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“Who’s to say. Tis’ nae like anythin’ can be done about it.”
“I could dae somethin’ about it,” Conner said as Damon shot him a warning glare.
“Can ye now?” Henry laughed as he shook his head. “Nothin’ can be done about anythin’. But it’s a kind gesture nonetheless.”
“Truth is,” Conner said, clearing his throat, “I brought ye here to ask about yer time in the castle. I’ve grown a bit sentimental as of late and would like to ken what transpired while I was younger.”
Henry shook his head as he set the dram down on the table and leaned forward to rest on his elbows. “Ye didnae brin’ me here to reminisce, ye brought me here to speak of yer maither and sister, did ye nae?”
Conner glanced over at Damon who shrugged. “I may have mentioned a few things to the old man.”
“Old man?” Henry snapped. “Ye think I cannae take ye down a notch or two? I may be gettin’ up there in age, but bet my cattle I can take ye on.”
Conner rolled his eyes at the scrappy old man and grabbed the dram off the table to fill it once again.
“Since ye seem to ken so much,” Conner said. “Indulge me then. Where were ye the night my sister and maither went missin’?”
Henry swallowed hard and leaned back in his seat. He shook his head as he pursed his lips into a tight line.
“I daenae recall,” Henry said. “Was a long time ago and my memory isnae what it once was.”
Conner’s eyes shifted to Damon as he moved back to the man and offered him the filled glass. Henry eyed it as if it were a gold coin waved in front of him.
“Now that is interestin’, daenae ye think, Damon?” Conner asked as he glanced at his friend.
“Aye, a bit odd, it is.”
“What’s that?” Henry asked, his eyes shifting between Damon and Conner.
“Well, nay more than a minute ago ye were spoutin’ how age hasnae affected ye. Yet, now yer tellin’ us it has. That is a bit peculiar dae ye nae think?”
Henry swallowed hard as he rubbed the back of his neck. Beads of sweat formed on his wrinkled forehead.
“Tell me what I want to ken, and I’ll send ye home wit’ yer very own bottle, to help ye forget all about what transpired that day,” Conner bribed as he waved the glass before Henry. Keeping his eyes on the old man, Conner tried to keep his cool. The tension in the room weighed on him. He knew there were only two possible outcomes, either Henry would give him what he wanted, or he wouldn’t. The thought of being led to another dead end caused Conner’s chest to tighten. Swallowing hard, Conner kept his emotions in check, waiting for Henry to make his move.
Henry’s lips twitched as he nibbled his lower lip. His eyes darted from Damon to Conner before landing back on the bottle. To Conner, it looked as if the old man was sitting on hot coals in the chair.
“Yer lookin’ for Joseph,” Henry said. As if the flames under the seat got too hot, Henry shot up and lunged for the glass. Nearly spilling half the contents out onto the floor, Conner watched as the old man gulped down every drop of the brown liquid. Once the glass was depleted, Henry studied the empty glass in his hand as his lips turned down. There was a hint of disappointment that flashed across his face as he set the dram on the side table, closed his eyes and exhaled.
“Yer lookin’ for Joseph O’Mallie. He’ll have the answers yer seek.” Dropping his head, Henry let out a heavy, exhausted sigh. It was as if the old man were giving up the last bit of himself in that moment. Panic mingled with hope within Conner. He couldn’t believe his ears as he mulled over the name. With his eyes drifting to Damon, he wanted more than anything to believe what he just heard.
Pulling in a deep breath, Conner clamped his hands into a tight fist hoping not to let the tremors show. In the corner of his eye, he noticed Damon’s lips curl down. Although it wasn’t exactly what Conner wanted to hear, he found joy in the confession. After all, it was one step closer than he had ever been to finding answers.
Conner pursed his lips into a tight line as the sense of dread came over him. Studying Henry, he couldn’t allow himself to let the hope boil over and wreak havoc on his nerves. He knew he had to be calm and collective, even dismissive.
“And where can I find this man? What did ye say his name was again?” Conner asked as his attention drifted to Damon.
“Joseph O’Mallie,” Henry said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Conner leaned against the desk as he kept his eyes locked on Henry. Every fiber in his body seemed to be set ablaze. He didn’t know if he wanted to jump for joy, or deck the man for there were far too many things going on inside him to fully grasp what was going on.
“And where do we find him?” Damon chimed in, inching to the edge of his seat. It was clear to Conner that Damon seemed just as eager and surprised by the news as he was.
“North,” Henry answered with a slight irritated growl to his voice. There was a vindictiveness in Henry’s gaze that felt like an icy finger grazing down Conner’s spine.
“There are many places north of here,” Damon snapped. It was clear he was at his wits end and growing tired of the old man.
“How is married life?” Henry asked with a smirk plastered on his lip. Conner wished with all his might he could smack the smirk off Henry’s face, but the questions startled him.
“Fine,” Conner answered.
