Free The Wild Sight by Loucinda McGary Page A

“Sorry.”
    Rather than going back the same way and having to backtrack through Dungannon, Donovan took the road east toward Portadown.
     Rylie didn’t question him. In fact, she hardly seemed to notice anything. The few glances he stole in her direction, she was
     wiping her eyes with a tissue, or staring mutely at nothing. He only hoped that once they reached Ballyneagh, she would be
     sufficiently recovered to drive herself back to her B&B.
    When he turned off the main road to head north, it started to rain. While Donovan mused on the uncanny parallels of weather
     and mood, the large intermittent drops increased to a downpour. Soon, he was forced to slow the car to a crawl over the pothole
     filled country lane. Then a loose flock of sheep forced him to stop altogether.
    As he fumbled with the windscreen defroster, Rylie spoke at last. “Why did you lie?” She was peering out the fogged window,
     not at him. “Dermot did kill that man, and you know because you have The Sight.”
    Donovan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before he replied. “No, The Sight or whatever ’tis I have doesn’t work that
     way.”
    She turned and looked at him. Her eyes, red from crying, searched his face for answers.
    Reluctantly, Donovan continued, “I know the man was stabbed, but I don’t know who he was, or who killed him.”
    With a little nod of acknowledgment, she accepted his explanation, but she wasn’t finished questioning him, even though she
     glanced nervously away. Donovan beeped the car horn to urge the last of the sheep off the roadway.
    Clearing her throat, Rylie spoke again, “Do you think your mother left because she found out about my mother and me?”
    He paused for a heartbeat before he said, “No, because my father is not the same Dermot O’Shea as your father.”
    She moistened her lips, “Did The Sight tell you that?”
    “No, but I know it’s true nonetheless.” Then he cut off her protest by adding, “Just like I know my mother is dead. Somewhere
     in the fens.”

Chapter 5
    THE RAIN DECREASED TO A DRIZZLE BY THE TIME DONOVAN parked the car behind the pub. The remainder of the drive had passed in
     strained silence, and he was glad it was done.
    “I need to use the bathroom,” Rylie announced, as he handed her the keys.
    Together, they dashed the short distance from the car to the back door of the pub and went inside. While Rylie disappeared
     into the WC marked Ladies, Donovan’s growling stomach reminded him that they’d missed lunch and it was now tea time. He ducked
     into the pub’s kitchen and grabbed two thick wedges of potato farl from the tray inside the fridge. Gruff laughter from the
     main room told him that eating there would be far too public. Stacking both hunks on a single plate, he nuked it in the microwave
     for a minute before he slipped back out to the vestibule.
    Rylie stood at the foot of the stairs, her hair free from its ponytail and freshly combed. She’d put on some of that mauve
     lipstick, too.
    “You must be hungry,” he said, holding up the plate. “Come upstairs and I’ll fix us a cuppa.”
    The smooth skin around her gray eyes looked a bit puffy, but her wide mouth curved into a half-smile. “Thanks, that’d be great.”
    However, her voice sounded about as wrung out as he felt. She followed him up and into the kitchen, where Donovan placed the
     plate on the counter, put water in the electric kettle and plugged it in.
    “I’ll just go and wash up,” he said, shrugging off his jacket. “Turn on the telly if you’d like.”
    He hit the knob on the radiator as he headed into the loo. This day had been one ordeal after another. And unfortunately,
     it wasn’t over. Once his sister learned of his row with Dermot, she would be calling to give him a good tongue-lashing. Not
     that he didn’t deserve it, but he certainly didn’t relish the idea.
    After washing and drying his face and hands, he went back into the sitting room. Rylie’s purse and