by Lauren Carr
But not making the call did not make reality disappear. It was still there.
Terrorists. Who else would Joshua Thornton be working against? David had had his fill of terrorists on his tours in the Middle East. But if Joshua’s assignment was so important that it involved the Phantoms—if they really existed—then failure was not an option. Failure would be a major casualty that could be catastrophic for many lives—and possibly the nation.
“Chelsea called,” Tonya, the desk sergeant announced upon his entrance. “I didn’t know what to tell her.”
“I’ll call her.” David took a stack of message forms from her. “And I’ll call Archie, too. Have you explained things to Bogie?”
“Bogie has been briefed,” Tonya said. “He’s waiting for your orders about what to tell Archie. He says he’ll talk to her if you want.”
“I have to go to the Spencer Inn anyway,” David said. “Joshua Thornton’s teenage son is by himself. So you’ll be able to reach me there tonight.”
She placed several disposable cell phones across the top of the counter. “They’re all activated and have the numbers for Mac’s and Hector Langford’s burners already input in them. I also put your phone number on each of them. You’re all connected.” She touched each one as she rattled off names. “One for each of our officers. One for you, Bogie, me, Archie, and Donny Thornton.”
David grinned when he saw that she was way ahead of him. “Thank you, Tonya. You’re a peach.” He picked up the phone on which she had written “Chief.”
“I know.” With a jerk of her thumb, she gestured up the stairs to his office. “Sheriff Turow has been waiting for you.”
Reminded of the Russell Dooley murder, David suppressed a groan. He’d been so busy thinking about Joshua Thornton’s possible role in the hit squad that had attacked Spencer Manor that he had actually forgotten about Russell Dooley’s murder and the knife with the Spencer Inn’s insignia.
“Do I need to call Mac’s lawyer?” David asked Tonya in a low voice.
“Ask him.” She gestured toward the office door at the top of stairs. “He’s not talking to me.”
She touched his arm when he slumped. “You and I both know that Sheriff Turow is a fair man. He’s only doing his job. He’s not going to railroad Mac into jail. If anything, he’ll go out of his way to make sure Mac gets a fair shake.”
“Someone is trying to frame Mac for Russell Dooley’s murder,” David said. “But if they’re trying to frame him, then why send a hit squad to kill him?”
“Good question,” she replied. “Maybe it’s a coincidence?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“I do,” she said at the same time that the phone rang on her desk. “That’s your direct line,” she noted before picking up the receiver.
The office door at the top of the stairs opened, and the sheriff stepped into the doorway. “I don’t have all day, O’Callaghan.” He had a leather binder tucked under his arm.
When David turned to leave, Tonya gestured for him to stay with a wave of her arm. “He’s on his way to a meeting, Detective Gates. Let me see if he has a minute to talk to you.” She pressed the button to put the call on hold.
David slumped.
“I can’t keep dodging these people, Chief,” Tonya said. “Cameron sounds frantic.”
“I know,” David said, “but I can’t talk to her on that line. They could be monitoring the police calls.” He took the phone number that Joshua had given him for Cameron’s burner phone and his burn phone. “Tell her that I’m in a meeting and will call her right back.”
“They?” Sheriff Turow asked about who could be monitoring their phones.
“I’m coming, Turow.” Slowly, David made his way up the stairs.
Before he reached the top, the sheriff said, “Rumor tells me that you’ve located Faraday.”
“We don’t deal in rumors here in Spencer.” David gestured for the sheriff to step into the office ahead of him. He then followed him inside and closed the door.
David slid into his chair behind his desk. The corner office provided a magnificent view of Deep Creek Lake and the police department’s docks, which had been closed for the winter season.
“Does Faraday know about Dooley’s murder?” Sheriff Turow lowered himself into the chair across from David’s desk. He laid the leather binder across his lap.
“I told him,” David said. “But I didn’t give him any specifics. I only said that Dooley had been murdered. Someone else told him the time of death.”
“Doc Washington?” Turow asked. “My people saw you pick her up at Spencer Manor and take her to an undisclosed location. Who got injured in the shootout?”
“Thornton,” David said. “He needs a doctor.”
“Then you need to bring him and Faraday in.”
“We need to identify who was behind this hit squad,” David said. “This squad got killed, but there could be more who will make another hit with bigger and badder arms. They clearly don’t care who gets caught in the crossfire. Are your people equipped to deal with that type of fire power?” He shook his head. “My department isn’t.”
“My people may have uncovered a lead on that.” Sheriff Turow sat up in his seat and extracted a printout from the binder. He handed the paper across the desk to David. “We found a paper trail on Dooley. Now these types of hit squads don’t come cheap, and you have to be connected to find one.”
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
“Well …” Turow pointed at a section of the printout. “Dooley could have hired them. He sold his house to a real estate company the week after his wife killed herself, and he didn’t give a forwarding address either. There’s no current address for this guy. At closing, he was handed a cashier’s check for one hundred twenty thousand dollars, which was way below the tax assessor’s estimate. He cashed it in. There’s no record of him putting that money into any account.” He chuckled. “Where did all that cash go?”
David cocked an eyebrow at him. “Where indeed? One hundred twenty thousand dollars would buy a pretty good hit squad.”
“That’s what I think,” Turow said. “But that still leaves the matter of who killed Dooley. Does Faraday have an alibi?”
“Unless you want to count Gnarly.”
“Prosecutor Fleming has intimate knowledge of Gnarly’s conniving nature,” Turow said with a grin.
“What about the kid who saw someone going into the cabin last night?” David asked with an air of hope.
“You mean this dude?” The sheriff took a sketch out of the binder and tossed it across the desk in David’s direction.
David studied the picture of a bloated round face with eyes that appeared to be bloodshot. He had thick eyebrows and flabby jowls. It was definitely not Mac Faraday. But he did look familiar.
“Recognize that guy?” Sheriff Turow asked while David tried to place the face.
“I have seen him before.”
“Of course you have.” The sheriff took the sketch out of David’s hands. “At the cabin. In the bathtub. That’s Russell Dooley. That’s who the kid saw, if he saw him. His aunt says the kid is a compulsive liar. Now Dooley did keep to himself, according to the people at the motel. The kid may have seen him a couple of times and not known that the man he saw go into the cabin was in fact the murder victim. But since he’s the victim, he certainly isn’t the killer.”
“If the kid is telling the truth,” David said, “Dooley did go out last night before he was killed. The killer could have been waiting for him inside the cabin when he came back.”
“You mean Mac, who the kid did not see?” The corners of the sheriff’s lips turned up in a grin.
“No.” David slammed his hand down on the desktop.
Sheriff Turow winked at him. “I know Mac didn’t do this, O’Callaghan.”
David failed to suppress his sigh of relief.
“But I have to do my job. There are people out there who will jump down my throat if they even think I’m cutting Faraday any special favors because he’s a friend of the police.”
“I know, Turow,” David replied.
“That’s why I’m not asking you where he is,” Turow said. “Because if I know where he’s hiding, then those same people will be asking why I don’t go drag him in for an interrogation about
Dooley’s murder.”
“That’s why I’m not telling you.”
“It’s the holidays.” The sheriff stood up. “You and I are both shorthanded. If you need anything from my people, don’t be afraid of calling. We’re all on the same side here.”
David rose to his feet and shook the sheriff’s hand. “Once I know what’s going on, you’ll be the first one I call.”
“I’ll be sure to let you know if I hear anything else.”
David watched the sheriff leave before taking the business cards out of his pocket. Sucking in as much courage as he could, he dialed the first phone number, only to listen to it ring repeatedly until it came to an automated voice mail.
“Cameron, this is Police Chief David O’Callaghan. Josh gave me this number to call you. He’s okay. But we need to talk. Call me back at this number as soon as you get this message.”
Hanging up, David gritted his teeth with determination. Looking down at the cell phone and Cameron’s phone number, David spotted the plain white business card that contained only a phone number.
If anyone can help us, it has to be her—if she is indeed the team leader for the Phantoms. Nah! Maybe.
David dialed the phone number into the burner phone and listened to it ring twice before a sultry feminine voice answered.
“Hello …”
David sat up straight in his chair. He felt the air sucked out of his lungs, and his head swam as the memory of that voice came crashing back to him.
He was in the back of the limousine. Her hair and face concealed by the black fedora and dark glasses, he studied her body language for a clue of who she might be. She gave him nothing to go on. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long last few days. I didn’t catch your name.”
“That’s because I didn’t give it.”
“Hello?” the sexy feminine tone came again from the speaker of the burner phone. “Who is this?”
David swallowed and licked his lips. “This is Major David O’Callaghan. I’m with the United States Marine Reserves. I’m currently the police chief in Spencer, Maryland.”
“David … O’Callaghan?” There was a pause. “How did you get this number?”
“From Joshua Thornton,” David said. “He’s in trouble.”
Concern flooded her tone. “What kind of trouble, Major?”
“He’s been shot.”
“How badly?”
“He’s been seen by a doctor, but he needs to be hospitalized,” he reported. “We have him in a safe house. He’s asking that you send his son Murphy to complete his mission.”
“He talked to you about the mission?”
“No details,” David said. “Look, I’m the chief of police in Spencer—”
“I know exactly who you are, Major O’Callaghan,” she interjected. “I will send Lieutenant Murphy Thornton to complete his father’s mission. He’ll brief you about what you need to know.”
“We’ve met,” he said.
Instead of confirming or denying his statement, she replied in a brisk tone. “Lieutenant Murphy Thornton of the United States Navy will be calling you on this phone to coordinate his arrival in Spencer. After he briefs you on the mission, he will be instructed to follow your orders since you are the ranking officer.”
“Then this is a military operation?”
“It is a matter of national security,” she replied. “Top secret clearance.” After a slight pause, she added in a pleasant tone, “It was nice talking to you again, Major.”
Click.
Chapter Nine
Cameron had mixed feelings about packing up the few files and what little evidence they had collected in the Reginald Crane—or, rather, John Doe—murder case.
Because she hadn’t heard anything from Joshua since breakfast, she was desperate to get to Deep Creek Lake to see him. I hope Donny is okay. If anything was really wrong, he would have called me … unless Josh told him not to.
But then, there was something about Special Agent Elder and Black that made her skin crawl. Even so, her supervisor ordered her to turn over the case to the FBI. If Reginald Crane had been a federal agent working deep undercover, it was their case.
The fact that she was creeped out was no excuse for her to fight it.
Cameron welcomed the opportunity to take the stairs down to the forensics office to gather up the physical evidence. While waiting at the reception desk, she wished she had thought to bring her burn phone with her to check to see if Josh had left her a message after she had failed to answer his call. She could have eased her mind during the fifteen-minute wait for the lab personnel to gather the evidence, sort through it, and do up the paperwork for her to sign. By the time they gave her the white evidence box, she was anxious to get to her desk, hand over everything to the creepy FBI guys, and call Joshua with the news that she was on her way.
Maybe I’ll even get Tad and Jan to watch Irving and Admiral right away so that I can leave tonight.
Special Agents Black and Elder were waiting at her desk in the squad room. Cameron handed them the box and the forms releasing the case to them. Part of the protocol was for them to write down their badge numbers on the forms as well.
“How does it feel to get invited to the social event of the year?” Special Agent Black asked her while his partner signed his section of the release forms.
“I doubt if I’ll be going to the wedding.” A split second after saying the words, Cameron wished she hadn’t. That was an invitation for a conversation.
“Why not?” Black chuckled. “Your husband is in it.”
“I’m not into weddings,” she replied. “I’ll probably be hitting the slopes or waiting for Josh in the hot tub.”
“We’ve had a couple of cases out at Deep Creek Lake,” Black said. “Elder and I were talking about it while you were gone. We were trying to remember the name of the police chief there. Real nice guy …”
“David O’Callaghan,” Cameron answered.
“That’s right.” With a laugh, Black turned to his partner. “We were close. I was saying O’Connell. David O’Callaghan.”
Elder’s dark eyes narrowed, and he nodded his head. “Wasn’t he in the marines?”
“Still in the reserves,” Cameron cocked her head at the disdain on his face.
Black was laughing. “Elder here is an army guy.”
“Ah, rivalry,” Cameron said. “I can understand. But we can’t lose touch with the fact that we’re all on the same side.”
“Very true.” Black shoved the box into his partner’s arms and turned back to Cameron. “Nice to meet you, Detective Gates.” He stuck out his hand. “Have a grand time at the social event of the season. Happy New Year.”
When Cameron shook his hand, he grabbed her extended elbow with his hand and squeezed it. She felt that cold sweat wash over her again.
With a grumble, Elder followed his partner out the door. Watching them leave, Cameron had an odd feeling that she had just made a big mistake, even if she had technically done the right thing.
Once they were out of sight, she whirled around to grab her phone and check for a voicemail from Josh. To her dismay, it wasn’t in the center of the desk where she had left it. The thin folder that contained Agnes Douglas’ background information was still resting in the middle of the desk, but her cell phone was gone.
Dropping down into her chair, C
ameron scratched her head and started thinking.
The phone had been ringing. She checked the caller ID, but it had not been Josh. It was a phone number she had not recognized. She had been about to answer it when the lieutenant called her to his office. She had set it in the middle of the desk.
Maybe I only thought I did.
She opened the desk drawer to check her purse. As she was about to dig into it, she saw the phone resting in the top drawer of her inbox.
How did it end up there?
Recalling that she had been carrying the box back from forensics, and that the two agents had been waiting, she realized that they must have moved the phone to the inbox to make room in the middle of the desk for her to set the box down. Boy, Cameron, you’re really getting paranoid. Just because you didn’t like those guys—
David stretched out on the sofa in his office. With his arm, he covered his eyes to block out the dim light from the office—and to block out as many of his thoughts as possible.
David felt like practically everything in the case was spinning around him.
Russell Dooley had made one hundred and twenty thousand dollars disappear—enough money to hire a hit squad to kill Mac. He had sworn to ruin Mac’s wedding. Killing him would certainly have done that.
Joshua Thornton was on some top-secret mission that most likely involved terrorists. The attack had all the earmarks of professionals with military training—which was exactly how terrorists or a hit squad for hire would attack.
Who was the target? If we can figure out who the target was, then we can figure out who is behind it.
The ringing of the burn phone sounded unfamiliar. Grasping it, David checked the number, which was also unfamiliar to him.
“David O’Callaghan here,” he said into it.
“David, this is Cameron. What’s going on? I haven’t heard from Josh all afternoon. Is he okay?”
David sat up on the sofa. “He’s okay,” he lied.
Her voice went up an octave. “Donny?”
