Three Days to Forever (A Mac Faraday Mystery Book 9)

by Lauren Carr

“I love you, buttercup.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “Now and forever.”

  The hiss and hum of the machines hooked up to Mac lulled David to sleep, which was a reprieve after two days and nights of chaos.

  The doctors were very optimistic. The bullet had missed Mac’s heart, but it had clipped a major artery, which made for extensive blood loss.

  The quiet of the intensive care unit was not unlike the quiet of being on the lake in his father’s fishing boat. In sleep, David found himself bathed in the warmth of the early morning sun, with the chill of the lake breeze raising the goose bumps on his arms.

  After casting his line into the lake, David shivered before reeling it in. The bopper bobbed several feet out from the boat.

  “Good cast.”

  David glanced over to see the man’s silhouette in the seat across from him in the fishing boat.

  His father came into view.

  “Thanks,” David said.

  Patrick O’Callaghan picked up a coffee thermos from the floor of the boat. “Need something to warm you up?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Setting down his fishing pole, Patrick poured some hot black coffee into the cup.

  Watching him, David marveled at how much his father resembled Mac.

  “I want to talk to you about Chelsea.” Patrick brought the cup to his lips.

  “I don’t,” David replied.

  “Now I did not embarrass you by chewing you out when I caught you two in the boathouse—”

  “Dad, we’re sixteen years old,” David said.

  “I am well aware of that.”

  “In two years, I can go off overseas and fight and die for my country,” David said.

  “You’re a boy in a man’s body,” Patrick said. “These are confusing times for you and Chelsea, and I don’t want you two to end up making a big mistake and ruining your lives and your futures.”

  “I was using a condom,” David said with a roll of his eyes that he knew infuriated his father, but try as he might, he couldn’t help it.

  “They aren’t one hundred percent safe.”

  Keeping his eyes on the fishing line, David answered, “If she gets pregnant, I’ll marry her.”

  “Oh,” Patrick chuckled, “you have all the answers, don’t you?”

  David shot back with his fail-safe argument. “You don’t understand.”

  “I completely understand because I’ve been there.”

  “Things are different now than they were when you were my age.”

  “No, they aren’t,” Patrick said. “The music and hair styles and clothes have changed, but young love is still the same. I know.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I was the same age as you when I fell in love—hard,” Patrick said in a harsh tone that caught David off guard. “I had all the answers, too. She got pregnant. We were going to get married, but life intervened.”

  David sensed rather than knew that he was not talking about David’s mother, his wife. He saw emotional pain in his father’s face that he had never seen before. There was sadness in his eyes.

  “How?” David asked in a small voice. “Why didn’t you marry her if you two loved each other?”

  “She was young,” Patrick said. “It was easy to say that we would get married, but when push came to shove, she wasn’t strong enough to stand up to her parents. They took the baby—your brother—and sent him away, put him up for adoption, and went on like his birth had never happened.” He swallowed. “We both had deep regrets.”

  David’s mind swirled. “I have a brother?”

  Patrick nodded. There were tears in his eyes. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about him. Wonder if he is okay. Is he happy? Does his adoptive family love him?” He sniffed and picked up his fishing pole. “Does his adoptive father take him fishing like I take you?”

  David looked long and hard at his father—and saw him aa a man, a fellow man and a human like he had never seen him before. “You can find him.”

  “Maybe one day I will.” Patrick O’Callaghan shrugged his shoulders. “I have a feeling I’ll never meet him. Just something I feel in my heart. But my prayer is that one day, you will meet him and become good friends and brothers, and when you do”—he winked at David—“you’ll bring him out here to our secret fishing spot and have nice long talks like you and I have had.”

  David watched in silence while Patrick re-cast his line.

  The sun flickered across the water and blinded David.

  Patrick O’Callaghan’s image was in silhouette once again.

  David felt his father’s hand on his wrist.

  “David …”

  David jumped in his seat.

  His cell phone dropped to the floor.

  The clap of the water against the side of the boat turned into the hiss of the medical machines.

  Blinking, David sat up. As his vision cleared, he realized Mac was staring at him. The oxygen tube was wrapped around his face, and the IVs were taped to his arm.

  “Are you okay?” Mac asked in a weak and raspy voice.

  “You’re asking me?” David asked. “You’re the one who spent four hours in surgery.”

  “You were muttering something about finding someone,” Mac said. “Did Black get away?”

  “You killed him. Don’t you remember that?”

  Slowly, Mac shook his head and laid back onto the bed. “Where’s Archie?”

  “Archie’s fine,” David said. “She’s been coming in and out to check on you. She’s in a lot of pain with her ankle. She ordered them to put off the surgery until we know you’re out of the woods.”

  “What day is it?”

  “Saturday.” David took Mac’s hand. “I don’t think you’re going to make the wedding.”

  Mac groaned. “All of that money … Archie’s family …”

  “They’re okay with it,” David said. “They’re all planning to go to the Inn’s big New Year’s Eve party with Tim McGraw. As for the wedding …” He took a deep breath. “Jessica and Murphy Thornton have hijacked it.”

  “Hijacked it?” Mac jerked his head over to look at him. “Seriously? She’s known him less than a day—”

  “She asked him.”

  Mac sighed. “I hope that young man knows what he’s getting into.”

  “Murphy knows how to take care of himself.”

  “That’s what he thinks,” Mac said. “He hasn’t matched wits with my daughter yet.”

  They both laughed until Mac cried out in pain.

  “Tristan is setting up a video stream so that you and Archie can watch the whole thing live,” David explained. “The doctors released Joshua so that he can attend the wedding, and Murphy’s twin brother and his sister from Annapolis look like they’re going to get here in time to be in it.”

  “What about a gown for Jessica?” Mac asked. “She is not going to wear Archie’s—”

  David laughed. “She convinced the owner of a bridal shop in Oakland to open the store for her to pick a gown off the rack.”

  “Convinced? You mean bribed.”

  “And all of her bridesmaids are wearing the little black dresses that they all brought for your wedding,” David said. “Murphy is wearing his navy uniform. His brothers will be groomsmen. They have it all planned.”

  Mac looked up at the ceiling. “I’m just thankful that we’re all still alive.” He grasped David’s hand. “You’re okay. You still have your head.”

  “Yes, I do.” A slow grin crossed David’s lips. “I don’t have a smart TV anymore, but I do have my head.”

  Mac sucked in a deep breath while trying to decipher what David was saying. “TV?” He let out his breath. “Oh … yeah. David, I’m sorry—”

  He clasped Mac’s hand. “Forget it.”

 
“But Chelsea spent a lot of money on that—”

  “I hated it.”

  “But—”

  David was shaking his head. “You have no idea how scary it is having a television that’s smarter than you are.”

  “I’ll get you a new one,” Mac said, “one that’s not quite so intelligent.”

  “All I want is to see the game,” David said. “I don’t need it to sync with my email or cruiser or toaster—just let me see the Super Bowl.”

  “Hey, we saved you from international terrorists.” Mac’s voice was getting raspier with exhaustion. “I think we can locate a television that can play straight football games without a bunch of bells and whistles.”

  “Don’t worry about it right now.” David squeezed his hand. “Get some sleep and get well.”

  Recalling his dream—or had it been a memory?—David stared at him, marveling at how much he resembled their father, until Mac, feeling his eyes on him, looked down from the ceiling.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” David cleared his throat. “Did your father, your adoptive father, ever take you fishing?”

  “No, he took me bowling.” Puzzled, Mac squinted at him. “Why are you asking me about that?”

  “Dad used to take me all the time,” David said. “I haven’t been fishing since he died.” Forcing an upbeat tone to his voice, he asked, “Will you go with me?”

  After glancing around at the machines and IVs, Mac asked, “Now?”

  David laughed. “After you recover. This spring. Dad and I had a favorite secret fishing spot that we used to go to. I’ll show it to you, but you can’t tell anyone where it is.” Expecting Mac to readily agree, David waited for his response. Instead, Mac looked at him with hesitance. After a long silence, David offered, “I’ll put the worms on the hooks for you.”

  “Okay,” Mac replied, “I’ll go with you … unless I’m in jail for killing Russell Dooley.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Jessica Faraday was on cloud nine. She loved nothing more than shopping—except for getting a real bargain when shopping. The bridal shop owner was ecstatic when Jessica paid her double the cost of the gown she had found in exchange for opening the store on New Year’s Eve for her. Jessica was thrilled that the gown she had selected off the rack fit perfectly with her wedding.

  No, it was not white. Yes, it fit with her style all the way. Plus, she happened to have the perfect shoes—she always had the perfect shoes for any occasion. She intended to keep it a secret that she paid twice for her shoes what she had paid for the gown.

  She was almost up the mountain with her treasures when her phone rang. The caller ID identified the caller as David. With a tap of the button on her Bluetooth, she connected. “I hope you have good news.”

  “Two pieces of good news,” David announced. “Your dad is awake, and they will be moving him out of ICU in a couple of hours. They’re moving him into a semi-private room with Archie.”

  “Great,” she squealed. “What’s info number two?”

  “Turow called to say that the state police picked up Gil Sherrard in Baltimore and that they’re bringing him back to Garrett County. They found money—close to five thousand dollars—with blood on it, plus Russell Dooley’s watch.”

  “Excellent,” she said.

  “Still doesn’t explain the missing recording and how Mac’s blood ended up at the crime scene,” David said. “Sherrard’s swearing up and down that he took the stuff. But Dooley was already dead, and he figured since the guy had no use for his cash and the watch, he’d help himself. With Mac’s blood on the scene and no explanation, no jury will convict Sherrard, and there are people who will be more than willing to believe your father did it.”

  “Could Dad have arrested Sherrard at some point, so Sherrard set out to frame him?”

  “We’ve looked into that already,” David said. “No connection between any of them. The steak knife could have been stolen …”

  Jessica was not listening. Instead her mind was rewinding to a conversation that she had overheard much earlier. When she almost missed a turn on the road, she pulled over and picked up the phone. “Why did you have to give your blood to Dad when he got shot?”

  “Because he and I are the same blood type,” David shot back.

  “But Archie says Dad has blood on supply at the hospital, specifically in case there is an emergency and he needs it.”

  There was silence from the other end of the phone. Finally, David said, “No one indicated to me that they had Mac’s blood here. They said they needed blood. His blood pressure was dropping. They had some but not enough, but no one said anything about him having a supply here.”

  “If Dad’s blood is not there, but some was found at the scene—”

  “Could be the blood that was supposed to be here at the hospital,” David said. “I’m going to go ask some questions.”

  Jessica’s mind was racing. “There was a witness who saw Russell Dooley going into his cabin …”

  “Sherrard’s son,” David said. “He’s being raised by Sherrard’s sister. She and her husband own the motel. But he didn’t see Mac. No one has placed Mac at the scene.”

  “Dooley was coming in from the woods?”

  “Yes.”

  “I need to go to this motel.”

  “Jessica ….” Before David could offer any more objections, Jessica hung up and was calling Murphy’s phone number, which she already memorized and put into her phone with the ID ‘Hubby.’

  “Did you get a dress?” Murphy answered the phone.

  “In my trunk,” she said in a high-pitched voice. “It is gorgeous. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

  “Not before the wedding,” Murphy replied. “J.J. is on his way.”

  “Your twin?”

  “He’s going to be my best man,” Murphy said. “They’re going to release Dad from the hospital today. He insisted so that he can come to the wedding. Cameron …” His voice trailed off.

  “What about Cameron?”

  “She’s got this thing about weddings,” Murphy said. “She might not come. But that’s okay. The important thing is that you’re there. I’ve been working with Candi. She’s going to be our ring bearer.”

  “The rings!” Jessica shouted. “I didn’t think at all about the rings!”

  “Taken care of, buttercup,” Murphy said. “We’ll have wedding rings. You got your gown and I got the rings. Sarah is driving out from Annapolis. Tristan is setting up the video streaming for your dad and Archie to see everything. Unfortunately, my sister Tracy can’t make it from New York, but you’ll be there.”

  “Oh, I’ll be there,” she gushed. “I went to the church and told them what’s happening. The priest will be for me, since I’m Catholic, and the Protestant minister will be for you. The county prosecutor is a friend of Dad’s. He’ll bring the license for us.” Suddenly remembering why she was calling Murphy in the first place, she added, “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Anything for my buttercup.”

  “I need you to meet me at a motel—now,” she said.

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  “I thought we were going to wait until after the wedding.”

  “You need a warrant to get that information,” the hospital administrator said when David tracked him down.

  “I’m asking about Mac Faraday’s blood,” David responded. “He’s a patient here down in ICU. Now if you would like, I could walk you to his room and he can ask you personally about the four units of blood he gave to this hospital for use in case he had an emergency. Early this morning, there was such an emergency, but according to the staff there was no blood here under his name—”

  “There must have been some mistake,” the sour-faced man with thick glasses and a bad toupee crossed his arms. “If Mr. Faraday
had given blood to be kept on hand, a check of his records when he was admitted would have shown that, and it would have been brought up to the ER.”

  “But it wasn’t,” David replied. “I was there. I gave two units of my own blood to save him. Luckily, I was the same blood type. I heard them say that they used O negative for the rest of the blood. I want to know where the blood that Mac Faraday had given you went.”

  When the administrator glared at him, David said, “You don’t have to tell me. We’ll go downstairs, and you can tell him yourself.”

  The administrator lowered himself down at his computer and tapped some buttons. “What’s his social security number?”

  Prepared for the question, David read the number off from his notes. The administrator hunted through some screens. A hum came from deep in his throat.

  David saw his eyes flick from one spot on the screen to another before he picked up the phone and called an office on the intercom. “Can you check on the blood supply for a patient for me?” He then read off a long patient number. “Faraday. Mackenzie. Our records indicate that there’s supposed to be four units of AB positive in supply for him.”

  The two men eyed each other in silence.

  “So your records do indicate that four units of his blood should be here?” David finally asked.

  “According to our records. Maybe they just didn’t—excuse me,” he said into the phone. “What do you mean it’s been misplaced? Where could it have gone? How do you misplace blood?”

  The purple Ferrari looked very much out of place when it made its way along the long river road toward the motel. Seeing the assortment of rough-looking men and women eying her, Jessica was apprehensive about climbing out of the expensive sports car until she heard the roar of a motorcycle coming up behind her.

  Murphy pulled up alongside the Ferrari and took off his helmet. “Slumming?”

  Jessica climbed out of the car. “I have a theory, but in order to clear Dad’s name, we need to prove it.”

  “What’s your theory?”

  “You’ll think I’m crazy,” she said.

  “You’re marrying a man you met only twenty-four hours ago,” Murphy said. “Of course I think you’re crazy. I’m not so sane myself.”