by Simon Wood
“You know kids,” Scott said, “made of rubber, mentally and physically.”
“That’s great. I’m glad,” Friedkin said, and Sheils agreed.
On the sidewalk, they were about to go their separate ways, but Scott stopped them.
“I want to thank you both. If it hadn’t been for you, I don’t think we would have been in that room listening to that letter.”
Both men tried to shrug the compliment off, but Scott refused to let them. He pulled out his wallet and removed a check the Independent had given him for his story. He’d endorsed it, signing away his claim to the money. He held it out to Friedkin.
“I know Alex Hammond had a family. Will you see that they get this?”
Friedkin took the check. “Two hundred and fifty thousand. Are you sure?”
“Very. We’ve seen where the sins of the father lead.”
“Yes, well, Kerry will be very grateful,” Friedkin said. “Thank you.”
Friedkin made his excuses, blaming a waiting client, and hailed a passing cab.
“That was diplomatic of him,” Sheils said.
The investigator had detected the mood. Scott wanted a moment alone with Sheils. He hadn’t gotten the chance to speak to Sheils at the mine. Priorities changed for both of them the moment Sammy and Peter were safe. Scott had practiced a speech, but Sheils cut it off before he had the chance to begin.
“That was very generous of you,” he said. “I’m sure there will be other checks coming your way.”
Sheils spoke without malice and more as a statement of fact. The movie and book people were beating a path to Scott’s door again.
“No. I have no tale to tell.”
“If you don’t tell it, someone else will. And they’ll get it wrong.”
“Let them. It’s not important.”
Sheils smiled. “What is?”
“My family. You.”
The remark caught Sheils off guard. “Me?”
“I want to apologize to you. I didn’t make things easy for you. This time around or eight years ago. You went out on a limb for me, and I didn’t treat you well. I’m sorry for that. I don’t expect us to be close, but I don’t want you walking away today thinking ill of me. I hope you can accept my apology.”
Sheils looked away. He followed the progress of a cab running a light. After the cab made a left, he turned back to Scott.
“One question. In the mine, when you pulled my gun, would you have shot me?”
Scott deserved this question. It topped the list of wrongs he’d committed against Sheils. He considered ducking the question and massaging his bruised ego with the kind of answer anyone would want to hear, but Sheils deserved the truth.
“Yes. If it came down to you or my children, I would have shot you.”
Sheils took the answer in his stride. “Fair enough. I would have done the same in your shoes.”
Scott put out his hand, and Sheils shook it.
“Good luck,” Scott said. “I’m sure you’re in line for a big promotion.”
“No. I think it’s time to bow out. I’ve got my years in.”
Sheils’s admission surprised Scott. He couldn’t imagine the agent retired.
“You could see Friedkin about a job.”
Sheils laughed. Scott realized he’d never heard the man laugh.
“No. There are some lines I won’t cross. The bureau likes retired agents for instructors.”
“Take care of yourself,” Scott said.
He shook Sheils’s hand again and walked away. Sheils didn’t let him get far.
“My wife wants me to invite your family to dinner tomorrow. She wants to meet Sammy and Peter, and she says it’s time we bury the hatchet.”
“What time are we expected?”
“Six thirty.”
“Tell her we’ll be there.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My thanks goes, yet again, to my wife, Julie, for all her hard work. She helped turn this from an idea into a story. Special thanks goes to Supervisory Special Agent George Fong of the Federal Bureau of Investigation for his help and generosity. I think I listened to what he had to tell me. Finally, congratulations to the winners of my “Casting Call” contest for letting me immortalize their names as characters in this book. They know who they are, even if no one else does.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Barry Evans Studio, 2003
Anthony Award–winning author of a dozen books as well as over 150 published stories and articles, Simon Wood is an ex–race car driver, a licensed pilot, an animal rescuer, an endurance cyclist, and an occasional private investigator. Having dealt with dyslexia from an early age, Wood’s ambition has been met with rave reviews for his previous publications, including Accidents Waiting to Happen, Dragged into Darkness, Working Stiffs, We All Fall Down, Terminated, Asking For Trouble, The Fall Guy, and numerous others published under his horror pseudonym, Simon Janus. Originally from the UK, Wood moved to the US in ’98 to share his world with his American wife, Julie—and a longhaired dachshund and four cats.
