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my heart and home are both here, and that’s a fact, lad. Those I love are here, and Dublin…it’s what made me, and my lads and lasses are here, and their lads and lasses, and their little ones, so…”
    He nodded his understanding.
    “And where is home for you?” she asked him.
    He hesitated, surprising himself. Home. Where was his home now? Interesting question.
    “My folks passed away a long time ago,” he told her.
    “Ah,” she said softly, understandingly.
    “I have two brothers, and they both have great wives. We grew up in Florida, and now one lives in New Orleans, and one is in Salem, Massachusetts. I still spend a lot of time in Miami.”
    “And you miss your brothers,” she said sagely, nodding.
    He laughed. “No, I see them all the time. We work together.”
    “A family business,” she said with delight, then frowned, confused. “But however do you manage that, all livin’ in different places and the like?”
    “Computers. And…we were all in law enforcement, then left what we were doing to form an investigative agency, so we’re traveling all the time anyway,” he explained.
    “Delving into the unknown,” she said.
    “The unknown is usually known—by someone,” Zach said. “We find the things that someone else missed or overlooked.” He was startled when she reached for his hand and studied his fingers.
    “A musician, too,” she told him.
    He laughed, surprised. “Maeve, you ever need a job, you call me. You’re good.”
    “The singing detective?” she suggested.
    “Nothing like that. I play guitar. I suppose I can carry a tune. But I run a small record label and a few studios. That’s where my talents lie.”
    The flight attendant came on the P.A. to welcome them to Ireland. There was a jolt just as they landed, and Maeve, who still had his hand, grasped it tightly as her cheeks turned ashen.
    “It was just a gust of wind as we came in,” he assured her.
    She flashed him a smile. “Just felt a shade o’darkness there, that’s all, lad. A shadow on the heart.”
    He squeezed her hand in return. “It was just the wind,” he repeated.
    A shadow on the heart? he thought. Well, she was ninety-two, he reminded himself.
    Odd turn of phrase, though, considering that he’d thought he’d seen a real shadow in the aisle.
    Their flight had been an overnighter, and when he looked out the window again, the sun was coming up high.
    A few seconds later, the sound of a hundred seatbelts unbuckling was like a strange, offbeat chorus. He stood and helped Maeve get her small bag from the compartment above her seat, then bade her goodbye and good luck, and went for his own suitcase. He strode off the plane, thinking he would head straight to the hospital and check in on Sean before doing anything else.
    It had been several years since he’d been in Dublin, but the airport hadn’t changed. He headed for customs, and watched as Maeve made her way toward the line for nationals. He blinked, thinking that he saw a shadow hovering near her. A shadow? In the brightly lit airport?
    Jet lag. Had to be jet lag.
    He turned away, then turned back.
    Odd, out of the corner of his eye, he’d thought that he’d seen something else. An impression. A woman’s face. Beautiful, with pitch-black hair and cobalt eyes, and features like Helen of Troy, pure perfection.
    There were women all over the airport, he told himself dryly. A dark-haired woman rushing by Maeve, a young blonde excusing herself as she, too, moved quickly, and a fortyish matron who paused to speak. Zach couldn’t hear her from where he stood, but from the looks of things, he was pretty sure the woman had asked Maeve if she needed any help. He would have helped her himself, but he was a tourist and had to go through a different line.
    Maeve accepted a hand from the woman, and Zach smiled. Every once in a while you saw something that restored your faith in humanity. His smile faded. He hadn’t seen it all that often lately, though maybe