by E B Corbin
Pete slapped both hands on his thighs. “Okay, then. I’ll head back to the station and check out those two witnesses.”
“We’ll stay here. We need go over a few things with Roxanne and Sylvia,” Callahan told him. “I’ll contact DC in case they’ve come up with any new findings. Then I think it’s time I had another chat with Clancy before he’s moved.”
As Pete unlocked the door, he turned back to address Sylvia. “Do you want this locked?”
“I think that’s wise for now. Especially while that wood’s blocking my view.” Sylvia stepped forward to secure the door. “In fact, I might keep it locked from now on. If anyone wants to talk to me or Roxanne, they can knock.” Nodding to herself, she returned to her seat.
Although most of the tension eased after the sheriff left, Roxanne remained on edge. She walked around the desk to stand behind Sylvia. With her hand on the older woman’s shoulder, she said, “So, you wanted to talk to us?”
“You don’t believe what Pete said, do you?” Callahan asked the room in general.
“I certainly don’t,” Sylvia said. “I’ve known you since you were born. You would never lie to us about something this serious.”
Callahan smiled at her. “Thank you for that.” He raised an eyebrow at Roxanne. “What about you?”
“I… I don’t know what to think.” She decided on a truthful answer. “It’s hard to imagine that two strangers could describe you in such detail if they didn’t see something.”
“You think I let the shooter go?” He raised his voice. “You actually think I would do something like that? After shaking his hand, for God’s sake?”
Roxanne reflected for a moment. If Callahan had collaborated with the shooter, it meant only one thing. He wanted her dead. But why? He had no logical reason. She struggled to find her voice. “No, I’m just saying…”
“What? What are you saying?” His anger shifted to bewilderment.
A tear zigzagged down her cheek. “I don’t know, dammit!”
Callahan rubbed his forehead in frustration while glancing at Sylvia and Ron. “Let’s take this into your office.”
Roxanne followed, her head held high. This time Puka remained where he was.
As soon as he closed the door behind them, he reached for her. She fought the urge to pull away and allowed his arms to wrap her in much needed comfort. She sniffed, trying to hold back tears as she melted into his embrace. Could he really be lying about everything? Right now, it didn’t matter. She felt secure and steady for the first time since that bullet whizzed by her. If that meant she was a fool, then she didn’t care.
“Why would two strangers lie about seeing you?” she muttered into his shoulder.
With two fingers, he raised her chin and gave her a gentle kiss before he answered. “I don’t know but I’m going to find out.”
“I’m so confused.” She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder.
“I don’t blame you. I’d have a hard time trusting me, too.”
She took a deep breath and pulled back from him. Her shoulders squared with new resolve. “We need to confront those two men—find out why they lied.”
He gave her a slow, crooked smile. “We will. Let’s give Pete some time to check them out first. We’ll have more ammunition that way.”
She smiled at him. “You’re right, of course. I’m not much of an investigator.”
“You’re actually quite good.”
“So what do we do next?” she asked. Now that she had decided to trust him again, she wanted to help clear his name.
“You stay here and meet your clients. Ron and I will go see Clancy.”
She forced herself to put aside everything that had come up in the last hour. “Do you think he’ll tell you anything?”
“I doubt he knows where Pearse and Seamus are hiding, but we might shake him up. If he has any idea where his friends would be, we need to get him to tell us.”
“Well, good luck, then.” She attempted to kiss his cheek but, in his typical manner, he turned his head so their lips met. When they finally broke apart, she added, “Keep me informed.”
She fully intended to spend the rest of the day in her office and not set foot outside the door.
- 10 -
The afternoon flew by in a flurry of meetings. Two elderly couples needed their wills updated: one to include their grandchildren and another to prevent their son from inheriting their land only to sell it. She also completed the corporate filing for a new business in town and reviewed the sales contract for the Donaldsons’ farm. Unlike her personal life, everything here was in order and under control.
Tom O’Malley called to inform her that the insurance company was ready to settle for the fire. Did she want to rebuild or sell the land? It would make a difference in her payment and he was ready to discuss the alternatives.
Roxanne begged off giving him a decision for a few days. With everything else going on, she needed time to think about her future. He urged her to get back to him as soon as possible since he’d pushed for a quick settlement and didn’t want to lose momentum with the insurer.
She set aside the draft of the Robertsons’ will and stared at the wall. If Roxy was really leaving, Roxanne could resume the life here that she’d envisioned—one she found unexpectedly satisfying. Prior to a few months ago, she’d never wished to live in a small town, gave no thought to leaving Pittsburgh and the big law firm where she worked. Now, for whatever reason, she had no desire to start over somewhere else.
Did she want to rebuild from the cottage’s burnt-out shell or should she let Sylvia, in her capacity as a realtor, show her properties for sale that would suit her needs? Building a home from scratch intimidated her, finding a place ready to move in held a little more appeal.
She leaned toward selling the land. Even if she wasn’t ready to house-hunt, once she left Chester’s farmhouse, she could stay at Kate’s B & B. It was both comfortable and available. If she wanted to stay on good terms with Tom O’Malley, she needed to make a final decision and let him know. No sense in undermining her relationship with the only insurance broker in town.
When Sylvia buzzed to say she was leaving, Roxanne glanced at the pendulum clock in her office. It was close to 6:00 p.m. and Callahan had never called to fill her in on his day. Doubts about their relationship crept back with a vengeance.
She dropped her head to her folded arms as they rested on the desk. Her thoughts flipped to when he had remained inaccessible for nearly six weeks after the trouble in November. She’d accepted his explanation, unwilling to let him know how much she’d missed him. Then Roxy had warned her about a mole in the DSS. Now Pete brought up the possibility of Callahan consorting with an armed suspect in an alley.
Damn! She fell for it every time. She ignored all the signs and fell back into her old pattern of hooking up with the wrong man once again. What a fool!
Puka nuzzled his head under her arm begging for attention. The dog needed exercise and she needed a change of scenery. A walk in the frigid twilight would do her good. She considered her ripped parka. How could she endure the cold for long with that gash in its sleeve? There had to be a temporary solution.
A search of her desk yielded nothing useful. Then she found some silver duct tape in the lunchroom and taped the parka. The sloppy repair job made her feel like a homeless derelict, but she grabbed Puka’s leash and stepped outside, taking care to lock the door.
In the biting wind, the sidewalks were deserted at this hour, only a few cars passed by. She led Puka in the direction of Vicki’s cafe, hoping a warm apple cider would defrost her bones. The lights went out in the restaurant before she made it to the first corner but she saw a dark figure hurry out of the establishment.
She caught a glimpse of red hair before the person paused to pull up a hood. Assuming it was Vicki, Roxanne called out, but her word
s were swept away by the wind. Disappointed that she’d missed her, she raised her own hood against the bitter cold and resumed her stroll. She’d catch up to Vicki in her apartment above the cafe.
Instead of stopping at the door to the apartment, the figure scurried along the sidewalk and turned the corner without slowing. Only then did it dawn on Roxanne that the individual she saw wore a tan parka.
Her abrupt halt made Puka choke on his collar. The dog looked at her in confusion as she pulled him into the shelter of an entrance to a jewelry store. Keeping her head down, she pretended to study the display in the window while watching the corner where the tan parka had disappeared.
The retriever whimpered at her side but she couldn’t risk being spotted. If it was the shooter from yesterday, she didn’t want to give him—or her—another chance. But why on earth would Vicki shoot at her?
Roxanne tried to lead Puka back towards the office but the pooch had more strength than she realized. He pulled on the leash with determination heading in the opposite direction. When she planted her feet, Puka barked at her and strained against her hold. Finally, she followed him up the street toward the darkened cafe.
Puka sniffed his way along the sidewalk, stopping to lift his leg at every light pole they passed. Roxanne tried to hurry him along, anxious to get out of shooting range.
Her body relaxed slightly when they reached the restaurant. She tapped on the glass door, hoping Vicki was in the back. The door gave way at her knock and Roxanne pushed inside calling the owner’s name. When no one answered, Roxanne threaded through the tables with Puka and paused at the counter. She called to Vicki again. Still no answer.
A whoosh came from the front of the room and her heart skipped a beat. She swung around to find the door at the entrance flapping open as a cold wind blew. The tablecloths fluttered. Puka remained calm beside her; the dog would have barked his head off at an intruder.
Gathering her courage, she dropped his leash and moved toward the thrashing door. Her hands shook as she engaged the latch in the howling wind. Then she picked her way back to the counter where Puka sat waiting.
The swinging door to the kitchen showed a faint light around the rim. Recovering Puka’s leash, she led him around the service counter to the other room, calling Vicki’s name every few seconds.
As the door swished closed behind her, she depended on the light from an emergency bulb above the rear exit to the kitchen. The room stood empty, with nothing obviously out of order. Stainless steel pots and pans hung on a rack over an immaculate prep station. A clean cast-iron skillet sat on one of the stove burners. Everything appeared spotless and in its place. But no sign of Vicki.
Roxanne sighed and guided Puka to the dining area. It wasn’t like Vicki to forget to lock the cafe and it felt wrong to leave it that way. She searched behind the counter for a key to the front door. Finding nothing, she made certain the latch held tight against the wind before she stepped out to the sidewalk.
Puka now led her towards her office, again tugging on the leash. With a last glance at the cafe, Roxanne followed the impatient dog down the street. She focused on the cracks and icy patches on the sidewalk to keep from falling. As Puka pulled harder, she looked up. A few feet ahead, Callahan stood next to his SUV in front of her office, hands on his hips.
“Where the hell were you?” he said. He tried to steer her to the passenger side of his car but she veered away.
Instead, she placed Puka’s leash in his hand, stepped to the front door and dug for her keys telling him she needed to get something from the office.
She had to find Vicki’s contact information. After locating her legal tablet in a desk drawer, she ruffled the pages until she came to the sheet with Vicki’s cell number and address written in the corner. Roxanne pulled out her phone to enter the data.
When she tried to reach Vicki, the line rang at least twelve times before it clicked off—no option for voicemail.
“Dammit!” Roxanne had hoped to warn her about the unlocked door to her cafe. Although she hadn’t seen anything suspicious, you never knew what someone would do when given the opportunity. Dealing with vandalism or stolen goods would cost a bundle. Vicki needed to be informed.
She tried again to no avail. She consulted the legal tablet once more to check the number. No mistake. Then she made one more attempt to connect with her. Failed.
She punched the “end call” button and stared at the phone. What was she going to do now?
When she joined Callahan outside, Puka pushed against her leg. While she stroked the golden retriever, she kept her eyes averted from Callahan. “I need a favor,” she told him.
“After you answer my question,” he said. “Why did you leave the office without telling me?
“Puka had to relieve himself and I needed some fresh air.” She patted the dog’s head. “We were both stuck in the office all day.”
“I searched up and down the street. Didn’t see you anywhere.” Callahan opened the passenger door with a flick of his wrist.
From the back seat, Ron reached for the rear door handle to let the dog in. “You scared us half to death. We didn’t know what happened to you.”
“Then why didn’t you call?”
“I tried to phone you—at least five times,” Callahan said.
“You didn’t,” Roxanne said as she pulled her cell from her pocket. In that instant, she realized she’d turned off the ringer when she was dealing with clients and forgot to turn it back on. She hit the “missed call” button and saw five messages from Callahan. “Oh… I’m sorry. You’re right.”
“I told you I would call.” Callahan studied her as the golden retriever jumped in the back seat, circled twice and then settled with his head on Ron’s lap.
As Callahan waved his arm at the front seat, Roxanne sank into the soft leather. Before he could close the door, she said, “Would you do me a favor, even though I’m such a bonehead?”
“If you’ll do one for me.” He leaned against the open door.
She wriggled in her seat before giving him a reluctant nod.
“Keep in touch. Don’t go wandering around alone.” He slapped the roof of the car and shut the door before walking around to the driver’s side.
“Okay, I promise. I’m sorry I worried you,” she blurted as Callahan reached for the button to start the SUV.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked when the engine caught.
“Call Bud and ask him to keep an eye on the vegetarian cafe tonight,” she said.
“Why? Is something wrong there?” Callahan twisted to face her.
“I’m not sure. The door was open when we walked past. But there were no lights on and nobody was inside.”
Ron leaned forward after nudging Puka from his lap. “Maybe the owner was in the back.”
“I checked. No one was there. I’d hate to have the place vandalized or robbed.”
Callahan pulled away from the curb and swung the SUV into a U-turn. “Can’t you just call her?”
“I tried. There was no answer and her voicemail isn’t working.”
“So you want me to ask Bud to keep an eye out? All night?” He frowned at her.
“Only until he goes off duty at midnight. After that, there’s not much we can do.” She adjusted the seatbelt so that it didn’t choke her and stared straight ahead. “What are you doing?”
“We’ll go check it out now,” Callahan told her.
“It’s probably nothing to worry about,” Roxanne said. “Could just be my overactive imagination.”
Callahan braked in front of the veggie cafe. “We’re here. Might as well check it out. You stay with Puka. Ron and I can handle it. We’ll try to secure the door somehow.”
“What if Vicki can’t get in in the morning?” Now that they were taking action, Roxanne hoped she wasn’t blowing the whole situation out of propor
tion.
With one foot already on the street, he turned to her. “Call her and give her a heads up.”
“If I can reach her.” She settled into the seat as Callahan and Ron entered the restaurant. Puka whined, pacing back and forth in the rear. Thinking he wanted to get out to join the men, Roxanne unsnapped her seatbelt and turned to give him a reassuring pat.
As she spun around, she heard a thwack, felt a thump on the back of her seat and saw a hole appear in the upholstery close to Puka’s hind legs. When she glanced at the windshield, she noticed a small hole close to where her head would have been had she not pivoted to calm the dog.
Recognizing a bullet hole, she automatically ducked below the dashboard but Puka poked his nose through the space between the bucket seats to get closer to her and made whimpering sounds in his throat. Was he hurt? She had to find out but feared lifting her head.
When a second shot burst through the windshield an inch from the first, she didn’t think twice before vaulting over the console and pushing the button to start the engine. She used the steering wheel to pull herself up and threw the car into reverse. She realized she couldn’t escape fast enough with the rearview mirror as a guide, so she threw on the brakes and rammed the shifter into forward. Then she spun the wheel as far as it would go.
The tires squealed at the tight U-turn but the SUV regained equilibrium as it rocketed up Main Street. She swung onto Second Avenue to get out of the line of fire. After driving several more blocks, Roxanne hoped she was far enough away from the sniper. She knew that a skilled marksman could hit a target as far as one thousand yards away, but she doubted anyone could shoot around a corner.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled to the side of the road, grabbed her phone and called Callahan. “Someone’s shooting at me!” she blurted as soon as he answered.
“Get out of here, right now!”
“I did. I’m about six blocks away.”
“Are you okay?”
