Saints & Suspects

by Jordan McCollum

Grace took her by the shoulders, pulling her away from the horror of the bathroom, and peered into her eyes. “Listen. I know this is killin’ you, but bigger things are happenin’ here. We’re fightin’ for Irish freedom again, and this time we’ll win.”

  Molly searched for something to hold onto. How could she get that gun off Zachary?

  Grace pressed on. “You can be part of it.”

  “Grace, I can’t, I —” She gestured at Zachary. “I can’t even think.”

  Grace nodded solemnly. “I know. You needed to know the truth — and you need to have the chance to hurt him like he’s hurtin’ you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ed finally lowered the gun and walked away from the bathroom, to Molly and Grace. Somehow, she doubted they were giving up that easily.

  Grace focused on her face. “You can make him pay for lyin’ to you and leadin’ you on all these years, sayin’ he loves you.”

  “Don’t listen to ’em, darlin’!” Zachary’s voice echoed from the tiny bathroom.

  Ed raised the gun again. “Hold your whisht.”

  “But, Grace.” Molly shook her head. “He says —”

  “He’s said a lot of things, I’m sure. Can’t you see, Molly? He’s been after you this whole time to get at your parents and the movement. Us.”

  Ed passed her Zachary’s FBI credentials. “Sorry you had to find out like this.”

  “I’m tellin’ you,” Zachary piped up, “the badge’s fake, just for work.”

  Grace sneered. “That lie might’ve worked on Molly alone, but I’ve seen enough badges to recognize a real one. Have the decency to tell the woman the truth.”

  Molly focused on Zachary’s badge. Feigning shock wasn’t much of a stretch. She could take the gun, disarm them by pretending to jump at the chance to shoot a lying fiancé — but if she seemed too eager, they’d know something was up.

  Grace tried again. “You have the chance here that no one else ever gets, the chance to make him pay for what he’s done.”

  Ed held out the gun — Zachary’s, too. She gripped her handbag straps tighter. How had they taken these away from him? It had to have something to do with the blood.

  “Think, Molly — think of all he’s told you, lyin’ all along. Guff, every single time he told you he loved you. Tryin’ to put your parents in prison. Usin’ you to get to them.”

  Molly blinked several times before turning to the Glock in Ed’s hand.

  “Make him pay, for what he’s done to you. Make him pay for tryin’ to stop us, for upholdin’ the English oppression even now.”

  She slowly raised her gaze to meet Zachary’s. “It’s not true,” he said.

  “And this badge is fake?” Ed scoffed.

  “Do it, Molly.” Grace’s entire countenance burned with earnestness. “I know you’re hurtin’ — but you can make him hurt just as bad.” She dropped to a whisper, as though Zachary couldn’t hear her. “He deserves it. All that he’s put you through. All the lies. Make him pay for all of it.”

  Molly wrapped her fingers around the grip as if she didn’t quite know how one of these things worked.

  “Point and shoot.” Ed wrapped her fingers more securely around the gun. “Like on TV.”

  She strode deliberately toward the bathroom, and Zachary sitting there, pleading. She raised the gun with a shaking hand — not difficult, since aiming a loaded weapon at someone she had no intention of harming went against all her training.

  For the first time, she hoped her training didn’t show. Careful to keep her finger well away from the trigger, Molly took a deep breath through her nose, then sighed it out. Again. And again. She had to make this look real. Finally, she lowered the gun.

  “Think of how he’s hurt you,” Grace pushed.

  “I know, just — give us a minute?”

  Grace eyed her warily. “Now, Molly —”

  “I have to know.”

  “Talkin’s never goin’ to give you the same closure —”

  Molly spun on Grace. “You’re sayin’ he’s lied every second of the last two years. I have earned one minute!” She gestured with the gun to make her point, though she was careful not to aim it at anyone.

  Grace pursed her lips, but nodded. She led Ed to the far side of the kitchenette. Obviously they couldn’t leave them completely alone.

  Molly edged into the small bathroom, maneuvering past Zachary’s knees. In the shadows, she could just make out the black zip ties holding him to the chair.

  She dug into her handbag for her Leatherman. They had to cover the noise. “The truth. All of it. Now.”

  “I’m tellin’ you the truth.”

  Her fingers hit the Leatherman in her handbag and she pulled it out, opening the knife. Zachary cut his voice to the edge of a whisper, so soft even she barely heard. “Make them take you to the bomb.”

  Molly gaped at him. “No,” she barely breathed.

  Zachary nodded. “We have to stop them. Make sure they’re not planning anything else.”

  She hesitated half a heartbeat. That was the oath they’d both taken, to protect people with their lives if necessary. But how could she sacrifice his life?

  If she were in his situation, that was what she’d want, to have him protect the public and trust that she could take care of herself. She’d have to extend that same trust to him.

  Maybe she could still help him. Molly pitched her voice for the Canavans to cover every other sound. She removed the magazine from Zachary’s gun. “How can I believe you?”

  “You’ll believe them over me, Molly? C’mon, you know the truth.”

  She unloaded the bullets from the magazine with both hands. Zachary talked over the clacking as they dropped into her handbag. “The truth is I loved you since the minute we met in that little parish.”

  Wrong cover. Molly jerked, and the last bullet clattered onto the bathroom tile. She froze. She could forgive Zachary — obviously the man had a head injury — but had the Canavans heard his slip? Or hers? She waited another breathless second.

  Nothing from the Canavans. She nudged the loose bullet out of sight with her toe. Where did his cover work? Arbor . . . something. “Is this why you never let me visit your work?”

  “No, honey, security’s a nightmare.”

  Molly drew the slide back just enough to eject the bullet from the chamber and replaced the empty magazine. She leaned down to Zachary, in sight of the kitchenette and the Canavans. “And if I ring your office number, will I find Jason Tolliver in the company directory?”

  Zachary just stared at her. She took that moment of silence to shield her arm from sight of the door and slipped him her Leatherman, the knife still out. “Careful,” she mouthed.

  Footsteps sounded from the kitchenette. They’d been quiet too long. Their time was up.

  Molly had to do one more thing. She scrambled in her handbag again. But she needed a cover — oh. Perfect.

  She spotted the little box on the zip tie around his ankle. “How could you?” Molly lifted her boot and stomped on the zip tie lock. Zachary grunted — that probably wasn’t pleasant, though hardly the worst thing he’d endured tonight — but the zip tie popped free. She finally found the right pocket in her handbag and her extra magazine. How could she give it to him? “Stall for me,” she whispered.

  “I love you, Molly.” He was as quiet as her. The Canavans would never hear him that way. She met his gaze.

  That wasn’t for them. It was for her.

  Molly raised her voice for the Canavans again. “You liar.”

  Ed and Grace reached the doorway, their shadows plunging the bathroom into near darkness. Molly leaned forward, again using her body to shield her arm from the Canavans’ view.

  She tucked her extra magazine under the hem of his sweater. “It’s over, Jason.”

  “Molly,” Grace said gently. “It’s time.”

  Molly straightened. She lifted the empty gun again, but didn’t let the muzzle track higher than Zachary’s
shoulders.

  She stood there, hands shaking, to the count of five before she let her arms fall slack, careful not to jangle her bullet-filled handbag. Ed and Grace exchanged a grim nod and backed away. Molly trudged out of the bathroom and held out the gun at an awkward angle, praying that would keep Ed from detecting the weight difference. Ed took it without a word, and Grace slid an arm around Molly to walk her out. Molly cast one last glance back at Zachary.

  If this didn’t earn his respect for her as an agent, nothing would. But they had both had to get through it first.

  He’d be all right. He had to be.

  Grace ushered her to the bay door where she’d admitted Molly. She let go of Molly and moved to the door’s control switches. Molly bowed her head, but watched Grace from the corner of her eye. How could she get Grace to take her to the bomb? “Wait,” Molly said.

  “I know, Molly. I can only imagine how you must feel — that kind of betrayal.”

  She let her shoulders fall. “I couldn’t, Grace.”

  “But it would’ve been right.”

  “Anythin’ else. You could ask anythin’ else of me.”

  “That’s enough for tonight.”

  Molly looked down again. What else could she try? “Grace, I want to help. Like my parents did.”

  “Not tonight, dearie. Sorry.” Grace didn’t reach for the control switches. Instead, she drew a gun.

  Molly’s heart crashed to a halt. Before Grace could even fully extend her arm, Molly leapt into action. She slammed Grace’s wrist into the garage door. The impact’s crash was swallowed by the roar of a close-range gunshot.

  Grace fired? At her? Molly staggered away a step. Was she hit? She didn’t feel anything. The shot must’ve gone wild.

  Grace recovered first — and punched Molly in the face. Her forehead hit the garage door. Between the impact of her head, the muzzle flash and the ringing in her ears, Molly could barely register the screeching as Grace ran away.

  “Kill him!”

  A gunshot exploded and Zach flinched. It sounded farther away than he’d expected. He felt nothing, other than his head’s continued pounding. Could he already be dead? Hadn’t he watched Molly empty the gun?

  “Kill him!” Grace screamed from the warehouse. “Kill him!”

  Zach startled at the click of the dry fire inches from his ear. Ed hadn’t fired the first time?

  Zach looked up; Ed was frowning at the gun. Ed met his gaze, and Zach smiled back. As if by an unspoken signal, at the same time, Ed turned to run and Zach started from the chair.

  Ignoring the surge of pain, Zach tackled Ed as hard and as fast as he could. They slammed to the floor, Zach on top of Ed. The jolt rocketed through Zach’s brain, but it was the older man who cried out.

  Zach pushed up to get a knee in Ed’s back and pull his wrists behind him. Zach scanned the room for cable ties. Within reach on the table. He stretched to grab them, and Ed bucked.

  “Whoa.” Zach snatched the zip ties and shifted his weight back onto Ed.

  The situation was better once Ed was tied to the table leg, though Ed’s unintelligible bellows hurt his head almost as much as all that movement. Zach grabbed his empty gun from the floor where it fell. He dropped the empty mag and reloaded before running into the main warehouse.

  Molly met him at the kitchen door, her own gun drawn. He pulled her close — it was over. She returned the hug halfway, but kept her weapon at the ready.

  It wasn’t over? Zach tried to check her expression in the shadows. “You have her, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know where Grace is.”

  A soft footfall sounded behind them. Zach whipped around and aimed.

  At Xavier. “X,” Zach hissed and lowered his gun. “What took you so long?”

  “Someone had to wait for the bomb squad,” X said. “What happened to you?”

  He ignored the question he couldn’t answer. “We have backup?”

  Xavier shook his head. “When I heard the gunshot, I was done waiting.”

  “You’re lucky that gunshot wasn’t in my head.”

  “How was I supposed to know? You should’ve waited.”

  “Boys,” Molly interrupted in a sharp whisper. “She’s armed and loose.” Molly gestured for Xavier to guard the kitchenette and their prisoner. X nodded. Good call: Grace wouldn’t leave without her husband.

  Zach followed Molly’s silent lead. He traced a door in the air and pointed behind him, where he’d come in. Molly gave him a thumbs up. She mimicked steering a car and jerked a thumb behind her.

  Before he left her, Zach held up his loaded weapon and smiled his thanks. “Be careful.”

  Molly was already turning toward the Canavans’ car. For once, he had no doubt she could do this.

  After too many minutes, Molly’s legs ached from crouching behind the Canavans’ sedan just inside the warehouse’s bay door. She only hoped she was as quiet as she thought. Barely able to hear Zachary and Xavier’s discussion, she’d resorted to hand signals less for stealth and more to make sure she wasn’t shouting.

  She peered under the car to see Grace’s loafers at the other end. Molly drew in a deep breath as Grace rounded the car and reached the driver’s side door. She waited for a second set of shoes to appear.

  Grace unlocked the car. Molly checked the undercarriage again. No Ed.

  Did Molly risk revealing herself without knowing whether Grace had backup coming?

  The car door opened.

  Time to act. She stood, keeping her weapon ready but hidden. “Grace, what’re you at?”

  “What are you at?” Grace tossed a tool kit into the drivers’ seat. Ed was nowhere in sight.

  She was making off without her husband. Pure class.

  Molly calculated as fast as she could. She needed to know where the bomb was. Could she convince Grace to show her? “You shot at me, and you’re tryin’ to kill a man. What’s worth murderin’ someone for breakin’ a girl’s heart?”

  Grace looked at her like it was her own heart that was broken. “This is bigger than you and your fella. Remember he’s FBI; he’s here to stop us, to stop the republican cause.”

  Something shifted in the shadows behind Grace. Molly kept her eyes on Grace, but hesitated until she recognized Zachary’s form.

  She had to keep Grace talking. “Bigger than Ed, too?”

  “A small price to pay for the freedom of a nation! Of our people! I’ve got to get away. I’m the one who’ll make this happen for all Ireland. Ed —” Grace dismissed her husband with a wave. “We don’t need him. Have you nothin’ you believe in enough to fight for?”

  “Of course. But this would be Omagh ten thousand times over, slaughterin’ innocents. We still have a chance to stop this. Where is the bomb?”

  Grace’s tone grew pleading. “Don’t you understand?” She reached back — to her waistband. Drawing? Molly’s gut tensed.

  “Grace!” Zachary’s bark was a decent imitation of Ed. Grace jumped and whirled around.

  Behind her back, Grace’s hand was on the grip of her gun.

  Forget the bomb. While Grace was still distracted, Molly lunged for her. She knocked Grace to the floor and yanked the gun away from the older woman.

  Molly restrained Grace with her weight on the older woman’s back. Molly tucked both guns into her handbag and pulled out handcuffs. “Grace Canavan, you’re under arrest.” Continuing with the charges and Miranda warning, she ratcheted the cuffs onto Grace’s wrists.

  She’d just finished when shoes stepped into view at Grace’s shoulder. Molly jerked her head up, reaching for her gun and fearing the worst. She couldn’t hear threats coming.

  Once again, it was Xavier. He helped Molly up. Together they hauled Grace to her feet.

  Grace caught Molly’s gaze and gave her a pitying head shake. “I was makin’ the happiest day of your life perfect.” She sounded as though she were whispering, or very far away. “I took you in as a daughter.”

  “If I were your dau
ghter, Grace, I’d elope.”

  “And if I were marrying your daughter,” Zachary said as he closed the last few feet, “I’d think twice.” He beckoned them over, and Xavier and Molly pulled Grace with them, following Zachary into the kitchenette.

  Molly couldn’t hear the exchange with Xavier, but Zachary waved him off, and Xavier left.

  Careful not to turn her back on the suspects, Molly joined Zachary at the door. “Where’s he goin’?”

  She couldn’t hear the reply. She pointed to her ear. “Gun went off in my ear.”

  “Sorry.” Zachary raised his voice. “Meeting the bomb squad.”

  “Good.” Then it didn’t matter if the Canavans hadn’t shown them the bomb.

  Zachary crossed to the table and snatched up his FBI credentials. “Thanks for hanging onto these for me, Ed.”

  Grace and Ed slowly looked up at him. “Your accent,” Grace said.

  “Oh, yeah.” Still speaking loudly enough for Molly, he held out a hand as if to shake theirs. “Zach Saint.”

  For once, Grace was speechless. She and Ed gaped at Zachary for a full minute until Xavier returned with two uniformed police officers. They cut Ed free from the table and conducted the Canavans out of the room, X bringing up the rear.

  Now it was over. Molly puffed out a breath, the excess energy already humming in her system without anywhere to go now that the danger was past.

  “How’d you end up tied to a chair?” she asked.

  “A chunk of my night’s missing.” Zachary ran his fingers through his hair and winced.

  “A chunk of your head, too.”

  He lowered his hand, pausing for a double take at the blood there. “I’m bleeding?”

  “You’ve nearly stopped.” She grabbed a paper towel and applied it to the side of his skull. “Are you all right?”

  Zachary shrugged, then winced. “Must’ve gotten hit on the head.”

  “You think?” Molly guided him forward and toned down the sarcasm. “How’d it happen?”

  Fortunately, he spoke loudly enough for her to hear. “Can’t remember. Maybe I was knocked out? Obviously something went wrong.”

  Molly stopped short. He couldn’t remember? This could be serious.