Zach nodded.
Bridey waved a hand dismissively. “Get out of here, both of you. I’m going to take a wee nap now.”
“A nap, and don’t forget your medicine,” Zach said.
She waved him off. He stood in the doorway and watched as Caer moved back over to the bed, drawing the covers up. As she leaned down, Bridey whispered to her, “Eddie is dead. I know he is. I saw him. Did you come because of Eddie?”
“Bridey, I swear, I know nothing about Eddie,” Caer said, hoping Zach couldn’t hear them. She touched Bridey’s cheek and smiled reassuringly.
Bridey caught her hand and squeezed it. “You’re a sweet child,” she said simply. “Now, go. Get out of here, so I can rest.”
Caer joined Zach in the hallway. He was frowning. “When did this all happen?” he asked, as she closed the door.
“I think she just woke up this morning with sniffles and that cough. The doctor saw her when he came to check on Sean, so she’s in good hands.”
He nodded. “Good. Thanks.”
She stared up at him, uncomfortable. She wanted to step away, or step closer, forget time and place and all convention, and cup her hand around his face, feel his flesh beneath her fingertips. Wanted to step closer and press herself against him, rise on her toes and touch her lips to his. She saw it, felt it so clearly, that a flush rose to her cheeks.
She stepped back.
“Hey, want to come with me?” he asked her.
“Um…where?”
“Eddie’s house.”
“Oh? I, uh, I shouldn’t. I should keep an eye on Sean.”
“No need. He’s going out with Kat. They’ll be gone at least an hour. He wants to do some Christmas shopping. It seems the doctor gave him the okay to get out a bit, so long as he doesn’t overdo things.”
“Yes. He said Sean’s doing well and can start easing back into day-to-day life.”
Zach nodded. “Sounds good.” He smiled. “So come on. Let’s go to Eddie’s house and see if we can find out what’s going on.”
She had to smile back. “We? You mean you trust me? Really?”
“Not really. Just where Sean is concerned. So, are you coming with me?”
She nodded, trying to not to let herself feel bad that he still distrusted her. “Aye, that I am. Thank you. I’ll grab my coat.”
Eddie’s house was only a couple of blocks away. It was a rustic nineteenth-century saltbox, small, but big enough, and with plenty of charm. A huge leather sofa faced the fireplace, and a reinforced rolltop desk held his computer. He apparently liked TV; his plasma screen was huge. Caer noted that he had dozens of DVDs, virtually all of them documentaries on the American Revolution, sailing, treasure hunting, archeology and the like.
“He did love history, didn’t he?” she noted.
“He sure did.”
Zach went straight for Eddie’s computer. “I talked to Sean. He and Eddie have spent years studying their favorite Rhode Island native son together. His name was—”
“Nigel Bridgewater,” Caer supplied.
Zach looked at her in surprise. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Sean told me about him when he was in the hospital in Dublin.”
“Ah,” Zach said, and turned back to the computer.
“Just look around and see what you can see,” he told her.
“All right.”
“The police were here, so I don’t think you’ll find much of anything, but it’s worth a try. I’d love to find out exactly what he’d been up to before he went out.”