Free The Whisper by Carla Neggers Page A

annoying, can’t you, Detective Wisdom?”
    “What? I wouldn’t mind chasing rainbows and drinking Guinness.”
    But Josie Goodwin had hung up.
    Sophie joined him and handed him his bottle of water. “Try to drink every drop on the flight,” she said, shoving her own bottle into an outer compartment of her shoulder bag. “It’ll help.”
    “Mostly I was passed out on pain meds on my flight from Boston to Scotland.” Except when he and Bob O’Reilly, who was in the seat next to him, had discussed how a bomb had ended up on Abigail’s back porch. Scoop slid his phone back in his carry-on. “Guess who that call was about?”
    “No idea.”
    Her body language indicated she knew exactly who. He tucked the huge water bottle into his pack. “It was about a certain Sophie Malone, Ph.D.”
    “Who would be calling about me?”
    “A friend here in Ireland.” Not a lie, technically, although he’d only met Josie Goodwin three weeks ago at Abigail’s wedding. “I’m cautious these days.”
    “So you’re checking me out?” She paused, narrowing those bright blue eyes on him. Her freckles didn’t stand out as much in the artificial airport light. After a couple beats, she nodded thoughtfully. “All right. That makes sense. You’re a detective who just went through an awful experience. I’m from Boston, I’m an archaeologist and I interrupted your visit to the ruin where a serial killer terrorized a friend of yours.”
    “Plus you’re hiding something.”
    “Aren’t we all?” She seemed unperturbed by his skepticism as she hoisted her bag back onto a slender shoulder, strands of red hair dropping into her face. “Where are you sitting?”
    “Row 40.”
    “I’m way up front. Just as well, don’t you think?” She smiled at him. “I have a feeling if I were any closer, I’d be a distraction.”
    Looking at her, all Scoop could think was that he had to get out of Ireland and back to his home turf. He let his gaze linger on her longer than was necessary, or wise, but she didn’t seem to notice. It had to be the fairies. He was attracted to cops, prosecutors, the occasional crime lab technician. Not red-headed experts on the Iron Age.
    “This friend who called,” she said. “Is it Keira Sullivan?”
    “Doesn’t matter, does it?”
    “Keira and I are going to be working together on the Boston-Cork conference, and Colm Dermott and I are colleagues. If you’ve planted ideas in their heads about my hiding something, I probably should know.”
    “Hell of a small world, isn’t it? I didn’t plant ideas in anyone’s heads. I’m not here to screw things up for you. You seem like the type who needs to stay busy.”
    “I suppose I am. I suspect you are, too.”
    He grinned at her. “See? Something in common.” They passed a rack of Irish souvenirs on their way out of the duty-free shop. “You didn’t show up at that ruin yesterday just out of professional curiosity.”
    “And you know this how?”
    “Instinct.”
    Her eyes sparked with challenge. “Ah.”
    He set his pack on an empty chair and didn’t let her doubt fazehim. “You have some kind of personal stake in what happened there. You volunteered for the conference. Why? Something to do with Jay Augustine? Did you do business with our jailed serial killer?”
    “You’ve been away from your job a long time. I’m sure it’ll be good to get back to work and have real cases to focus on.”
    “I have real cases now.”
    She didn’t falter for even half a second. “Even better. It’ll be good to get back to them full-time.” She headed for the ladies’ room and tossed him another smile as she pushed open the door. “See you at customs.”
    He sat down, but Sophie wandered off when she came out of the ladies’ room and managed to avoid him until they boarded the plane. He had an aisle seat. She did, too. She wasn’t way up front. She was seven rows ahead of him. Either she couldn’t add, or lying was her way of telling him not to