Chapter Eight
Callan’s eyes prickled from staring at the screen. Never in all his years did he think he’d get addicted to technology. But here he was, eyes popping with red veins.
What did he get for all his trouble? Files on two model citizens.
Eejit.
The moment Dachaigh faded in his car’s mirrors, he’d called Robert to ask him what he’d found about the stone. And Robert must have grown into a competent enough officer because, for the first time, he knew what Callan was asking him.
He gauged Eean as a sought-after lawyer, and his wife the crème de la crème in family law. As for the stone, someone had used a pebble as the missile and a 70gsm A4 size paper for the missive. They’d driven to the inn, hurled the stone through the window and scurried away before anyone could react. And Dac
