Double Scotch
Page 19
“Siobhan Finneran, lad,” she said. “You're a bit tight-wound, aren't you. What do you call yourself, big fellow?”
“Detective Neshenko,” Vic said. He, Erin, and one of the ESU guys moved in on her while the rest of the police spread out to finish clearing the warehouse.
“I'm Detective O'Reilly,” Erin added.
Siobhan turned her attention to Erin, who caught a flicker of surprise in her eyes. Surprise, and maybe even recognition. Erin tried to remember whether she'd ever met Siobhan before. She was sure she wouldn't have forgotten someone so striking.
“O'Reilly?” Siobhan said. “Another Irishwoman. Oh, that's grand.” There was something sardonic in her voice.
“Are you carrying any weapons, Ms. Finneran?” Vic asked.
“That depends on one's definition.”
“Guns, knives, sharp objects,” he said, refusing to flirt.
“Oh no, nothing of that sort.”
“We need to check you anyway,” he said. “Erin here can do it if you're not comfortable with a man—”
“You needn't worry about my tender feelings,” she said. “Or are your doubting your self-control?”
“I'll do it,” Erin said to preempt whatever retort Vic was brewing up. “Please extend your arms to either side, ma'am.”
“Ma'am,” Siobhan said, almost snorting. “I believe you're old enough to be my mother, or perhaps my aunt.” She obeyed, but as Erin began patting her down, she looked the policewoman over. Erin felt like the search was a mutual thing. She didn't like it.
“You're not as pretty as I thought,” Siobhan said in a quieter tone.
“Do I know you?” Erin asked.
“Oh no, marm,” Siobhan said. “I'd remember.”
Erin ran her hands over the other woman's shoulders and down her sides, repeating the basic frisking procedure she'd done dozens of times on patrol. Then she felt something and stopped. There was definitely a bulge under Siobhan's left arm.
“Ms. Finneran,” Erin said, speaking with deliberate slowness, not wanting to startle anyone into rash action. “What have you got under your jacket?”
“It's a holster,” Siobhan said.
“Whoa there,” Vic said. “You said you weren't armed!”
“I'm not,” she said. “It's simply a holster, no revolver in it. Feel free to check.”
Erin wasn't about to take the woman at her word. She flipped back the leather jacket and saw it was true. Siobhan was wearing a shoulder holster, but it was empty.
“Where's the gun?” Erin asked.
“What gun?” Siobhan replied.
“Your gun.”
“You can see I've no gun on my person. I'm breaking no laws.”
We'll see about that, Erin thought and almost said out loud. What she did say was, “We're still going to need you to come with us and answer some more questions.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Only if you refuse.”
Siobhan smiled icily. “An Irishwoman doesn't make idle threats.”
Erin gave a cold smile of her own. “If I threaten you, Ms. Finneran, you'll know it.”
They glared at each other for a long moment. Erin knew the other woman didn't like her, and that it was something that went beyond her being a police officer, but she didn't understand what it could be. Maybe she'd arrested Siobhan's brother, or lover, or something. Whatever it was, Siobhan was giving her the sort of look that on the street usually meant a fight was going to be on in a few seconds.
Kira saw it too. She interposed herself between the other two women. “I'll escort Ms. Finneran to the precinct,” she said. “Why don't you and Rolf case the scene, make sure we don't miss anything?”
“Right,” Erin said. As she turned away, she paused. “Make sure you check her for powder residue.”
“Will do,” Kira said.
“Oh aye, that's exactly the sort of thing a lass might do,” Siobhan said. “Engage in a bit of pistol-play, then simply hang about the place waiting for the coppers. If I had bloody rocks in my head, maybe that's what I'd have done, but perhaps I'd simply have joined your police department instead.”
Erin let the cheap shot pass. “Rolf,” she said to her K-9, “such.”
It was his search command, spoken in his native German. The Shepherd put his nose to the ground and started sniffing. He was trained to search for humans, both living and dead, and explosives. She'd know what he found by his reaction. He scratched and whined when he located a person. If he smelled a bomb, he sat perfectly still and stared at it. Trainers had learned long ago that a dog pawing at an explosive device wasn't the best idea.
“We're clear,” one of the ESU guys announced. The warehouse was half-full of packing crates and forklift palettes. There was a small office with an adjoining restroom, along with a maintenance room and a couple of empty side rooms. The police had checked all of these and found them vacant.
Erin wasn't expecting Rolf to find anything, but the Shepherd proved her wrong. He pulled toward the middle of one of the rows of boxes, then abruptly stopped and sat.
She took a look. Two big packing crates had been smashed open, probably with the same crowbar that had been used on the door. Their contents were jumbled, as if someone had rifled them in a quick search. It looked like they contained wool blankets.
“What've you got?” Vic asked, coming up behind her.
Erin had gone very cold inside. “I think he found what he was looking for,” she said.
“What's that?”
She hoped like hell she was wrong. “Bombs.”
Ready for more?
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About the Author
Steven Henry learned how to read almost before he learned how to walk. Ever since he began reading stories, he wanted to put his own on the page. He lives a very quiet and ordinary life in Minnesota with his wife and dog.
Also by Steven Henry
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Readers love Ember of Dreams
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Learn more at tinyurl.com/emberofdreams.
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