Free Carla Neggers by Declan's Cross

gradually his stamina had improved and, with it, his distances. He’d told Fin that farm work kept him busy, but walking kept him sane.
    At the bottom of the hill, instead of going past the bookshop into the village, he turned down a narrow street to the waterfront and the present and future site of Lindsey Hargreaves’ marine science research field station. At the moment it was an abandoned garage she’d rented with an American friend, a professional diver. It was located just up from the small Declan’s Cross pier and so far looked more like a convenient place to store diving equipment and camp out between dives. It would take vision, enthusiasm, determination and a substantial financial commitment to create a proper research facility. Even with Lindsey’s family connections, Sean was skeptical, but that was his nature.
    A van was parked out front, its back open, revealing state-of-the-art diving gear. Brent Corwin, the American diver, emerged from a side door of the garage. He was in his late thirties, his close-cropped hair almost fully gray. He gave an exaggerated shiver as he stuffed an oily rag into a sweatshirt pocket. “Hey, Sean. Where did the mild air go? It feels more like November in New York. I’m from Florida. Warm-blooded. What can I do for you?”
    “I’m looking for Lindsey Hargreaves.”
    “Two Americans were just here looking for her, too. Friends of the woman she was supposed to pick up in Shannon this morning. I guess that didn’t happen. That’s flaky even for Lindsey.”
    “Has she been in touch with you?”
    “Uh-uh. I haven’t seen her since she left for the U.S. last week to visit her father. She arrived back in Dublin on Friday but ended up staying for a couple days. Her father had to be in London on business and decided to make a stop in Dublin and see the sights.”
    Sean glanced in the van at the wet suits, masks, tanks and other diving paraphernalia, none of it looking as if it had been used in the past few hours. He turned back to Brent. “Do you think she’s still in Dublin, then?”
    “Could be. If my dad turned up out of the blue, I’d probably forget half the things I had to do, too, but you’ve met Lindsey. She’s not the most organized person, you know? I can see her forgetting it was Shannon and ending up at the Dublin airport, wondering what kind of flake Julianne is.” Brent lifted a tank out of the van and set it on the ground. He didn’t look at all worried about Lindsey or anything else. “I’ll make a few calls and see if I can find out where Lindsey’s off to. I’ll let you know if I hear from her, or if she turns up. Would you mind doing the same?”
    “Not at all.”
    “And Julianne—if she hears from Lindsey, she’ll let us know?”
    Sean nodded. “I’m sure she will.”
    “I’ll check with Eamon, too,” Brent said. “He’s up in Ardmore diving with some of his buddies today.”
    Eamon Carrick was the younger brother of one of Sean’s garda colleagues, both solid divers who looked for any opportunity to get under the water. Not Sean. He hated even the idea of diving. “How many of you were here last night?” he asked.
    “Just me.” Brent gestured back toward the garage. “The place has heat and decent facilities. It’s roughing it by Lindsey’s standards. She’s looking forward to moving into the cottage. She’s well-meaning but she’s not reliable. She’d be the first to say so.”
    “She visited a friend of mine in Maine last week—”
    “The priest. Bracken, right? Yeah. That’s when she met this marine biologist, Julianne.”
    “Why did she visit Father Bracken, do you know?”
    Brent shook his head. “No idea. She said he’s Irish—he and his brother own a whiskey distillery near Killarney. I didn’t know you were friends with him.”
    “We go back a ways,” Sean said, deliberately vague. He’d met Fin Bracken after the deaths of Fin’s wife and daughters. Not an easy subject. “When did you talk to Lindsey