While tempting and inevitable, speculating, she knew, wouldn’t answer any of her questions. She’d waited for Colin before. She would now, for however long was necessary. She had her work, and her retreat.
Not to mention lunch on Saturday in Maine with his mother.
Emma smiled and pulled out her phone again, flipping to her photo of her wedding dress.
It was a great dress. Perfect for an early June wedding on the Maine coast.
“Not any wedding,” she said. “My wedding.”
To Colin Donovan.
She slipped her phone back into her coat pocket. She would call him later about Oliver York. If he could talk to her, he would. If he couldn’t, they would talk later.
And wherever he was—whatever he was up to—he would come back to her.
The Bold Coast, Maine Wednesday, 7:00 p.m., EST
It took Mike Donovan a full three seconds before he realized the buzzing he heard was his cell phone. He wasn’t used to having a phone. He picked it up from the counter where he’d left it while he chopped garlic. He’d been up since five, when he had pulled on jeans, a heavy flannel shirt, a vest, wool socks and L.L.Bean boots and headed outside. The temperature was in the double digits. He could get work done.
He answered his phone without checking the screen to see who was calling. Before he could get in a word, his mother spoke. “No one’s hurt or been arrested,” she said.
“That’s good. What’s up?”
She launched into something about a visitor. Some guy. Mike couldn’t make it all out. The connection was weak. It was dark at his cabin on a remote stretch of the Maine coast down east of Acadia National Park. The Bold Coast, it was called, named for its dramatic cliffs and tides. His mother was in Rock Point, his hometown in southern Maine.
“You run an inn,” he said. “What’s wrong with visitors?”
“This wasn’t a guest. It was one of your army buddies.”
He heard the urgency in her voice. Married to a police officer, now retired, and the mother of four adult sons, Rosemary Donovan wasn’t prone to overstating her case.
Mike stood at his front window. The evening air was still and dark, stars glittering on waves of undisturbed snow and the ocean, quiet and starlit past the marsh across from his cabin. He’d worked outside most of the day and had planned to spend the evening alone by the fire, reading a book. He owned a television but didn’t watch it much. He liked his life but it was new to him compared to the army. Three years into it instead of ten.
“What army buddy?” he asked finally.
“Jamie Mason. Do you know him?”
Retired army, none better at logistics support. “I know him. When did he stop by?”
“Just now. I offered him coffee, but he said no, he had things to do.”
“Pop’s there?”
“No. I’m here alone. Your father’s at Hurley’s having a drink with your brothers.”
Andy and Kevin, Mike thought. Not Colin. Colin had told them he was in Washington, but he could be anywhere. Their folks would like all four sons in town having a drink at Hurley’s.
Mike turned from the window back to his kitchen area. “You let this guy in?”
“Of course. It’s cold outside.”
It wasn’t that cold for Maine in February. “Just because he said he’s a friend doesn’t mean he is one.”
“Oh, stop, Mike. I didn’t call you for a lecture. He left a message for you. I wrote it down. I have it right here. Hang on a sec.” She paused, and Mike could hear her shuffling through papers. He pictured her in the old sea captain’s house that she and his father had converted into an inn in Rock Point, four hours by car down the coast. “Got it. He said to tell you that Reed Cooper is on his way to Maine from London. He’s meeting with a small group at the Plum Tree Inn. He wants you to join them. You know the Plum Tree, don’t you, Mike? It’s just up the road from here. I thought it was closed for the season.”
“I know it.”
“What do these men want with you, Mike?” his mother asked, as if suddenly realizing she had reason to be suspicious.
“Reed has started his own private contract security firm. Cooper Global Security.”
“Oh.”
Mike heard the apprehension in her voice. He scooped up chopped garlic and tossed it into his frying pan. Jamie Mason wouldn’t be one of Reed’s operators. More likely Mason would be running the office, probably with his wife, Serena, also retired army.
“Did Mason say anything else?” Mike asked.
“He gave me a few more names. I wrote them down, too. My mind’s a sieve these days. Let me see. One’s a woman’s name, I remember that.” Another long pause, more paper shuffling. “Here we go. Buddy Whidmore, Ted Kavanagh and Naomi MacBride. Mr. Mason says he expects them to be at the Plum Tree in addition to Reed Cooper.”
Mike absorbed the silence of his isolated stretch of the Atlantic coast. The snow blanketing the evergreens that dominated the woods on three sides of his cabin muffled any sounds. He could hear, faintly, the wash of the incoming tide. Sixty years ago, his grandfather, his mother’s father, a Rock Point harbormaster, had built the cabin as a getaway. He had never lived up here full-time. Mike had since leaving the army.
“Mike? Are you still there?”
“Still here.”
“Who are these people?”
“I knew them when I was in the army.”
“Were any of them with the Special Forces?” his mother asked.
“Reed and Jamie. Kavanagh was with the FBI. At least he was then. I don’t know if he’s retired or quit.”
“Does Colin know him?”
“I’ve never mentioned Kavanagh to Colin. No reason to.”
A moment’s silence. “What about the other two?” his mother asked finally.
Mike set his paring knife in the scratched stainless-steel sink, but he was seeing Naomi’s smile. “Civilian.” He tried to keep any tension out of his voice. “Buddy’s a tech guy. Naomi was with the State Department.”
“A diplomat?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“I don’t understand why they would come to Maine in February. The Plum Tree must have given them a good deal or something.”
“If I knew what was going on, I’d tell you.”
She didn’t respond at once. He wasn’t sure how well she could hear him, but he figured she wasn’t going to gripe about the lousy connection. It was better than nothing. She had been after him for months to get a cell phone rather than to rely on the landline at the general store.
“I hope these people aren’t a problem for you,” she said.
“They’re not. I’m glad you called. What are you and Pop up to this weekend?”
“Emma is heading up here tomorrow afternoon. She’s staying at the convent for two nights, and I’m taking her to lunch on Saturday. She’ll be on her own. I’m looking forward to spending some time with her. I’ve never had a daughter, and Emma will be my first daughter-in-law.”
Mike smiled, despite his tension. His