Carla Neggers - The Whisper

Eileen Sullivan seemed open and interested, not unaffected by her encounter with a serial killer but not haunted, either.

Sophie forced herself to drink more tea, but her fear was clear and sharp and had been from the moment she'd seen the fake skulls tacked to Rafferty's apartment door. Her encounter with Detective Acosta had only further crystallized what she'd already been thinking. What if her experience in a cave across the Atlantic a year ago had helped trigger the violence in Boston over the past three months?

What if it had helped trigger the violence Cliff Rafferty had encountered today?

With Jay Augustine in prison and Norman Estabrook dead, who had created the bizarre scene at Rafferty's apartment?

Who'd killed him?

Sophie simply couldn't believe he'd committed suicide.

She tried more of the tea, her head spinning with jet lag and the aftereffects of her adrenaline surge. "I don't know if you're aware that Percy Carlisle and his wife had hired Officer Rafferty to help them with security." She looked up from her mug. "Do you know the Carlisles?"

"By reputation only," Eileen said. "They're not involved with the conference if that's what you're asking. Do you know them?"

"I know Percy a little. I did research at the Carlisle Museum when I was in school here. I only met Helen Carlisle last night."

"You're trembling," Eileen Sullivan said quietly, rising.

"I probably should get something to eat." Sophie tried to ignore her spinning head, a wave of nausea. "I'm eager to hear more about how the conference is shaping up. Colm's a ball of fire, isn't he?"

"Tireless. Sophie--"

She was on her feet, unsteady, ragged. "I think I'll go ahead and grab lunch before I keel over. Another time?"

Eileen seemed to understand that Sophie needed to get out of there. "Of course. Anytime."

"Thanks. It's great to meet you."

Sophie bolted out of the office and down the two flights of stairs, bursting into the bright afternoon. She took the steps two at a time. She hadn't thrown up when she and Scoop had found Cliff Rafferty, or in front of him and half the law enforcement personnel in Boston when they'd descended onto the scene, but now she felt her stomach lurching.

She stopped in the middle of the shaded sidewalk and put her hands on her knees, taking a few deep, calming breaths. She knew she had to eat something before she passed out. She stood up straight, careful not to move too fast, and there was Scoop, three feet in front of her, unsmiling. She hadn't heard him. She hadn't so much as seen his shadow.

"You need smelling salts?" he asked.

"Not anymore. You're a jolt to the system all by yourself."

"Good." He didn't seem particularly concerned that she might pass out. He had a sandwich in a wrapper and handed her half. "It's cheese."

The smell of the cheese managed not to turn her stomach. "Thanks." She didn't take a bite of the sandwich. "I left you stranded. How did you get here?"

"Another detective dropped me off. Be glad you were trying to keep yourself from fainting. He's not someone you want to meet on a bad day."

"I wasn't trying to keep myself from fainting."

"Pitching your cookies?"

"You know," she said, "it's entirely possible I'm feeling vulnerable after what we just went through. It was a shock to my system. I'm still getting my bearings. Plus my body's still on Irish time."

"You're hungry." Scoop pointed at her with his half of the sandwich. "Eat up. You'll feel better."

"My car's down the street."

"In front of the Carlisle house," he said.

Sophie took a small bite of the sandwich, the bread soft, the cheese mild. She hadn't forgotten he was a police officer. Of course he'd keep track of her. Even if she hadn't already guessed who he was when she saw him at the ruin on the Beara Peninsula, she'd have figured out he was in law enforcement just by looking at him.

"I'll bet they don't tap you much for undercover work," she said. "You'd be pegged as a cop in a heartbeat."

He grinned at her. "Maybe I can turn the cop thing on and off. Come on. I'll walk you back to your car."

As they started down the wide sidewalk, Sophie noticed a woman moving toward them at a fast pace, then saw that it was Helen Carlisle. She had on the same red sweater she'd worn last night, this time over slim jeans and black boots that were obviously expensive but suited for a walking city such as Boston.

"The police just left," she said, not bothering with a greeting. "I was at the museum most of the morning--on my own. I didn't need Cliff to protect me. He's not--he wasn't a personal bodyguard. He evaluated our security and made recommendations, and he looked after the house, especially while Percy and I were away. He didn't follow either of us around."

"Mrs. Carlisle," Sophie said, "I'm sorry--"

"Helen. Please. For heaven's sake, 'Mrs. Carlisle' makes me feel old, and I'm not that much older than you." She smiled, taking any sting out of her words but, at the same time, clearly was on the verge of panic. "I was on my way back to the museum, but I saw you two and had my cab drop me off on the corner. The police said you found Cliff."

Scoop balled up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it into a trash can. "I can get you another cab."

"I've changed my mind. I don't want to go to the museum now. I'll head back home. I guess I don't know what to do with myself after this tragedy. Walk with me, won't you?"

"I'm parked just up the street from your house," Sophie said. She'd taken a few more bites of her sandwich, already feeling steadier on her feet. She glanced at Scoop. "If you have to be somewhere--"

"Not a problem." His dark eyes held hers for an instant. "I'm right where I need to be."

They continued up the street toward the Carlisle house. Helen walked with her arms crossed on her chest, as if she were trying to hold in her emotions. Sophie could imagine what she was feeling--the doubts, the regrets, the fears. Could she have done anything to prevent Cliff Rafferty's death?

"Have you talked to Percy?" Sophie asked her. "Does he know what happened?"

Helen shook her head. "I haven't heard from him. The police want to talk to him, which I understand. Cliff worked for us." She gave Scoop a quick glance, then faced forward again as they came to an intersection. "They have to keep an open mind and consider all the possibilities, including homicide, but it looks as if it was a suicide, doesn't it?"

"One step at a time," Scoop said.

"Cliff had been preoccupied, enough for me to notice but not to be alarmed. I didn't know him that well. I assumed he was still adjusting to his retirement. Maybe it didn't agree with him."

They crossed the street and walked past large, elegant Back Bay houses, Scoop on the edge of the sidewalk, Sophie between him and Helen. "Did Cliff stay at your house last night?" he asked.

Helen shook her head. "He has a room here, but he went back to his place. As I said, he's not a bodyguard. He was working on a total security makeover for us. Alarm systems, computers, finances. Percy has been so casual about security. He can't imagine anyone would want to do him harm."

"I didn't realize Cliff was such an expert in security," Scoop said. "You aren't afraid to be in the house alone?"

"Of course not. I've only been married--a Carlisle, if you will--for a few months. I've worked all my life. I'm accustomed to being on my own." She lowered her arms from her chest, her sweater swinging open in the slight, pleasant breeze. "Percy liked Cliff. He said Cliff seemed to have no idea what to do after he retired. I think Percy just wanted to do a man who'd devoted his life to serving the people a good turn, as well as beef up security here. He was very upset after Jay Augustine's arrest, but he didn't want to overreact. Hiring Cliff seemed like a reasonable solution."