Expired Refuge

by Lisa Phillips

  Conroy needed to accept she was more than just a citizen to him. This was more than just him doing his job.

  “If there’s something going on with you, I might actually be able to help.”

  “I don’t need anything from you.”

  “Mia—”

  “Don’t.” She shook her head, eyes squeezed tight. “Even if there was someone outside, it was probably nothing. Just a nosy neighbor. Leave it alone, and leave me alone while you’re at it.” She opened her eyes and pinned him with a stare. “I’ll be talking to Tate about being overbearing. There’s nothing more I need from either of you.”

  Conroy pulled out another card and laid it where the first had been.

  “I don’t need to be kept safe. I can take care of myself.”

  “Good.” She might need it. “Keep your eyes open and your gun close.”

  Conroy turned and headed for the front door.

  “Whatever.”

  He pulled the door open and hauled it shut behind him. The slam rang out across the lake. A neighbor, unloading a leashed dog from the back of his truck next door, looked over. A puppy, by the look of it. But when it was done growing, the thing would be massive.

  Conroy pretty much stomped back to the lane and his Jeep. He didn’t have the filter to not let frustration bleed into his walk. Why did she have to be so infuriating? Sure, it was clear she hadn’t forgiven him, but he’d been there to do her a favor. He could’ve worked on making amends. If she’d have let him.

  He beeped the locks on his car.

  The world flashed orange and Conroy was hit by a wall of heat. The force of the blast threw him through the fence and onto the grass of Rich’s back yard.

  Conroy hit the ground and everything went black.

  Four

  Mia raced out the back door. She dropped to her knees on the ground beside Conroy, who lay face down. The entire car had blown up like a fireball. Flipped end over end, landing on the roof.

  She clutched her phone in one hand and rolled him to his back. “Conroy.” She patted his cheek. “Conroy, can you hear me?”

  “Is he okay?”

  She looked up. Her dad’s neighbor ran over. “I’m not sure.” She checked Conroy’s pulse. “He’s alive.”

  “Thank God.” He shook his head. “I have to get back to my family. They’re freaking out. Want me to call it in?”

  She shook her head, already dialing. “I’ve got it.”

  He raced away again, leaving her alone. Conroy’s chest rose and fell. She couldn’t see any visible injuries. Hopefully he wouldn’t have a concussion.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “Lieutenant Conroy Barnes’s car just exploded outside my father’s house.” She gave the address.

  The dispatcher, an older man by the sound of it said, “Is Con okay?”

  “He’s unconscious. You should send an ambulance.”

  “I’ll call Dean. He’ll be closer.”

  “Does this ‘Dean’ person have medical training?”

  “Sure does. Former Navy SEAL.” The dispatcher said, “He’ll get Con sorted out.”

  “Great. He can give Conroy a ride to the hospital, where he can be seen by a medical professional. Not just someone trained to patch up bullet holes and other field injuries until the person can be transported to an actual hospital.”

  Conroy groaned.

  “Who are you?”

  Mia ignored him. “Conroy. You with me?”

  “Your father.” The dispatcher muttered something, and she thought she heard the clacking of a keyboard. “Mia Tathers…ATF. You’re a federal agent?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be making a call?” Mia hung up on him. She tossed her phone on the grass. “Conroy, can you hear me?” She patted his cheek.

  His lips puffed apart and air escaped.

  Mia pulled his eyelids up, one at a time. “Wake up, Lieutenant.” She used her command voice, but he still didn’t rouse.

  She twisted and looked around. His truck was a mess, still smoldering. Hopefully that dispatch guy would send a fire truck as well. She didn’t want this turning into a blaze that got out of hand. She could hardly fight it with her father’s out-of-date extinguisher.

  Movement beyond the car caught her gaze.

  “Hey!”

  She was up and running before she even realized what she was doing. Around the Jeep, the heat bleeding off flames that licked at the underside, Mia stepped on something. She yelped and hopped a couple of paces, but kept going towards the movement. A man, wearing jeans and a dark blue jacket.

  The prowler?

  She didn’t want to think Conroy had been right, but things were different now. He’d been targeted in an attack.

  Asphalt changed to grass. Dirt and rocks, sticks and crusty snow. She nearly went down, wincing as she caught herself. Her muscles wrenched as her body fought to stay upright. She gritted her teeth and stopped.

  He was gone.

  She didn’t have shoes.

  As soon as Conroy was taken care of, Mia planned to gear up—with shoes and a coat, and her gun—and search for the prowler.

  A truck pulled down the lane, going pretty fast.

  She moved back around the Jeep and sprinted back to Conroy. His eyes were open. “Hey.” She knelt again, her pants wet now. “Don’t try to move, help is here.”

  A big man raced over, moving faster than she’d have thought he’d be able to, carrying a huge duffel bag. “Conroy?”

  “He’s awake.”

  The man knelt, digging in the duffel. “And you are?” He pulled out a pen flashlight and glanced up at her. She was a newcomer, and as far as he was concerned, that was cause for suspicion.

  Mia wanted to be difficult. Instead she said, “ATF Special Agent Mia Tathers. This is my father’s house.” She explained what had happened.

  He did those medical things, assessing Conroy. She should probably take some kind of training so she knew what it all was. So she’d know how to do more than the basics—apply pressure, or get a tourniquet on. Maybe that was what she should be doing now that she was “recuperating” from work.

  “You’re Dean?”

  He nodded, holding Conroy’s wrist and staring intently at the diver’s watch on his own. “Dean Cartwright.”

  “The dispatcher said you’re a SEAL.”

  “Was.” He studied Conroy’s face. “Wake up, Bud. The day’s a wastin’.” He patted Conroy’s cheek a lot more vigorously than she had.

  She said, “Easy.”

  Another car pulled up. A marked police car, and though the driver was a woman, she wasn’t the same one from last night. Mia was having trouble keeping all these people straight.

  This woman wore jeans and a fitted, red-checkered shirt. Badge on her belt, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Dean.”

  “Van.”

  Conroy moaned. He blinked and tried to sit up.

  Dean planted a huge hand on his chest and didn’t let him move. “You landed hard. Knocked the wind out of you. And your car is toast.”

  The red shirted woman leaned over. “You okay, boss?”

  “Wilcox?” Conroy looked around. Everywhere but at Mia.

  “Yeah, boss.”

  “There was a prowler. We need to find—”

  Dean shoved him back down. “We aren’t doing anything. The ATF can take the lead on this one, considering it’s an explosion and all.”

  Someone who actually understood federal jurisdiction? That was new in Mia’s experience. “I only caught a glimpse of him, but I’ll get on the search.” She rocked back and stood.

  Then nearly fell over.

  “You okay, ATF?”

  “Yep.” She forced her legs to straighten. That run had been a seriously bad idea.

  “Mia Tathers?”

  She looked at the other woman. “Yeah.”

  “Savannah Wilcox.” She held out a hand, an assessing gaze on her face. “Detective.”

  Mia shook h
er hand. The woman’s grip strength was killer, but she held back a flinch even though she was sure the woman just crushed a couple of bones in her hand. “Special Agent Tathers. Mia is fine.”

  “Savannah.” Not “Van” as this Dean guy had called her.

  “I should put shoes on.”

  “Don’t go anywhere.”

  She ignored Conroy’s comment and headed for the house.

  There was a shuffle. Conroy said, “No, get off.” Pause. “Mia!”

  She turned around, already at the back door. He was sitting up now. “I need to change, Lieutenant. And you need to see a doctor.”

  “No, I don’t.” He got up. Steadier on his feet than she was, or so evidence indicated. “I just got the wind knocked out of me.”

  Dean stood, a clear six inches taller than Conroy. He started feeling around the back of Conroy’s head. “Hold still.”

  Detective Wilcox smirked. “The women will figure out who did this, and we’ll catch them. You go get your boo-boo looked at.”

  Conroy glared at her. “I will write you up for insubordination.”

  “Suspend me. I’ll go on vacation.”

  Conroy was about to say something but closed his mouth.

  “Good call.” She traipsed across the grass toward Mia and caught up to her just as Mia stepped inside. “He only thinks he can fire me.” She smirked. “His other detective quit a month ago. I’ve got sixteen open cases on my desk, and he’s out running down drug dealers?” She shook her head. “The Lieutenant should be in the office, finding me a partner. Or at least taking some of my cases.”

  “But…he isn’t?” Because he was working undercover with that officer. And following up at her father’s house. “Does he shirk protocol like that often?”

  “Oh no. You’re not one of those by-the-books, my-way-or-the-highway feds. Are you?” She looked at Mia like that might be the worst possible thing that could happen. “And here I thought we could be friends.”

  Mia shook her head. “I’m not the one you need to be worried about.”

  “Mmm. Heard about you.” That assessing gaze was back. “Rich talks about you...how he’s so proud of you.”

  He does? This was the first Mia had heard of it, but she was not super surprised her dad had failed to communicate his feelings so that she could hear.

  “But that’s not what I’m talking about.” Savannah waved a hand.

  “I really should get changed.” She heard a fire truck pull up outside, took a look, and saw another police car as well. Firefighters spilled out. A uniformed officer spoke with Conroy. “We should get on with the search.”

  Savannah nodded “I’ll wait right here.”

  Mia worked on focusing, so she could change into different clothes as quickly as possible. She pulled on her favorite black cargo pants and a blue polo shirt over a long-sleeved running shirt that she often wore during training. About the most “federal” clothes she could put on considering she hadn’t brought a suit. Holstered gun on her belt along with her badge. Boots. She put her hair up in a ponytail and pocketed her cell phone.

  The hairstyle made it all the more obvious that an angry scratch ran down the side of her face. The collar of her shirt disguised the fact it went farther down than was obvious to anyone.

  “And the transformation is complete.”

  She shot Savannah a look and snagged her jacket.

  “I feel the same way. Clothes for home, clothes for work. Cause when I’m off, I’m off this job. This life? It does not exist.” She shook her head. “Know what I mean?”

  Mia said, “Let’s just get moving.” The longer they waited, the farther away this guy was going to get. “Someone tried to kill Conroy.”

  “I know. It burns, right? Seriously, he’s like the nicest guy I’ve ever met in my life.”

  Did she really talk like that all the time? Mia had never met anyone this passionate in her entire life. It was weird. Savannah said, “Why would anyone even want to kill him?”

  Mia said, “Could it have something to do with the guy he brought in last night, the drug dealer?”

  Savannah whirled around, hauled the door open, and stormed outside. “You and Ridgeman brought in a drug dealer last night?”

  Dean got in her face.

  Savannah said, “Move it, Spud.”

  He didn’t. “Calm down.” Dean folded his arms. “He’s got a headache. Doesn’t need you shouting at him.”

  Savannah said, “I’ll do more than shout unless someone explains this to me.”

  Conroy said, “I’m your boss. I’ve gotta explain myself?”

  Savannah blustered. “I—”

  “Cool it. You knew we went out.” Conroy’s words were measured, as though he was talking through the pain. “I was gonna brief you this afternoon, but I didn’t get into the office yet.”

  Mia figured the coast was clear. “I’m going to get started looking for this guy. Anything specific?”

  “Male, white. Blue jacket.”

  She waited. “That’s it.”

  “My car exploded in my face.”

  “You should go see a doctor.” She looked around. “Where’s the ambulance?” There didn’t appear to be one, and the spray from the firefighter hose was freezing.

  “I don’t need one.”

  “I’ll call if I find him.” She started walking.

  “I like this girl.” That was Dean. Or, “Spud” as Savannah had called him. She wondered what that was about, but not enough to backtrack and ask.

  These people weren’t her people. They would never become her friends. She was better off being professional, and maintaining that until it was time to leave home and go back to work.

  This wasn’t where she wanted to be. Even if it was home, and where she lived didn’t mean much to her except a place to crash, she didn’t belong here. She could barely even stand being in Conroy Barnes’s presence.

  And nothing would change that.

  “Hold up.”

  She didn’t, regardless of what Conroy wanted from her.

  “Mia. Wait up.”

  She sighed and slowed so he could catch up to her. Then she spun and said, “Should you be walking around?”

  “I just got the wind knocked out of me, that’s all.”

  “Yes, that’s why you were unconscious for minutes. Because you got the wind knocked out of you.” Great. Now she was starting to talk like Savannah. “Can we just look for this guy?”

  It was probably a serious long shot, but she had to do something. Her yard was crawling with first responders, all of whom clearly thought she was more of a spectacle than the smoldering wreckage of a Jeep.

  “Fine. But you shouldn’t go alone.” He clutched her elbow, his blue eyes intent as they darkened to denim. “Someone in town is out for blood, and he’s targeting you.”

  Five

  “I don’t see why I had to come here.”

  Conroy pressed his lips together and waited for her to enter the police station. Her face was paler than it had been earlier. They’d walked for a while, sweeping the area around her dad’s house with the help of a few locals—friends he’d called in—and a couple of his officers.

  “Except I can have that conversation with the chief now.”

  The receptionist looked up. Dark skin and a round figure. White blouse, gold buttons. She always wore pants and black flats. Her hair was dark brown with a purple tint, and she had on even more makeup than Mia’s younger sister had worn.

  “Kaylee Caldwell,” he said, “meet ATF Special Agent Mia Tathers.”

  Her perfectly-manicured eyebrows rose and her red lips moved succinctly when she said, “Rich’s daughter?”

  “The one and only.” He leaned on the front counter. “And if you could find us some Ibuprofen or something, I’m guessing she’d be as grateful as I’d be.”

  “Heard you got blown up.” She eyed him, only one brow raised now.

  “I’m okay. But it’s sweet that you care.”

&n
bsp; Kaylee smirked. “I suppose you want me to find you another vehicle.”

  “You’re a peach.”

  She buzzed them through the door into the main area of the police station, the bull pen. The early shift had twenty minutes left, and the afternoon shift was here already. He’d always loved the buzz of this place. Now it was his. He claimed it despite the fact he wasn’t chief. Yet.

  Savannah lifted her chin, phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. The desk opposite hers was unoccupied, so he had Mia sit there. Conroy asked his detective, “Did I get my call back yet?”

  “He left a number.” She handed him a piece of paper, then shifted the phone. “Yes, this is Detective Wilcox.” She kept talking. Conroy tuned it out because Kaylee wandered over with a bottle of pain pills and two waters.

  She handed him one.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” She turned her round figure to Mia. “You okay, hon?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She twisted the cap off the water and downed four Ibuprofen. Conroy took three.

  His head still hurt from being hurled across her yard, but it wasn’t too bad. He was tempted to thank God for it not being a concussion. Problem was, that would only lead him to asking why it had to happen in the first place.

  Mia shot him a look as soon as Kaylee’s back was turned. Then she glanced around. “Nice house.”

  She liked his police department? He pressed his lips together to hold back the smile. “We try.”

  “Is the chief in?”

  Conroy worked his mouth. She was going to find out sooner or later, and if she kept pushing, it would be sooner. He figured there wasn’t much point dragging it out.

  He walked to the window of the chief’s office and looked in. Officer Ridgeman looked up from the novel she’d been reading. She gave him a tiny wave of her fingers. His best undercover officer must be having a good day, if she was smiling. Or, more likely, her grandfather was.

  Beside her, in the hospital bed they’d brought in, the chief lay still.

  He opened the door. “How is he today?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. The twenty-four year old former NYPD officer and current Last Chance County officer, when she wasn’t here taking care of her grandfather because the nurse was off, looked older. Not worn or world weary. Just older than she was. Life had dealt those cards to her. She said she didn’t mind, but he still felt the need to make sure she was all right from time to time.