by Nina Barrett
“Visiting time is limited to fifteen minutes, gentlemen.” Her nurse tapped her watch and gave them both a look as she left.
“I understand you’re feeling better, Miss Thimmons.” Whittaker pulled a chair over beside her bed while his companion leaned against the wall and watched. He was carrying a file folder.
“How is Mac?”
“Special Agent McKenzie is recovering. He’s in another room on this floor. He had some superficial burns, cuts, and abrasions, but he should be all right. Fortunately, for him, you cushioned his fall.”
If she didn’t know better, she’d say the assistant regional director was amused.
“We didn’t blow up that car. The one that injured Jake Derossiers. Or steal the money. Well, we did steal the cars when we were making our getaway. The car and the truck actually, but we were kind of forced into it. And we took the money, but we never intended to keep it for ourselves.”
“We know. We’ve actually known for some time.”
“It was the man from the I.R.S. The one in Atlanta.”
“Gordon Andrews, yes.”
She gawked at him.
“I suspected he was dirty twenty-five years ago. There were just too many coincidences. The Deb always a step ahead of us, evading capture. Then he left the Bureau for a desk job at the I.R.S.” Whittaker’s face darkened. “It seemed obvious someone had been tipping off the Dixie Deb and her confederates, but I just couldn’t nail him with it at the time.”
“So this whole thing was to catch him?”
“Along with the others. I wanted to get him nervous enough to make mistakes. I didn’t anticipate the lengths Andrews would go to in order to shut down the operation. Unfortunately, you, McKenzie, and Derossiers paid for my underestimating him.”
“How is Jake?”
“Much better. He’s on track to begin rehabilitative therapy soon.”
“And Miss Lily and Maggie?”
“The last I checked the Mayhew sisters are still being evaluated in the E.R. The explosion knocked them off their feet. Mr. Andrews has been moved to a private room, but they will all be under guard.”
She closed her eyes. Just before Mac had careened into her, there had been the beginning of some kind of announcement.
“You were out there all the time? You and the police?”
Whittaker nodded. “We’d been monitoring Andrews’ phone messages. We heard the one McKenzie left detailing the microchip smuggling operation in Georgia. He’ll probably end up with a citation for that bit of work. We got to the site before Andrews arrived and were ready to move in when the sisters showed up.”
“Did you know about them? Azalea, the one who was the Deb back then, is dead. She died years ago in an automobile accident trying to get away with the money they’d stolen. Maggie was her driver on the jobs and Lily and her husband were involved, too.”
“Yes, Andrews has been talking, trying to spread the blame. There’s no love lost there. Andrews has been in contact with them over the past few weeks, but it wasn’t clear what was going on. Nothing we could definitely pin down. With two armed people in the cabin, we were afraid of a hostage situation developing. We decided to wait and just observe the situation for a while. We watched you all move back up to the parking lot. When the three of them started squabbling and took their guns off you, we were ready to move in. But then McKenzie preempted us and triggered the explosion.”
The younger man behind Whittaker cleared his throat. Whittaker was turning to look at him when her nurse leaned in the doorway.
“Sirs, fifteen minutes visiting time, please. Our patient needs her rest. She’s been through a lot today.”
“Sure.” Whittaker put his hands on his knees and rose. “Thank you for your cooperation in all this, Miss Thimmons. I know it’s more than you bargained for, but you helped ferret out an international smuggling operation detrimental to the security of this country, expose a corrupt government employee, and solve a long cold case. Mr. Fremont, I think the other business can hold off for a while, don’t you?”
The younger man didn’t look as if he thought it could.
“Phillip Fremont, ma’am.” He took a wallet from a back pocket and flipped it open to show some kind of official identification.
What now?
“Environmental Protection Agency.”
She looked blankly from him to Whittaker who spread his hands and shrugged.
“About the grease fire you and Mr. McKenzie started. I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but the Braided River Watershed is an environmentally sensitive area. Beside the toxic smoke impact on any number of native bird species, the run off into streams may potentially contaminate the ground water supply of the entire Braided River Valley.”
She stared at him.
“And we could be facing a devastating impact on the local fish population.”
“Gentlemen, I’m going to have to insist you both leave now. The time for visitation is up and our patient needs her rest.” At four-ten something, her nurse had to tilt her head back to look up at her two visitors, but her tone left no room for argument.
“I’m sure Miss Thimmons will be glad to assist the E.P.A. when she’s up to it. Thank you for seeing us. We’ll be checking on you later.” Whittaker laid his hand on the younger man’s shoulder and nodded at her.
“I’m going to need a statement in the next day or two,” the E.P.A. officer called as Whittaker held the door for him.
“Let’s see how you’re doing.” The young nurse found her pulse and studied her watch. “It’s a little elevated, but in the normal range. How’s your pain level?”
“I’m sore, but it’s not too bad if I stay still.”
“You should have quite a collection of bruises by tomorrow. The pulmonary therapist is scheduled to be in later. Why don’t you close your eyes and rest for a while? It’s been a long day.” She tucked her hand under the sheets, smoothing them around her before she moved over to close the blinds. Her rubber-soled shoes made no sound as she shut the door behind her.
A long day was one way to put it. It had begun in bed with Mac, then been interrupted by the survivors of the original Dixie Deb gang. Both their lives had hung in jeopardy until Mac had triggered the explosion back at the Alabama-Rama and law enforcement had arrived. Who apparently could have made their presence known and rescued them before her world went up in flames.
Was the café okay? Had it spread? What about Louis and Etta? Had they been notified? She should have thought to ask. Now she lay in a hospital bed taking low, shallow breaths apparently cleared of bank robbery and tax fraud charges. Except now, the Environmental Protection Agency was after her instead of the I.R.S. How much trouble could they be in? She yawned and shut her eyes.
And what about hospitalization? Since her business had closed she didn’t have any health…
Across the room the door opened again. It could be any number of medical personnel or law enforcement, but she just wasn’t ready to face any of them again. If she didn’t open her eyes, maybe they’d take the hint.
“Sleeping Beauty!”
Her eyes jerked open. She cringed as she forgot momentarily and tried to sit up. Mac in a wheelchair? Being pushed by Warren Whittaker? Her day had been one surprise after another.
Whittaker rolled the wheelchair over beside her bed.
“Your nurse didn’t say if the fifteen minutes was for all visitors, or for each. Thought you both might rest easier if you saw each other.”
“Thank you for the ride, Assistant Director.”
“Thank you. Sorry it got out of hand for a while. Take it easy. I’ll be seeing you both before I go back to Atlanta. We can’t thank you enough for what the two of you have done over the past few weeks.”
She stared at Whittaker as he left.
“So how are you?” Mac leaned forward to take her hand.
“Okay. Was Director Whittaker actually smiling?”
“Maybe. I am. It might be contagious. How are yo
u really?”
“I’m okay, just sore. I guess I have a cracked rib. How are you?” There was a cut below one of his eyes. “You’re in a wheelchair.”
“It’s nothing. My ankle was twisted in the fall. I’ve got a few cuts and bruises. And I lost some hair in the explosion.” He bent forward to show the reddened back of his neck.
“Oh, Mac. You were burnt.”
“Singed a little around the edges. It’s pretty superficial. Andrews got the worst of it. At least I knew what was coming. Things are going to be hot for him in a lot of ways now.” He winked at her. “Fortunately, all my vital parts are intact.”
She swallowed. “Well, thank goodness. So you set off the explosion. What was it you did?”
“I loosened the cap on the outside storage tank where Louis and Etta collect the kitchen grease for recycling. Our EPA bloodhound ought to give them credit. I had some matches in my pocket from bumming cigarettes from one of the girls down at Maggie’s the other day. I said a prayer, struck them, dropped them in the grease trap, and tackled you.”
“So much for giving up smoking.”
“Believe me, I have now. I’ve seen the dangers of playing with fire.” He pressed her fingers.
“Mr. Whittaker suspected Andrews all along. Even twenty-five years ago. He set the whole thing up to expose him.”
“That’s what I understand, but it would be nice if they’d clued us in. At least I wouldn’t have called their chief suspect and left a way for him to contact us. I guess they wanted us to act naturally. Evidently, they had taps on all his phone lines. They knew Major’s was involved some way.”
“So it wasn’t coincidence we stayed there?”
“No, they were trying to make Miss Lily nervous. Want to hear something funny? The Japanese couple we met are with the F.B.I. They were there to try and get a line on the connection between Andrews and the Major’s. That’s why Jake missed the meeting with us in Cherry Grove. He and Whittaker were briefing them to go undercover at the Major’s. Apparently, they knew more English than they let on. Then when Miss Lily and Maggie showed up this morning packing heat, the sisters put themselves in the middle of it.”
“And then it turns out Miss Lily’s injury happened years ago when she and Maggie took off chasing after their sister Azalea who was making a run for it with the money.”
“Crime doesn’t pay.” He rested her fingers against his lips.
She drew a long, shaky breath.
He reached up to brush back her hair. “I’m just glad you’re all right, Jan.” He traced her cheekbone with a thumb. “I hoped if I could get to you, I could roll us behind the truck and away from the worst of it.”
“I’ll be fine. I just won’t be doing any deep breathing for a while.”
“Damn.” He raised an eyebrow and winked at her.
“So, you’re going back with the Bureau, be reinstated, right?” She was increasingly aware of lying in a bed, Mac’s dark eyes on her, his fingers intertwined with hers.
“Yeah, after a little time off for R&R.”
“Where will you go?” It sounded like she was squeaking. Mac had turned her hand over and was massaging her palm with his thumb. He lifted her wrist to kiss the inside of it.
“Where? Oh, I don’t know. Someday, I’d like to go back to Tuscany. When I was over there, I couldn’t help but think it’d be perfect for a honeymoon. How about you? Where will you head when the Bureau and the E.P.A. run out of questions?”
She shook her head. Under her thin cotton gown, everything was getting warm. Jan swallowed. “Maybe Florida. Down to see my parents. I haven’t been back in a while.”
Mac sat up and captured her hand between the two of his.
“So, love, your folks have a backyard?” Mac lowered his head to meet hers.
A word about the author...
Nina Barrett's desire to be a writer began in childhood. She was an avid reader of novels by such authors as Mary Stewart and Daphne du Maurier. Marriage Made in Haven, published in June 2012 marked her debut as a published author. A former elementary teacher, she is an advocate for autism education and research. If you would like to contact Nina, her email is [email protected].
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Title Page
copyright
Praise for…
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
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Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
