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Midnight Mooring

Page 102

by Samantha Young

Caoimhe and Rina were still in Leth Sholas two weeks later and as difficult as it was to live in the same tiny town as Caoimhe with these shitty suspicions hanging over our heads, I did as Cameron asked. For her sake more than anything.

Cameron McQuarrie loved me.

Loved me.

As much as I loved her.

I was tired of not getting to ruminate in that. To let it sink in. To linger in the high of it without worrying about my woman’s safety.

We remained vigilant. Donal had reported the incident with the boat to the police but neither of us offered up our suspect. We were waiting for Caoimhe to either leave or make her next move, but we were also stubbornly living our lives.

And enjoying the fuck out of each other, even if life kept us busier than usual now that I was down two mechanics and Cameron’s business was picking up speed again. Despite all that, I was singing along to “Highway to Hell” as it blasted out of the Bluetooth speaker in the garage. Soapy water covered my work boots as I moved around the Jeep Wrangler I’d serviced and was now valeting as part of a package deal. It was through Bon Scott’s growling vocals I thought I heard a ring. I cocked my head to listen and sure enough, there it was again. Frowning, I dropped the sponge and pulled my phone out of my chest pocket to switch off the music.

The loud ringing filled the garage.

No one on the island who used me as their mechanic called the garage landline. They had my mobile number. I marched to the reception to the phone plugged into the wall.

“Dallas Autocare,” I answered.

The line crackled and I heard an exhale.

I tensed. “Hello?”

“Mr. Dallas?” a female voice asked.

Relaxing, I replied, “Aye, I’m Forde Dallas. How can I help?” I was already stretching the cord to sit down and open the computer booking system.

“Well … I don’t know how to explain this … but … have you been receiving strange letters recently?”

Surprise froze me to the chair.

“Mr. Dallas?”

“Aye, aye, I’m here. Eh … what do you know about that?” I attempted to keep my tone relaxed, even though I was anything but.

She sighed heavily again. “Mr. Dallas, my name is Valerie Smith. I’m a residential childcare practitioner here at a residential home for children in Inverness. One of the children in my care is a teenage girl who has some connections to your family. We discovered her trying to post a handwritten letter to you and when we saw the contents, her counselor and I spoke with her. She’s revealed that’s she been sending letters to you and your partner … and well, having seen an example of the contents, we assumed you might be quite concerned. We want to assure you that there is no threat, and it won’t happen again. Genny … Genny has had a difficult time, and we’d really appreciate it if you considered not making this a police matter?”

I blinked, stunned, trying to make sense of all the information this stranger had spewed at me.

I was just to believe some random on a phone call? “What kind of connection to my family?”

“I’ve been led to believe Genny’s stepfather was your birth father.”

The room spun as I hung my head and bit out, “Stepfather … not father? She’s not my sister?”

“No. But … she knows who you are through your father. When he died, the few belongings he had passed to her.”

When he died. When he died. When he died.

“He’s dead?” I croaked. “The bastard’s dead?”

45. Forde

Ididn’t think it was possible to love Cameron any more than I did until I explained the strange phone call and how I was leaving for Inverness the next day, only for Cameron to tell me she was coming with me. No questions, no misgivings.

She saw I needed to do this, and she was all in with me.

I couldn’t just accept Valerie Smith’s revelations at face value, and as agitated as she sounded at the idea of me visiting the children’s home, she seemed to understand I needed to verify her story. I’d promised I didn’t intend to meet Genny or upset the girl. But I needed to know the truth.