“That’s what the rangers always say during times like this.”
“What do you mean?”
His mother ignored the question. “What about Aisling?”
“She’s okay.” Cillian paused before saying, “Bran came back for her.”
“Ah.” His mother paused to clear her throat. “Have you spoken to him?”
“I kind of had to since I was the one who found Aisling.”
“So he’s back in Pelham. Will he stay?”
Cillian frowned, grip tightening on the steering wheel. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t go on my cruise.”
“What? Mom, no! You’ve been looking forward to it for months. There’s no reason for you to stay.”
“It’s not safe in Pelham if there’s a rabid bear.”
“All the more reason for you to go on your cruise. There are no forests out in the middle of the sea near the Bahamas.”
“You’re in Pelham.”
“I’ll be fine. I know the forest.”
“I’d feel better if you left.”
“I’m not going to abandon my job for something like this.”
“Even if it meant you’d be safe?”
“Mom,” Cillian sighed. “I won’t leave Pelham. It’s just bears. I’ve been trained to handle those kinds of encounters.”
He wasn’t going to let Mac and his fellow rangers patrol alone. Then there was Bran.
He couldn’t stop thinking of Bran.
It was his mother’s turn to sigh. “Fine. Stay in town. But Cillian?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“Remember what I’ve always told you. No matter what, never trust a witch.”
It’d been his mantra as a child, whispered admonishments that were almost like a prayer when his mother spoke in the quiet corners of the town they found themselves in. Cillian hadn’t understood the warning as a kid or a teenager because the only witches in town were the Gallaghers, and they’d never been anything but kind.
“Cillian?” his mother pressed.
“I won’t,” Cillian dutifully promised. “Have fun on your cruise.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
He ended the call, letting the thrum of the engine fill the cab for a few minutes before he switched on the radio. Music kept him company all the way to Red’s Diner because even if he didn’t eat, he still needed to take a break. Mac would supervise the handover of the crime scene to the police, and the medical examiner would hopefully finish her job in a few hours. Cillian’s report could wait.
Half a dozen cars were parked in the lot adjacent to Red’s Diner. The start of the lunch crowd wasn’t that terrible, and when Cillian pushed open the glass door, bell jingling overhead, he knew he’d have his pick of empty booths or tables, but the booth taken in the corner caught his eye first.
