False Mermaid

“You promised not to lecture. There’s no proof, of course. No fingerprints but mine. Nothing to say the bottle didn’t just roll under the pedal by accident. Or that I didn’t put it there, trying to incriminate Peter.”

Cormac glanced up the stairs where Elizabeth was asleep. “We have to talk about what to do if he shows up here. He could be headed in this direction right now.”

“How would he know where to look?”

“Sooner or later he’s going to be able to connect us, Nora—if he’s half as clever as you say. At least a half-dozen people in Dublin knew I was coming up here.” He drew back and looked at her. “How did you find this place?”

“I stopped at the óstan in Glencolumbkille—but I made up a story, about bringing my daughter up for Fiddle Week, about your father being a distant relation—”

He spoke quietly: “Still, you’re an American, traveling with a child. I’m not criticizing, Nora. All I’m saying is that it won’t be difficult to track you, if he’s really intent upon it. We’re only being prudent to realize that. We should have a plan, a rendezvous spot, in case we’re separated. There’s an abandoned fishing village called Port na Rón just the other side of the headland from here. Roz told me about some caves under the rocks on the far side of the bay. That might be a good place to meet, even stay for a while if we had to.”

Nora looked at him curiously. “You’ve been thinking about this.”

“No such thing as too careful.” He reached for a bag under the table and pulled out a pair of walkie-talkies. “Mobile coverage can be spotty up here, so I thought we could try these—I use them on excavations. They’re on the same frequency, good up to twenty-six miles. We could each carry one.”

“You really think he’ll come here?”

“I think we have to be prepared for it. Would he have reported Elizabeth missing?”

“Probably,” Nora said. “He must have been surprised when she ran away, because he knew I was still in the States. But Elizabeth didn’t. I imagine he’d go to the police—he’s always had great luck with them so far.” After a moment she added: “Most of them, anyway.”

“If your picture’s likely to show up on the television, it might be best to steer clear of civilization. Keep out of sight.”

“I do have the offer of a boat—” She tried to force a smile, but couldn’t. “Oh, Cormac, I never meant to put any of this on you—”

He leaned closer. “Will you stop? Your troubles are my troubles, Nora. We’ll get through this—we just need to be vigilant. Let me show you how to find the caves at Port na Rón.” He reached into his bag for a map and flipped to the area showing the cluster of houses and outbuildings where they sat, with long, narrow plots of bog and pastureland going up over the mountain. “Go over the headland to the south here, and you’ll come to the village. You’ll see a rocky beach. The caves I mentioned are here, around the south side of the harbor. I’ve got to go see on my father in hospital tomorrow morning; you and Elizabeth could go over and have a look at the caves while I’m away. I can stop on my way back and get some extra provisions to stash there if we need them.” He drew back and looked at her. “Has Elizabeth told you why she ran away?” He was thinking of the long, fair hairs and the lone shoe he’d found under the cot at the selkie cottage. “Maybe she knows something she’s not telling. Children notice a lot more than we realize.”

Nora shook her head. “I’ve tried, but I can’t seem to draw her out. Once in a while I get the impression she wants to talk, but feels as if she can’t—maybe out of loyalty to her father. In spite of everything, he is still her father. That’ll never change with wishing, unfortunately.”

Cormac put his hand over Nora’s, and let his glance stray to the hall that led to his father’s empty room. “No, I don’t suppose it will.”

7

Elizabeth awakened to a room bathed in light. Heavy bedclothes pressed down the length of her body, and the air smelled strange—cold and musty, damp. Nothing had felt real since they arrived here. She had no recollection of getting to this room on her own—maybe someone had carried her. Opening her eyes a crack, she could make out the dark outlines of flower-patterned wallpaper, the bulk of a wardrobe at the foot of the bed. She sat up slowly and glanced around. From the small window she could see down a driveway, out to the road. Would they just stay here, never go back to America? If they were supposed to be hiding, this strange, bare place didn’t seem like a very good spot. This house was odd; its windows were small and close to the floor, like something from a fairy story. Old black-and-white pictures crammed the walls, and there were bookcases everywhere, even up in this bedroom. She tilted her head sideways to read the titles of the books on the nearest shelf: The Sea Folk. The Selkie in Folklore, Myth, and Legend.