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I guess there’s no reason to be ill at ease if she isn’t. “No. Stay.”
I retell the horrid events of the day my mother was killed and I can see the pain in Thane’s heart; it’s reflected in the expression on his face. “You have a grave with a headstone next to your mother. I’ve seen it.”
“Dad’s doings. He was afraid my mom’s killer might come back for me if he believed I could identify him. He decided it would be safer if everyone believed I was dead.”
“You spent all these years believing I was her killer. I swear it wasn’t me.”
I wholeheartedly trust that he’s telling me the truth. “I believe you.”
“I understand you didn’t see the killer’s face but do you remember anything that might be identifying?”
I know very little. “He smelled of sweet tobacco and liquor. I know now it was Jack Daniels. Neither of those things helps with determining identity but my dog attacked him. There was a lot of blood so I believe he should have a significant scar on his right lower leg.” At least that much is solid.
“You were convinced you recognized my voice.”
“I had heard your voice many times during your visits to my mother. Her killer’s accent was identical to yours. As a child, I always assumed it was you. When I became an adult, I knew I couldn’t go on assumptions alone so I researched her connections. You were her only Scottish association.”
My findings didn’t prove his guilt. It would never stand up in a court of law but I didn’t need that; I made myself judge and jury. I didn’t convict Thane based on concrete evidence. I did it using my gut. And I was wrong. I can admit my mistake now.
Can’t lie. My blunder shakes my confidence.
“Several of my men were in the US when Amanda was murdered but I don’t have reason to suspect any of them. None had motive. They would’ve been too afraid to cross me.” Thane may need to rethink the loyalty of his men.
“Perhaps a rival, then?”
“It’s possible but I doubt they would’ve taken something so precious to me without claiming responsibility.” He’s right. A rival would’ve loved nothing more than him knowing what they’d done. Whoever did this wants to keep it quiet.
“Would you be willing to make a list of Fellowship members in the US during that time?” That’s probably our best place to begin.
“Aye. I’ll have a list for you in the morning.”
“That would be a great start. Thank you.”
Isobel slaps her hands together. “Good. Now that we have that out of the way, I want tae talk about why I’m here.”
I don’t think anyone is questioning Isobel’s reason for coming. “It’s not every day The Fellowship’s future leader takes a wife so we need tae have a formal commemoration tae announce and celebrate yer marriage. That bastard, Abram, robbed ye of the wedding ye should have had here with yer family but we’ll make up for it with one hell of a reception. And he will be there, front and center, smiling about it.”
Abram may be there but I highly doubt he’ll be smiling.
“Our wedding was beautiful, Mum,” Sin says. “And the end result is the same. Bleu is my wife and that’s all that matters.”
I wouldn’t take a posh wedding in a beautiful cathedral over the one I had at my father’s bedside. It was perfect.
“I’m sure it was lovely. I’m sorry I missed it. But we’ll make up for it with a reception The Fellowship won’t forget anytime soon.” Isobel removes a large binder from her bag and I know what it means. She has big plans in store.
My initiation ceremony was grand so I can only imagine what she has in mind for a wedding reception. “I have an event planner scheduled tae come later this week but we need tae have some ideas of what we want before he comes.”
My husband and father-in-law get up to make their escape. “This is our cue,” Sin says.
The jackass I married is grinning at me. He’s laughing because he knows choosing tableware, flowers, and cake flavors aren’t my thing. But it’s something I’ll do for my beloved mother-in-law—with a smile on my face—because I want to make her happy.
Isobel closes the folder once Sin and Thane are gone. “I’m ecstatic about the reception but I don’t want tae discuss the plans for it right now. I only pretended I did so the men would leave.”
Thank God. “That’s a relief.”
“I thought it would be.”
Seems my mother-in-law knows me pretty well.
“I have things I want tae tell you about the brotherhood and what it’s like tae be married tae its leader. Their input isn’t needed.”
“There are times when it isn’t.” I laugh.
“Ye’ve only been back a few hours but The Fellowship doesn’t offer the courtesy of a transition period into yer place as wife of a leader.”
That may be the case, but I have no idea what is expected of me. There’s no map or guidebook. “I don’t know the part I’m to play. I’m lost.”
“Then ye must quickly find yerself because that can be construed as instability. That’s no good for ye or Sinclair. There are those who would call you weak and use that against ma son.”
I won’t be a liability to my husband. “I’m a lot of things but weak has never been one of them.”
“Ye were expected tae pick up the reins the moment ye arrived. No one cares that ye weren’t raised within the brotherhood. They’ll be watching—and some hoping—for ye tae fail.”
I won’t let Sin down. “Failure isn’t an option. So where do we begin?”
“Always with tea, love. We have a lot tae cover.”
Chapter Ten
Sinclair Breckenridge
Photographs. Sticky notes. Timelines. Thumbnails with strings connecting one clue to another. It looks like nothing more than graffiti covering the wall of my home office.
The squares of paper stuck to the wall vary in a dozen colors. I’m sure each represents some kind of significance to Bleu’s investigation but I find no rhyme or reason to the madness. Organized chaos. That’s what it looks like to me.
I stop in the doorway and take a moment to watch my wife. She’s listening to a violin cover of “My Immortal” while standing before her new mysterious masterpiece. She’s rocking from one foot to the other while chewing a pencil. I almost think I can hear the gears grinding in her head.
“Well, that’s new. And interesting.”
She spins around, takes the pencil from her mouth, and tucks it behind her ear. “Hey, you. Come over here. You gotta take a look at this.”
I go to her, placing a quick kiss against her mouth.
“Someone tastes like whisky.”
“You sound surprised. I guess that means you didn’t get my text.”
“No. Sorry.” She scans the room. “Guess I didn’t bring my phone into the office.”
“I went by Duncan’s to take care of some Fellowship business. I ran into Jamie and Leith. We had a couple drinks so we could catch up.”
“Good. I know you must miss hanging out with your friends.”
I think she feels guilty for cutting into our triad’s time together. “It’s all right. I sort of like my new friend.”
“You said you were tending Fellowship business. Everything okay?”
“Aye. A few of the brothers have expressed interest in opening a gentlemen’s club.”
“A gentlemen’s club.” Her words ooze with contempt. “And I suppose they’ll want Fellowship women to work in it?”
“Of course. It would work the same as any other Fellowship business.”
“I’m all for Fellowship women working to earn a living. If they choose to do that topless, that’s their prerogative but can’t we provide them other career choices besides being strippers and barmaids?”
“We do, Bonny. There are a lot of options. You’re not aware of them yet because you haven’t been around long. You’ll see there’s lots of opportunities for any woman who wants to work.”
She appears less defensive. ?
?I’m glad to hear that.”
Good. She seems content.
I move my attention to the newly decorated office wall. “Taking up some new form of abstract art as a hobby?”
“No. I met with Debra today for the first time. We had lunch and then she came over to take a look at my evidence. She helped me set this up. It’s brilliant.”
Debra? “Remind me who she is.”
“My dad’s former undercover partner. She quit the Bureau and went freelance. She was also my eyes and ears while I was studying you from afar.”
“Ah. She’s the woman who ran surveillance on us.”
“No. She’s the woman who ran surveillance on you for years and was completely undetected.”
“Aye. Very true.” I can give credit where it’s due.
“It was a great meeting. Not just because she helped me with this. She told me all kinds of stories from when she and Dad were partners. I enjoyed hearing about their antics.”
Bleu says little but she’s still mourning the death of her father. And the loss of her sister. She occasionally tells me she needs alone time in the tub but I know what that really means. She needs a good cry.
She looks at the clock on the wall. “Wow. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. I’m sorry. I got caught up in this. I haven’t put anything on for dinner.”
I don’t mind. We’ve been in Edinburgh a week and my sweet Bonny Bleu hasn’t stopped. When she isn’t researching the men on the list my father gave her, she’s spending time with the women of The Fellowship. She’s even offered to teach photography to anyone who’s interested.
She’s striving so hard to win them over. A suggestion from my mum, I’m sure.
