Page 44

The line goes dead.

Doyle waits in a corner booth,coffee growing cold in front of him. His face shows the fury I expected.

"You blew it," he says as I slide into the opposite seat. "Two years of work. Gone."

I order coffee from the waitress, buying time. "Not gone. Changed."

"Changed? You're compromised. Burned. Useless to this investigation."

The coffee arrives. I wrap my hands around the cup, seeking warmth. "Cillian knows who I am."

"And? What did you tell him?"

"Nothing about you. About the case." I meet his eyes. "I couldn't do it, Doyle."

"Couldn't do what?"

"Destroy him. Destroy his family." The admission tastes like ash. "They're not what I expected."

Doyle leans forward, voice dropping. "They killed your father."

"Eamon killed my father. On orders from Vincent Collins." I pull out my phone, showing him photos I took yesterday. "Financial records. Collins embezzled for years. Dad found out."

Doyle studies the images. "Where did you get these?"

"Cillian's private files. Before he discovered me." I slide the phone across the table. "Collins used Eamon. Made him think Dad threatened the whole family."

"Convenient story."

"True story." I lean back. "Check the accounts. Follow the money trail. Collins vanished three years ago for a reason."

Doyle's phone rings. He checks the caller ID and frowns. "Kavanagh."

My blood freezes.

"Detective Doyle," he answers, putting it on speaker.

"I believe you've discovered one of my confidential informants," Cillian's voice fills our booth.

I close my eyes. He's hunting me already.

"Ms. Nolan has been gathering evidence about her father's murder," Doyle says. "Evidence that points to your lieutenant, not your father."

A pause. "Vincent Collins."

"You know about him?"

"I'm learning." Cillian's tone stays neutral. "We should meet. Discuss mutual interests."

"Twenty-four hours," Doyle says. "Then I proceed with what I have."

The call ends. Doyle stares at me across the table.

"He's protecting you," he says.

"He's protecting his family."

"Same thing now." Doyle downs his coffee. "You're in deep, Orla. Deeper than you realize."