Thief's Mark

A murder in a quiet English village, long-buried secrets and a man’s search for answers about his traumatic past entangle FBI agents Emma Sharpe and Colin Donovan in the latest edge-of-your-seat Sharpe & Donovan novel

As a young boy, Oliver York witnessed the murder of his wealthy parents in their London apartment. The killers kidnapped him and held him in an isolated Scottish ruin, but he escaped, thwarting their plans for ransom. Now, after thirty years on the run, one of the two men Oliver identified as his tormentors may have surfaced.

Emma Sharpe and Colin Donovan are enjoying the final day of their Irish honeymoon when a break-in at the home of Emma’s grandfather, private art detective Wendell Sharpe, points to Oliver. The Sharpes have a complicated relationship with the likable, reclusive Englishman, an expert in Celtic mythology and international art thief who taunted Wendell for years. Emma and Colin postpone meetings in London with their elite FBI team and head straight to Oliver. But when they arrive at York’s country home, a man is dead and Oliver has vanished.

As the danger mounts, new questions arise about Oliver’s account of his boyhood trauma. Do Emma and Colin dare trust him? With the trail leading beyond Oliver’s small village to Ireland, Scotland and their own turf in the United States, the stakes are high, and Emma and Colin must unravel the decades-old tangle of secrets and lies before a killer strikes again.

New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers delivers the gripping, suspense-filled tale readers have been waiting for.

Thief’s Mark

Carla Neggers

To Henk and Christine

and our many good talks on the veranda.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Author Note

Extract

Copyright

1

Dublin, Ireland

Colin Donovan eyed his wife of almost two weeks, a glass of champagne in front of her on their low table at the crowded, upscale bar at the landmark Shelbourne Hotel in the heart of Dublin. Since he knew Emma Sharpe as well as he did, he noticed the slight pull in her eyes that indicated tension. “Last night of our honeymoon,” he said, leaning back in his comfortable stuffed chair.

She smiled. “We’ll make the most of it.”

He returned her smile. “We will. You look good, Emma. Rested, happy and rosy-cheeked.”

“The rosy cheeks are due to the champagne.”

“And the tension I see in those green eyes of yours?”

She picked up her champagne. “I’m in reentry mode.”

Colin got that. They would be back at their offices on the Boston waterfront in a few days. Right now, they could enjoy the views out the tall Shelbourne windows across to St. Stephen’s Green as the long June day slowly wound down. Every seat at the polished bar and the tables was occupied with laughing shoppers with their Brown Thomas bags, tourists in sensible shoes and young office workers with loosened ties.

“Then there’s Granddad,” Emma added. “He’s up to something.”

Wendell Sharpe was always up to something but Colin knew he didn’t need to tell Emma. “Speak of the devil,” he said, nodding to the entrance off the lobby.

She followed his gaze, sipping her champagne as she watched her octogenarian grandfather, who lived in Dublin, make his way toward them in his rumpled khakis, sport coat and bow tie. He was semiretired, but no one believed he would ever fully give up his work as a private art detective. Not willingly, anyway. Meeting for drinks at the Shelbourne had been his idea.

He shuddered as he arrived at their table. “Could you two at least try to look less like FBI agents?”

“We are FBI agents, Granddad.” Emma set down her glass and rose, smiling as she and her grandfather embraced. “It’s great to see you.”

Colin got to his feet and he and Wendell shook hands. “Good to see you, Wendell.”

“Welcome to Dublin. How was the honeymoon?” He grinned. “Don’t answer.” He pulled out a chair and sat with a heavy sigh. “I walked from my place. Beautiful day. When did you get in?”

“About an hour ago,” Emma said. “We walked in the park and got here about twenty minutes ago. It’s the last day of a perfect honeymoon.”

“Your secret Irish honeymoon didn’t stay secret for long, did it?”

Emma laughed. “It didn’t stay secret at all.”

“Everyone knows we’re here,” Colin added, glad to see some of Emma’s earlier strain ease.

“You chose Ireland for Emma,” Wendell said. “Tough to think of you as romantic.”

“Not going there, Wendell.”

“Are you making a stop in Dublin on FBI business?”

Emma shook her head, strands of her fair hair falling onto her forehead. She reached for her champagne and sat back with it. “We’re here to see you, Granddad.”

Colin picked up his Smithwick’s. “What’re you drinking, Wendell?”

“Sparkling water. I like to keep my head about me with you two.”