by E B Corbin
"Fine." As Bud grunted, he attempted to tighten his grip on Roxanne's arm. She jerked away, straightening her parka while she took a step back. "You don't have to manhandle me--I'm coming."
She caught Callahan's wink before she followed the two cops down the corridor. As she patted her cell phone with its recording, she hoped her bombshell wasn't a dud.
The lounge had been painted green at some point but now looked tired, much like the doctors who came here for a respite. The lumpy sofa held imprints of countless heads and feet whose owners had grabbed a little shut-eye. The smell of burnt coffee permeated the air. Bud led her to a Formica table in the corner and guided her into one of the hard plastic chairs.
"Okay, let's hear what you have to say," he said.
Roxanne took a deep breath. Explaining the situation to him was going to be rough. "I was driving on Route 62 when I came across a pickup truck sitting diagonally on the road blocking both lanes." She glanced at Pete as she stopped and dug for her phone, hoping the battery had enough charge. "You can hear for yourself what came next." She tapped the playback button and leaned against the back of her chair. To her relief, the words came across loud and clear.
Bud remained silent as he and Pete listened to the threats from Sean and Mike. When the noise of a scuffle came on, Bud stopped the recording. "What happened here?" he asked.
"I slammed the car door into Sean." She looked Bud in the eye. "I was terrified they were going to break in and pull me out."
"Hmmm, so you started the physical altercation," Bud said.
"For God's sake!" She turned to the newest addition to Oilville's police force for support. Unable to decipher Pete's expression, she continued. "I was scared shitless! Those two goons were waving knives around."
"What did you use for a weapon?" Bud asked.
"Nothing. There wasn't anything but my own defensive moves."
"So, we're to believe you overpowered two high school football players with nothing but a defensive maneuver? Must've been a helluva move."
"I've had ten years of kickboxing and tai chi training," she huffed. "An outside sweep kick and a few sidekicks put Sean down. And when Mike came at me I switched to a tai chi defensive move--plowed his head into the car using his own momentum."
Pete's eyes gleamed with approval as he sat in silence. But Bud stammered, trying to come up with some discrepancy in her story.
Finally he said, "I'll need your phone."
"No way. Not without a warrant." She pulled the cell close to her chest. "I'm keeping it."
"That's not an option." Bud leaned closer, daring her to refuse. "You could tamper with the recording."
"So could you," she shot back.
"Hold on," Pete broke in. "Roxanne can send the recording to both of us right now. She won't have time to make any edits and we'll both have a copy. If one of us tampers with it, the other will know. Will that be agreeable to you, Miss Boudreaux?"
She welcomed Pete's suggestion. Perhaps he was on her side after all.
Bud frowned and glanced around the small room as if an appropriate response would jump out of the woodwork. He grudgingly agreed. "But if the sheriff wants to hear the original, she still has to turn over her phone at some point."
"Let's see what he thinks first." Pete pulled out his phone and gave her a nod.
She exhaled, glad to have Pete in the room. Left on her own, she would have escalated the argument with Bud to a dangerous level. She looked at her device with a grimace. "I'm not sure how to send the recording."
Pete held his hand out for her phone. "I'll do it."
First Bud's phone dinged and then Pete's. Bud looked at the recording icon as if it were a snake ready to strike. Pete punched his play button and once more the gruesome words of Sean and Mike filled the room. Roxanne shuddered. She never wanted to hear those remarks again. Bad enough she had to re-live the attack in her mind.
Pete stopped the playback before it became unbearable. "I think that's good for now."
Bud grumbled as he rose from his chair. "Just don't leave town."
She was getting sick of hearing the same warning but she shrugged in agreement. Bud had a way of getting on her last nerve and she had to learn to let his digs slide.
When they emerged from the break room, Callahan was talking to a middle-aged man in a white lab coat. The man kept one hand in his pocket and spoke in a strong, articulate voice that carried down the hall.
"There was moderate damage to his anterior cruciate ligament," the doctor said. "Fortunately, nothing too permanent. We're doing an MRI now to check the ligaments, and he might have to use crutches for a time. But with some physical therapy he should be good as new in a few months."
She couldn't hear Callahan's next question but the doctor's answer came though clearly. "We had to drain some blood, but that happens sometimes. Nothing serious enough to keep him here overnight. He should be released as soon as we look at the MRI."
Callahan nodded and shook the man's hand. He motioned for Roxanne and Pete to join him.
"I heard some of what the doctor said." Roxanne bit her lower lip. "Can I be charged with assault?"
"I doubt it," Pete shrugged. "We have enough evidence to prove it was self-defense."
She shook her head. "The sheriff is going to get tired of hearing self-defense excuses from me."
"When it's true, he'll just have to get used to it." Pete kept his voice low so Bud didn't hear. "Those masks don't help their story, either. And the photos Tiffany took clearly show it was their pickup blocking the road. To say nothing of the knives we found, which more than likely have their fingerprints all over them."
Roxanne smiled at him in relief. "When you say it like that, it makes my version of the incident sound credible."
"Come on." Callahan took her arm. "We need to get out of here before old man Cummings shows up. No sense asking for more trouble."
They walked toward the automatic doors at the end of the emergency waiting room just as Richard Cummings II stormed through.
"Where's my son?" he demanded of the room in general. The receptionist looked up in surprise but no one answered him.
Roxanne hovered behind Callahan and Pete, hoping the irate father didn't see her. Only this afternoon she had confronted him about Sean's behavior and threatened to sue. The mayor would be quick to believe that she had instigated the attack. After everything she had just been through, she couldn't deal with his wrath.
She didn't need to say a word. Callahan swung her around, slid an arm around her shoulders and led her back through the hallway toward the main entrance.
He glanced behind when they were halfway down the corridor. "You can relax now. We're clear."
- 21 -
They pulled into the parking area beside the B&B. After Callahan turned the motor off, Roxanne tried not to think of how vulnerable they were sitting out in the open.
Her muscles ached. It had been several months since her last kickboxing class and she hadn't kept up with daily practice the way she should. "Is there a gym in town?" she asked him.
He took a moment before answering. "Not that I know of. I think the closest one's out on 79 by that outlet mall. It's a good forty-five minute drive."
"Well, shit," Roxanne massaged her sore thigh muscles. "I need to get back in shape."
"Your shape looks fine to me." He twisted in his seat to look at her.
"Well, it won't stay that way for long if I sit at a desk all day and eat donuts." She squirmed under his scrutiny.
"So skip the donuts." He offered his crooked grin along with an easygoing shrug. Then his voice turned serious. "I've been considering turning one of Gramps' outbuildings into a gym for when I'm back in town full time. You'll be welcome to work out there."
"That's a good idea." Roxanne kept her gaze on the dashboard. "Of course, who knows when you'll be back in Oilville. My muscles could turn into wet noodles before then. They're painful wet noodles right now."
"A nice hot bath will help." He reached for
her hand. "Let's go in and I'll run one for you."
His take-charge attitude sparked defiance in her. During the last couple of hours, she had totally depended on him and part of her had embraced the way he protected her at every turn. But that was now over.
"Thanks, I'm pretty sure I can do it myself." She pulled away. "Don't you have to find those missing IRA guys?"
"Not tonight."
The SUV grew chilly without the heater and iciness crept into her bones. "I'm going in. That bath sounds good."
"I'm coming with you."
Roxanne opened her mouth to object but he held up his hands before she could make a fuss. "Not to jump in the tub with you--I need to talk to Tiff and Pete."
She swung her stiff legs out of the vehicle while scanning the street for the blue van. Callahan did the same before they entered the welcome warmth of the B&B.
"Took you long enough," Tiffany called from dining room/war room. She walked into the hall with a marker in one hand, an eraser in the other.
"Something going on?" he asked.
"Not much. Gabe and Ron are going to crash at a motel near the area where we lost those assholes," she said. "They'll start out again first thing in the morning. I thought I'd update our whiteboard. I have some new info. Most of it came from Interpol, but Ted was able to look into the finances of some of the locals."
Kate came in from the kitchen, took one look at Roxanne and said, "You look beat. Use the jets in the tub in your room and you'll feel better. I'll have some sandwiches ready when you come down."
"The jetted tub sounds great," Roxanne said. "And sandwiches, even better." She limped up the stairs giving Callahan a warning look to stay where he was.
The hot water eased her aches but she was still determined to start a daily workout as soon as possible. Never again would she let herself be lulled into a false sense of security and allow her years of training to go south.
As she lay in the tub, fatigue overwhelmed her and she longed for sleep. But that wasn't an option. She dressed in her yoga pants, pulled on a sweatshirt borrowed from Kate, and joined the others in the dining room.
A plate of sandwiches and a pot of tea sat in the middle of the table. Roxanne grabbed a turkey sandwich, wolfing down half as if she hadn't eaten in several days. She gestured with the remainder of her sandwich. "So, what have I missed?"
"Pete's updating Sheriff Walters on the investigation into Seth's murder. The State cops want to take it over." Tiffany slid a teacup across the table to her. "Pete's got to do some fancy footwork to keep the case."
"But I thought it was connected to Roxy. What's the problem?" Roxanne poured herself some tea before slumping against the hard back of the dining chair.
"It is connected," Tiffany said. "But with all that's happened we haven't filed the paperwork to take it over yet."
"Paperwork? For God's sake, isn't that a bit... nitpicky?" Roxanne turned to Callahan. "I thought you could just walk in and take over. Who files paperwork on a murder case?"
He shrugged, staring at the whiteboard.
Tiffany smiled. "We do--or at least we should. That's how it goes in a federal bureaucracy. Pete's taking the flack for it, so we owe him." Her elbows rested on the table as she leaned forward. "Anyway, I've been in contact with DC and Interpol. It was almost midnight overseas before I found someone who knew anything."
"What's going on with the investigation into Seth?" She wasn't about to let the female agent change the subject. She'd been so focused on Roxy, she'd forgotten that Pete was in charge of Seth's homicide--something else for which she felt responsible, no matter how irrational. Soon she would look like a sculpture of Atlas with the weight of the world on her shoulders. "Did Pete find any connection to the IRA?"
"Nothing much; he's waiting to hear from the State forensics people, but Walters is on his back about it. If it becomes a problem, I'll take the blame." Callahan placed a hand on his chest. "To get back to our search for Roxy and the IRA money, Tiff has found some interesting information. I'll let her fill you in."
"It seems the IRA has a method to their madness. When they run an operation, they appoint a team made up of one older member along with two younger, gung-ho ones--brains and brawn." Tiffany tapped the whiteboard. "Tommy Murphy was supposedly the brains in the first batch, with the McCarthy brothers along to supply the muscle. I wouldn't say Tommy was the brightest dog in the pack but he was trained in explosives." She glanced up at the crystal chandelier, then continued sotto voce, "Although it's strange he was blown up by his own work."
"So you assume he planted the bomb on the boat?" Roxanne asked.
"Who else could it be?" Tiffany said with a shrug. "The Erie PD confirmed Tommy's identity through fingerprints and they're asking us a lot of questions."
"Questions we don't want to answer just yet," Callahan put in. "Can't have them stepping on our toes until we get Roxy back."
Roxanne swallowed another bite of her sandwich before she spoke. "Maybe they can help. No offense, but you haven't had the best of luck finding her."
"That's true." Tiffany surprised Roxanne by agreeing. "But taking the time to bring them up to speed would set us back. Besides, we're almost positive that Roxy is not in Erie. There are plenty of isolated cabins around Allegheny National Forest. We believe that's where she's being held. It's just a matter of narrowing down the possibilities."
"I could try to contact Conor. They might know something," Roxanne offered.
"And if they're working with these new guys, we'd lose our advantage in finding her," Tiffany said.
"What makes you think they're working with the IRA?" Roxanne should have known any agreement with Tiffany wouldn't last long.
"They're both known members for one thing and, so far, the McCarthy brothers have managed to remain one step ahead of us. Since they're not known for their intelligence, it points to someone tipping them off." Tiffany moved to the whiteboard to circle the names of Ailbe and Finn McCarthy, drawing a line from them to Conor and Niall before she put an "X" next to the six new names on the board. "The others just arrived yesterday. They haven't had time to get up to speed on our movements. That leaves Conor and Niall."
Roxanne nodded although she wanted to point out that one or more of the Diplomatic Security agents could be the culprits. They had the same opportunities to pass along information. In fact, Conor and Niall couldn't have tipped off the McCarthys last night. They were nowhere around while the agents were sneaking up on the van.
Of course, Tiffany wouldn't bring up the fact that someone was supplying the IRA with inside information if she was the one doing it. Would she? In Roxanne's experience, the guilty party was often the first to accuse others, so she could just be covering her perky little ass.
How could she blame the agents for failure to locate Roxy, when she couldn't even decide who was selling them out? It could be Conor and Niall, but she doubted that Conor had a motive. Then again, he had to be more than a little devious to have infiltrated the IRA for so many years.
"We're making some progress," Callahan reclaimed her attention. "We feel pretty confident that Roxy is somewhere close to where we lost the IRA newcomers tonight near the Allegheny National Forest. No other reason for them to be there."
"But you still don't have an exact location," Roxanne pointed out. "That's not much to go on."
"We never did get to talk to Tom O'Malley about the money stashed in his cabin. I think we need to do that tomorrow. He might know something. Besides, Gramps is getting antsy and it will give him something to do." Callahan looked at her. "Can you make time for that?"
She nodded.
"We'll set it up in the morning. Tiff and Pete can join Gabe and Ron in searching for Roxy's location. We might be able to narrow down the area if we learn anything from Tom."
The next morning as Roxanne approached the O'Malley Insurance offices with Callahan and his grandfather, she hesitated outside the building. "I don't think I should be here,"
"Nonsense,
" Chester said. "Tom and I have been friends for over forty years. If he knows anything about the IRA cash, I'm sure he'll tell us."
"Even if I'm accusing a relative of his of rape?
The elderly man never faltered in his march to the front entrance. "We'll deal with that if we must. Try not to dwell on the negatives."
Behind Chester's back, Roxanne gave Callahan a questioning look. His expression indicated his agreement with his grandfather, so she straightened her shoulders and entered the reception area.
"Janice, how are you this lovely day?" Chester greeted the middle-aged woman behind the desk. After exchanging niceties with her, he asked, "You heard about Seth?"
The woman nodded. "Yes, what a shame. Tom's been down in the dumps for the last few days. Seth was his brother-in-law, but they were as close as real brothers. Then I guess you already know that."
Seth was Tom O'Malley's brother-in-law? Roxanne wondered if Pete was aware of it. Seemed like everyone in this town was related to each other.
Chester cleared his throat. "We'd like to talk to Tom, if he's available."
"I'll buzz him." A few seconds later, Janice put down the phone and waved her manicured hand to the hall on the left. "Go right on back."
Roxanne followed Chester down a thickly carpeted hallway while Callahan brought up the rear. After Chester tapped twice on the door and Tom O'Malley called for them to enter, Callahan guided her into the office.
"Chester! It's good to see you, old friend. You'll have to excuse me if I'm a bit confused about what I can do to help you. I'm still digesting the news about Seth."
"I know," Chester said. "But we never got to the reason for our last meeting because of Roxanne's home fire."
"Yes, yes...Miss Boudreaux, how are you holding up? It must be quite a shock." Tom rose from his chair and extended his hand to Roxanne. "Please, have a seat...all of you."
Roxanne and Chester took the two chairs in front of Tom's desk; Callahan sat on a bench against the wall.
Chester straightened his pants legs over his knees before beginning. "Some of our questions may appear quite rude. We hope you don't take offense."
