by Lori Whitwam
He called Joey’s phone and learned they were both up, but Marshall was still trying to get his eyelids above half-mast, having rolled in at 5:00 a.m. “Just make sure he has clothes on. Abby doesn’t need to see that.”
“She’s with you?”
“Yeah, man. We’ll talk in a few.” He disconnected and watched Abby lead Dilbert past a handy row of bushes, and they started down the sidewalk toward the motel.
When Joey opened the door, Dilbert bounded into the room. He made straight for Marshall, who was sprawled on his rumpled bed, wearing the same clothes he’d had on yesterday. He walked across Marsh’s chest and sat at his shoulder, waiting for a welcoming chin scratch. As soon as he got his breath back after a paw to the diaphragm, Marshall complied.
Joey leaned on the dresser. “So, crisis averted?”
Seth stepped forward and gripped his friend’s hand. “Yeah, once you pointed out what a fucking moron I am.”
Joey pulled him into a backslapping hug. “No, all you needed was a reality check.” He turned to Abby. “Sometimes he has a head like a brick, but he means well.”
She went up to Joey and gave him a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” Seth heard her whisper. Apparently their tried and true tactic of joking to avoid the gravity of tough situations didn’t work with Abby. It must be a guy thing.
Seth looked at his friends and grinned. “We have some more news too.”
“Am I gonna be an uncle?” Marshall joked, winking at Seth.
“No, butt-munch. You’ll have to channel your uncle-related fantasies elsewhere.” He took Abby’s hand. “We did a lot of talking last night…”
“Among other things, I’m sure,” Marshall chuckled.
Seth sighed theatrically. “Again with the crackin’ wise. Do you want to hear this or not?”
“If he doesn’t shut up, I’m flushing all his bandannas,” Joey said. “Ignore him. Tell me.”
Seth almost couldn’t speak around his huge smile. “Long story short, Abby’s going to come with us when we head out.”
This resulted in another round of hugs and backslaps, and more kisses to Abby’s cheek.
Finally, congratulations out of the way, Marshall looked at the clock. “If we’re going to go eat lunch or breakfast or whatever the hell it’s time for, I’m going to take a quick shower.” He grabbed jeans and a t-shirt from an open suitcase on the floor and disappeared into the bathroom.
Abby shook her head. “Does he own any shirts with sleeves?”
“Not many,” Seth said. “He says he paid good money for his tattoos, and he ought to be able to show ’em off.”
“Guess it’s a good thing he doesn’t have them on his ass,” Abby said.
“Oh, he does,” Joey said, nodding. “And there have been incidents.”
Seth laughed, remembering. “I think the last time was at the bar in Biloxi, where he failed to learn about Jäegermeister.”
Joey sat on the bed and started rubbing Dilbert’s side. “Yeah, I always told him the two things were related, but he won’t believe me.”
Seth wasn’t sure if he should ask his next question with Abby present, but he reasoned Joey would be tactful if the news was less than ideal. “Did he say how things went with Molly?” He tried to sound casual, but Abby’s direct look and raised eyebrow left no doubt she expected a straight answer.
“Hey, no worries,” Joey said, as Dilbert rolled onto his back and offered his tummy for scratching. “Our boy was on his best behavior.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Seth said. “Because I don’t think I have a frame of reference for Marsh’s best behavior when it comes to women, at least not the last few years.”
“Whole new territory, man, almost like the old Marsh was back. He said they sat up all night, talking.”
“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Seth wasn’t saying it wasn’t true, but if so, it was definitely out of character these days for Marsh to admit it.
“Nope. I’m sure there was something, but I don’t think it got out of hand, and he was not willing to spill the particulars.” He rolled his eyes and looked at Seth. “I don’t know how I’ll deal with it if both of you grow some sense in the same week. Might be a sign of the apocalypse.”
“Get used to it,” Seth said. “Because here’s another one. I’m gonna need the name of the realtor you used when you and Caroline bought your house.”
Joey patted himself on the cheeks with both hands. “Huh. Nope. Seem to be awake. I wasn’t sure there for a minute.” His smile radiated genuine warmth, and Seth knew he was lucky to have Joey as his best friend. “You know there will be the housewarming party to end all housewarming parties, right?”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Seth was already looking forward to it.
He heard the shower shut off, and a few minutes later the possibly reformed Lothario emerged, rubbing a towel briskly over the stubble shadowing his head. He tossed the towel on the dresser, stuck a baseball cap on backward, and said, “Let’s roll.”
Before they could get out the door, however, Seth’s phone rang. A glance at the display told him it was Special Agent Kincaid. He was anxious as he answered, hoping they’d finally catch a break.
“I have some news for you about our suspect, Drew Purcell,” the agent said.
Seth thought the clipped, gruff voice did not sound like it was going to tell him anything he wanted to hear. “Did you find him?”
“We found him.”
Then it was good news.
Kincaid cleared his throat. “But he’s not involved. He’s in the clear.”
All the oxygen seemed to have been sucked from the room. “What? How?”
“He finally turned up at home in Owensboro late last night. He admits to being in Cincinnati and Chicago, but it’s only what we already knew. He showed up, security kept him out, and all he could do was badger people out on the street.”
“But where was he all weekend?” Surely he could have been in Emporia, if he hadn’t gotten home until last night.
“He met a couple of buddies in Indianapolis. It was a qualifying weekend at the Speedway, and he has a camera full of pictures and about a dozen people who can confirm he was there from late Friday afternoon until yesterday.”
“Shit.” Seth felt sick.
“Plus, Drew Purcell has one sister. Her name’s Karen, and she’s a twenty-one-year-old student at Ohio State. He’s not related to Stacy Ballantyne, as Pam Gresak thought.” He sounded like he was reading from a report.
“I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am.” Surprised, and sick.
“Yeah. Anyway, I wanted to let you know, because we’re back to square one.” Kincaid took a deep breath and blew it out. “Look, the van is going to be released this morning, and Danny Dawkins and his friend in St. Cloud are on their way to the county garage to pick it up. If we learn anything else, somebody will give you a call. How much longer are you planning to be in Emporia?”
“We haven’t really discussed it, but I was thinking maybe till Saturday.”
“Until you go, Chief LeFevre will keep increased patrols around town and out at the lake.” He paused, and Seth felt he was trying to think of something else he could say to help. He failed. “We’re looking at the bomb components, but I’m afraid it’s the best we can do, until we get more information.”
The conversation ended and Seth hung up, unsure what to say to the three people staring at him, concerned looks on their faces. He went to Abby and put his arms around her, his head slumped against hers. “Purcell’s been at the Speedway in Indianapolis since late Friday afternoon. Pam was wrong. It’s not him.”
Abby started to gasp, but cut it off barely short of a whimper. “We’re right back where we started.” Her fingers curled into the back of Seth’s shirt.
And that was what was really tearing at him. Unless they went with the idea of a nameless, faceless fan who went off the deep end, he was back to considering someone close to
them was responsible. It was completely unacceptable. How were they supposed to stay safe when the danger could come from anyone, at any time, and be disguised as someone they considered a friend?
“Pam was so sure,” he said hoarsely. “She saw the picture, and saw the same guy in town.”
“Yeah, except she’s nuts, and she’d say anything if she thought it was what you wanted to hear.” Abby’s voice was pure, flat anger. Seth knew she saw Pam’s lucky acquisition of what they’d thought was the key bit of information as nothing but a ploy to get close to him. He didn’t know if it was deliberate or if the girl was so out of it she saw something and reshaped it to fit what her fragile psyche wanted it to be.
“He’s not even Stacy’s brother,” Seth said. “He has one sister, but she’s a college kid. Karen.”
Joey leaned an arm on the wall by the bathroom. He looked toward the ceiling, thinking. “If Pam really did see a picture from the memorial service, maybe we should look and see if we can find it too. There could be something there.”
Seth thought it was a long shot. “Sure, give it a try if you have time. It’s not like we have anything else to go on.”
Marshall sat on the bed, his head slumped in his hands. He rubbed at his face and looked at the clock. “The Shamrock should be open by now. I know it’s on the early side, but I need a very large drink.” He shot a look at Seth. “You’re buying. After the damage you did to my bottle last night, you owe me a couple.”
Seth looked at Abby, who nodded. “Yeah, okay, let’s go. Can Dilbert wait here till we get back?” she asked Joey.
“Sure.”
They moved toward the door, Dilbert burrowed into the nest he was making of Marsh’s blankets, and Seth put his hand on Abby’s arm. When she stopped and focused on him, he said, “Try not to worry, darlin’. I don’t care who’s guilty. They’re not going to win. We just have to back up a step or two.”
She blinked in an attempt to clear the sheen from her green eyes. “As long as they’re caught before something happens to you.”
“Nobody’s taking me away from you. That’s the only way it’s going to be.” He didn’t have any guarantee other than his fierce determination.
He hoped he wasn’t lying.
* * *
Abby
They entered the Pickled Shamrock, and Abby’s eyes scanned the sparse lunchtime crowd. Was there anybody there who didn’t belong? Would she recognize veiled hostility if she saw it?
The group was seated at a booth, and Chanda appeared to take their order. Joey and Marshall ordered drinks and lunch, Seth wanted a beer, and Abby requested a root beer. She mentioned she’d want some sandwiches to go, and Chanda said she’d place the order when she brought the lunches.
When Chanda bustled off to the kitchen, Seth looked around the table. “What do we do now?” He tried to sound positive, but Abby heard the undercurrent of uncertainty he attempted to hide.
“We keep digging,” Joey said.
A few minutes later, Chanda placed their drinks on the table. When she was gone, Abby unwrapped her straw and stuck it in the frosted mug. “The most likely motive is revenge. But revenge for what?”
Seth drummed his fingers on the table. “I’m tripped up there every time. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to think of who I crossed up bad enough they’d want revenge. I was so sure Purcell was it.”
Abby sighed. This was depressing. Now they’d have to go back to wondering which friend was responsible for this.
Joey chewed on his thumbnail. “I was just wondering if any of us have talked to the rest of the crew since they left.”
None of them had.
“I think we should make a point to talk to all of them. Today. Trent, Andy, Danny, Roberto, even Mouse.” Joey didn’t look any happier about the idea than the rest of them did.
“Why Mouse?” Marshall asked. “He was at the sound board the whole night.”
“I know, but he’s been with Andy more than anybody else, and he’s supposed to be with Roberto right now. I want to be sure everybody’s where we think they are, and with who we think they’re with.” Joey looked at Seth. “If you and Abby have plans, Marsh and I will touch base with everybody after lunch.”
Seth’s eyes lowered to the tabletop. “I hate it, man, but go ahead. I don’t know what else to do.”
Abby rubbed her eyes in frustration. “It was easier to understand when we thought we were dealing with Drew being Stacy’s brother. At least that made some sense.”
“Maybe something will come up in the investigation of Kevin’s murder,” Seth said. “It’s damned near certain it was the same person, so maybe they made a mistake, left a clue pointing us in the right direction.” He didn’t sound like he believed it. Abby hoped he wasn’t still feeling responsible for Kevin’s death, but she suspected he was.
The lunch orders arrived, and Abby told Chanda which sandwiches she wanted for her take-out order. They weren’t accomplishing a damned thing here, and she thought the best thing would be for her and Seth to proceed with their afternoon plans. They could check in with the guys later and see if they’d come up with anything.
Seth seemed to be reading her mind. “If you guys will make the calls and see if you can find that picture, we’ll talk to you later. We’re going to head out.”
Marshall dug his room key out of his pocket. “Here. When you get Dilbert, just leave the key at the desk.”
Abby couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Are you seeing Molly today?”
Marshall smiled. He didn’t leer or smirk. It was a perfectly normal, somewhat shy smile. “Yeah. She had to work at nine, but she’s coming over when she gets done.”
Interesting.
They rose, and Abby stopped by the bar to pick up their sandwiches. She perched on a bar stool to wait, and Seth said, “Hey, I forgot to tell Joey something. And I wanted to give Mom a quick call while we’re in town. I’ll meet you out front.”
Abby nodded, pulling out her wallet. She turned back to the bar, and Sammy Paulsen slid onto the stool beside her. He wore jeans and a baseball jersey, suggesting he was not on duty.
“Hi, Abby,” he said, clutching a nearly empty beer. “Heard they cleared your prime suspect. Chief ran us half to death yesterday, looking everywhere for the guy.”
“We’re back to not knowing which way to look,” Abby said.
Sammy finished his beer and signaled for another. He looked nervous, but she couldn’t imagine why. He peered into the bottom of his empty glass and sat it on the counter. “Look, Abby, I know this is none of my business…”
It was never good when someone started out with such a statement, in Abby’s experience. “If it’s none of your business, Sammy, maybe you should keep whatever you’re about to say to yourself.” She had a hunch what the subject matter would be, given the young officer’s long-time crush on her.
“I can’t help it. I’ve known you too long, and I have to get this off my chest.”
She closed her eyes and wished she had a bottle of wine in front of her. “Fine, but be quick. I’m on my way somewhere.”
Sammy’s fresh beer arrived, and he took a deep drink. “So, are you going to do it? Go to Texas with him?”
Abby gathered her thoughts, trying to determine the best way to have this conversation without hurting Sammy’s feelings. Nice guy, but he always reminded Abby of those ducklings who imprinted on the first thing they saw and followed it everywhere, unaware it wasn’t a duck. “Yes, I’m going to Texas with him. And Santa Barbara and Denver and Phoenix and everywhere else they play. We’ll be coming here when we can, and spending time at the house we’re buying in Austin.”
Sammy blinked. “But I’m worried about you! Wouldn’t it be better to stay here, where you have people to look out for you? At least until they catch whoever’s after him?” He seemed to add the last part grudgingly.
“No, Sammy, it wouldn’t be better.” Her temper started to heat up, and she told herself to calm down. He didn
’t mean anything by it. He just had the protector thing going on, along with the crush.
“It’s not the same as being home.”
“Try telling my mom that. She’ll call your mom and you’ll be grounded retroactively back to the age of twelve.” Sammy’s expression didn’t change, and she knew jokes weren’t going to cut it. She decided to be straight with him. Might as well go on the record with a reliable source. “I love him, Sammy, and ‘home’ is wherever we’re together.”
Sammy looked like someone had kneed him in the crotch. “Does he love you?”
“Yes, he does.” She leaned toward Sammy and waited until he met her eyes. “He almost left me last night. He did it because he thought it was the only way to keep me safe. But he came back, because whatever we have to face, we’re better off if we do it together.”
His gaze dropped, and he cleared his throat. He understood protection. “I get it. I’m happy for you, Abby. You deserve somebody who’ll always put you first. If he can, then I read him wrong. I’m sorry.”
The bartender put the bag containing her order on the bar. She placed her hand over Sammy’s and gave it a pat. “It’s okay. Just don’t make the mistake of believing the musician stereotype. I’m finding out it’s not true nearly as often as you might think, and Seth is a whole lot more than a stereotype.” She picked up the bag and went outside, leaving Sammy to finish his beer alone.
She found Seth waiting on the sidewalk in front of the Shamrock. He walked up close to her, until their bodies were almost touching, and brushed her lips with his. “Ready to go liberate Dilbert before he chews any remaining sleeves off Marsh’s shirts?”
“Are there any?”
“Probably not. Dilbert’s too well behaved to do that, anyway. Maybe we can use him to help train Marsh.”
Abby thought it was a decent idea.
A few minutes later they were once again walking through the park, the black dog prancing along beside them. Dilbert jumped in the Jeep, and Abby made sure the lid to the cooler was securely fastened. It wouldn’t do to prepare for lunch, only to discover it was covered in dog slobber. Or missing altogether.
