Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
As Emily drove toward the pub, she alternated between sheer joy that her father was alive and abject terror for him and the rest of her family. Someone wanted to get to him and didn’t mind hurting his family to make him desperate enough to come out in the open.
What had her father discovered that had made him a target and now the entire O’Brien family?
“Is it possible to get another one of your guys to protect my brother and Ciara until we find the people responsible for all the attacks?” Emily asked. “Unlike my uncle, they’re in a public hospital. Anyone could find them.”
“On it.” Jack’s thumbs flew over his phone’s keyboard. He sent the message and stared down at his screen for a long moment. “Damn.”
“What?” Emily slowed at a light and shot a glance across to him.
His brow furrowed as he focused on his phone. “Flamethrower just posted, calling all Travellers to show up at the campaign rally happening later today to stop Radical Nationalists from eradicating Irish Travellers from Ireland. I quote: Don’t let them hurt your women and innocent children. Now is the time to fight for your families, your country and your way of life.”
The words hit Emily like a sucker punch to the gut. “Wow. I keep seeing all those people in the basement of that distillery. They’ve been forced into hiding, abandoned their homes and way of life, all because someone is pushing the agenda. They want a war between the Radical Nationalists and the Travellers. It makes me sick to my stomach. If that happens, the peace Ireland has known for over two decades will be over.”
Jack nodded. “I’m seeing the same call to arms coming through for the Radical Nationalist claiming Travellers will come for them in the night, murder their children and rape their women.”
“What rally are they talking about?” Emily asked. The light turned green. She eased forward, a frown pulling her brow low.
Jack continued searching his phone. When he looked up, he said, “There’s a campaign rally for politicians running in the upcoming election. It’s this afternoon in front of the capital building.”
“That would be the perfect place to start a fight,” Emily said. “But how can we stop it?”
Jack sighed. “We have no evidence to show them they’re being played except one dead mercenary. Either side could blame the other for hiring him.” His mouth pressed into a thin line. “I don’t like that we have no further information about the Flamethrower. That’s who we need to catch and hold up at the rally.”
“He could be anyone,” Emily said.
“And hard to track down since he’s hopping from place to place to spread his hate. However, our computer guru, Lucie, is an excellent hacker; if anyone can follow a money trail from the mercenary to its source, she can.”
“Will she find tangible evidence soon enough to do something to stop the war that’s brewing?”
“She might be able to track down the people funding the mercenaries. But that kind of tracking might take more time than we have.”
“What can we do in the meantime?” Emily asked.
“Let’s see if we can find the person who painted your car. He might be the Flamethrower,” Jack said. “There has to be a surveillance camera that captured him leaving the alley near the pub.”
“Perhaps the jewelry shop across the street, or the upscale clothing store, will have a system with cameras pointed our way.” Her foot pressed onto the accelerator. “This is all so frustrating. I’m not the kind of person who can sit around waiting for others to solve my problems.”
“That’s what I love about you,” Jack said.
Emily’s gaze shot across the console to Jack. His gaze was on his cell phone as he searched for information. Did he realize he’d used the word love ?
Her pulse thumped hard through her veins. Just because they’d made love the night before, and he’d used the word love just now, didn’t mean he’d fallen in love with her.
Something brushed her arm, making her glance down.
Jack’s hand lay across the console, palm up.
Emily looked from his hand to his face.
He gave her a gentle smile. “We’re going to find this person. We’re going to find the Flamethrower and the person behind all the drama.”
She took her hand off the steering wheel and laid it across his palm.
Jack curled his fingers around hers and brought her hand up to brush his lips across her knuckles. “You care a lot about your family.”
She nodded, her fingers tingling where his lips had touched. A horn honked behind her, yanking her out of the trance she’d slid into. She jerked her hand free from his to place it firmly on the steering wheel.
“I promise to do anything I can to see that you all are safe,” he said.
Moisture welled in her eyes. “You’d do that for a stranger?”
He chuckled. “We’re hardly strangers...after last night.”
Her cheeks burned. “Not physically,” she whispered.
“I’d like to get to know you more,” he said.
Her lips curled in an instant smile. “I’d like that, too.” The smile twisted into a frown. “If I live long enough, I’d like to try dating you. You know, that thing normal people do before sleeping together.”
Jack laughed out loud. “You’re on. Let’s find the Flamethrower, break up a fight and put an end to the Dublin debacle so we have a few minutes to go out on a date.”
She grinned. “I’d like that.”
“We have a date.” Jack clapped his hands together. “Let’s make it happen.”
With renewed purpose, Emily pulled into the alley next to the pub and shifted into park.
Before she got out of the car, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “I’ll let Daphne know to open the pub this afternoon, since we’ll be busy saving the world.”
Jack reached across and squeezed her thigh. “That’s my girl.” Then he leaned over the console and kissed her full on the mouth.
Emily clasped her free hand around the back of his neck and kissed him like it might be her last. And it might be just that—if the people with their mercenary assassins got their way.
When she finally leaned back breathless, her cheeks and body on fire, she stared up into Jack’s eyes. “I’m sorry you lost Laura, but I’m glad you found me.” She cupped his cheek. “Let’s go find the Flamethrower.”
She flung open her door, got out and met Jack at the rear of the vehicle. Together, they walked across the street to the jewelry shop where Daniel Foster, the new owner, welcomed them in.
“Ah, Ms. O’Brien, so good to see you.” He shook her hand first and then turned to Jack. “Are we here to celebrate good news? Perhaps you’ve come to choose an engagement ring?” He smiled hopefully.
Heat rose up Emily’s neck and flooded her cheeks. “No, that’s not it,” she said. “This is Jack Collins, a...friend of mine. Jack, David Foster. He recently inherited the store from his grandfather and has been busy updating the interior and exterior.”
Jack shook Daniel’s hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Daniel dipped his head. “Thank you.”
“What you’ve done with the place is wonderful,” Emily said. “I haven’t been inside since you renovated.” She glanced around, amazed at the transformation from old and outdated to a place that invited people in with lighting that set the mood and enhanced the display cases, making the gemstones shine.
“Do you think it’s too modern?” Daniel asked, his gaze also sweeping through the store.
“No, not at all.” Emily smiled. “You’ve combined old-fashioned charm with modern lighting and displays. It’s wonderful.”
“Oh, good,” Daniel said. “I wanted the place to appeal to young and old.” He turned his attention back to Emily and Jack. “If you aren’t looking for an engagement ring, though you make a stunning couple, are you here to find a gift for a loved one?”
Emily turned toward the front window, overlooking the pub across the street. “We’ve had some incidents of vandalism at the Tap & Tankard.”
Daniel shook his head. “I’d heard your uncle was attacked. Is he all right?”
“He’s recovering after sustaining a few broken ribs and a mild concussion.” Emily turned back to Daniel. “What we want to know is, in your renovations, did you install a video surveillance system?”
The man’s face lit up. “As a matter of fact, I did. I have the monitors set up in the back, and I can access the live feed and recorded footage from my cell phone if I’m not at the store.”
Emily’s heart skipped a few beats. “Is it possible for us to review the footage from last night. Someone spray-painted my car. I was hoping I could get a clear image of him coming out of the alley to give to the Garda.” Her brow furrowed. “They haven’t come by to ask to see the recordings, have they?”
Daniel shook his head. “No one has been here asking for anything so far this morning. I expect traffic to pick up soon. If you like, follow me to the back, and I’ll let you look through the historical data.”
Emilly fell in behind Daniel, and Jack followed her. She had a hard time concentrating on the man in front of her when she’d just been kissing the one behind.
The back of the shop was nothing like the front with its bright lights, glass cases and beautiful displays. Instead, there were desks and workbenches probably as old as the building itself. Lighted magnifying glasses hung over workstations, and tools lay on most surfaces. The newest equipment took up a small corner in the back with a large monitor, desktop computer and keyboard.
Daniel tapped the touchpad, and the monitors blinked to life with an array of views in and around the shop. “Fortunately, I had the technician install wide-angle cameras on the exteriors. I was surprised at how much area it picked up.” He sat in a rolling desk chair and clicked on one corner of the array, making the view take up the entire screen. “This is a live view of the front of the store.” He pointed toward the top of the image. “You can see the pub, the building next to it and the shadowy area is the alley.” He clicked keys on the keyboard. “I got you into the recordings of the past twenty-four hours.”
A bell jingled from the front of the store.
Daniel stood. “Take as long as you need. I have to see to my customers.”
Emily waved a hand toward the chair. “Do you want to drive?”
“You’ve done a great job driving so far,” he said with a grin. “Go ahead.”
She sank into the office chair and moved the mouse to the arrow on the screen controlling the moment in time they were viewing. She slid the arrow to an hour before they’d closed the pub and fast-forwarded through the footage, looking for movement to or from the alley.
“He could’ve entered the alley from the rear,” Jack said.
“Maybe, but if it was the Flamethrower who tagged my car, he would’ve had to leave through the front first.”
Emily could tell the exact moment when she’d announced the Garda was on its way. Customers streamed out of the pub, some staggering, some still throwing punches, others laughing out loud.
Many of them wore team colors, and their faces were clearly visible when Emily paused and zoomed in to study them. She recognized a lot of them as regulars who came every game night at the pub. But there were a lot more faces she couldn’t recall.
A short guy emerged in the middle of the crowd, hands in the pockets of his jacket, the hood pulled up and his chin down. Emily zoomed in on him but couldn’t make out his face because it was hidden in the shadow of his hood. As soon as he was outside, he broke away from the rest and moved quickly along the sidewalk, away from the pub.
Something about that jacket and hood made Emily back up and look at him again.
She felt like she’d seen this guy in the pub before, sitting in the booth furthest away from the bar.
“Recognize him?” Jack asked, leaning over her shoulder.
“Yes and no. Maybe just the jacket with the hood. On random occasions, I’ve seen a customer sitting alone with his hood pulled up. I remember because it struck me as odd that he’d keep the hood up while in the pub. But then, we have had stranger customers. And I’m so busy working, I don’t pay as close attention as I should.” She made a note of the time when the guy in the hooded jacket exited the pub and continued watching as the people left, the Garda arrived and an ambulance pulled up minutes later. For several minutes of footage, nothing moved outside the pub.
The medics loaded the two men into the back of the ambulance. When the ambulance drove away, it passed the alley. A shadowy movement caught Emily’s attention at the same time Jack said. “Wait. Stop there.”
She halted forward movement. “You saw it, too?”
“Back it up a few seconds,” Jack said.
Emily slid the arrow backward and stopped where the ambulance had reached the corner of the pub, about to pass the alley. She slowed the speed to a crawl and played the video with her cursor hovering over the pause button.
A figure appeared detached from the shadows as the ambulance crept by.
“It’s the guy wearing the hooded jacket,” Emily whispered as if she were seated in a library. As she zoomed in on him, the image got grainier.
When the guy raised a hand to adjust the hood, pulling it further over his face, Emily touched the pause button a second too late.
The ambulance had moved to block the view before the video stopped. Emily played the segment several times before she stopped it exactly where she wanted and pointed at the monitor. “Is that a tattoo on the back of his hand?”
“Can you get a screenshot of him?” Jack asked. “I want to send it to Lucie. She might be able to sharpen the image and identify the tattoo.
Emily nodded, made a screenshot of the man and his hand and sent it to Jack’s cell phone number.
Moments later, Jack sent the image to his computer guru while Emily continued through the video footage all the way to where she and Jack had left the alley in the painted Mercedes that morning.
Emily backed up to the first time they saw the guy when he exited the pub. No matter how big she enlarged the image, they couldn’t make out the face. “Do you think the guy in the hooded jacket is our media-monger and vandal?”
“I’d say for sure that the man did the paint job,” Jack said. “Why else would he double back to the alley after everyone else left? Is he the Flamethrower?” He shrugged. “The chances are good.”
“Great. We might have found our social media instigator, but we still can’t identify him.”
“Let’s see what Lucie can do with her magic.” Jack held the chair as Emily rose. “We should look for other video surveillance systems. We might have more luck.”
They thanked Daniel and left the shop owner working with a group of tourists intent on buying Celtic necklaces and rings as souvenirs of their trip to Ireland.
The next few stores they visited didn’t have a monitoring system, leaving Daniel’s images as all they had to go on.
Emily and Jack walked back to the pub.
Daphne was already setting chairs on the floor when they entered the barroom. “I saw your car in the alley. What happened?”
“Apparently, the O’Briens are on someone’s hit list,” Emily said. “I’m tempted to close the pub until we figure out who’s behind it.”
Daphne frowned. “You can’t do that,” she said. “You need the money.”
It was true. If the pub wasn’t open, they wouldn’t make money. The bills would go unpaid, and they might lose what had been in the family for centuries.
“And if you don’t have money,” Daphne said, “You can’t pay me, Bridget and Moira.” She pressed her hand over her heart. “We will fight off anyone who dares attack you. Please, don’t close the pub.”
Emily laughed. “Daphne, ever the drama queen.”
The redhead grinned. “Did it work?”
With a sigh, Emily nodded. “Yes. The pub stays open unless there are more attacks. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you, Moira or Bridget.”
“Then we’ll just have to make sure nothing happens.” Daphne went back to work, setting chairs around the tables.
Bridget rushed in a few minutes later. “Did you hear?”
Emily frowned. “Hear what?”
“There’s going to be a rally in front of the Capitol. All the Travellers and Radicals will be there. The Garda are calling all their people in to handle it. It’s going to be a blood bath since there were two more murders last night.”
Emily’s heart sank to her knees. “Two?”
Briget nodded. “One of the Radical Nationalists, Micky O’Roark, who was second in command after Tommy McElroy. The attacker was going after McElroy. Micky died defending him. The Nationalists are gathering already.”
“Who was the other person murdered?” Jack asked.
Bridget’s eyes filled. “Tristan Doyle.”
“Leader of the Travellers?” Jack asked.
Briget nodded.
“He was a good man. He only wanted his people to live free and in peace.” Emily shook her head, heartsick and too stunned to move.
Jack’s jaw hardened. “Were there any witnesses to the attacks?”
“I don’t know,” Briget said. “Everything I heard was through the news reports.”
Jack slipped an arm around Emily’s waist and held her close.
She leaned into him, absorbing his strength, letting him ground her before she spoke. “They need to know they’re being played,” she said. “We have to go to the rally.”