Carla Neggers Read Online Free PDF Page A

The prospect of a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow or a shrieking banshee warning of imminent death didn’t faze her. She was a marine biologist, not a folklorist.
    “Have you told Father Bracken you believe in fairies?”
    Granny waved a slender hand. “He’d understand.”
    Probably he would, if not just because he was Irish. Church attendance was up at St. Patrick’s since Father Bracken’s arrival in Rock Point. Parishioners insisted they wanted Father Callaghan to return from his yearlong sabbatical, but they were falling in love with their Irish priest. He’d helped Granny get past her anger at God for her husband’s death. Whatever spiritual guidance Finian Bracken had offered, Franny Maroney was back at church and not as depressed and irritable.
    Julianne wondered if her crush on Father Bracken was a sin. She would have to find someone else to ask, that was for sure.
    She gave her grandmother a quick hug. “You have fun while I’m off to Ireland, okay, Granny?”
    “Don’t you worry about me. You just live your life and be happy. I’m fine here on my own.”
    “I know you are.”
    As Julianne started to grab her suitcase, her grandmother tucked a twenty-dollar bill in her hand. “Buy yourself a Guinness or two while you’re over there.”
    Julianne beamed her a smile. “Thanks, Granny. You’re a love.”
    “Ireland’s the best place to heal a broken heart.”
    Franny Maroney had never stepped foot in her ancestral homeland, either, but Julianne appreciated the sentiment. Everyone in Rock Point knew she had a broken heart, because that’s what Andy Donovan was. A heartbreaker.
    She carried her tote bag and suitcase—no wheels—outside and down the front walk to the street. Her brother would be here any minute. Ryan was thirty, the same age as Andy, four years older than she was, and tight with all the Donovans. More proof she’d been dumb to get involved with one of them.
    But it wasn’t Ryan’s black truck that pulled in next to her. It was Andy’s rust-colored truck. He had the passenger window rolled down and patted the seat next to him. “Hop in, Jules. I’m driving you to the airport. Ryan can’t make it and I volunteered.”
    It was a conspiracy. No doubt in Julianne’s mind, but she had no choice—which Andy would know. She needed to leave now in order to get to Logan Airport the requested three hours ahead of her flight’s departure time. She was following all the rules and guidelines. She’d provided the requested preflight boarding information, checked in online at the appropriate time and printed out her boarding pass. She had any liquids she wanted on board with her in a clear plastic bag. She’d read about what exercises to do on the plane and would fill her empty water bottle after she cleared security. Andy wouldn’t have bothered with any of it. He’d have said, “Use common sense,” and shown up at the airport in the nick of time.
    Julianne shoved her suitcase behind the passenger seat and climbed in next to him. She wanted to think it was his rules-breaking nature that had nearly gotten him killed a few weeks ago, but it really wasn’t. He’d been blindsided, attacked by thugs. She’d found him unconscious, drowning in the harbor. As mad as she’d been at him, she’d done all she could to save him. She couldn’t let him just die.
    The thugs had been related to one of Colin’s FBI cases.
    Obviously he didn’t just work at a desk at FBI headquarters in Washington, as he’d tried to get everyone in Rock Point to believe.
    Emma had been involved in the case, too.
    Complicated, those two.
    “All set?” Andy asked.
    Julianne nodded. “Yes. Thanks.”
    He had on a thick deep red flannel shirt over jeans. No coat, despite the November cold. She’d debated and debated until finally deciding to wear a long, shawl-like sweater that would keep her warm enough on the way to the airport and once in Ireland but wouldn’t be too bulky and awkward on the plane.