into a full novel planned after the results. I'm determined on keeping your hearts pumping and your butts at the edge of your seats, so buckle up for the next chapter. In the meantime, clicking the little Star would make my day and/or drop me a comment to let me know if you're already excited.
