“I have a feeling I know what you’re getting at, and you’re wrong. Dad is nothing like Morrie. He debriefed. He’s got a target on his back now. Taking that kind of risk means something. You’d see that too if you’d just call him and hear him out.”
“I did.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. Now that she’d said it she realized her sister had one thing right. If she could be so wrong about Morrie—the warden too, for that matter—how could she ever trust herself to let her dad back in her life?
“And?”
“I don’t want to discuss it.”
Olivia checked the time. Almost noon. She needed to talk to someone who could tell her what Riggs knew, what she’d landed herself in the middle of when she’d seen him and the warden in the chapel. She knew exactly where that someone would be.
James’ fancy SUV stood out like a sore thumb at the Hickory Pit, where the vehicles in the parking lot, mostly pickups, proudly bore their scratches, dents, and second paint jobs like badges of honor.
Olivia parked her BMW alongside it. She spotted James in the driver’s seat, his prison ID affixed to his pocket, inhaling a barbecue sandwich. As he wiped a drip of sauce from his chin, she marveled at him. How his life went on, cruelly. How it could blow up in your face one day and demand you keep moving, keep breathing, keep eating barbecue sandwiches on your lunchbreak.
In between James’ bites, she got out of her car and approached the passenger window. She tried to get his attention with a little wave but he seemed a million miles away. There, but not there.
When she rapped on the window, he flinched, his eyes darting. In one quick motion, he dropped his sandwich and reached beside him. His hand strangled the grip of a gun, as he sized her up, wide-eyed.
Olivia gasped, staggered back.
“Sorry, Olivia.” James lowered the passenger window and showed her both his hands, finally looking right at her. His face bore the consequences of his bad decisions – a blackened left eye and a puffy lip. “You scared me. What are you doing here?”
“Why do you have a gun?”
“Why do you think?” His words lashed back like a whip, stinging her, and when she met his red-rimmed eyes, she wished for a do-over. Because when your wife is brutally murdered and you’ve got two little boys to protect, having a gun at the ready doesn’t seem barbaric. It seems reasonable. Prudent even.
She approached the window and lowered her voice. “I apologize. With how crazy it’s been around here, I haven’t even had a chance to tell you how sorry I am about Bonnie. How are Nathan and Noah doing?”
“As well as can be expected. Bonnie’s mom has been a big help.”
“What about you?”
He released a long breath and glanced down at the gun again. The grip smeared with barbecue sauce. “I’m still here. That’s about all I can say. To tell you the truth, I probably went back to work too early, but I was going stir crazy in that big house.”
Olivia had holed up in her office and worked on patient notes the afternoon of her mother’s funeral. Needless to say, she understood.
“So, are you here for lunch too, or…?”
She shook her head. “I need to talk to you. Can I get in?”
“Okay.”
Though it seemed more question than answer, Olivia opened the door and removed a stuffed whale from the passenger seat. As she climbed inside, she took a quick inventory of the vehicle. The gun, two booster seats, a few gum wrappers and receipts, one half-eaten barbecue sandwich. A black duffel bag squatting toad-like beneath the backseat. Ordinary but ominous somehow.
“I assume you heard about Tommy Rigsby.”
“Yeah. I had to get out of there. I mean, the whole place has been teetering on a razor’s edge since Bonnie and the riot the other day. But I can’t believe Mulvaney would do something like this. I thought he was done with Oaktown. I just saw the guy this morning. He wanted me to proofread an appeal he’d written for another inmate. You know, I even gave him a laudatory chrono for his parole hearing. Said I wouldn’t mind having him for a next-door neighbor. Damn was I wrong.”
“You weren’t the only one. But I’m not so sure the attack was gang-related.”
James hadn’t taken his eyes from the windshield. Beyond it, road and sky, the same charcoal gray. Olivia watched him blink a few times before he responded. “What else would it be? They’re both Oaktown.”
“Remember when we took our senior class photo out here? In front of that stupid sign they used to have.”
James managed a smile. “We were idiots.”
“We really did it though. We made it out. Anywhere or bust.” Olivia repeated the tagline the previous owner had carved into a slab of redwood and stanchioned in front of the restaurant. Jane had told her the sign had been removed after a drunk teenager had stolen it, toddled across the road with it, and promptly got himself flattened by a big rig.
“Until we came right back. What the hell is wrong with us?”
They both laughed but it rang hollow to Olivia. As if the sound had traveled a long way. All the way from the past.
“I have to tell you something.” She brought them both back to the godawful present. “Shauna saw you arguing with Riggs on Wednesday. Something about cell phones and the General. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors. What are you mixed up in? Please tell me all this craziness in Fog Harbor is not over prison contraband.”
“Do the cops know you’re here?”
“Of course not.” And Deck would certainly disapprove. Which up until this morning would’ve given her more than a smidge of satisfaction. But now, with him already worried about his brother, made her feel even worse. “I’d understand if you smuggled cell phones. You’ve got a family to take care of, two kids to put through college. Those things go for a few hundred each.”
“A thousand, actually.” He finally looked at her, his mouth slightly opened. His face still. Caught in his own web. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
“You do realize I work with criminals too, right? I have a pretty good idea when I’m being lied to. You’ve got a gun and a duffel bag back there. Like you might be about to make a run for it.”
“That bag is chock full of the boys’ soccer stuff. I’m taking them to practice later.” He glared at her, his voice low and menacing. “Did your dad send you out here? To shake me down? To collect my debt?”
Fear dropped like a hot stone to the pit of Olivia’s stomach. She’d gotten so good at keeping her father in a box, tucked away from her new life, that she’d forgotten James knew. They hadn’t run in the same circles. But in a graduating class of just over one hundred, word got around.
“Of course not. I don’t even talk to him. He’s supposedly out of the gang anyway.”
James craned his neck to survey the parking lot. He looked right, left, then right again, before he leveled her with his eyes. “Listen close, because I’m only gonna say this one time. Then you’re gonna get out of my car and forget you saw me today. My little boys’ lives depend on it. I smuggled in phones a few times. I thought it would be an easy way to make a little money. Turns out it wasn’t.”
“Who else does Riggs deal with? Who’s the General?”
“I don’t know anything about all that. If you’re smart, you don’t either. These guys know about you. About your dad. Where you’re from. All of it.”
Olivia opened her mouth to speak. But the sirens snuffed the words out. Every last one. As the police cars converged, barricading James’ SUV, her body went numb. The only sound she heard came through the bullhorn. Like the voice of an angry god. Hard as nails, unforgiving. Ready to unleash a lightning strike.
“Driver, passenger, put your hands where I can see them.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Will swerved off the road into the Hickory Pit parking lot, joining the platoon of cop cars already surrounding the SUV that belonged to James McMillan. GED instructor. Widower. Contraband smuggler. Co-conspirator to PC 187.
Will followed JB out, positioning himself behind the driver’s door, both of them drawing their weapons. As Graham wielded the bullhorn, Will’s heart ricocheted like a stray bullet, pounding against his chest. It hadn’t let up since Warden Blevins returned to the office and delivered the news.
Morrie Mulvaney just made a full confession to IGI. He said James McMillan provided him with the weapon this morning. Told him he had to do Riggs or somebody else from Oaktown would do them both.
“Driver, toss the keys out the window and keep your hands outside the vehicle.”
A jumble of keys clattered against the pavement.
“Passenger, put both hands out the window.”
Two hands, a woman’s, emerged, shaking. When Will spotted Olivia’s BMW parked alongside the SUV, he cursed under his breath, mouthing her name to JB.
“Slowly, using your right hand, open the door from the outside and step out of the vehicle.”
The door swung wide, and Olivia stepped out. Arms raised, her face tight with fear.
“What the—” Graham too lost himself for a moment, forgot who he was supposed to be. Hard-ass, helmet-haired cowboy. For once, Will didn’t hold it against him. “Face away from me. Walk backward to the sound of my voice.”
Olivia turned, the clumsy pirouette of a ballerina scared shitless.
“Keep walking. Further. Further. Drop to your knees.”
Follow protocol. Protocol will keep you alive out there. Will let his father’s voice drill away inside his head. Without it, he’d have been there in an instant, doing the exact opposite of what he should be doing. Providing cover.
An officer Will didn’t recognize bulldozed toward Olivia, grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her. Pushing her down against the concrete, a knee in her back.
“Fuck protocol.”
He didn’t realize he’d said it out loud, didn’t even feel his feet moving, until he heard JB call his name. “Get back here, Deck!”
Too late for that. He pushed past Graham and approached the asshole cop suffocating Olivia, her breath coming in desperate gasps beneath his meaty thigh. “Hey, dude. I got it. You don’t need to manhandle her. She’s a doctor at the prison.”
If he hadn’t been so fired up, he would’ve laughed at himself. He sounded like Chet. She’s kind of a big deal.
Olivia lifted her head. “It’s okay. Just let him—”
The cop palmed her cheek, shoved it back down. “She’s in the car with a murder suspect. I don’t care if she’s the goddamned Queen of England.”
“Well, I do. And I outrank you, so move.” Will stiff-armed the asshole, cuffing Olivia himself. He knew he’d messed up. That there would be hell to pay later for going rogue, but right now he didn’t care.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
She nodded, and he guided her back to the car, where JB waited, shaking his head in disapproval.
“You can sit in the car,” Will told her. “Till it’s over. Then we’ll get you out of those cuffs.”
“Deck?” Her voice cracked. “He’s got a gun.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
“10-32! 10-32!”
It had been a long time, a lifetime, but Olivia knew that code. She’d heard it before, shouted just like that by a whole firing squad of cops who’d pulled her dad over. A high-risk traffic stop since he had a slew of warrants. The officer at the window must’ve seen her mother glance down at the door slot, where her dad had concealed a pistol.
She felt the same as she had back then. Out of her own body, watching from above. Later, her lungs and wrists would ache. She’d pick gravel out of her skin. But right now, she felt absolutely nothing. Except confused. The officer who’d kneed her in the back had called James a murder suspect.
They had him now, out of the car and flat on the pavement, his hands secured behind him. As they stood him up, another officer leaned into the cab and retrieved the gun. Which for James’ sake, Olivia hoped wasn’t stolen like her father’s.
James’ head dropped to his chest as if he couldn’t bear the weight of it all. He said nothing, didn’t even look up until they’d reached the patrol car. “Why am I being arrested?”
No one answered him. Instead, Graham shoved him against the car and ordered him to spread his legs, patting down the length of his body and emptying his pockets. When James raised his eyes to hers, she turned away. It felt like staring too long into the sun. Only the sun was her past, her father. And it burned.
“I want to know why I’m in handcuffs. Detective Decker? Is this about the cell phones?”
Olivia realized then Deck had been standing beside her, his hand wrapped around her forearm. In its absence, her skin chilled.
“I’m gonna go talk to James.” He opened the rear door of his car. “Do me a favor and sit back here. Don’t talk to anyone.”
“I didn’t do anything. I just—”
He put a finger to his lips, silencing her, and helped her into the backseat, her arms still awkwardly pinned behind her. Her dad had always told her being cuffed up robbed you of your dignity, made you no better than a stray dog carted away to the pound. When Deck shut the door on her, she realized. She got it now.
Jessie had retrieved the duffel bag and placed it on the trunk of Olivia’s car, its zipper gaping open obscenely. From its mouth, she withdrew stacks of cash and two more guns and some other things Olivia couldn’t see from the confines of her cage.
“Hey! That’s not mine!” James struggled futilely against the hands that held him, thrashing as Graham opened the backseat of the patrol car and tried to force him inside. “Ask Olivia! It’s not mine!”
A few official heads, Graham’s included, turned to look at her, huddled in the backseat. When Graham frowned like she’d done something wrong, she stared right back at him, unafraid. He looked away first, punctuating her already miserable day with a Neanderthal grunt as he gave James one last hard shove into the backseat.
Graham stalked back to the SUV, and a few of the other officers dispersed. Despite the cold, a small crowd had gathered on the deck of the Hickory Pit. Olivia hoped they couldn’t see her. She didn’t want to end up the talk of Fog Harbor—did you hear about Olivia Rockwell?—over beer and ribs.
She wished she could call Emily but she’d left her phone in her car. And her hands had been rendered useless. Obviously. She turned her back to the door and worked the window down a crack, hoping she could hear more clearly, as Deck and JB made their way to the patrol car where James had been sitting, undisturbed, for a few minutes now.
She listened hard for Deck’s voice cutting through the clamor. Though when she heard it, she wished she hadn’t. “James, you’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder.”
“Of who? I didn’t kill my wife. I swear to God I—”
“Of Tommy Rigsby.”
Graham opened the back door of the car. A sure sign her bad day was about to get worse. After James had lawyered up, Chief Flack had arrived, summoning Deck and JB to her vehicle. They’d gotten in the backseat at least ten minutes ago and hadn’t come out yet.
“Get out.” Before she had a chance to swing her legs around, Graham grabbed her arm, jerking her to her feet. “I can’t believe no one searched you.”
“Jesus, Graham. What’s your problem?”
“What’s my problem? I’d say you’re the one with the problem, Liv. Why were you in the car with James McMillan? Are you two… involved? Were you helping him abscond?”
“Abscond?” She started to prepare a smart-ass comeback. Something about how she didn’t realize he’d been studying for his SATs again. That abscond was an awfully big word for a small-town cop.
When he pushed her into the side of the car and ran his hand along her backside, she got the message. Graham meant business. Fine, so did she.
“You’re supposed to have a female officer search me.”
He leaned against her and whispered through gritted teeth. “It’s not like I haven’t seen i
t all before. In fact, I seem to remember you liked it when I got a little rough with you.”
“You really should have your memory checked.” She shrugged out of his grasp and spun toward him. “Now, get off me. Unless you want to explain your behavior to Chief Flack.”
“Sheila Flack doesn’t tell me how to handle a suspect. And if she has something to say about it, you can tell her to—”
When Olivia raised her eyebrows at him, smirking, he screeched to a halt, as Chief Flack approached over his shoulder, JB and Deck trailing behind.
“Is everything okay here?” she asked.
“Under control, Chief. I was just a little concerned that Detective Decker hadn’t searched Doctor Rockwell before placing her in his car. All good now.” Graham mumbled something about bagging evidence and slunk away, his tail firmly between his legs. In the exact spot where Olivia wished she could’ve landed a solid kick. Or three.
“Am I free to go?” She looked past the chief to Deck’s brown eyes. They stayed fixed on hers as Chief Flack answered.
“We’d like to take you down to the station to get a full statement. If that’s okay with you.”
Olivia nodded, knowing that asking her permission counted as a courteous gesture. Really, she had no choice.
Chapter Fifty
Since Will had first met Olivia outside the Grateful Heart Chapel, she’d never been this quiet. But he hadn’t pushed either. She’d already been through enough, sitting for at least thirty minutes, marinating in the interrogation room, then talking for another hour to him and JB, with Chief Flack listening in through the two-way mirror. She answered all their questions, calm and practiced. Like a professional.
With no indication she’d been involved in Riggs’ murder, Olivia had been released. Not that Will had any doubt. Which explained why he hadn’t searched her. Why he hadn’t followed protocol in the first place. Well, that’s what he’d told Chief Flack anyway. The other part—his massive crush on her—Will kept between himself and the loud-mouthed partner he’d left at the station while he returned Olivia to her car.
Watch Her Vanish: An absolutely gripping mystery thriller (Rockwell and Decker Book 1) Page 27