An Irish widower moves his two teenage children to a small southern town in America to escape the violence of his homeland. Unknown to him, a deranged British physician stalks the family for revenge of his own daughter's death.
I.
Galway, Ireland – September, 18, 1983 An insurrectionist uprising occurred last evening on the grounds of the National University. Professor Galen O’Donnell's wife, Maureen, was seriously injured during the incident. Details are still uncertain, but it is known that university students were behind the premeditated attack. Two students have been arrested; neither have confessed their guilt. The investigation continues, and university officials have no comment at this time.
Galen O’Donnell’s fingers lightly brushed the faded newspaper clipping on the night stand.
The tall, bearded Irishman lay fully exposed as he rolled gingerly onto his back. An open, worn traveling
case nearby held the few belongings he’d managed to gather for the trip ahead. His underclothes, and
a few shirts tossed carelessly inside,cradled a three-quarters empty bottle of whiskey. His deep Irish
baritone snored contentedly, oblivious to the dawn light filtering through the single window shade.
The sound of the seashore echoed through the country inn cottage, soothing
the muscular forty-year-old as his chest hair rose and fell rhythmically. The sudden
shrill bleating of a travel alarm drew his arm and attention to its wake-up call.
Noiselessly, from years of arising early and not wanting to wake his sleeping bride,
he rose and stretched, almost touching the ceiling of the small hut. Realizing for the
first time that morning he was alone, Galen seated himself on the bed. An oval framed
picture on the night stand drew his attention to the only grouped remembrance of his
family. He recalled Maureen’s insistence, ten years ago, that Kathleen and Casey join
them the Saturday before the incident.
His young daughter’s dark, red hair, slender frame, and calm demeanor belied
the fact that she’d beaten most of five counties’ best in arm wrestling. Now, a
blossoming sixteen-year-old spitfire, she had bolstered her self-confidence through
school athletics in everything but matters of the heart. The boyfriend she was to leave
behind might have changed all that. Galen didn’t know.
“Maureen, it shouldna’ happened,” he spoke softly to his wife seated beside
him in the picture. “But we have to go on. We have to. It’ll be a fresh start for the
children and myself. But you’ll always be a part of whatever happens in this family.”
His piercing blue eyes misted and a single tear fell across his son’s face. The
younger version of himself bore the physique of hard labor, tempered in the mind of
a nineteen-year-old. Casey O’Donnell’s sparkling dark eyes seemed to peer anxiously
at his father. They were accusing eyes most of the time Galen saw him, yet the
young man held his tongue and waited for his day of liberation from the father’s
overwhelming presence. There could be no mistaking the physical resemblance
between father and son, but their genetic ties were no match for the hard-edged,
biological fire that burned through Casey’s veins.
He was Galen’s exact antithesis when it came to resolving situations on a
cerebral level. But Galen had learned long ago that his superior physical attributes
carried little weight in a world capturing logic within its passions. Rising, he headed
for the room’s small bath and briskly turned both spickets on. The long day ahead
would tax all of them, and his morning shower always served to ease the scalding
tension that routinely threatened to overwhelm him. As he stepped into the stream of
heated water, his tousled black hair fell limply against his scalp.
He remembered the first time Maureen had joined him in the stream at Lough
Corrib. She laughed as his curls brushed against her breasts in the fast-moving water.
Splashing water over his back, she knelt against him as he kissed her tenderly at first.
But as his passion continued to rise, he could no longer control the violent waves of
lust that had driven them both into deeper water. His fingers memorized her every
curve in their exploration while her hands intertwined in his sweat-drenched hair.
Finally, spent with the exhaustion of their efforts, he had promised to never
completely shear off the dark curls that so fascinated her. Now, his shorter hair
reminded him of how far they’d traveled from the early courtship days.
The pelting drops of relief on his shoulders drew Galen’s attention from a
hooded figure emerging from a trapdoor in the outer room. Swiftly, yet cautiously,
the intruder completed a visual reconnaissance of the situation. Galen’s nude form
was clearly visible behind the thin shower curtain. A formidable opponent, the
stranger concluded before drawing a single thin wire tightly between gloved fingers.
Water was turned off abruptly as the figure slid behind the closet door to await Galen’s
entrance. There would be no escape, and barely a struggle.
Toweling dry in the brisk morning air, Galen wondered if Kat and Casey were
prepared for the departure. He’d reminded them to be ready by 7:30 as the plane would
be leaving Shannon Airport by 8:45. Moving into the bedroom, his eyes strove against
a stream of light glinting through the window shade. The banks of the Shannon had
always held a special place in his heart since early childhood. His own mother once
told him the river began flowing the day he was born.
“Yes, son,” she had reminded him on his wedding day, “that water never ends
its passage till the day we’re gone from Ireland.”
He grinned at the time, sure she’d spent too much time romancing the Blarney
stone in her youth. But, the day she died, the river had run its lowest in thirty-two
years. Perhaps she’d known something after all. Maybe it would cease its meandering
as they flew across its emerald banks for the last time. A sudden knock on the cottage
door startled Galen from his reverie.
“What?” his baritone boomed irritated in the stillness.
“Cleaning, sir,” the maid replied quietly. The elderly housekeeper had grown
accustomed to tenant moodiness during early morning hours. But she retained her
composure, determined to finish her duties before the next scheduled group arrived.
Galen still had a half-hour before checkout, the woman realized, but it could be time
spent in front of a hot coffee cup for her if he would hurry just a little.
“Just a minute,” he called back, as the intruder stepped quickly from behind.
The thin wire slipped noiselessly around Galen’s throat and tightened swiftly.
Taken totally off-guard, he began fighting to breathe as blood began streaming
over his windpipe. Glancing at his reflection in the room’s single mirror attached
to the back of a fourteenth century clothes bureau, Galen saw the masked figure’s
fingers clenched tightly together.
“Sir?” the maid’s voice sounded distant as darkness closed in around him.
“Are you all right in there, sir?”
“You’re ... killing me,” Galen gasped as his final breaths rasped from his
chest. “Why?”
“You’ve no place to run, Professor,” the intruder’s muffled voice almost
sounded electronically modified. He dragged the helpless nude man across the room.
“Where’s the map?”
“Please,...” Galen pleaded through clenched teeth. He felt strength sliding
away as his muscles failed him.
Tossed across the bed as his life drained away, he felt the assailant’s warm
breath in his ear. A strange scent of heather engulfed him momentarily.
“WHERE’S THE MAP?”
“SIR, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT IN THERE?”
Outside the maid’s scream brought passers by running. Inside, the voices
began to blend together as Galen’s last remaining conscious thoughts focused on the
hideous masked figure lying across him. He could no longer feel his legs or arms, and
the question remained, torturing his final seconds on earth.
“I... don’t ... know ... map...”
“The game’s over, then,” the intruder released him, “You’ve lost at last.”
A horrible crunching sound gripped the stranger’s ears as the cottage’s front
door was literally torn from its hinges. Outside, Casey O’Donnell flung himself one
last time against the wooden barrier. If anything had happened to his father, Hell
would be the only safe haven from his wrath.
The trapdoor swung silently shut as Galen’s rescue team burst into the room.
It was a vision that Casey vowed never to view again. His father’s pale lips barely
moved in the strong morning light. The maid screamed once then headed for the
doorway.
“I’ll get the doctor!”
“Madam, I am a physician,” a white-haired gentleman assured her. The
doctor, an old friend of Galen’s, had stopped to see the family off. Now, it would be
his duty to assure Galen left alive. He motioned to one of the other men with him,
“Bring me my bag from the car. And for God’s sake, get that wire from his throat.”
They worked feverishly to restore circulation in the cold body. His father had
only lost consciousness moments before, but Casey felt cold chills race across his
spine as the dark blood matted across Galen’s chest.
“Will he be all right?” he felt the searing question fling itself at the doctor.
“Another few seconds, and he would’ve been gone,” the physician admitted
calmly, “But, as it is, I think we can stem the blood loss ... and he’ll be fine, son.”
The reassurance served to silence the pounding in Casey’s ears. His blood
pressure, always unusually high, had almost pushed him into a stroke during the last
few minutes. Without his father, the family was finished, and the damnable British
would have secured another victim in their thirst for conquest. Banishing the thought,
Casey managed a thin grin as his father’s eyes fluttered open.
“Casey, ... ” Galen whispered weakly.
“Da,” the young man squeezed his father’s hand tightly. “You’re gonna be all
right. The doctor here says so.”
“Just lie still for a few minutes,” the physician advised, “Where’s that idiot
with my bag?”
“Right here, doc,” his thin, freckle-faced assistant replied, reentering and
handing him the valise, “It wasn’t in the car.”
“Mr. O’Donnell, what happened?” a stalwart blonde-haired man asked the
stricken father. Casey almost spoke sharply, then decided against raising his temper.
The inn’s owner had a right to know the truth. Besides, his own curiosity had already reached its peak of arousal.
Two of the rescue team found the intruder’s secret exit in the floor.
“Here’s a trapdoor.“
“Probably headed for the shore.”
“C’mon, Paddy, we can beat him there.”
“Aye,” his friend agreed. “There’s a shortcut from the road.”
Galen moved stiffly, trying to rouse himself from the stupor that clouded his
mind. The doctor’s soothing ministrations had already restored his waned strength.
Now it was his own force of will that would restore the balance in favor of his family.
“Da, who was it?” Casey couldn’t wait. “Who did this to you?”
“Son, if I knew that,” Galen struggled to his feet, “we’d never have to leave
here at all. Just get your sister and let’s get out of here. We’ve got a plane to catch.”
The doctor vainly tried to restrain him, and failed. Galen stood unsteadily as
Casey helped him dress. The clammy feel of his father’s skin told Casey the
physician’s attempts were probably well-intentioned and wisely heeded. But the
O’Donnells had never been known for rational judgments when it came to family and
protecting each other. If Galen had decided that flight was the best option, Casey
would voice no dissent. They would be on the 8:45 from Shannon Airport. And God
help anyone who stood in their way.
Twenty minutes later, the two men were racing through the airport terminal
for their first intercontinental air flight to freedom. Galen glanced back and roughly
pulled Casey to a stop.
“Where’s Kat?”
“I don’t know,” Casey replied. “She said she needed to check on something.”
“Son, don’t lie to me.”
He always knew. Casey wasn’t sure how he knew. But it seemed to be an
uncanny sixth sense that all elders possessed. Looking back, there hadn’t been a
single instance that had escaped his father’s unerring scrutiny. Kat wasn’t worth
Galen’s wrath, Casey decided and confessed.
“She’s talking to Terry.”
“Well, if she doesn’t get her act together in the next few minutes, ... not to
mention the rest of her on the plane ... ”
“What?” Casey grinned. “You know she gets away with everything.”
“Still,” Galen ran his fingers over the neck bandages, “I’d feel a lot better if
she’d stick closer until we’re off the ground.”
“While you’re at it,” his son continued in jest, “why don’t we try hurling the
stone away from the castle?”
Casey’s mention of Blarney and the impossible task brought back Galen’s
recollection of his mother earlier in the day and he flinched. The nineteen-year-old
immediately knew he’d struck a nerve and struggled to break the uneasy silence.
“I’m sorry, Da. I know that was Nanny’s favorite...”
“It’s okay, Casey. I just hadn’t thought about it for awhile, that’s all.”
Now it was the son’s turn to feel his father’s half-truth. Maturity was bringing
a lot of changes into his life, and the sixth sense Casey dreaded seemed to be one of
them. They hurried on through the terminal in a shared empathic silence.
Across from the departure gate, a single beautiful girl sat crying softly into a
telephone. Long, dark red hair bore more than a striking resemblance to her mother’s
own elegant tresses. Kathleen O’Donnell strove to keep her voice from cracking as
her boyfriend’s hysteria moved her closer to the tears she desperately sought to
dismiss.
“Terry, I’ll be back. I swear it. Da said we’d only be gone for a year or two
at the most,” her voice quivered, sensing the impact time and distance would make
on the relationship. “Nothing’s changed for me. There isn’t anyone else. I just don’t
have any say in the matter. Da’s in charge.”
A brief scent of heather drew her attention to a passing stranger. The man was
unusually tall, with a well-honed physique. But, as he turned, Kat noticed the years
had not been kind to the old man. His face had evidently been the victim of overexposure
to the elements. A thin, hooked nose jutted precariously from the wrinkles
and acne-marked skin, while thick glasses completed the bookish, scientist look. He
stopped in front of her, and she covered the phone briefly.
“Look, I’m sorry if you’re waiting. But, I’ll only be a minute...”
Wide, curious blue eyes stared back at her before he spoke. “That’s quite all
right. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m just concerned about a patient of mine.”
“You’re a doctor?”
“Yes, Doctor Samuelson. I work at the Galway clinic.”
“That name sounds so familiar,” she sought to place his face in her memory.
“I do several seminars a year in many counties,” he smiled, “Perhaps I’ve had
the good fortune to have you in an audience sometime.”
“That’s probably it,” Kat replied, then motioned toward the gate, “Are you
on this flight?”
“If I get there in time,” the physician indicated the phone, “But I do need to
check on a patient?”
“Oh, right,” Kat grinned sheepishly. “I guess I am monopolizing the phone.
But listen, my dad was hurt this morning. Could you take a look at him later?”
“Be glad to,” Samuelson sounded convincing, “once we’re airborne.”
Kat turned back to Terry’s crackling voice through the receiver. He was
obviously annoyed at having their final farewell interrupted, yet knew the last few
moments of hearing her voice were quickly drawing to a close. He had been there for
her when the news of her mother’s death had driven her almost insane with hate. It
was a calming influence she would never forget. And Kat’s journey to maturity that
night had joined them emotionally for all time. Now that bond would be tested by
thousands of miles and months of unrequited passion for both lovers.
“Look, I gotta run,” she didn’t want to prolong the goodbye. If she could
simply focus on the act as a single moment, it might stem the pain of separation. “I
love you...”
“I love you, too, Kat,” his voice sounded husky. He was close to tears himself.
“Take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
“Bye,” the feeling of loss engulfed him as Terry hung up.
“Bye,” Kat whispered to the humming receiver. She hung up, then turned to
offer the phone to Doctor Samuelson. He was nowhere in sight.
Her final words to Terry had taken no more than a few seconds. She hoped the
physician hadn’t become annoyed enough to neglect her request for Galen. Kat
resolved to straighten things out once they were in flight.
It was strange, Kat thought, but the doctor had never materialized on the flight.
There had been an Italian businessman, roughly the same height and build, seated
with the first-class passengers, who vaguely resembled Samuelson. But the differing
lineage was so pronounced that she hadn’t mentioned either man to Galen. Besides,
the fading view of their homeland in the morning sun had brought tears and memories
to everyone. They would never again feel the dark, cold earth under their feet, nor see
the welcoming smiles of friends along the lush countryside of their birthplace at
nightfall. Its physical presence would only be felt tugging at their hearts along the
corridors of days long past.
Mid-afternoon found them driving carefully along the winding Blue Ridge
Parkway of Virginia. Galen, against his better judgment, sped occasionally as road
conditions permitted. Casey’s anxiety to arrive was understandable as the young man
had never quite fit in wherever they had moved. He craved stability and over the past
ten years, they had relocated a total of four times in varied sections of their beloved
country. Balancing this against Kat’s piercing gaze at the sporadic bursts of recklessness
kept Galen’s attention well-focused on the drive.
At precisely four-thirty two, the glint of afternoon sun from the rental car’s
windshield halted in front of a small, two-story brick building in the middle of
downtown Ladnor, Virginia.
“Da, do you need any help?” Kat asked, reaching for the door handle.
“Thanks, but I can manage for an old guy,” he grinned back at her, ” You two
wait here. I won’t be long.”
He moved off stiffly toward the real estate office’s entrance. Casey turned on
her as soon as Galen vanished from view.
“What’s the big idea?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Da,” he mimicked her sarcastically, “Do you need any help?”
“Well, he might have,” she was beginning to get irritated.
“Give the guy a break,” Casey snorted impatiently, “He does have a little
pride, you know.”
“All I was trying to do was help,” she explained calmly. “He’s been through
a lot today.”
“Like you’d be able to help him if he needed it?”
“At least I offered...”
“He’s our father,” Casey shrugged the implication off, “He can take care of
himself.”
“Men!!” Kat intoned her one-word response succinctly enough to end the
discussion.
Looking around, Casey’s attention was immediately drawn to a tall, blond haired
girl who paused to smile before moving on.
“So this is Ladnor, Virginia?” his attitude brightened considerably.
“...with all the comforts,” she added, noting her brother’s interest in the
scenery. “Honestly, Casey, some things never change.”
“Some things never should.”
He straightened himself in the seat and glanced in the mirror. Definitely not
one of his better hair days, but presentable enough for a go at the local prospect. Kat
grabbed his shoulder as he reached for the door handle.
“Da said to stay in the car.”
“I won’t be gone that long, Sis. Keep the seats warm.”
“Casey, you don’t even know the area,” she warned.
“Believe me, Kat,” he managed to pull away, “I know the area a lot better than
you think. And, according to Terry, you know all about keeping the seats warm for
two.”
He was away from her grasp and up the street in a flash. Kat watched him go,
with no more control over him here than she’d had back home. The boy inside the man
never saw consequences, only actions.
Sarah Waterston, roughly Galen’s age, was seated behind a large mahogany
desk as he approached. Her medium-length, dark hair fell fashionably and comfortably
over petite features. The quiet beauty in her gentle manner of rising to greet him
impressed the forty-year-old man. A majority of women in his generation lacked the
inherent sophistication in her simple, yet graceful greeting. A crisp, blue business
skirt topped by a cool, white blouse complemented her elegant appearance.
“May I help you?” her eyes seemed to sparkle radiantly the closer he moved.
“Hi,... Galen O’Donnell,” he felt strangely at ease in her presence, “I’m here
to see Mr. Waterston.”
“He’s my father,” she smiled, “I’m Sarah Waterston.”
“Pleased to meet you,” they shook hands briefly, “I need to speak with him
about a house.”
Galen winced involuntarily as pain shot through his neck. Sarah’s look of
concern was guarded until she determined his response to the interruption. His dark
beard and hair indicated a particular vitality in his approach to life. But the pain caught
and held in the recesses of those brilliant blue eyes threatened to imprison her as well.
She felt well-advised to maintain her composure for the moment.
“Are you all right, Mr. O’Donnell?”
“Just a small cut,” Galen replied, adjusting the bandage on his neck, “I had a
little trouble with the razor this morning.”
“Judging from the looks of that beard,” Sarah decided on throwing caution to
the wind, “you need a little advice on which side to use.”
He laughed, and she smothered a chuckle. If they could share a joke, maybe
there could be more later. She certainly hoped so as her eyes devoured his muscular
frame. There were so few opportunities for a woman her age to meet someone in a
small town, and now here stood a man fit for her dreams. She immediately determined
to make a few of them realities.
“Friends call me Galen.”
“I’d like that,” she smiled again, “And just plain Sarah will do for you.”
“Sarah, it is,” he agreed, “but there’s nothing plain about her. No, nothing at
all.”
She blushed at the compliment. How long had it been since she’d felt this
giddy over meeting a complete stranger? Given the circumstances, and his looks,
Sarah thought it best to move on to the business at hand.
“I’m afraid my father was called out of town for the week.”
“There was some property he was going to show me,” Galen appeared
crestfallen, “My children and I ...”
Sarah hid her disappointment over his supposed marital status, breaking in
prematurely. “Your wife and family would certainly need a place to stay for the night.
There are several good hotels in the area.”
Galen’s look of bewilderment at her conclusion gave way to amusement, as
he realized she’d mistaken his availability.
“I’m a widower, Sarah,” he explained gently. “My wife passed away many
years ago.”
There was no sense in explaining everything to her. If they became involved,
which he definitely hoped would happen, sufficient explanations could wait. For the
time being, it was enough for her to know of Maureen’s passing. Circumstances never
mattered in the final analysis. His undying love was strong and malleable enough to
share with another woman.
“Sorry,” Sarah apologized for the misunderstanding.
“You couldn’t have known,” Galen put her at ease, “So I guess I’m stuck with
you if I want to see the property?”
“Only if you want to find it,” she brightened, warming him. “My dad briefed
me on your needs before he left.”
“Not all of them?”
“Just the obvious ones,” she replied, rising and heading toward the door with
him.
She liked him and felt more than a passing hunch that the feeling was
reciprocated. His hand barely grazed her shoulder as they left the office. Sarah took
the opportunity to place it around her waist. He was too good to be true.
Galen felt the warmth of her flow through his arm, renewing long-forgotten
feelings within. A new country, life and romance in the same day was almost more
than he could have imagined after the events of the morning. But there was no way
he was going to let any of it slip through his fingers for even a moment.
Casey hurried after the young woman as she sped quickly away. She crossed
the street and passed several shops and a library before pausing in front of a bank. He
looked up to see an American icon pensively watching his every move.
“That’s some mascot,” he ventured, hoping she’d pick up the conversation.
He was pleased when she did.
“Eagle savings has been around a long time,” she replied, noting the time and
temperature display jutting from the building. “And so have I, ... didn’t realize it was
so late. Almost closing...”
“You work here?” he felt awkward, trying to sound calm. There was no reason
for her to disclose any more information unless she were remotely interested in him.
To his surprise, and reassurance, she continued.
“Just till eleven.”
“Second shift, then?”
“That’s right,” her hands were constantly in motion, fixing the small strand
of hair that seemed to continually fall into her eyes.
She watched him carefully. He was cut, probably from working long hours in
a gym somewhere. The other possibility, of course, would be the result of hard life
and struggle. That would be the end of the relationship before it began. She’d had
enough of caring for downtrodden men in her life. But his eyes, darker than any she’d
ever seen, still danced with youth. A gust of wind blew his hair forward and she
laughed softly, running her hand through it.
“Don’t ever cover your eyes,” she whispered sternly, but playfully. “They’re
your best feature.”
“You just haven’t looked low enough,” Casey replied, walking with her up the
few steps to the building.
“I’m late,” she turned to leave, and gave him a slight peck on the cheek.
“And I don’t even know your name. Isn’t that a little forward? “
“No more so than running down the sidewalk after me. And it’s Petra“
“Petra? ” Casey repeated. “Sounds like a rock group.“
“Probably was in my mother’s time,” she admitted, “but it’s only proper for
you to return the favor.“
“Casey... ” he swallowed, then recovered, “O’Donnell. Fresh in from
Ireland.“
“Well, Casey, I hope you’ll be around awhile.“
“My Da and sister are with me,” he remembered, “We’re moving in someplace
nearby.“
“Can’t be near enough,” Petra flirted. “Look me up when you get settled.“
“Count on it,” Casey held the door for her as she entered. “How do I get in
touch?“
“Like this,” she drew him to her and kissed him. “Or look in the phone book
under Magdalene ... 301 Riverside Drive.“
His senses were swimming. Were all American women like this? He struggled
to catch his breath as she released him.
“I prefer the first option.“
“I thought you would,” Petra’s perfume was suddenly his only remembrance
of her as the door closed.
Like father, like son, Casey thought as he threaded his way back up the street.
Farther ahead he could see Galen standing with a very interesting-looking woman.
Kat appeared to be making small talk from the back seat and they were all looking for
him. Petra had been worth his father’s reprimand, though, and the town was beginning
to shape up quite nicely for his taste. A breeze from the corner of the building struck
him as he hurried to join the others. But it was the scent of heather from the alley,
rather than Petra’s perfume, that followed him back to the car.
Excerpt
“Don’t do this,” Monica warned her friend. “They’ll throw us both out of
here.”
“Maybe they should for considering this a decent place to work.”
“Oh, it’s decent all right,” the receptionist sneered at her. “Until we get your
kind in here.”
“And what kind would that be?” Kat’s face flushed at the insult.
“Please,” Monica began again. Clutching the red-haired vixen’s arm tightly.
“I need this job.”
“That makes one of you.”
“And less of you,” Kat added hotly.
The switchboard operator pushed for security.
“Gentlemen, we have a situation.”
“You can call all you want,” Kat returned. “I’ll be gone by the time they get here.”
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