Bond followed Rory into his home and walked across gleaming hardwood floors covered with hand woven rugs in muted warm colors here and there. The few pieces of art on the walls—which he recognized as expensive—were peaceful scenes of Ireland. One featured the ruins of a white castle on an island in the middle of a lake, and he had the feeling this may have been the ancient stronghold of the clan to which Rory belonged. Someday he would ask.
“Do you ever go back?”
He didn’t have to explain what he meant. “Ay, I have a few times, but me máthair mhór is recently gone and me da lives here now.”
“Your dad’s mother?”
“Ay.”
“I’m sorry to know that.”
“In a way, she was my anchor. Da was away so much, then Mum remarried a man who beat me and broke me limbs because he couldna control me, then
