did the trick, if they were looking for death as the outcome. Would there be another attempt?
She’d told him someone had hurt her once. Once was one too many times in Colm’s book, but also unrealistic. Most lowlifes came back for more. They thrived on the power they held over someone. Had her lowlife returned to strike again? She apparently didn’t want anyone to know.
Textbook response.
Colm felt a deep irritation that had lived in him since he was a wee one. After his da’s death, his mother had remarried a real bowsie of a man. Gil Griffin used his hands for things other than carpentry. Emily Griffin hid her bruises well.
What kind of bruises are you sportin’, Gretchen?
The ceiling overhead creaked, stealing Colm’s attention. Someone was upstairs. He’d just left Gretchen downstairs, and Nate had headed out the back door to walk the path to the cliff’s edge for photos.
Colm pushed up from the floor and approached the first stair. He scanned the second-floor balcony for the visitor. Or perhaps it was the hole-cutter still at the scene of the crime, here to witness the outcome of his or her handiwork.
Colm clenched his fists before remembering his promise to God: no more fighting. The Dublin street fighter Colm McCrae was no more. God’s saving grace made him a new creation, one who didn’t use his fists to settle things. That was his stepfather’s way. It didn’t have to be his.
But that didn’t mean he was going to invite the intruder for coffee. Or approach him or her unarmed.
Colm reached for the hammer in his tool belt. The tool’s head was smooth from virtually no use, even though he’d carried it with him for the past two years as the show’s host. It didn’t matter that the belt was just for show; the tools attached were very real and would do well to strike fear and persuade minds. Colm balanced the weight of the hammer in his hand, testing its potential for use.
With no railing on the open side of the staircase, Colm stuck closer to the wall, each foot lightly placed and centered. Surprisingly the stairs remained quiet and held his weight well. Overall the house seemed sturdy. When he was down in the basement he’d noticed three-by-ten construction. Everything used to be so well built. Gretchen would have a fine home and establishment when the renovation was complete. That was, if she avoided the person who wanted to harm her.
Colm searched the top-floor hall as he approached the final step. The railing was intact here as it encased the hall. A sweep of his palm met smooth, strong mahogany. Beautifully carved spindles caught his eye for a split second, but they would have to wait for his adoration. The person behind one of the eight doors off the hall came first.
Colm stilled with a wall to his back. He listened for any sounds. All seemed quiet. Maybe he’d imagined the creaking floor before.
He heard a door close at his left.
No. Definitely not imagined.
Colm walked head-on to the back-left side door. He didn’t wait to be surprised but barreled in at full force, hands and hammer raised.
A person with a mass of golden curls stopped him cold, hammer frozen in midstrike.
Gretchen shrank back as her arms flew to her face. Her mouth opened and Colm knew she was about to scream. He quickly lowered the hammer and closed in. “I’m so sorry,” he assured her. “So, so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He slowly replaced the hammer in its loop and raised his hands surrender-style. “See, I don’t want to harm you.”
Her face had drained of all color. She’d yet to scream, and that was when he noticed air was going in her mouth, but not coming out.
An asthma attack? But she wasn’t wheezing. This was more like hyperventilating. But hyperventilating could lead to an asthma attack if not brought under control.
And with no inhaler since her fall, he couldn’t let that happen.
Colm searched the box-filled room and found a battered chair. He lowered Gretchen gently into it. On his knees, he looked into her eyes.
“Goldie, breathe with me.” He demonstrated a slow exhale and inhale. She seemed to be trying to match him, but unsuccessfully. “Try it. I promise it will work. Just follow my lead.”
She didn’t.
“Let’s see, how about we try this? My ma used to hyperventilate and a sweet chewy always did the trick.” Colm opened a compartment on his belt and withdrew some bubble gum. “I’m going to put this in your mouth. I want you to chew once and breathe out. Then chew again and breathe in. Can you do that?”
At her nod, he slowly placed the sweet gum on the tip of her tongue and mimicked a chew.
She did it, along with a short exhale. Slowly, her mind switched gears and she chewed again and again while breathing steadily in and out.
“That’s right. Just grand.” He beamed at her. When her breaths quieted down, he asked, “Better?”
She nodded, smiled weakly...then jumped from her chair. “Why would you scare the life out of me like that? You could have killed me if that went into an asthma attack.” She scanned the corners of the room. “Wait. Please tell me I’m not going to find another one of your cameras in here.”
“No cameras. And I said I was sorry. I had no idea you were in here, or even upstairs. I heard someone walking around and thought it might be the person who cut the floorboards. Honest. I had no idea it was you. How did you get up here, anyway? You never passed by me on the stairs.”
Still dealing with the aftermath of her hyperventilation, Gretchen fell back into the chair like a rag doll. “Back staircase. There’s a servants’ house with a stairwell that connects to the second floor. I had just come through the door behind me when you—”
“You had just come through? You mean you weren’t up here for a while? Like at least five minutes?”
She shook her head.
Colm looked back out toward the hall. He looked at the back entrance she had used. “And you didn’t meet anyone in the back stairwell on your way up?”
“No.”
“And there’s no other way downstairs but by the two stairways?”
“No.”
“Then I’d say someone else is still up here with us.” He touched the handle of his hammer but paused before taking it out. “Stay here while I check it out.”
She bounced back up. “No way. This is my house, and if someone’s in here, I want to know who it is. Besides, you won’t be able to identify the person—I will.”
Her idea didn’t sit well with him. She could have broken her neck once today. He didn’t like her putting it out there again. He’d rather she leave the house while he searched it, but judging by the tilt of her chin, she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Stay close, and if I tell you to run for the hills, you better leg it.” Colm withdrew the hammer up and out of its loop again. Heading back out into the hall, he stopped at the first closed door and swung it wide. Empty, except for a bed and dresser placed
