“I thought you had some of that today already.”
For some reason her saying that resurfaced everything. The ache inflicted from Deb’s words had never left, but in this moment they weighed me down further.
Paige shook her head, and her eyes softened. “I didn’t mean anything by—”
“I know. I was stupid. First case, and I—”
“Agents.”
Both of us turned to face a decorated officer. He was probably about the same age as Paige, in his early forties.
“I’m Brennan, Chief of Police.” He rested a hand on his right hip but a finger rose and pointed towards Paige. “I believed we talked on the phone.”
“We did. Thank you for cooperating with a federal investigation.”
“You might not be thanking me in a bit. Is it true you shot the suspect?”
“In self defense. It was a non-fatal wound.”
“We never recovered any weapons at the Pawn Shop. I fail to see how Mr. Robinson could have posed a threat.”
“He was told to leave his arms in the air, several times. He failed to obey that direct order—”
“So you feel that gave you the right to shoot a Sarasota resident?” The Chief glanced at me.
I came to Paige’s defense. “He didn’t comply. He gave her no choice. Statistically most pawn shop owners are armed for protection—”
“Do FBI agents run around shooting people based on statistics these days? You must believe that all black kids are in gangs, all serial killers are white and in their thirties.”
Paige glared at me as if to say, stop trying to help me. She addressed the Chief of Police, “I appreciate this is your city but this case—”
“Let me guess, top secret. Something above my pay grade.”
Paige’s cell phone rang and mine chimed notifying of a new text message.
“I have to take this.” Paige answered her phone.
The Chief studied me from my shoes to the top of my head and ended with eye contact. “Don’t get me wrong I respect the FBI. But you come to town, don’t even notify us you’re working on an investigation, and then call us in to back you up. It hardly seems fair—”
“I was just about to call you…” Paige turned her back on us and spoke into the phone.
“We notified local authorities at the point necessary.”
Seconds passed. Brennan spoke, “You feds have everything worked out. Politics. Never did like them much.”
I wanted to say, and yet you’re the Chief of Police.
“It got a little out of control…yes, he’s in surgery…he’ll be fine. It’s just a little shoulder wound.”
“On an unarmed man,” Brennan spoke up no doubt hoping the caller would hear him.
“Yeah…that’s the Chief of Police…what can I say? I’m good at making friends…we’ll keep you updated.” Paige shut her cell phone and spun around, a finger was aimed straight at Brennan’s nose. “Don’t you ever talk when I’m on the phone again.” She held the eye contact for about thirty seconds before pointing the finger at me. “You stay here. I’m going for a coffee.”
“Sure.”
“You want one?”
“Sounds good.”
She drew her pointed finger from me to the Chief. “Don’t say a word to him.”
The sound of her shoes on the hospital floors was rushed and angry. Her arms swung more than normal with her stride, and her hips swayed like a pendulum.
“She’s a firecracker.”
“You have no idea.” The atmosphere between Brennan and I held tangibility.
“What are you here for anyway?” He jacked a thumb to the operating room. “What do you think he did?”
“We can’t say.”
“Yet you want our cooperation.” He slipped his hands into his pockets.
“We have the man now.”
“And you’re sure of this?”
The man’s prints were lifted from the audio device. At the very least coincidental evidence pointed to this man being The Redeemer’s follower. But none of this could be shared with Brennan.
“Huh, no answer. You just remember you might need us again.”
“And if we do we’ll notify you immed—”
“Agent, don’t make promises you’re not authorized to make. You smell of a newbie.” He inhaled deeply as if he were a hound picking up on a scent. “Otherwise I can’t see you letting her lead you around by the balls.”
“She’s—”
“Don’t deny it son. She’s the senior while you’re the junior.”
“The title’s Special Agent actually.”
“Aren’t you missing the pending part?”
“Well, if you have something else to do we have this covered.”
“Do they let you drink while on duty as an FBI agent?”
My eyes darted to his. “Excuse me.”
Brennan smiled. “Good day, Special Agent.”
CHAPTER 32
The operating room doors swung open and Doctor Hopkins, who performed Robinson’s surgery, came out.
Paige pushed herself from the wall.
“Mr. Robinson is going to be just fine,” Hopkins answered before Paige verbalized the question.
Paige didn’t respond with a smile or project any sense of relief. “When can we speak with him?”
“He’s in recovery right now. It will take a few hours for the anesthesia to wear off. Even then things will be a little hazy for him.”
I looked at my watch. Five-fifteen.
“Thank you Doctor,” Paige said.
“Uh huh.” He backed into the operating room.
“This is just great.” Paige huffed, crossed her arms, and stood there tapping her foot. “What are we supposed to do? Just wait around for hours? What about the church members? Do you have the list yet? You got a text hours ago when I was talking with Jack.”
With the excitement from then until now I hadn’t checked the message. It had begun as procrastination in fear it would be Debbie with more bad news, although I wasn’t sure how much worse it could get.
“You still haven’t checked it?”
I pulled out my phone and opened it. One unread message. I noticed the sender and clipped the phone back in its holder.
“You still haven’t read it.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It’s her isn’t it?” Paige’s face softened.
“Her?” I turned my back on Paige and walked down the hallway.
“Your wife.” Paige followed behind.
I stopped walking and faced her. “Robinson will be fine here. We can call in the local LEOs to watch over him.” Or Law Enforcement Officers.
“After we made such good friends with the Chief of Police?” Her lips cracked in a sarcastic smile. “Nice subject switch by the way.”
“I don’t want to talk about my life right now. How about we just go have a couple drinks with Randy, come back in the morning. Robinson’s head will be fresh then.”
“I don’t know.”
“Paige I’m going. I’d like you to come too. There’s nothing we can do here tonight. You heard the doctor. Even in a few hours Robinson’s head will be hazy. Maybe if you didn’t shoot him.” I was smiling, but Paige didn’t notice until her arm extended to strike me.
“You think you’re funny.”
“I know I am.”
“Huh.” She put an arm on my shoulder, patted it. “Let’s go then. But we’re coming back first thing.”
I held up a hand as if swearing an oath.
“Alright I’ll let them know when we’ll be back.”
My cell vibrated with another text message. I made myself look at it. “It’s Nadia. She said the list is taking a little longer to get her hands on. She’s having a hard time reaching the church administrator.”
Paige smiled and looped an arm in mine. “Guess we do have the night off. You’re sure he’s not going anywhere?”
“Where’s he gonna go? You cuffed him
to the stretcher.”
Deb’s text message from earlier in the day, the one I wished had been the congregation list, went through my mind:
I’ve been thinking about this for a long time Brandon. I don’t want you to feel responsible over my decision.
Paige must have sensed the text was bothering me on the way to Sassy’s, not that she had any idea what it said, but she kept trying to make small talk.
“So this bar? You and—”
“Randy.”
“You used to go there a lot?”
I smiled. This diversion tactic helped somewhat. “Every Friday night for wings and pitchers of beer.”
“Pitchers? Why should I be surprised?”
Paige and I had gone back to the hotel from the hospital and changed into more casual apparel. Both of us wore blue jeans. I wore mine with a white shirt, and Paige paired her jeans, which caressed her figure flawlessly, with a black sleeveless collared shirt.
“So besides wings and beer, what does this place offer?” I noticed Paige’s attention go to the clock on the dash. “You said eight, right?”
“Yeah, we’ll be a little late.”
“Hope he understands.”
I laughed. “Randy’s probably further off from making it there than we are.”
“Tell me about this guy.” Paige rubbed her hands on her thighs.
The motion made me jealous of her hands. “He’s a guy’s guy. He likes to think of himself as a player so you might want to be careful.”
“I can handle my own.”
“I know you can.”
Her smile faded. “Do you think Robinson did it?”
“He has a background, and his fingerprint was on the audio equipment.”
“I’m just not sure he’s intelligent enough.”
“Why cause he’s black?” I laughed, just teasing her. I knew she wasn’t prejudiced in any manner, nor was I.
She cocked her head to the side and slapped my arm. “It’s just all we really have at this point is a print.”
“So you shot an innocent man.”
She let out a rush of air. “Maybe I did. Guess we’ll have a better idea when we get to talk to him.”
“If you didn’t shoot him we might be now—”
“Brandon, one more word and—”
I twisted fingers over my lips to signify they were locked on the subject.
Sassy’s hadn’t changed from the last time I was here. Gold letters contrasted against the red painted brick. The wrought iron fence outlined the patio where about ten tables lined the front face. The patio butted up against the sidewalk and lent itself to foot traffic. To get an outside table, especially on a night like this one, would be nearly impossible. Music droned through exterior speakers, and inside it filled the place with a cacophony of noise as it mingled with the raised voices of its patrons. But people didn’t come to Sassy’s to talk. They came to have a few drinks, watch a game, and kick back.
“Nice place.” Paige smiled as she pressed into my side. “A little loud.”
“Yeah, it’s perfect.”
She bumped an elbow into my ribs. I instinctively wanted to wrap an arm around her, but somehow I found the willpower not to.
A table of college students roared, making Paige jump. She laughed. “Oh, I need a drink.”
“Your wish is my com—”
“Buddy.” I heard the word and felt the jab to my lower back.
“Randy.”
We reached our arms around each other and patted each other’s backs. When he noticed Paige standing there, Randy backed out of the hug.
“That was just a bro hug.”
“Uh huh.” She smiled at him. The way she looked at him stung me with jealousy.
Randy swung an arm back and hit me in the abdomen. “You going to intro me to your girl?”
“Oh she’s not my girl. She’s from my team. Special Agent Paige Dawson.”
“Would you listen to him talking all proper?” Randy extended a hand to Paige and introduced himself. “He probably told you all about me. Don’t believe anything he said unless it’s good.”
“He didn’t say a lot about you.”
“Oh that hurts, man.” Randy laughed. “And here I have nothing but great things to say about you.” Randy patted my shoulder before tucking his hand into a jean pocket. “How are you doing? How’s Debbie? You’re looking well.”
Hearing her name hammered in the reality that my wife no longer loved me. This happened to other people—not us.
“Why don’t we get that drink?” Paige intercepted, and Randy looked between us before letting the matter go.
“I’m always ready for a drink.”
“Don’t I know it,” I said.
“Don’t listen to him. He already had a wee nip this afternoon.”
“On the job?”
“That’s what I said.” Paige laughed.
I watched the two of them walk up to the bar ahead of me. They would make a good couple. Both of them loved their freedom but craved human connection. It made me miss Deb even more.
For the next few hours we drowned our logical thinking with the amber liquid of frivolity. We moved to a table on the patio about ten and none of us seemed in a hurry to leave. The light from the moon and the manmade lights of the patio cast a sort of spell.
We talked about Randy’s work as a graphic designer and how his bosses seemed to think they owned him like a piece of property. They would interrupt him when he was designing and treat him like he wasn’t doing anything.
“They’re just making really stupid decisions.” Randy drained back on his beer. “Why pull me off a job that’s going to make the company money to redesign the company van? Stupid.”
“We all have bosses who don’t get it,” I said. Paige glanced at me. “At least your bosses call you by name.”
Randy tightened his grip on the beer mug, lifted it to his mouth. “You don’t have a name?”
“Guess I haven’t earned one yet.”
Randy scrunched up his face. “Okay.” His single word carried the invitation, please elaborate.
“I’m referred to only by nicknames.”
“So he likes you then.”
“I’m not a pet.”
That comment made Randy and Paige laugh.
“To him, I’m Kid or Slingshot.”
“Oh, I like Slingshot.” Randy drained back on his beer.
“You wouldn’t if you were me.”
“This guy takes himself too seriously sometimes doesn’t he?” Randy jabbed his beer mug toward Paige who lifted a shoulder.
“And he’s always going around saying Hmm. What the heck is that supposed to mean anyway? Speak like a human being.”
“Brandon I think that’s enough,” Paige said.
“What? I’m just telling the truth.”
“Jack is a great man.”
“You’re only saying that because you sleep with him.” The words came out, and her cheeks flushed red as if she were slapped. “I’m sorry.”
Paige leaned back into her chair and crossed her arms.
“Don’t mind him. He can be a donkey sometimes,” Randy said.
“You’re telling me?” She wouldn’t look at me. Instead her focus was on another table where a group of four held mugs of beer up in a cheer.
“He’s probably just jealous.” Randy looked over at me with a smile.
I wasn’t smiling. Randy didn’t know about the past affair with Paige, but his assessment was right.
“We should get back,” Paige moved forward.
I settled into my chair, cradled the mug of beer and took a slow, deliberate swig. “He doesn’t get people. Jack is the most unfeeling person I know.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“Explain him to me then, would you? He doesn’t believe in hope—”
“False hope.”
“He misleads people. That woman is going to lose the pig farm that’s been in her family for generations.”
“There was,” Paige stopped talking, cognizant of Randy taking every word in.
“He made her believe everything would be fine when he knew the truth was going to be the opposite.”
“He’s been through a lot in life. It hasn’t been easy—”
“We all have shit to shovel. No excuse.”
A waitress came to the table. “Can I get you guys anything else?”
“Cup of coffee for me,” Paige said.
Nothing was worse than being stranded somewhere without the ability to leave, but since both of us had kept drinking we were in no position to drive.
“Anyone else?” The waitress asked. Both Randy and I declined. “Alright, then I’ll be right back.”
“And he smokes all the time. I’ll probably have lung cancer when I get older.”
“If you hate it so much, leave the team. No one’s making you stay.” Paige excused herself to Randy and took off down the sidewalk.
Randy looked to me. “You’re just going to let her go?”
I sunk my lips onto the rim of my beer glass. “She can handle herself.”
“Wow, I don’t know what being an FBI agent is doing to you but you’re a different guy.” Randy got up and left me there.
I drank Paige’s coffee and ordered a refill. The crowd at Sassy’s was starting to dwindle off. No doubt most headed from here to the local dance clubs.
“Can I get you anything else?” The waitress had long since cleared the table of the beer pitcher and glasses. Our plates and the platter from the appetizers we ordered had long been taken away.
“Just the bill.”
She smiled at me and nodded.
She was a polite waitress, but her interest in her customers never went beyond her job. She never gave me the look most women did, the inquisitive kind that pried into your mind and tried to solve your problems. It’s kind of what I needed anyway; a stranger who would simply let me brood in the way I was feeling. My wife no longer wanted to be married, but I would make it right. I would make Deb see that we could work things out.
I heard Paige’s laugh before I saw her. When she and Randy came into view, she slapped his arm. Her head arched back, exposing the length of her neck.
Eleven (Brandon Fisher FBI Series #1) Page 24
