by Ana Leigh
“Your da’s here, cutie,” McDermott said.
That meant Trish was in the room for certain. He had to get between her and McDermott before the squad moved in.
“McDermott,” Henry called out from the porch.
McDermott’s gaze swept the yard to make sure Hunter was alone and Dave ducked into the dining room when the terrorist moved to the front door to unlock it.
Dave had a full view now of the living room. Trish was bound and gagged, sitting on the floor in the corner.
She saw him and her eyes widened in surprise. He motioned her to silence and ducked behind a nearby couch.
“Where’s my daughter?” Henry declared.
The two men came into the living room. McDermott had the rifle pointed at Henry.
“Whether you believe me or not, McDermott, I did not double-cross you,” Henry said. “Manning told me he gave you the money and bin Muzzar had the diamonds.”
“I’ve no time for your lies, Hunter. Just hand over the money,” McDermott snarled.
Dave started to inch his way toward Trish. If McDermott turned around, he was sure to see him. His movement had caught Henry’s attention though.
“Colin, I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” Henry said. “We had a good arrangement set up. I can understand why you killed Robert, but why bin Muzzar? He was our contact.”
“Why do you think? I figured he and Manning were trying to pull a fast one on me. As soon as his little army left to chase after Manning, I showed him the error of his ways.”
“So they got what they deserved,” Henry said. “That’s no reason why you and I can’t continue to do business.”
Hunter was doing a good job of keeping McDermott’s attention. Dave reached Trish.
“I don’t think so, Hunter. I have to find a different source for money. This country’s a little too hot for me. Your damn CIA, the police and the FBI are all on my tail. So if you don’t mind, I’ll have my money and the diamonds now.”
“How do I know you won’t kill me and my daughter then?”
“If I’d wanted to kill her, I could have done the same night I killed Manning. I was hiding in the bushes when she came home that night. I should have. I’ve wasted a lot of time dealing with you.”
“Why did you kill Sharon Iverson? She had nothing to do with this any more than my daughter does.”
“I thought maybe Manning passed the diamonds on to her.” He laughed lightly. “I’m thinking you’re trying to stall with all these questions. You wouldn’t be trying a sting on me, would you, Mr. Hunter?”
“You don’t have a chance, Colin. The police have the house surrounded.”
“Then say goodbye to your daughter before I kill you. They can bury you together.”
He turned his head and pointed the rifle at Trish. Dave threw himself on top of her to try and shield her just as McDermott fired. The shots went wild when Hunter grabbed McDermott’s arm and started to wrestle the weapon from him.
The gunshot triggered the squad into action and they broke in, Bolen’s shot hit the terrorist in the heart, but not before McDermott had turned the weapon on Henry and fired. Both men fell to the floor.
Mike Bishop had come in with the squad and was bending over McDermott by the time Dave freed Trish.
“McDermott’s dead,” Mike said.
“Dad!” Trish rushed over to her father. Kurt was kneeling over Henry. He looked up at Dave and shook his head, then got up and walked away while Trish cradled her father’s head in her lap.
“Somebody get an ambulance,” she cried out.
“There’s one on the way, Trish,” Bishop said.
“It’s too late for that, baby,” Henry gasped. “I’m sorry, honey. I almost got you killed.”
“It doesn’t matter, Dad. Just hold in there. You’ll be okay once we get you to the hospital.”
Henry tried to smile, but he was slipping away quickly.
“I’m sorry I’ve fouled up your life, honey.” Tears were streaking Trish’s cheeks. “Don’t let me do it any longer. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Dad, I hear you.”
“There’s so much I want to say to you, honey. And so little time to do it. I’ve been so wrong.”
“Please, don’t try to talk, Dad. Save your strength. Just lie still until the ambulance arrives.”
“It’s better going out this way than spending the rest of my life in prison.”
His voice had sunk to a mere whisper. Trish had to lean closer to hear him. “You’ve got a good man there. Hold on to him, baby.” He closed his eyes.
“Dad!” Trish cried.
Dave knelt down and felt for a pulse in Henry’s neck. “He’s gone, Trish,” he said gently. He tried to raise her to her feet, but she shrugged off his hands.
“No. Go away. Leave me alone. All of you leave me alone.”
Trish mentally closed herself off from everyone in the room and sat rocking back and forth with her father’s head in her lap.
They returned to Georgetown and the doctor gave Trish a sedative to put her to sleep. He advised everyone to leave.
Dave refused to go. He sat at her bedside the rest of the day and throughout the night. He could tell by her restless tossing that she was having nightmares. Once there were even tears rolling down her cheeks.
He was suffering his own nightmares watching her struggle. He wanted to climb into the bed and hold her. Despite how he felt toward Henry Hunter, he had never wished the man dead—for Trish’s sake, not his own.
In retrospect, Dave realized Henry was not an evil man, only a weak man. And despite the man’s other shortcomings, his love for his daughter was indisputable—even if his methods to hold on to her were questionable. But he had died trying to save her—and the way a man dies can often make up for the mistakes of the way he lived.
Trish remained reclusive in the days that followed and throughout the funeral. She not only shunned him, but Deb and other well-wishers as well. She moved about speaking and behaving apparently normally, but those close to her knew differently.
She had lost all interest in the redecoration of her apartment. Knowing Trish’s plans for it, Deb took it over and Dave helped her. They supervised the painting and removal of Manning’s furniture, and the placement of the new pieces that Trish had purchased. Throughout it all, Trish remained in her father’s house.
Dave had watched Trish shrug off the dangers that had threatened her and had often wondered when she would crack under the strain of it. Her father dying in her arms had finally put her over that edge.
And never in the week that followed did she mention her father, nor bring up the subject of where their relationship was going. And he wasn’t about to broach the subject. He had every confidence she would eventually pull out of this. She merely needed time to mourn. And Dave gave her that time—and space.
The nagging question in his mind was whether their relationship was over. He’d always figured it would be when the day came that she had to face the reality of her father’s past. Now that he feared that day had come, he knew he didn’t want to say goodbye again.
Dave actually welcomed the phone call from Mike calling in the team for a mission.
He was stuffing some items into his pack when a knock sounded on the door. He didn’t have time for one of Mrs. Graham’s problems tonight.
He opened the door to Trish. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” He stepped aside. “I’ve only got a couple of minutes, Trish. You caught me on the way out.”
Trish glanced at the pack he’d put near the door. “You’re going on a mission?” Dave nodded. “For how long?”
“I don’t know. Three or four days I guess.”
“I won’t keep you. We have to talk when you get back.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“I’ve done a lot of thinking this past week. About us. My dad. A lot of things.”
“Trish, believe me, I’m sorry about your father. I know how much p
ain you’re feeling.” He glanced at his watch. “I wish I had more time. I hate to leave you like this.”
“You were going away without saying goodbye?”
“I didn’t want to add to your problems. You’ve got enough on your mind right now.”
“I understand.” She looked up at him and tried to smile. “Take care of yourself, Dave. We’ll have that talk when you get back.”
He tenderly cupped her cheeks between his hands. “Goodbye, angel.” Then he kissed her. Gently. Tenderly.
Once outside, they walked in silence to her car. He opened the door for her, then said goodbye again. “We’ll talk when I get back.”
Trish watched him hail a cab. As he climbed in, he turned his head and looked back at her. He grinned and waved.
She remained there, floundering in the force of the anguish of tormented thoughts.
Dave had been right about her father. Had warned her time and time again, but she had always been blind and in denial where he was concerned. She and her father had even quarreled over Dave the last time they were together the day before he died.
Surely he must have known the choices he made could only lead to disaster. What had driven him to commit the dishonest acts? Yet she could not hate him for it.
You’ve got a good man there. Hold on to him, baby.
Those final words of her father’s ran through her mind over and over again.
Could it be too late for Dave and her? Was there too much baggage between them to continue to hold on to hope? Had they let the moment pass?
She turned the key in the ignition and drove home.
Wearily, Dave tossed his door keys on the table and went into the bedroom. He stripped, stepped into the shower and let the hot water pelt his aching bones. He was drained physically and emotionally.
For the past four days he’d been haunted by the memory of Trish’s visit before he’d left. He had almost blown the mission in Colombia thinking about it. He knew she had come to tell him they were through. That he was right. That her father would always be a painful memory between them.
Well, dammit, he was wrong. Had never been so wrong in his life. Trish and their love were worth fighting for. He should have stayed and fought for them six years ago. Instead, he had run like a cowardly chicken. Instead of building a life together, he had wasted six years of their lives building bitterness and wallowing in self-pity.
Well, no matter how she felt now, he was going to admit his mistake to her, and beg her to give them another try. Surely they loved each other enough to make it this time.
He’d leave the Agency and get a white-collar job. Trade in combat boots for wingtips. His M4 for a calculator. But somewhere away from D.C. This place held too many painful memories for her.
What if she turned him down? Lord knows he deserved it. He’d done nothing but give her a hard time, despite her attempt to rekindle their romance.
Had he blown it beyond her forgiveness?
Suddenly the shower door opened and Trish stood there with just a towel wrapped around her. Her eyes glowed with the remembered devilishness he knew would always be his downfall. But he’d die with a smile on his face.
Her appearance there told him all he had to know at the moment.
Eventually they would get around to talking it out. They’d assured one another that old hang-ups would never come between them again. But not now. Definitely not now.
“Hi, cowboy. Room for one more?”
Dave grinned, and opened his arms. “What do you think, angel?”
She dropped the towel and stepped into the shower.
Epilogue
Mr. and Mrs. David Cassidy stepped outside the church into a hailstorm of rice. Due to the decorating sensitivity of the matron of honor, Debra Carpenter, the rice, of course, had been dyed to match the pale yellow gown of the bride.
Detectives Wally MacPherson and Joe Brady sat in their car and watched the proceedings with diverse opinions.
“Just like I said, Joe, I like happy endings.”
“I knew all the time they were innocent,” Joe said.
“Yeah, right, partner,” Wally scoffed.
“I was just trying to give you a hard time.”
“I knew that,” Wally said. “And by the way, Manning’s uncle collected his insurance money.”
“This sure was one crazy case. Nothing about it was normal. Two murders, CIA, Irish terrorist, twin brothers.” Joe shook his head. “I tell you, Wally, I ain’t sure I’ve got it all straight in my head.”
“What don’t you understand?”
“Okay. Manning and Hunter were funding the IRA in exchange for diamonds. Right?”
“That’s right, partner.”
“And this IRA guy, Colin McDermott, murdered Manning, Sharon Iverson and Henry Hunter before the CIA took him down.”
“He also killed some desert sheik in Morocco,” Wally said.
Joe snorted. “And we think the Mafia is bad. So, anyway, this Colin McDermott had a twin brother named James. And James had a wife named Britany. She’s the one who tried to kill Patricia Manning. Right?”
“She claimed she was only trying to scare her.”
“Yeah, sure she was,” Joe said. “So what happened to the twin brother and his wife?”
“Since they didn’t do any of the killing, they’re being extradited to England. The Brits want them.”
“Well ain’t you forgetting something, Wally? What about those missing diamonds? Who’s got them?”
“The CIA. As soon as they heard about them, they took possession of them.”
“How’d they do that? I thought Mrs. Manning—”
“She’s Mrs. Cassidy now,” Wally corrected.
“Okay, Mrs. Cassidy. Didn’t she say Manning had them locked up in his safe?”
“You tell me I’m naive, partner. The CIA has the most sophisticated communication system in the world. It employs experts in cryptography, chemistry, cybernetics and just about every other thing you can think of, as well as special ops guys like Cassidy. You think they ain’t got somebody who knows how to crack a safe?”
“So why did they snatch the diamonds?”
“Make sure somebody else couldn’t. They’re evidence, partner.”
“And who do they belong to now?”
“Maybe the CIA will auction them off.”
“What will they do with the money?”
“How the hell do I know!”
Wally glanced up at the newly-wed couple on the church steps. His beefy face softened in a smile.
“They sure are a good-looking couple. Warms my heart that everything worked out for them.”
“Well, it don’t warm mine.”
“What’s wrong now?”
“Considering the time we put in on this case, the least they could have done was invite us to the wedding.”
Wally laughed. “You got no romance in your soul, Joe.”
“Ain’t you noticed that everybody connected with this case except your two lovebirds ended up dead or in the slammer? What’s gonna happen with those two?”
“Like I tried to tell you, Joe. They live happily ever after.”
“Yeah, on her father’s insurance money,” Joe grumbled, and wheeled the Crown Vic into traffic.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7111-5
RECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES
Copyright © 2005 by Anna Lee Baier
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*Bishop’s Heroes
*Bishop’s Heroes
