Page 19 of Irish Oath
"We have met," Tiernan said. "Technically. Last night. Though I was being somewhat dishonest about the nature of the visit."
"Somewhat," I said.
"Significantly," Cormac said.
Tiernan shot him a look.
I almost smiled. Almost.
I picked the document back up and read it again. The altered forensic record. The small specific change made to point blame in a direction convenient for someone. Someone who'd planned this carefully. Someone still out there.
Someone who might know I was here.
"If I agree to hear more," I said slowly, "and I'm not saying I am, I'm saying if. What does that look like?"
Ronan set down his glass. "It looks like you're coming back to Dunraven."
I looked up.
"I'm not asking you to trust us," he said. "I'm asking you to give us the chance to show you what we have. All of it. Everything we've found. And to let us see everything you'vefound. Between what you know and what we know, there's an answer. I believe that. We can't find it from two different countries."
"Dunraven," I said.
"Yes."
I took them in. Ronan. Tiernan. Cormac, watching me with that steady unreadable thing he'd had since he sat down.
I thought about the timeline on the wall upstairs. Years of threads running to a conclusion that felt like someone else had tied the knot.
I thought about my mother's laugh. I thought about being tired.
"I'm not leaving the bar unattended," I said. "I have staff. I have obligations. I need a week to arrange things."
A muscle moved in Ronan's face, gone almost before it showed.
"A week," he said.
"A week," I said. "And I make my own way there. My flight, my car, my hotel until I've walked the place and decided I want to stay. I don't get in a vehicle with any of you until that's my call to make."
"Agreed," Tiernan said at once.
Ronan and Cormac traded a look.
"Agreed," Ronan said.
"And I want copies of everything you have. To a secure address I'll give you. Before I agree to anything."
"You'll have it tonight," Cormac said.
I nodded slowly.
The Madigan bottle sat between us. Three glasses, one of them mine by default, even though I hadn't poured for myself, because my father always set a glass for everyone at the table whether they drank or not. Old habit. Old hospitality. The kind of thing that gets into the bones young and stays.
I poured two fingers into the empty glass and picked it up.
I didn't make a toast. Wasn't ready for that. I just drank, and let the whiskey do what my father's whiskey always did, which was remind me that some things survive what they're not supposed to survive.
Ronan watched me do it.
