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Barry took the folder from Cathal but handed it to Mac.

“What is it?” Mac asked as he opened it. Inside appeared to be correspondence between Cathal and various other parties. Letters, newspaper clippings, receipts.

Cathal waited, and finally Mac got to a clipping that looked fairly recent. “What is this?” he asked, unfolding the delicate paper where it had been cut. It was an article from the Chicago Tribune with a black-and-white photo of a man.

“Tell me,” Cathal said. “Who’s that?” Mac looked up at him. Silently, Barry leaned closer to Mac to see the paper too.

“Chicago?” Mac asked. “How’d you get this?”

“Read it,” Cathal said.

Mac looked at the date. “It’s almost two years old.”

“Read it.”

Mac read aloud:

Liam Malley, 29, most recently of London, England, but suspected to be originally from Galway, Ireland, was arraigned in a Chicago courthouse on Thursday on charges of conspiracy to commit bank robbery and suspected ties to the IRA bombing of a Wimpy’s restaurant in London in January of last year. Authorities believe at least one of his co-conspirators also lives in Chicago. Mr. Malley claims to have no knowledge of any bombing. As to the conspiracy to rob the Northern Trust Bank on LaSalle Street, Mr. Malley—

Mac stopped reading so that he could look again at the photo. “Is Rian in Chicago?” It was him. Two years earlier, so he was twenty-nine in the photo. He was shorter than the policeman leading him, but broad about the shoulders. He had Mac’s own face, something wolfish around the eyes. High cheekbones. So familiar and yet not. “Is he still there? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know if he’s still there. That’s what I’m telling ye. I do know he didn’t have anything to do with any bomb,” Cathal said. “I know that much. I consulted the ones who’d know for certain and they confirmed that incident had nothing to do with any person of this area. Though I’d say he knew them. If you keep going—” Cathal reached over and took the file from Mac’s lap. He riffled through it and came to another article, printed four months after the first. “You’ll see another man was ultimately charged and there’s no more mention of this ‘Liam Malley.’ ”

“How long have you had this? Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Mac asked, standing up. “That he was there two years ago doesn’t mean he’s there now. We could have gone there when we had a chance to find him. We could have helped him. Or if he didn’t want our help we could have just seen him and let him know where we are and how to reach us in case he wants our help in the future. I don’t understand. What if we hadn’t come here for the funeral? Would we have ever known?”

Above Cathal’s chair appeared two pairs of eyes, looking down from the loft. Mac had been louder than he intended.

“I had to make certain of a few things first, Macdara,” Cathal said. “As for knowing where you are and how to reach you, I’d say he knows very well where you are. I’d say he’s known all this time.”

Mac looked at Barry, astonished.

“Cathal’s right, Mac,” Barry said. “Think about it.”

ELEVEN

Mac did think about it. He thought about it all through the visit with Lillie’s parents and her sister Evelyn, and her brother Paddy. They were lovely people and had a gift waiting for Mary and didn’t forget that Frankie would be with her so they got a gift for him, too, even though he was no blood to them. Evelyn and Paddy had their own children right around Mary’s and Frankie’s age and the two Americans were shy at first, until next thing they were running around outside like they were born there. Lillie’s mother said they’d enjoyed their time with Cathal, who they found to be so well-informed on so many topics. Mac wondered if that was their way of saying he wouldn’t shut up.

“But you’re anxious to get back to America, I can tell,” her father said to him by the fire once evening set in. They’d head to Shannon early the following morning. “Next time you’ll all come. Next time you’ll stay longer.” Lillie’s father was a different sort of man than Cathal. He was quiet and soft, with rosy cheeks and a jolly demeanor. He had a joke book he kept on the mantel that he took down to read a few to the children. They prayed before their meal, and he didn’t seem to have the least bit of curiosity about the wider world.

Mac was indeed anxious to get back. He wanted to tell Lillie what Cathal had discovered about Rian and find out what she thought. She’d made a photo book for Mac to leave with her parents, and they’d show every person who came into their house.

“God willing, you’ll all come together this summer and stay a few weeks. What are summers in Yonkers like? It’s been far too long since Lillie has been back and the children need to get to know Ireland a bit.”

“Lillie and the kids could come, maybe, if she doesn’t go back to work, but if she does go back she can’t take more time after having been off for a few months. And I couldn’t get more than a few days off in a row.”

When they stepped out for a moment, Barry gave him a look like he was fed up.

“What?” Mac asked.

“What’s wrong with you? Just say you will,” Barry said. “Just say yes of course, that’ll be grand, that’s what we’ll do, why wouldn’t we, summer it is, we’ll see you in no time.”

“And then if we don’t come?”

“Of course you won’t come. You could ship the kids maybe, but not this summer, they’re too young.”

“Then why would I say it? And leave them hoping to see us.”

“Because that’s what everyone does. They know it themselves. It’s just a part you have to play.”