Chapter Sixteen #4
“Because I don’t think this all started back up again after I came here out of coincidence. For all intents and purposes, Ian said that this was shut down. I show up, and it’s not. Not only that, but I look exactly like Ceit.”
He blinked.
“You do?”
She absolutely did.
“Yeah, Michael and Graham got a painting back after having Callum’s image pulled off of it in restoration, and lo and behold, Ceit was under it.”
Oh, he recalled the painting. It had been chipping away, thanks to time.
So, Tony considered what she was saying.
“Okay, so you want a comparison done, but between who. I have digital scans from everyone we found a skull for, minus Catherine, since she was a little too out of control in the lake.”
She went there.
“I want you to compare my father’s skull with Duncan’s, Ciarán’s, Oison’s, and Ceit’s against scans of my skull, and my father’s. You have Charlie’s skull still there, correct?”
Oh, he did.
“He’s in a storage box with your mother in my office for safekeeping.”
Yeah, the psychic nailed that one.
“Can you put them in separate boxes?” she asked.
He was confused.
“Uh, sure. Why?”
She was absolutely losing her mind.
“My father’s femur is up in her business, and she’s still bitchy about Abigale. Don’t ask. It’s a long story.”
Uh, if she said so.
Tony focused on her other request, not the one where he separated Catherine from their father.
“You think you’re a descendant of Duncan? A Granndach?” he asked.
No.
She didn’t.
And that was part of this.
“I actually think that Ceit was with child when she was passed off to Duncan to be his wife. She was in love with someone else. I want to see if I’m related to Ceit, and then, go from there.”
He was curious.
“How are you quantifying this?” he asked. “The journal…”
She stopped him.
“So, you’re writing letters to your spouse who is away from you, and you choose to write them in a journal. Why?” she asked, setting him up to see if he deserved to be on her team.
Anyone who was, would call that bullshit.
“Why not loose paper?”
He paused.
Elizabeth could tell the wheels on that bus were going round-and-round at a very high speed. She knew Tony well enough that all she had to do was ask a pointed question, and he would handle it.
In the silence, she could tell he was processing the question.
When he gasped, Elizabeth knew he figured it out.
“You wouldn’t! Journals are for keeping, not mailing letters! That doesn’t make sense! How did we miss that?” he asked.
She knew how.
They weren’t investigators.
They didn’t look at things the same way. Gabby was a computer science person, Ian had been Secret Service, and Tony—bless his heart—was a bone nut.
This was her thing.
Unfortunately.
“It doesn’t matter how it was missed,” she offered. “We’re on the right track now. Those letters were a smokescreen to protect Duncan and Ciarán from the church. I’d bet my ass on it.”
Tony got serious.
“So, you think you’re related to Ceit?”
She did.
“I wish we had Callum’s remains, and I can’t freaking believe I said that. I personally think that she was pregnant with the child belonging to this Cathal person. He was her true love.”
Tony was curious.
“But she was pissed. A curse was put on the place.”
She stopped him.
“Do you hear yourself, man? You’re a scientist. Pull your big boy britches up and slap yourself for me.”
She actually heard him do that.
Jesus.
She loved this nut. He made her laugh.
“We can’t verify that Ceit wrote those letters.
We can’t verify a lot. What we can assume is that the ones she received from her father were valid.
They weren’t torn from a book. We can say that the ones she wrote to Duncan while he was away at war are probably just that.
For all we know, they came up with this plan in case the church came a-calling. ”
Tony didn’t question it.
Why?
It made sense.
Elizabeth had irrefutable evidence when it came to the letters looking like they’d been torn out of a journal.
Damn.
They should have caught that.
“Thanks to Devon Slater, you have scans of Charlie’s skull. Run it against Duncan and Ceit. If my gut is right, you’ll have markers that genetically tie him to her, and not Duncan.”
He could do that.
It would take a few hours.
“I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.”
She appreciated that.
“What will you do in the meantime?” Tony asked. “You know, curious because I’m jealous that I’m not there.”
She laughed.
“I think we’re going to a pub for dinner.”
Oh, Tony wished he was there.
“Are you sure you don’t need backup. I can be there by morning to help…”
She shut that down.
“Anthony, if you think I want to personally watch you go wild here, you’re out of your mind. You’re coming for the wedding. That’s the next time I'd better see that mug of yours.”
He sighed.
“I never have any fun.”
Elizabeth just rolled her eyes.
His fun tended to get his ass in trouble, and that was the last thing she needed here. If she had to explain to the authorities that he was harmless, she would have to strangle him personally.
Bet.
On.
It.
“You have more fun than any other anthropologist I know,” she admitted. “You came here and got to dance on a bar top. Did you think I forgot that little part? Without britches on under that kilt—nonetheless!”
He laughed.
“In my defense, the men there like the breeze. You should get Ethan a kilt so you chill out. Someone needs to get laid more.”
She snorted.
Why?
She didn’t disagree in the least. Since she was on vacation, what happened in Scotland was staying in Scotland.
“Just do the scans, Anthony.”
Oh, he would.
“I love you, Lyzee,” he stated.
Her heart melted.
This nut…he was so valuable to her heart, and she absolutely felt that way about him.
“Ditto, Tony. Now, stay out of trouble.”
He had little choice, now did he?
“You too.”
That made her laugh outrageously.
She was going out with Ethan tonight.
Trouble was pretty damn high on her priority list.
Believe that.