“Not really,” Ben interjected again.
“Not really, how?”
“Like I said, the match is close, but not positive,” Constance said with a shrug. “That opens things up for a world of doubt. The gun might be warm, but it’s not smoking.”
“Well, I’ve been saying that all along,” I returned. “So, out of curiosity, do you think the samples may have been tampered with?”
“I doubt it,” she said, shaking her head. “Ben told me that was your theory, and while I won’t discount it entirely, I really don’t think it’s likely. Mainly because the easiest way to do that would have been to substitute her hair for the original samples from the unsubs, which would have given a full positive match across the board.”
“Doing that would have been a bit obvious, wouldn’t it?”
“Not really. And, besides, if you’re going to tamper with evidence, you sure don’t want to get too complicated. The KISS principle is usually the best way to keep from getting caught.”
“Okay, but let me ask this. You’re telling me the mitochondrial DNA actually was a full match across the board. I understand it won’t work for positive identification, but isn’t it pretty damning?”
“All it really means is that the killer and Felicity share a maternal link somewhere in their ancestry. That’s not actually as uncommon as you might think, especially when you consider ethnic origin and those sorts of factors. Still, you could be talking about a relative, close or distant.”
I let out a frustrated breath and sat back in my chair. “I’m really afraid all this conversation has done is…”
I wasn’t allowed to finish the sentence. The angry pounding that suddenly issued from my front door didn’t let me.
CHAPTER 19:
The dogs began barking immediately; vociferously defending their territory against the mysterious would be intruder. However, my gut suspicion was that they could bark until they were hoarse, and it wasn’t going to scare away the person on the other side of the door.
“That don’t sound like a very happy knock,” Ben ventured. “You expectin’ company, or did ya’ just piss somebody off?”
Now it was my turn to give an ambiguous answer. “Yes and no.”
“Yeah, and that means?” he prodded.
I was already getting up from my seat. “It means no, I wasn’t actually expecting anyone. Well, not that I invited, anyway. But, yes, I’d say it’s a good bet he’s angry with me.”
“Sounds like you think ya’ know who it is.”
“Judging from the knock, I’d say it’s probably my father-in-law.”
“I’ll bite. Why’s he pissed at you?”
“Other than the fact that he just generally hates me? At the moment, he blames me for Felicity being in jail.”
Constance gave her head a confused shake. “He blames you for this? Why?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, if you’d rather not deal with it, I’ll be happy to get the door for you,” she offered.
“No, better let me,” I replied. “If it’s him, there’s no reason for you to be stuck in the middle of a family squabble. I know how you law enforcement types feel about those things, and I don’t blame you.”
The hammering echoed through the house once again, coupled with a muffled shout that sounded something like my name. The dogs had quieted momentarily during the brief lull but now renewed their bid to repel the noise with some of their own.
Giving my head a shake that was the obvious product of embarrassment, I strode out of the kitchen and through the dining room. Both Ben and Constance followed along a few paces behind. I guess if I took into account the concern they’d shown for whether or not I’d been eating, their watchful attitudes in this situation were to be expected.
Shushing the canines as I waded between them, I reached for the lock. Out of habit, before turning the deadbolt I put my eye to the peephole even though I was certain I knew whom it was I would see. However, the distorted countenance on the other side of the fisheye came as a total shock. Instead of finding my father-in-law as I had expected, there was someone else entirely standing on my front porch, pummeling my door.
“What the…” I mumbled.
“What’s wrong, Row?” Ben asked.
“Well, apparently I was wrong,” I replied. “It’s not Shamus; it’s Austin.”
“Who’s Austin?”
“My brother-in-law.”
“That a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Actually, besides Felicity, he’s the one member of that family who doesn’t seem to hate me,” I said with a shrug.
Under the circumstances, I don’t suppose Austin’s presence really should have come as that big a surprise. He was, after all, Felicity’s older brother, and he had a habit of being very overprotective of his “kid sister.”
However, there was also the glaring fact that he made his home almost four thousand miles away in Ireland. I remembered Felicity having made mention that he was planning his vacation around the Thanksgiving holiday in order to visit with family, but I also seemed to recall he was supposed to be arriving late in the coming week. Friday, I thought.
Of course, I suppose it was a good bet he had received a call from Maggie or Shamus telling him of his sister’s current plight, and that may have prompted him to re-arrange his travel plan. Something he would have had to do in a huge rush, but that wasn’t something I would put past him. Whatever the reason however, obviously he was here sooner rather than later.
Rather than stand there trying to reason out the logistics that now brought him to my doorstep, I twisted the lock and unlatched the door then pulled it open wide. In retrospect, I probably should have taken the time to do some of the pondering I had so quickly dismissed.
Just as I had told Ben, Austin and I had always gotten along famously. Other than my wife, he really was the only member of the O’Brien family who accepted me for who I was and didn’t pass judgment on my religious path or lifestyle. In fact, he had even gone toe to toe with his father in my defense on more than one occasion. Therefore, I can honestly say his fist racing toward my jaw was absolutely the last thing I ever imagined would happen. Of course, my imagination had been running incredibly rampant as of late, so possibilities that would have been obvious to others simply didn’t fit within its outlandish scope.
An almost sickeningly strong smell of whisky flowed in on the wake of the opening door and thrown hand. The odor served as a good indicator of how Austin had come by the mood he was presently wearing. Truth is, he tended at times to fall into the negative stereotype of the drunken Irishman who was happiest when in the middle of a bar room brawl. Not that he spent all that much time drunk, mind you, but whenever he did set about imbibing alcohol, he wasn’t one for temperance. And, unfortunately, violence often ensued.
My ears detected something that may or may not have been a curse echoing through the room, but at this point whatever he was actually saying was completely obscured by the alcohol slur that permeated his speech. The intent in his tone, however, was unmistakable, so I didn’t waste time trying to figure out the actual verbiage.
A strong sense of deja vu invaded my brain as my brother-in-law’s fist arced through the air between us; however, in this instance I could actually explain why I felt like this had happened before-because it had.
Ben had done exactly the same thing only a couple of years back, also while in a similarly inebriated state. In his case, while the punch landed with far more force than he’d intended, there had been no malice attached. I was reasonably certain I couldn’t say the same for Austin.
Unfortunately, my brother-in-law’s speech seemed to be the only thing impaired by the whisky. Both his coordination and depth perception appeared to be perfectly sober. Of course, I suppose it could have been that his aim was off to begin with, and I simply chose the wrong direction to dodge. In any event, his incoming knuckles glanced across my jaw, and my head snapped back as an altogether new pai
n inflicted itself on the lower half of my face. Literally reeling with the force of the blow, for the second time in the past two days I staggered backward across my living room.
Rattled though I was, I managed to catch the fact that Austin was quickly following the punch through the door and had already cocked his left arm in preparation to launch another fist. Of course, with his anger focused so intently upon me, the thing that was escaping his attention was the fact that I was more or less flanked by a cop and an FBI agent who had already demonstrated that they were more than just a little concerned about my continued well-being.
I don’t know which one of them was the first to move, Ben or Constance. I wasn’t really in a position to see, and the chaotic tableau was made even more disconcerting by the dogs as they growled and yelped in response to the unexpected attack. I’m sure they were just as confused as me, given that they were familiar with Austin as a friendly face but were now witnessing him as an aggressor. They didn’t seem to know whether they should go after him, or run and hide, so they chose the middle ground of positioning themselves between the two of us and assuming a loud and menacing posture.
Even with all that, I did manage to catch quite a bit of blurred movement on either side of me before my brother-in-law’s second punch even began its trajectory. As I was falling, I felt Ben’s hand clamp onto my arm then physically yank me up and to the side, pulling me out of harm’s way.
Had I blinked, I probably would have missed the entire episode, but I somehow remained focused on the flash of motion before me. Constance immediately filled the void from the other side, snatching Austin’s wrist then twisting as she thrust one foot out in his path. In one easy swipe, she took his legs from beneath him, and he crashed face first onto the floor.
While I’m certain his lack of balance from the alcohol made her task somewhat easier, there was no doubt in my mind she would have been able to subdue him had he been cold sober, ten years younger, and a foot taller. In the end, Austin wound up kissing the hardwood, with his shoulder straining in its socket as the petite FBI agent wrenched his arm upward and held him in place with one knee in his back. She had already filled her hand with a pair of handcuffs and was beginning to apply them when my sluggish brain caught up to the action transpiring around me.
The dogs had stopped barking but remained stationed between us, an occasional low growl emitting from one or the other as they nervously danced in place.
“Aye, get the hell off me ya’ goddammed saigh! ” my brother-in-law bellowed, his voice reflecting upward from the hard surface of the floor.
“You need to calm down and cooperate, sir,” Constance instructed, slapping the stainless steel around his wrist and ratcheting it tight. “I think I should also warn you that calling me a bitch isn’t a very good start in that direction.”
Constance had heard Felicity use that very same expression more than once and knew all too well what it meant. In fact, considering the young woman’s seemingly photographic memory, it was very likely she remembered any and all Gaelic she’d ever heard my wife utter then explain.
At this particular moment, I was guessing that Austin was using the foreign language simply out of habit, as did most everyone in his family. I suppose it could have been done in a calculated attempt to get one over on Mandalay, but I doubted that. Whichever was the case, however, I was sure the result he was getting definitely wasn’t the one he was after.
I absently touched my hand to my stinging face, causing myself to flinch. When I pulled it away, there was a healthy swath of blood on my fingers and palm. Judging from that, and the way my mouth felt, I was guessing I had a split lip. Either that or a missing tooth my tongue just hadn’t noticed yet.
As annoyed, and even downright angry as all this made me, I heard myself say, “Please don’t hurt him, Constance.”
“That’s up to him,” she returned without looking up.
“Jay-zuss! Get off me, damn you!”
“Sir,” she instructed again, switching on her official voice. “I’m telling you again to calm down. I am a federal officer and I expect you to cooperate. Now, give me your other hand.”
“Not on your life.”
“I’m not going to ask you again, sir. Let’s not do this the hard way.”
“Fek tu! ”
“Not on your best day, asshole,” she returned sharply, shifting out of official speak for a moment, then she leaned forward hard on her carefully positioned knee.
He groaned heavily as she pressed her weight into his lower back, not that she was endowed with that much, petite as she was; but obviously she knew how to use what she had to make her point. With a practiced motion, she took hold of his other wrist and brought it behind his back then quickly applied the other cuff. Once he was secured, she backed off the pressure on his spine and stood up then stepped over him.
“Are you okay, Rowan?” she asked.
“I’ll live,” I replied with a nod.
The space between us was no longer blocked, as the dogs were preoccupied with sniffing at the prone man on the floor, seeing him now as a curiosity rather than a threat.
“Let me see,” she demanded, moving forward and gently taking my chin in her fingers.
I brushed her hand away and twisted my head, pulling back. “I’m fine.”
“You need to put some ice on that,” she pressed.
“I said, I’ll be fine.”
“Storm,” she said, shooting him a glance then cocking her head toward Austin.
“Yeah, I got ‘im,” he replied with a nod. “You get Row some ice.”
“Isn’t anybody listening to me?” I objected, voice filled with a mix of anger and exasperation, but the words came too late to matter. Constance was already halfway to the kitchen, and she wasn’t slowing down.
Ben stooped over and dragged my brother-in-law onto his knees by his upper arm, “Come on. Get up.”
“Jay-zuss, ya’ bastard!” he yelped. “You’re breakin’ me goddamned arm then!”
“You just don’t know when ta’ shut up, do ya’?” Ben snapped as he finished pulling him up to his feet. “Now, I know I heard Mandalay tell ya’ ta’ calm down. You got some kinda hearin’ problem or somethin’?”
“Aye, it’s best you stay out of this,” my brother-in-law spat. “It’s personal. It’s not your problem, then.”
“Yeah, well, trust me, I know all about personal,” Ben replied, shoving him into the dining room and planting him in a chair. “And, maybe this is, I dunno. But, the thing ya’ gotta be aware of is you made it my problem when ya’ attacked an innocent citizen right in front of me and then resisted arrest.”
“Innocent my arse!”
Ben looked over in my direction but kept himself positioned between the two of us. “Jeezus, Row. I thought you said this is the guy that liked ya’?”
“I guess he changed his mind,” I replied with a shake of my head.
Halfway through the motion I stopped, closed my eyes, and groaned. The rattling in my skull still hadn’t subsided, and now that it joined forces with the fresh ache in my jaw, moving just made it that much worse. When I allowed my eyes to flutter open once again, I saw that Mandalay was already heading back through the dining room with a dishtowel in her hand.
“What’ve you done to my sister, ya’ bastard?!” Austin shouted, lifting up and leaning to the side to look around Ben’s frame.
Before I could answer, Ben snapped, “Can it!” Then, pushing him back down into the seat he added, “Now, I’m not gonna tell ya’ ta’ calm down again, got me?!”
I was determined that someone was going to listen to me, so I shot back with, “I haven’t done anything to her, Austin!”
My own voice rose in volume as I expelled the words, and that didn’t help my head either. However, the sudden rush of anger was enough to at least blunt the pain.
“Liar!”
“Goddammit, Austin, I…”
“You too!” Ben returned, cutting me off while stabb
ing a finger at me. “Not another word outta either of ya’. Hear me?!”
Constance interjected her voice into the auditory fray as she came to a halt in front of me. “Stand still, this might sting a bit.”
With only that comment as warning, she began dabbing at the lower half of my face and lip with a damp towel. I immediately winced and pulled away, reaching for her wrist out of reflex.
“A bit?” I yelped.
She slapped my hand away and continued undaunted, quickly adding, “I said, stand still.”
“Dammit, Constance,” I muttered. “You aren’t my mother.”
“I’m not your wife either, thank God,” she quipped softly. “But, someone has to look after you, and until we clear Felicity, it looks like I got the job whether I want it or not. Now, hold still.”
“Bastard!” Austin snipped.
“I thought I told ya’ ta’ shut up!” Ben snarled at him.
“I’ll be fine,” I reiterated to Mandalay.
“Come over this way,” she instructed, tugging on my arm. “I need more light.”
“Constance…”
“Jeezus, Row,” Ben urged with a healthy measure of exasperation in his voice. “She ain’t gonna take no for an answer, so will ya’ just let ‘er look at it and get it over with?”
I didn’t say another word, but I did let out a heavy sigh before following her a few steps over to the floor lamp. Then, giving in to yet another of her demands, I twisted my head so she could have a closer look.
“Mmhmm,” she hummed. “It’s not too bad. I don’t think you’ll need any stitches.”
“Thanks, Doctor Mandalay,” I returned, unable to keep the sarcasm from bleeding through.
She ignored the dig and instead simply produced a second dishtowel from her other hand then carefully pressed it against my lip. It was damp and cold where the fistful of ice it was wrapped around had begun to melt through.
“Here, hold this on it for a while.”
“If I do, will you stop mothering me?”
“No.”
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