An Irish Mystery, Part 3, Roxanne Rustand

 

      Patrick stared down into the black throat of the passageway and blinked as the distant, faint light flickered, faded, and then extinguished, leaving him in total darkness.  Had he really heard Caryn's sweet, soft voice drifting on the night air?  Could she possibly be here, after all these years?
      Not likely. 
      Caryn was gone for good.  She'd said she would always love him...and then she'd disappeared, taking with her the treasured filigree brooch that belonged to his family, along with a big piece of his heart.
      Maybe his mum had seen a tourist with the same rich, auburn hair and flashing emerald eyes, but had only imagined a fairy tale ending to a story that had ended long ago.  She was getting on in years, after all.  Maybe she was even slipping into senility and starting to see things that weren't there. 
      Recalling all of the local tales about leprechauns and ghostly beings who supposedly walked the ruins of this castle, Patrick laughed at his own folly. 
      It didn't take senility to fall into the world of make-believe around here.  For years, the villagers--mostly the ones who owned the quaint pubs and gift shops and B&Bs--had shared that nonsense with the tourists who passed through.  Now, even the Ireland travel guides printed in America mentioned the fanciful history of the area.
      Bracing a hand against the damp stone, he fumbled through his jacket pockets for the keys to his rental car.  At the airport, he'd rolled his eyes at the big green plastic shamrock on the keychain, but now he breathed a quiet prayer of thanks as he pressed a button on its surface. God, you were looking out for me before I even knew I needed help.
      The shamrock sent a thin beam of light lasering through the darkness, illuminating the solid wall of rock behind him where there'd been an open doorway just a moment before.  He explored the rough surface with his fingertips, looking for some sort of trigger mechanism.  Shoved at the unyielding stone. It fit perfectly, seamlessly--without even the smallest gap or variation in color to suggest that it hadn't stood in place undisturbed for the last four hundred years.
      The roar of the waves crashing onto the rocks at the foot of the castle was muted now.  Eerily distant.  A menacing bank of storm clouds had swallowed the moonlight while he was making his way through the castle, and now he heard a crack of lightning so close it shook the ground beneath his feet and sent dust drifting through the air.
      The narrow passageway closed in on him. 
      An all-too-familiar surge of panic rushed through his veins as images of explosions and fire and collapsing rubble overhead slammed through his thoughts, coupled with the sound of his cameraman's screams...and his own.
      But this was lush, green Ireland.  Not Iraq. And that was thunder and lightning outside, not the sound of gunfire and grenades.
      He took a steadying breath and forced back the memories as he angled the tiny beam of light toward the downward sloping passageway. "Hello?  Is someone down there?"

      The first, tentative sound of tiny claws scrabbling against the rock overhead burst into an explosion of leathery wings flapping in sheer panic--hundreds, maybe thousands of bats--careening into the walls and each other. Crashing into him. Clinging for an instant. Crawling up his jacket, then rocketing away.
      With a whoosh they seemed to collectively regain their bearings, then they poured down the passage way like a river of gray, barely distinguishable in the faint light.
      If the bats headed that way, there had to be an exit.
      And if he was lucky, it would be one he could fit through.
      He tentatively shuffled forward, his hiking boots slipping on the west, mossy floor of the passageway.  The dank smell of rotting timbers and another cloying odor that he couldn't quite name grew stronger as he pressed on into the darkness, the damp floor giving way to standing water that reached his ankles when he found himself at a massive wooden door with bars across the upper half...
      And sensed that he was not alone.
      "Caryn?" he whispered. "Are you here?"
      No one answered.  He studied the heavy iron hinges, then pressed his fingertips against the surface. Pushed harder. The rusted iron shrieked as the door slowly, slowly swung open.
      A heavy footstep dragged across the floor, somewhere in the pitch darkness ahead.  Then another...coming closer.
      From somewhere farther ahead, in the bowels of the castle, he heard a terrified scream.
      It had been ten long years since he'd heard that voice, but the sound of it arrowed straight to his heart. It was Caryn, and she was in trouble.
      And now nothing--and no one---was going to stand in his way.

An Irish Mystery--Part One--Lenora Worth

"Patrick, you have to come home. Immediately."

Patrick Mulligan stared up at the crumbling walls of Shamrock Castle, the sound of ocean waves crashing behind him while memories of his mother's plea crashed inside his head. He'd come home from the chaotic life of a reporter in New York to the quiet, quaint countryside of Western Ireland to find out the truth and to hopefully find the brooch that had belonged to his mother Emily. Someone had stolen the beautiful golden filigree brooch that had been passed down from generation to generation through the brides of the Mulligan clan. And that same someone had broken Patrick's heart. Patrick kept his eyes trained on the turret room, where he'd met and fallen in love with green-eyed, red-headed Caryn. But they'd never had their wedding day and he'd never seen his bride wearing the fabled piece of jewelry on her wedding dress. Because instead of waiting for him to return, Caryn had taken herself off on her own grand adventure. And she'd used his grandmother's precious brooch to finance her trip.

"I'll always love you, Patrick.We'll always be together soon. I love you. And I'll wear this brooch on our wedding day."

"I have so many dreams, Caryn. I want to make a life with you in New York. I want to have a big family like your family. We'll be happy. I know I can make you happy."

His smile bittersweet, Patrick remembered how Caryn, who had come from America to visit relatives in the village, had managed to sneak into the ancient ruins of the castle and find her way up to the turret room. He'd been walking across a field, intend on going up to his secret place to write in his journal and dream about going to New York. But when he saw the pretty young woman standing in the arched window, looking like a trapped princess, Patrick had lost his heart forever. It had been as if he'd seen a brilliant rainbow and gone over the top to find a pot of gold.

But time and circumstance had changed all of that. Patrick had been filled with wonderlust and so off to America he'd gone to make a career in journalism. He'd hoped Caryn would return to America, too, and join him there, but immediately after he'd left with plans to attend college and meet back up with Caryn in New York so they could be together again, his true love had disappeared, along with the brooch he'd given her as a token of his love. Patrick tried to find Caryn in America, but her family refused his phone calls and he had no other leads. Why wouldn't she come back home the big Irish family she loved so much? Why had she abandoned him? And why had she used his treasured token of love to run away? That had been ten years ago. Since then Patrick had finished college and gone on to become a determined reporter.

When his mum had called him a few days ago to tell him that Caryn was back in the tiny village by the sea and needed to see him right away, Patrick had immediately hopped on a plan and come home to Ireland. He needed answers; he needed to see Caryn again. He was a reporter and a journalist, after all. And reporters liked to get to the bottom of things. Brushing dark bangs away from his face in frustration, Patrick turned from the old castle ruins to the foamy sea that reminded him of Caryn's eyes. He'd find the truth, if he had to climb a rainbow and go to the other end. And ... he'd finally get the answer to the real question that had burned inside his gut for so long? Why had Caryn broken his poor poet's heart?

Code of Honor Interview

Today we're welcoming Brice Whelan, the heroine of Code of Honor, Love Inspired Suspense, April 2009 Lenora Worth. Wow, you've just had quite an adventure.


1. Tell us a little about yourself and how you came to be in the midst of such suspense.
I grew up in Ireland but after my father died my American mother wanted to move back to her home town of Atlanta, Georgia. I started college in Georgia and met Selena Carter there and fell for her instantly. I never told her this, however. But my poet’s heart pined for her. I probably would have told her, but after meeting her father who was a member of the elite Christian organization called CHAIM, I decided to join that organization. And Selena wanted nothing to do with anyone who became a CHAIM agent. She knew the sacrifices her father and mother had to make when she was growing up. The work is dangerous and secretive, but I knew I wanted to be a part of the special team that helps Christians in trouble the world over. And that is what brought me to Northern Argentina to rescue Selena before a gang of rebels would come back and find her as the lone survivor of her village.

2. So, during the book you were reunited with Selena Carter). Tell us a bit about her. What was your first impression? When did you know it was love?
As I said, I fell for Selena the first day we met in college. We got into an argument about politics and I was hooked. She was fiery and determined and she truly had a missionary’s heart. She wanted to serve God, even back then. I’m a man of faith, but Selena has the kind of faith that can move mountains. And get a person in serious trouble at times.

3. What strengths/skills do you have? What is your greatest weakness? My skills include mostly physical stuff. I had to train in a kind of special ops mode after joining CHAIM. That’s because we’re sent into very dangerous situations so we have to know how to handle any obstacles. My weakness-handling Selena Carter. She did not want to leave Argentina. She was a missionary nurse down there. And she felt guilty for being the only survivor of that horrible attack. But her father and I think she’s still in danger. Selena is definitely my weakness and my Irish heart tells me that is going to get both of us in trouble.

4. What scares you? Failure.

5. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
I’d try to less controlling. With Selena, I sometimes treat her in a condescending way only because I want to protect her. I have to remind myself she’s very capable of taking care of herself. I need to learn how to appreciate that more and I guess I need to back off from “coddling” her as my dear old papa would say.

6. Where are you in your faith at the start of your story?
I’ve always had a strong faith and the poet in me loves reading the Bible as a source of inspiration. I have a strong feeling I will need to turn to God in order to do my job and save Selena.

7. Where are you in your faith at the end of the story?
At the end of the story, I’ve lost a bit of my faith because Selena has been keeping secrets from me. And that hurts. But God will provide. I just have to pray my way through this and learn and grow and I have to learn to trust Selena again.

8. You've got a scripture at the beginning of the story. Tell us why this scripture is significant. “He who follows righteousness and mercy finds life, righteousness and honor.” Proverbs 21:21
I love Proverbs, and I especially believe in this verse because in CHAIM (which means “life” in Hebrew and in this case stands for Christians for Amnesty, Intervention and Ministry) we learn that we shall honor God above all else. We have a certain code of honor and that is to help and protect all Christians the world over. Even the stubborn ones like my dear Selena.

9. If you could be a dessert what would you be and why? Probably Apple Pie. My mum taught me to love this very American dish. It’s sweet but strong and tart, too. I’d like to believe I’m those things. Selena, however, probably wouldn’t agree with that.

Thank you Lenora for sharing Brice with us. Can't wait to see how the Irishman and his lady get their happy ever after. Sounds like an exciting read!