On a Knife's Edge

by Lynda Bailey

  “Grab the comforter off the bed,” he instructed Jarvis as he trundled backwards, his arms wrapped securely around his mother.

  Outside the closet, he hoisted her into his arms then set her tenderly on the bed. Jarvis draped the throw over Edie’s slender shoulders.

  Lynch tucked the quilt tight to his mom’s tiny frame then squatted down. “You okay?”

  Her head wobbled. “Thirsty…”

  Jarvis turned. “I’ll get some water and call for that ambulance.”

  He swiped strands of hair from his mother’s cheek, worried at her pale complexion. Jarvis returned and handed Edie a glass. She stared at it with glazed eyes.

  “Let me.” Lynch shifted onto the bed, took the glass and carefully tipped it to his mom’s lips. “But just a little, kay?” After a few sips, she slanted her face away.

  Jarvis knelt down next to Lynch. “Can you tell us what happened here, Edie?”

  His mother’s brow crinkled. “Do I know you?”

  Jarvis smiled. “Yes…I’m a friend of your son’s.”

  “You know Lynch?”

  Jarvis flicked her gaze to him then back to Edie. “Yes, I am. We met several weeks ago. Don’t you remember?”

  Edie shook her head and tried to stand. “Flyer’s gonna be home soon so I need to start supper. Lynch…let me up.”

  Lynch’s stomach churned as his mom fought to break free from his hold. “It’s okay, Ma. Flyer said we were eating out tonight.”

  She quieted with a small smile. “Oh, that’s nice.”

  He stood. “I’ll be right back, Ma. I’m gonna…ah…talk to my friend here.”

  Edie patted her uncombed hair. “Do I look okay to go out?”

  He smiled down at her through watery eyes. “You look beautiful.”

  Nudging his head to Jarvis, he and the agent moved to the bedroom door. “Something’s not right with her,” he whispered.

  “Paramedics are on their way,” Jarvis replied.

  “From Rolo’s?”

  The agent shook her head. “From Reno.”

  Lynch glanced over his shoulder. His mother rocked slightly, humming to herself. His gut twisted. He looked back at Jarvis. “I don’t want to wait that long.”

  She studied Edie then nodded and pulled her key fob from her front pocket. “I’ll drive.”

  *

  Lynch gave Agent Emma Jarvis credit—the woman knew how to drive.

  She accomplished the normally thirty-five minute trip from Stardust to Reno in a record sixteen minutes, and in rush hour traffic no less. Of course the strobe lights and blaring siren on her car didn’t hurt.

  In the busy ER, she flashed her badge and a wheelchair instantly appeared to hasten Edie into an exam room. His mom no sooner got settled on the gurney when the attending physician came in, the FBI agent right behind.

  A nurse gave Lynch a clipboard of admittance forms then ushered him and Jarvis into the hall. He stood by the nurse’s station and wrote in the answers, grateful for the tedious distraction. It beat the hell out of thinking about the last three hours.

  Rolo and Hez were both dead, and his mom was now in the hospital.

  Planting his left elbow on the counter, Lynch rubbed the ache spanning his forehead as the words on the page ran together. A Styrofoam cup materialized.

  He looked up. Jarvis stood there, a second cup in her hands.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  No, but he nodded anyway, picked up the coffee and took a sip of the bitter brew.

  Her phone chirped and she checked the ID. “Be right back.” She walked to the end of the corridor, the cell to her ear. “Jarvis.”

  The nurse relieved Lynch of the clipboard, leaving him to stare into space. Thoughts tumbled through his head…

  What if he hadn’t gotten to his mom when he had? What if she hadn’t gotten into that crawlspace? What if—

  “Hey…”

  He whirled around to see Jarvis.

  “Any news?” she asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, I found out something interesting.” A grim smile touched her mouth. “That call was from the sweeper team. They found surveillance equipment throughout the Streeter clubhouse and the sheriff’s department. But surprisingly not at Adam Murphy’s office.”

  “That is interesting.”

  Jarvis nodded. “And the DA never showed up in court today.”

  “Really? What do you figure that means?”

  “Nothing good, that’s for sure.”

  The curtain of his mom’s cubicle zipped open, ending their conversation.

  The doctor exited, a chart in his hand. “Mr. Callan?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Doctor Nickels.”

  “How’s my mother?”

  Nickels checked the chart. “She’s pretty badly dehydrated and suffering from hypothermia. We’ve wrapped her in some heated blankets and are giving her IV fluids. How old is she?”

  “Fifty-two.”

  The doctor wrote on the chart. “Any history of cardiac issues?”

  The hair on the back of Lynch’s neck stood at attention. “Cardiac issues? You mean her heart? What’s wrong with her heart?”

  “Her pulse is irregular and her blood ox is in the low nineties. Probably the result of the dehydration and hypothermia. I’d like to keep her overnight as a precaution.”

  “Okay.”

  “Your mother’s…resistant to the idea.”

  Lynch set his jaw. “If you think she should stay, then she’s staying.”

  Nickels clicked his pen and stuffed it in his pocket.“I’ll make arrangements to have her taken up to the third floor.” He stepped to the side. “You can see her.”

  Lynch hurried into the exam room to see his mother, nearly smothered in hospital covers, sitting on a gurney and looking extremely pissed. Rhythmic beeping came from the monitor next to the wall and clear tubes ran from her nose.

  “Lynch Abraham Callan…” she wheezed.

  Abraham.

  Despite the breathy quality to her voice, a bit of Lynch’s apprehension eased. She seemed like her fiery self.

  “…I am not staying in this goddamn hospital.” She stared at him, daring him to defy her.

  He kissed her cheek and wormed his hand through layers of material until finding her fingers. “But the doc says you need to stay.”

  “Bullshit.” She angled her chin. “Just wants to pad his paycheck.”

  “He does not. He’s worried about you.” Lynch held his mother’s flinty gaze. “As am I. So do me the favor of not being a royal pain in the ass about this. Otherwise, I’ll give the staff permission to hogtie you to the bed. Got it?”

  She yanked her hand back. “But I want to go home.”

  Lynch darted his gaze to Jarvis who stood by the closed curtain and uncurled his posture.

  Edie looked from him to the agent. “What?”

  He sighed. “You can’t go home, Ma.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  Jarvis stepped forward. “Mrs. Callan—”

  Edie glared. “What’d I say about calling me Mrs.?”

  “All right. Edie. What can you tell me about the last few days?”

  His mom squinted harder. “Why you want to know?”

  “Because I’m an FBI agent.”

  Edie’s mouth dropped open. “You’re a what?” She swiveled her head around to stare at Lynch. “She’s a what?” Her voice rose in volume and pitch.

  “An FBI agent, Ma. Calm down, okay?”

  “You calm down,” she snapped. “You said she was a lawyer.”

  “I am a lawyer,” Jarvis answered. “But I’m also an agent with the Bureau. Now, please…what do you remember?”

  “I thought—”

  “Ma,” Lynch interrupted. “Whatever you thought was wrong, but I’ll explain it to you later. Right now, you need to tell Agent Jarvis what you remember.”

  His mother’s features twisted. “Agent Jarvis,” she harrumphed. �
��Fine…after work Saturday night, Hez and I stopped for takeout pizza on the way home. We were gonna spend the night watching movies and relaxing. I’d just finished a shower when he busted into the bathroom then stuffed me in that rat hole, telling me not to make a sound. What the fuck happened anyway?”

  “Some men came to your house,” Jarvis said. “That’s why Hez put you in the crawlspace.”

  His mom’s face scrunched up again. “Some men came to my house? What’d they want?”

  The agent’s shoulders rose in a big inhale of breath. “We think they wanted you.”

  “Me?” His mom blinked. “Why me?”

  “We’re not entirely sure, Edie, but we’re going to find out.”

  “How long was I down there?”

  Lynch took her hand. “It’s Monday night, Ma.”

  “Monday?” Edie shook her head as though to clear it. “My God…”

  “Edie,” Jarvis said gently, “can you tell us anything else? Did you hear anything while you were in the crawlspace?”

  “Can’t hear shit down there. Used to be a root cellar before the master bedroom was added.” A distant smile played at her mouth. “Lynch and Hez used to hide there to avoid doing their chores.” Her smile waned as her forehead creased. “By the way, where is Hez?”

  Lynch tightened his hold on his mom’s hand. “He’s…uh…not here.”

  “I can see that. So where is he?”

  He coughed the emotions from his throat. “Listen, Ma…let’s not talk about Hez right now. Is that all you remember from Saturday night?”

  His mom stared at him. Lynch knew that look. It was the same one he got whenever he’d been foolish enough to try dodging her question.

  “Why don’t you want to talk about Hez? Did something happen?”

  Time ticked by with the only sound the incessant monitor beeping.

  Realization lit Edie’s eyes. “Something did happen, didn’t it? To Hez?”

  Lynch bowed his head. Shit…he’d wanted to spare his mom this pain. At least for a little while. How stupid of him. His mom was too savvy—and too stubborn—by half for that bullshit.

  He tightened his grip on her hand and met her watery gaze. “Hez is dead.”

  She released a pained gasp. “Dead? How?”

  Lynch swallowed hard. “He was murdered.”

  “By the men who came to the house?”

  “Yeah.”

  Edie looked at Jarvis. “And they wanted me?”

  “We believe so,” the agent replied.

  His mom stared at her lap. “But Hez didn’t tell them where I was so they…killed him?” She lifted agony-filled eyes to Lynch. “So he’s dead because of me?”

  “No,” he claimed with conviction. “Hez is dead because a sick bastard killed him.”

  A sob broke from his mother’s mouth and she angled her face away. Lynch hitched his hip onto the flimsy mattress and wrapped his arm around his usually stoic mother, fighting to control his own emotions. Tears burned his throat. He cast a desperate look to Jarvis.

  The agent looked on the verge of breaking down herself. She cleared her throat. “Your son’s right, Edie. You’re not to blame for what happened.”

  His mom lifted her head. “But if Hez hadn’t—”

  “No buts, Ma. You hear me.” Lynch hugged her tight. “If Hez hadn’t done what he did, he’d still be dead. And so would you.”

  Edie huddled into his side, her shoulders quaking.

  Jarvis’s phone trilled again. She snatched it from her pocket. “I’m sorry…” She quickly ducked behind the curtain.

  Lynch held his mom as she clung to him like a lifeline. Instead of succumbing to his own grief, he focused on his rage, and how he would make Blackwell…Murphy…Bowyer…all of them pay. Pay dearly for what they’d done to his family.

  Soon, his mother’s breathing became steady and even. He carefully laid her down then stood. For a moment he just stared at her.

  Her hair splayed across the pillow in a matted mess. Not her normally coiffed do. She looked so…frail, like she’d shatter if she sneezed too hard. He tiptoed into the corridor.

  Jarvis stood by the nurse’s station, her arms crossed and head bowed.

  “Hey.”

  Jarvis jerked up her head, her expression grave. “Hey. How’s your mom?”

  “Sleeping, which is probably a good thing. Was that call from Newman?”

  “No, the Portland office. Your idea to check for stolen passenger vans paid off. A Sky Limo van was reported missing from the airport late yesterday afternoon.”

  “That’s good news, right? Now you know what to look for.”

  “Except the vehicle’s no doubt been painted with the GPS disabled, so we have no way of tracking it. Road blocks have been put in place on the highways heading out of Portland, but they could have slipped past.” She rubbed a hand across her forehead. “And this means we’re back to square-fucking-one.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Get me information on that damn van,” she snapped. She threaded her fingers through her hair with a sigh then glanced at him. “Sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Have road blocks been put on the freeways coming into Nevada?”

  “Yes.” Jarvis stalked the width of the corridor, dodging a nurse and orderly who went into his mom’s cubicle. “But if Blackwell’s guys feel boxed in, they could cut their losses and just eliminate the girls. We have to find that van.” She pulled to a stop. “Do you know of any Streeter hideouts that could be used for keeping the girls?”

  Lynch crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall. “In Oregon? No. All the stashes I know of are on this side of the state line. But…” He straightened. “…some of my brothers might know.”

  Jarvis arched her eyebrows. “You think it’s a smart move to actually bring in the MC?”

  “For the sake of those little girls, there really isn’t another choice, is there?”

  She shook her head. “No. What do you need from me?”

  “How about everything you’ve got on Blackwell and the case so far? The more concrete evidence I can give the club, the better.”

  “I’ve got an extra copy of the file in my car.”

  Lynch nodded as the curtain of his mom’s exam room opened and the orderly pushed out the gurney. His chest tightened painfully as he gazed at his mom, curled into a ball on her side like a small child. He watched her get wheeled down the hall toward the elevator.

  Jarvis cleared her throat. “Just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll take you to a hotel for the night.”

  A humorless chuckle brushed past his lips. “No offense, counselor, but I’m not going to another fucking hotel. I’m going back to Stardust.”

  “And stay where? Your mother’s house is an active crime scene.”

  “I’ll stay at my trailer.”

  “Alone?” The agent shook her head. “That’s a seriously bad idea. Especially since we can’t locate Murphy. He or one of his guys could be waiting for you.”

  Rage clouded Lynch’s vision. “I hope they are. I’d love to get my hands on…” His words trailed off and he blinked at the fresh surge of tears.

  “Look…” The agent placed her hand on his shoulder. “I know what you’re going through, but vengeance isn’t the answer.”

  He shrugged off her touch. “I don’t think you’ve got a fucking clue what I’m going through, counselor. You lost one man, Olson. I’ve lost three brothers and my mother’s been threatened. My entire family’s threatened. Vengeance might not be the answer, but it’s a fucking good start.”

  She pursed her lips. “It’s still a bad good idea to be at your trailer…or anywhere…alone.”

  “Nothing’s gonna happen to me. I just need some time alone to think—and get drunk.”

  Jarvis blew out a breath, clearly not happy. “All right then.” She extracted her keys. “C’mon…I’ll drive you back.” She started down the corridor.

  Lynch grabbed her arm. “N
ot necessary. I’ll call a prospect to come pick me up.” He released his hold. “But I do have a favor. Stay with my mom.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I need to know she’s safe.”

  Jarvis’s forehead pleated. “Of course she’s safe. She’s in the hospital.”

  “But I can’t take any chances. Will you stay?” He glanced away then back at the agent. “Please.”

  She sighed again. “Okay.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jarvis headed toward the elevator and punched the button. “Don’t thank me yet, Callan. You haven’t gotten my bill.” With that, she disappeared.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  SHASTA SLOWED HER car, staring at the yellow tape surrounding Edie Callan’s house. No lights were on, but a patrol car sat in the driveway with the silhouette of two officers inside. She hit the gas and continued on her way.

  By the looks of things, Lynch wasn’t at his mom’s house…so where could he be?

  She still couldn’t fathom half of what she’d heard at the station… Not only had Lynch been working with the FBI since he got released from prison, but someone tried to frame him for murder—twice. Once for Todd’s death, and then for the guy named Junkyard Taylor. The same Junkyard Taylor who’d tried to have her kidnapped.

  But that wasn’t all. Now the Streeter president, Rolo Pruett, was dead…and so was Hez…and Lynch’s mom had been hospitalized.

  She rubbed her fingers over her puffy, gritty eyes and refocused on her driving. She realized trying to find Lynch was the epitome of a dumb idea, but she had to do something. He’d just lost two people he cared dearly about—and almost his mom. Shasta needed to know he was okay.

  She drove her compact up the dirt road to Lynch’s trailer. Probably a fool’s errand. What were chances he’d be there? In all likelihood, the FBI spirited him away to an undisclosed, secure location. But with Wyatt safely asleep with Dell at the house and Graham still in Vegas, what did she have to lose by checking for herself? So she’d said her goodnight to her brother then snuck out.

  She knew this might be her one opportunity to see Lynch. Graham had been quite alarmed at the recent turn of events and planned to cut his trip short. She told him it wasn’t necessary, and almost had him convinced to finish up his business when Wyatt said something about going fly fishing this weekend. Which meant all the equipment needed to be assessed. So Graham would return home tomorrow morning. And that meant she had only tonight.