by T K Eldridge
* * *
Connor had just got out of the Rover, leaving it at Cullen’s house, when he heard a shout. He couldn’t make out the words, but he grabbed his own gun and raced along the edge of the lighted area, staying in the shadows as much as possible. He heard the second shout and dropped even lower, eyes skimming the area to try and see where a shooter might be.
Not wanting to give the shooter a bead on his location, he pursed his lips into the bird whistle he and Cull had used when playing in the woods as kids. He saw Cullen’s head lift and turn, then heard the distinctive snap of a bullet hitting rock just as Cull’s head dropped back down and he started crawling backwards, pulling a still Emlen with him. “Shit,” Connor hissed, his gaze moving to where the muzzle flash showed him the location of the shooter. He dropped down off the ledge to the sand and started racing around the curve of the beach, hoping to come up behind whoever it was and surprise them.
The sirens from the fire department ripped through the air as the burning cottage shot flames and shattering glass around the yard. The noise worked in Connor’s favor as he managed to get back up the ridge and come in behind where he’d seen the muzzle flash. He was just hoping the shooter hadn’t moved into circling him instead.
Nearly convinced that he’d overshot the spot, Connor nearly stumbled over the man, slamming himself into a tree before he gave himself away. The bulky figure rose to his feet, a sniper rifle in one hand, the other holding binoculars as he scanned the area where Cullen and Emlen had been. Cursing, the figure dropped the lenses to bounce against his chest as he lifted the rifle again and started forward. Connor moved quickly and pressed his 9mm against the man’s head and snarled, “Drop it, right now.”
Frankie froze. The rifle slid from his fingers and clattered on the ground as his hands slowly lifted to about shoulder height. “Don’t shoot. I was just comin’ to see if anyone needed help.”
“With a sniper rifle? I don’t think so,” Connor snarled as he used his free hand to pat the guy down. “Lock your fingers behind your head and get on your knees.”
“No,” Frankie replied, voice calm.
“What do you mean, no? DO IT!” Connor snapped and grabbed the back of Frankie’s shirt collar, jerking him backwards to get him to drop.
“You ain’t gonna shoot me and I’m not going to let you arrest me,” Frankie said before his right hand dropped to his necklace and then into his mouth almost before Connor realized what was happening. Foam spilled from between Frankie’s lips and his eyes rolled back as his body shuddered and hit the ground. Connor sidestepped out of the way of the falling body as the poison took the man’s life within seconds.
Crouching beside Frankie’s body, Connor patted him down and grabbed the keys and a cell phone, stuffing them into his own pockets before holstering his gun and moving away from the body. He came back up from the beach closer to where he’d last seen Cullen, moving fast as he spotted paramedics lifting Emlen onto a stretcher and another pair trying to get Cullen onto another one. “Stop fighting them, Cull. Get up there,” Connor said as he approached the group, his attention on his brother first.
Cullen’s gaze went to his brother’s face and Connor just gave a faint shake of his head to tell him to not ask as he moved closer. “How bad?” Connor asked.
“Em’s hit in the back and I got a graze on my thigh. Bleeding like crazy but I’ll be fine,” Cullen replied as Connor leaned in and whispered. “Dead. Talk later.”
Cullen nodded and called out, “Get the bag, would ya?” before he let the paramedics strap him in as they wheeled him up the lawn.
The firefighters were already hosing down the remains of the cottage and Connor’s gaze slid from the wreckage of the home to the two being slid into an ambulance. “I’ll meet you there,” he called out to his brother and then walked up towards Cullen’s place, trying to look casual as he pulled out his keys. Snagging the bag from the ground, he found the journal Emlen had been reading and stuffed it into the bag with the others, locking the whole thing in his car before he took the rest of the stuff out of her trunk and secured it as well. Locking her Rover, he put the keys in Cullen’s house. Taking a few minutes to wash up and borrow a shirt from his brother, Connor was soon on his way to the hospital.
On the drive, he called Dave Cook, the sheriff who took over when Joel retired. “Dave, it’s Connor O’Brien. My brother and his neighbor were shot, and her house was torched. The guy that did it - his body is to the left of the house in the brush. I was about to arrest him when he ate what I think was a cyanide pill. I’m on my way to the hospital to check on my family, but I’ll be available for questioning after.”
Dave sighed. “Jeezus, Connor. Who was the guy? Are you okay? Is Cullen going to be…?”
Connor cut him off. “Cull is going to be fine. I’m worried about the neighbor. But the guy? I think he was Frankie Kyle, the bait shop owner.”
“Frankie Kyle shot two people?” Dave sounded stunned. “What the actual fuck?”
“I think he also torched the house with kerosene bombs. And took poison to avoid being arrested.” Connor’s voice caught and he let out a breath. “I’ll tell you what I can later. I’m pulling up at the hospital now.”
“Okay, Connor. I’ll be up after securing the scene. Call me if you leave there,” Dave replied.
“Will do, Sheriff. Stay safe. I don’t know if Frankie was alone.”
“Got it.” Dave hung up and Connor tucked his phone away. He parked as close to the ER as he could and made sure to be in clear view of the traffic of people and vehicles and under the lights. If anyone was going to mess with his car too, he wanted a lot of witnesses.
Stepping into the ER, he pulled his badge as he headed up to the counter. “Cullen O’Brien and Emlen Brewster,” he stated. “Where are they?”
A few moments later, a nurse led Connor back to where Cullen sat on a gurney, another nurse bandaging his leg. “Em’s in surgery,” Connor told his brother. “How’re you doing?”
The nurse finished taping the bandage in place and told Cullen to wait for the doctor before she cleaned up the supplies and stepped away. Ash, dirt and blood covered Cullen and he glanced at Connor’s shirt. “Did you bring one for me?”
“No, didn’t think about it. I was busy getting everything out of Em’s Rover to lock it up in mine. Your house is locked up too,” Connor replied. “I’ll find you some scrubs or something in a minute. Did you hear anything?”
Cullen shook his head and shifted position, looking down at his cut open pants leg and the bandage around his thigh. “They gave me something for the pain. It’s making me foggy.”
Connor nodded, then grabbed a basin and stepped away, coming back with warm water and a few things to help clean Cullen up. By the time he returned, Cull was leaned back against the raised bed, eyes closed. “I’m gonna clean you up a bit,” Connor offered gruffly and proceeded to wipe some of the mess off of his brother’s face. Cullen lifted a hand as if to stop him and Connor shoved it down. “Just let me do this.” He took a rough breath and then added quietly. “Please.” While he cleaned, he spoke in a low murmur. “Cook is taking care of the shooter’s body, the fire department was still working on the fire, and Emlen’s in surgery. That’s all I know so far. I’ll have to go give Dave a statement later, but I wanted to make sure you guys were okay.”
“Did you kill him?” Cullen asked.
“No, he killed himself. It was Frankie Kyle.”
“The bait guy? What the hell, Connor?”
“I know, right? But he had some kind of old saint’s medal around his neck and when I tried to get him to kneel, he grabbed it and stuck it in his mouth. A few seconds later, he was dying. Looked like cyanide, but I’m no coroner.”
“Why would the town drunk and bait shop owner have cyanide? For that matter, why would he have a sniper rifle and be firebombing a house?” Cullen asked, opening his eyes and looking at his brother. He reached for the washcloth and took it upon himself to finish c
leaning up.
“All good questions.” He nodded to Cull’s leg. “So, how bad is it?”
“Twenty-something stitches. It was a graze, but it went deep enough to need ‘em. Good thing I’m not the one doing a marathon soon, eh?” Cullen set the cloth aside and dried off, then looked around. “Doc is supposed to be bringing me a script for pain, but I really want to know how Em is.”
“Me too,” Connor replied. “Let me see if I can learn something.” He stepped out and flashed his badge again a few times before coming back in. Cullen sat in a wheelchair, good foot tapping restlessly. “The bullet went through her side, about mid-back at an angle. Missed everything important but they’ll be a while stitching everything up and making sure, Connor reported. “We can wait outside of surgery if you want.” Cullen nodded and Connor grabbed the chair, pushing him towards the elevator. “You get your prescription?”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be filled here and I can pick it up on the way out,” Cullen replied. “Let’s go wait for our girl, huh?”
Connor chuckled. “Our girl. I like that.” His smile faded as he slid the chair into the elevator and hit the button. “Seems the further we get into this, the fewer answers we have instead of more.”
“And the more players we uncover. At least we saved those journals. I think they’re going to be the key to this whole thing.” Cullen spoke low as the elevator dinged and they rolled out into the hall. “I also think it’s time we told the folks what is going on. Can’t hide all of this from them and it’s best they hear it before it hits the news.”
“I’ll call them in the morning, Connor told him as they settled in the waiting room, letting the staff know they were there for Emlen. “You good here for a few? I’ll get us some coffee and call Dave. I want to see if he can hold the report for a bit.”
* * *
Cullen nodded and leaned back, closing his eyes. All Cullen could see against his closed eyelids was Emlen lying on the ground, the flames of her home raging behind her. He was glad she would be okay, but wrapping his mind around the fact that the town loser had been the one trying to take her out? Frankie had been around since he was a little kid and was a good twenty years older or more than Cullen. Had he been the one to take out Camille? The real question - on whose orders? Frankie just didn’t seem to have the brain power to coordinate a long-term task like this. Did he kill Joel? Too many loose threads… His thoughts were interrupted by a warm paper cup being pressed into his hand. Eyes opening, he saw his brother’s worried face. “Thanks,” he mumbled as he lifted the cup to sip.
“It’s only a step above cop shop coffee,” Connor warned as he sipped his own, dropping into the chair closest to his brother. “Dave says they got the body and the fire is out. FD is watching for hot spots and taking samples.” Cradling the cup in his hands, he stared into it for a moment before looking around the empty room and then back at his brother. “I took his keys and cell phone. Pulled the sim card while on the phone with Dave. I’ll see what I can find on my own before finding them in the brush later.”
“That’s a huge risk, Connor.” He stared at his brother, eyes wide. “You don’t want to lose your job over this.”
“They tried to take out my brother and the woman I look on as a sister. I’ll take the risk. Oh…and Dave agreed to hold the report for at least twenty-four if not forty-eight hours. Give me time to call the folks and see what I can find.”
“Is he going to get you the results of the coroner’s report?”
“He said he’d let me know what the poison was, if it was a poison. I know for a fact it was a poison - nothing else acts that quickly. The foam on his mouth makes me think cyanide, but Dave said he’d let me know for sure.”
“What about your statement?”
“I gave it to him over the phone. I’ll swing by the station on the way home, read it over and sign it. It doesn’t say much. We were hanging out after dinner and someone firebombed the house. I moved the Rover away, and someone shot at you and Em. I went after him, being a cop and all, and he offed himself by biting his necklace.” Connor shrugged and sipped at his coffee. “Lunatic drunk doing something insane. That’s what they’ll try and feed the news if more than just a fire comes out. So far, the shooting is being kept quiet, and you and Em are here as a result of the fire, nothing more.”
“Dave learned from the best. I’m glad he’s on our side,” Cullen offered, voice low. The painkillers the doctor had given him earlier were starting to really kick in and even the coffee wasn’t keeping his head upright. “Con, I’m about to crash. Help me onto that sofa thing over there and I’ll just rest until we get some news.”
* * *
Once he got Cullen settled, asleep even before he managed to sit in a chair nearby, Connor pulled out his phone and started researching. He remembered Frankie from when he was a kid, always drunk and belligerent to everyone. His folks had warned them away from the bully and they’d managed to never get on his radar, unlike some of the other boys in town.
He found the old news article and then skipped to the database to look up the police report. Frankie had been brought in for questioning on the disappearance of Tommy Lanahan. Tommy had been somewhere between Connor’s age and Frankie’s - a recent high school graduate when he’d disappeared just before Christmas. They’d found his body the next spring when a lobster trap had brought up a hand. The divers had gone in and found the kid chained to a couple of cinder blocks and dropped in the harbor. Frankie had been brought in because the two had been seen arguing outside the mini mart just before Tommy disappeared. No evidence could point to it, but the detective on the case wrote that he still thought Frankie had something to do with it. “Yeah, I do too. Now,” Connor muttered as he read.
A nurse stepped in and looked at Cullen, sleeping, then turned to Connor. “Detective, you here about Miss Brewster?”
He rose and nodded, keeping his voice low. “I am. My brother needed rest.” he gestured and then turned back to her.
“She is out of surgery and in recovery. It’ll be a while, but once we have her settled in a room, I’ll come get you so you can go see her. Everything went well, according to the surgeon.”
A soft breath of relief slipped from him and Connor smiled. “Excellent news. Thank you.” She turned and walked away while Connor ran his hands through his hair and sprawled next to Cullen again. The day was catching up to him, so he folded his hands over his belly and leaned back, letting his eyes drift shut.
Chapter Sixteen
Emlen felt like she’d been walking forever. All she could see around her was fog and hear the faint sound of dripping and an odd wheezing. Bone weary, she just wanted to find a place to rest, but nothing seemed safe and no places to sit if she stopped. She couldn’t remember how she had come to be in this place or what she had been doing before she started walking. It felt like she had always been walking. Her body ached and she looked down at herself wearing jeans and a t-shirt but barefoot. Muck all over, her arms and hands filthy. The stench of wet ash and mud filled her nose and she stopped in the middle of the path, trying to wipe her hands on her shirt. Now that the sound of her own steps had been silenced, she could hear a faint murmur of voices. “Hello? Is someone there?” Emlen called out, the words seeming to be swallowed up by the fog, not carrying much past the little clear space the fog had left around her. Turning in a circle, she tried to pinpoint where the voices were coming from, but it seemed to shift directions and never sounded very clear. Scrubbing her hands on her jeans once more, she started walking again.
“Emlen.” A voice called out to her and Em stopped, turning slowly. She spied a figure in the swirling fog and tipped her head, staring at it as it approached. “Emlen,” it said again.
She sucked in a breath. “Mom?”
“Yes, Emmy,” the figure replied, a smile in her voice as she finally stepped out of the mist and into the ring of clear space around Emlen.
Em stared at the figure in front of her. The similarities betwee
n them were clear - as were the differences. Little details that faded photos just couldn’t share. Emlen’s coloring…her nose curled up slightly at the tip and her mom’s was perfectly straight…her ears were smaller than her mom’s… She pulled on the hem of her shirt and stepped closer, the vanilla fragrance washing over her, and she closed her eyes, breath catching on a sob. “Oh, Mom…” as Camille took that last step and wrapped her arms around her daughter.
The hug lasted for a few moments, but it would never be long enough for Em. “Mom…why are you here? Where are we? I remember a fire…” her voice trailed off and her eyes widened. “Wait…am I dead?”
“No, Emmy. But you’re unconscious after surgery. Your mental barriers are down enough for me to come to you. We really need to talk.”
“Yeah, we do. There’s a lot you never told me, Mom. Not as a child, or later, when you would come visit.” Em’s tone was accusatory as she folded her arms under her breasts.
“You were three when I was killed, Emlen. You weren’t old enough to understand. As for later? The amount of energy it takes to break through is immense and doesn’t give me a lot of time to get messages across. It’s not like email, you know.”
“No, Mom, I don’t know. That’s the problem!” Emlen’s voice rose as her frustration flooded her. “I don’t know anything! I have no one to ask!”