“They picked carrots out of the garden that day, zucchini too. I think she made zucchini bread, a few loaves and, you know your ma,”—Meg gave Dan’s cheek a soft, affectionate pat—“she had you boys take the vegetables around to the neighbors. And that’s how Seamus discovered Mr. Cleary’s dead body.”
I choked on air, my eyes bugging out, and I began to cough.
“Yep. I remember that day.” Dan rubbed his hand down my back to my bottom, giving it a surreptitious little pat. “Poor Mr. Cleary.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ravelry: a community site, an organizational tool, and a yarn & pattern database for knitters and crocheters. You should join.
—Ravelry.com
**Kat**
Knit night was in full swing.
All of the guests, family members, and friends had departed, leaving just us knit night ladies, our significant others, and Dan’s mom, Eleanor. Surprisingly, Eugene had been one of the last to leave. He’d stayed and helped Eleanor pick up, lingering with her in the backyard past 8:00 PM.
When Eugene left, Dan came up behind me in the kitchen and placed a kiss on my neck. “So, you and your uncle made up?”
Condensing the leftover appetizers to one platter, I shook my head. “We have a truce.”
“But you don’t forgive him?” Dan leaned to the side, catching my eyes.
“He didn’t ask for forgiveness.”
Dan made a sound in the back of his throat, coming to my side, his hand sliding down my back to rest on my bottom. “You can still forgive someone even if they don’t ask for forgiveness. Forgiveness is about you not holding on to other people’s shit.”
Before I could respond to this bit of wisdom, Quinn walked into the kitchen.
“What’s up?” Dan lifted his chin toward Quinn.
Unsurprisingly, Dan didn’t remove his hand from my bottom. Instead, he slowly rubbed my backside, and then shifted his arm so that it draped along my back.
“I have something you should both hear.” Quinn’s eyes were on Dan as he pulled out his phone, navigated to an audio file, and pressed play.
I listened as a conversation between Seamus and Caleb played over the phone’s speaker, my mouth dropping when I realized it was extremely incriminating for both Dan’s brother and my cousin.
“They’re discussing Dan’s kidnapping.” Outrage and residual fear rose to tighten my throat. “They were going to kill him.”
Dan shook his head, ending the recording. “I was there for that conversation. I was never in any real danger.”
Quinn and I listened as Dan explained what had happened.
“So . . . Caleb wanted you dead, and Seamus wanted the money,” I recapped. “But Seamus double-crossed Caleb.”
“Seems like it.” Dan nodded, kissing my shoulder. “Like I said, I wasn’t in any real danger, but Seamus was hoping you wouldn’t know that.”
“So she would pay the ransom,” Quinn filled in. “And Seamus got away with the money.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “He’ll be back. He’s like my mailman.”
When Dan didn’t continue, or offer an explanation for his analogy, Quinn and I shared a look.
Eventually, I asked, “How is he like your mailman?”
“He always comes back and brings bad news.”
I chuckled while Quinn stared at his friend, clearly not impressed with the joke.
“So, what’s the plan? You giving this to the cops?”
“I called my contact at the Boston PD last night, but I didn’t tell him about the tape or about Caleb.” Quinn moved his slightly unsettling gaze to me. “You can use this tape to blackmail your cousin. It was obtained legally and will definitely convict him, especially if Dan was there in the room. Tell Caleb you want those patents returned, and for him to leave Caravel quietly. That’ll keep your company out of the news, stock prices high, and you can make internal changes without anyone knowing what happened. Seamus took the money, he can take the fall for the kidnapping.”
I held my breath, my mind racing, looking between Quinn and his phone.
It sounded too good to be true: my cousin out of the picture, Caravel safe and intact.
And yet . . .
I shook my head, remembering something Eugene had brought up earlier in the day. “What about Marie?”
Dan and Quinn shared a quick look, and Dan asked, “What about Marie?”
“She knows about the kidnapping. Do you really think she didn’t pick up on some newsworthy details? Like Caravel’s price-hike on generics, or about Dr. Branson and his sinister research in the Caribbean?”
Quinn frowned, crossing his arms. “I didn’t consider that.”