“What are you doing?” Adam asked. Ricky wasn’t sure if the question was addressed to him or Jon. “Dammit, Jon! Are you part of this?”
He shook his head. “I’m part of the solution.”
Ricky searched Adam and pulled his gun from his waistband. “I’m sorry.”
“Did you plan this?”
“No, but he won’t hurt anyone.”
Jon grunted out a bitter laugh. “Not anyone who doesn’t deserve it,” he said. “Adam, Bobbie had your father killed. I have no choice anymore. She has to be stopped.”
Adam slowly rose from the ground. “Sean told us he suspected my dad was killed because he’d contacted the authorities about some pot farms.”
“It wasn’t the marijuana; it’s so much bigger,” Jon said. “I turned my back on the pot because the town was surviving. What harm could growing a little weed do? It was better than the meth labs. But Joe figured out something else was going on. I agreed to help him find out what, but by then it was too late. Bobbie learned that Joe planned on turning over photographs he’d taken of her meeting with a gunrunner, a really nasty guy who’s on the Most Wanted list. It’s all coming to a head at dawn.”
“Bobbie has Sean,” Ricky said.
“I’m sorry.” Jon turned toward the building.
Adam grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. Jon pulled back, held up his gun. “Don’t do that again. I don’t want to shoot you, but a bullet in the leg will slow you down.”
“Didn’t you hear Ricky? Bobbie Swain took Sean. He’s in danger. You can’t let her hurt him.”
“I’m not letting her do anything,” Jon said. “Until this week, she thought I was still in her pocket, that I was another one of her loyal lap dogs. I haven’t been there for a long time. Just waiting for the right opportunity.” He shook his head and stepped into the building. “I waited too long. She killed Joe, she killed Victoria, and I’m not letting her live through the night. But first, I have to make her suffer.”
“Listen to yourself, Jon!” Tim spoke up from his spot on the lone metal chair in the building, which was really nothing more than a large, crumbling shack. His leg was bandaged, but he was pale and his eyes were bright with pain. Adam knelt by his side and checked the dressing.
“I know what I’m doing,” Jon said.
“Who’s Victoria?” Ricky asked.
“The woman I was going to marry.” Jon motioned to the last three boxes in the room. “Ricky, that’s the end of it. Grab them, one at a time, and take them to my truck.”
“Don’t help him,” Tim said.
Jon ignored the comment. “Ricky, I need you to help set the trap. It’s the only way I can make it work under the circumstances. It’s my leverage to get my aunt and uncle to safety, and Sean if I can. I’ll do everything I can to make sure you are safe. I owe it to your mother. I owe it to Jimmy.”
“Jimmy?”
“I couldn’t protect him, but I never wanted him to die.”
Ricky asked, “Why did Bobbie kill him?”
“She didn’t want him dead,” Jon said. “She was furious that Victoria’s body had been found. Jimmy didn’t dump Victoria into the pit like she ordered. He’d laid her out properly. I promised him I was going to bury her this summer …” His voice trailed off.
“I don’t understand,” Ricky said.
“Victoria was my fiancée. I loved her. She was helping me plan a way to take down Bobbie, but Bobbie found out she was a Fed. And it’s my fault she’s dead because I told her it had to be off the books, I just needed some information. I didn’t want her to get involved, but she overstepped and Bobbie found out. I don’t know how, but she did.
“I couldn’t have her dumped at the bottom of the mine! She wasn’t garbage, she deserved a proper burial. Jimmy was just helping me. Tyler Weddle was freaking out that Bobbie had poisoned a federal agent, so Jimmy told him he’d take care of the body and Bobbie wouldn’t need to know he flaked.
“Reverend Browne ordered Gary Clarke to bring Jimmy in alive. Bobbie would have killed him after the deal was signed, sealed, and delivered tomorrow, because then she can disappear again. She’s real good at that. After she gets the money, she can hide. Certain people are definitely going to want her dead when we turn over the evidence that she killed her husband to start a drug war in Miami, all so she could prove something to God knows who.”
All this was overwhelming, but it came down to the fact that Ricky’s aunt was a monster. He picked up the box that Jon wanted him to carry. “Let’s go.”
“Thank you, Ricky.”
Adam said, “Don’t do it, Ricky. Don’t be part of this.”
“She killed your dad, Adam. She stole money. She is going to kill Sean Rogan, who you said was your friend. You don’t know Bobbie like I do.”
Jon said, “Adam, if you really want to help, get Henry and Emily out of the house.” He glanced at his watch and began to grow more impatient. “They’re tied up in the back bedroom, downstairs, where Uncle Henry moved my aunt after her stroke. I’m afraid Henry is going to do something rash, and I won’t be able to get to them for a while.”
“You should put aside whatever foolish plan you’ve made and help your family!” Tim shouted.
Adam concurred. “We’ll do it together.”
For a split second, Ricky thought Jon waffled. He had no idea what Jon wanted his help with, but right now he could go either way. Whatever Jon thought was best. Because he was right about Bobbie—she was pure evil. She had to be stopped before anyone else got hurt.
Jon shook his head. “Uncle Henry understands. I have to do this. Victoria deserved better.” To Ricky he said, “Take that box. We need to go.”
They loaded the last of the boxes into Jon’s truck while Adam helped Tim into the passenger seat of Ricky’s Camaro. “I hope you both know what you’re doing,” Tim said solemnly as they drove off.
Jon followed them up the mine road to the highway. Ricky said, “I want to help Sean. I barely know him, but he was trying to help me and I feel like I owe him. And what about your uncle?”
“I’m hoping that when we start this series of events that Bobbie will be distracted enough for Adam to get Henry and Emily out of the house. I’d planned to get back there, but this works out much better.”
“Is that where she took Sean?”
“I don’t know. It’s the best I can do for now.” He glanced at Ricky. “I am really sorry about Jimmy.”
Jon continued. “Jimmy called me for help. I couldn’t. There was nothing I could do at that point, and I knew Bobbie didn’t want him dead because of what your father and I have on her.”
Ricky didn’t respond at first, torn over what Jon was telling him about Uncle Jimmy. Then he asked, “Why didn’t you and my dad just turn over the evidence you had on Bobbie when you got it? Why keep it?”
“Paul isn’t a saint. Before he went to prison, Bobbie was playing a dangerous game with big-time drug dealers. Paul was having her watched. She killed a high-ranking lieutenant, and framed a rival cartel, then walked away with money and information.
“Before Paul could use the information he’d amassed, she set him up. He got sent away. But he kept the evidence—and she knew it. The only thing she didn’t know was that he gave it to me. That’s protected you for all these years. Bobbie would kill you just to spite your father.”
“But that doesn’t explain why you didn’t turn it in when my dad went to prison.”
In front of them, Adam turned the Camaro off the highway toward the lodge. Jon watched them a long moment, until he passed the private road and sped up.
“The same information that would put Bobbie in prison, or get her killed, would also be the end of Paul’s life. The big drug cartels are ruthless and they always seek revenge. That Paul knew what happened and didn’t give the information to the cops would get him more prison time, maybe—but because he knew and didn’t give the information to one or both cartels? That will get him killed. Turning it ove
r six years ago would have been suicide.”
Ricky was beginning to understand the balance. He wanted nothing of the life his father had led. He didn’t know if Jon had the solution, but anything was better than letting Bobbie go free.
“Okay, I understand. I’m in.”
“Thank you.” Jon turned off the highway toward the town proper, then passed through it.
“What is your plan?” Ricky finally asked.
“Destroy everything Bobbie Swain has built, not only here in Spruce Lake but everywhere she has her tentacles. Then set the final trap. When she steps in it, she’s toast.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Noah slammed his phone on the table of the Lock & Barrel. “That was Tim Hendrickson. One of Bobbie’s men shot him in the leg and left him at the mine. Jon Callahan showed up, then Adam and Ricky Swain. Callahan took off with several cases of C-4, and Ricky went with him. Voluntarily,” he added.
They’d cleared the Lock & Barrel twenty minutes ago, which wasn’t difficult since only Trina and two patrons were still there. Lucy suspected that everyone in town knew the FBI had taken over the bar, but there was nothing they could do about it now.
“Does Tim know what Jon has planned?” Patrick asked.
“Apparently, Callahan is out for revenge. He’s planning on killing Bobbie Swain, but Tim doesn’t know the details. Sean was right. Callahan was in love with Agent Sheffield and Bobbie Swain had her killed because she was an agent.”
“Explosives?” Lucy said. “If he wants revenge, why blow something up?”
Omar Lewis stepped into the bar. “Because Jon Callahan has fucking gone off the deep end.”
Noah had his gun on Omar as soon as he appeared at the door. He lowered his weapon. “That’s a good way to get yourself shot.”
“Then you’re not a very good agent,” Omar snapped. “I have a key. And so do half the bad guys in this town. I’d suggest you block off the service entrance, and that one,” he jerked his finger toward the back room, “to protect your asses.”
Noah said nothing, but walked past Omar and headed to secure the other exits.
Lucy demanded. “Where’s Sean?”
“At the Callahans’ spread. For the time being, he’s leverage. She’s not going to kill him yet.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Lucy said. She turned to Patrick. “We need to go get him out.”
Patrick nodded grimly, looking first at Lucy, then at Omar. “First we need a plan.”
“How can we trust this guy?” Lucy said. “He shot at us at the mine—he could have killed us.”
Omar looked at her with disdain. “I was a sniper in the military. I intentionally missed. You’re still here.”
A jolt of sharp anger hit her. Lucy raised her hand to slap him, but Patrick grabbed her wrist. “Lucy, you have every right to be angry, but let’s put this aside for now. Slap this jerk after we rescue Sean—that’s our number one priority.”
Omar said, “Like hell it is. He’s a big boy and trained to take care of himself. We have a lunatic running around who’s going to blow up something, maybe this whole fucking town, if we don’t stop him.”
“And then what? You won’t be able to make your big bust?” Lucy countered. “Lives are at stake!”
“And lives are at stake if we don’t stop a very dangerous man called Sampson Lowell. It’s not just about the guns Bobbie Swain is going to store and ship for Lowell—it’s him. He’s my number one target. The guns that take down cops in street fights? They pass through Lowell’s operation. The guns making their way to gangs, killing twelve- and thirteen-year-old kids? Lowell. The guns going to Mexico for the drug smugglers to import their shit? Again, Lowell. He is the pivotal cog of the illegal domestic gun trade and if he gets wind of the shit going down tonight, he’ll be three thousand miles away.” As Omar spoke, his eyes brightened and a vein in his temple throbbed. Sampson Lowell was his passion, his religion, his one focus. Lucy realized that nothing she could say would convince Omar that Sean’s life—that anyone’s life—was more important than taking down this illegal arms dealer.
Lucy looked over to see Noah standing in the doorway, listening. Omar saw him too.
“Agent Kincaid, may I speak with you for a moment?”
Lucy looked at him quizzically, then followed him into the storage room. “Isn’t ‘agent’ a little premature?”
“Omar needs to think that you have as much authority as he does, because you’re going to find Callahan and the Swain kid.”
“I’m getting Sean.”
“Let me do that. I’m taking Agent Lewis with me. I don’t trust him.”
“But if Sean is injured—”
“An FBI agent needs to take orders. You’re the psychologist here. You figure out where Jon Callahan is going, and you’re the one who can talk him down. You saw what I saw—Omar has tunnel vision. So does Callahan. Our priority is to save our team, Sean, and the innocent people in town. But I think we can do that and defuse the situation enough to set a trap for Sampson Lowell. If Omar is right and he’s coming here personally, we can’t miss this opportunity to capture him. But not at the expense of people’s lives.”
Noah was right. Her mind ran through scenarios, thinking like Jon Callahan, trying to understand his grief and guilt over losing his love, Victoria. His narrow-minded need for revenge against Bobbie Swain. “I understand.”
She knew what was expected of her as a professional; she needed to put her personal feelings aside. Extremely difficult when the life of the person she loved was in grave danger. But she trusted Noah as much as she trusted Sean. For her, such faith was rare, and it had taken her years to develop the ability to have faith in anyone.
He hesitated, as if not quite sure how to reassure her. He reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. “I will rescue Sean. It’s becoming kind of a habit.”
“Don’t tell him that.” But Lucy cracked a half-smile.
“He saved my ass today which made us even, and I kind of prefer being one up on Rogan.”
They walked back into the bar. Noah told Omar the plan hadn’t changed and Lucy filled in Patrick.
“Sean will be okay,” Patrick said to Lucy as much as himself. “He has nine lives.”
“How many has he already used?”
Behind her, she heard Omar Lewis raise his voice. “I don’t work with partners. You have no authority!”
Noah was firm. “My boss and your boss came to the conclusion that shooting at civilians, even without the intent to kill, is gross and negligent behavior. You’ve crossed the line, and I know all the reports you haven’t filed, the check-ins you’ve missed, the orders you’ve disobeyed. I will take your badge and disarm you now, or you can do what I say.”
“Fuck it all, I guess I have no choice.”
“Good. You understand.” Noah nodded to Patrick and Lucy. “I’m getting Sean.”
The distant rumble of a powerful explosion shook the foundation of the bar and rattled the glasses. Lucy grabbed the counter and watched as three glasses fell off a shelf and hit the floor behind the bar.
“Holy shit!” Patrick exclaimed.
Omar kicked over a table. “I’ll kill him!”
“Stand down, Agent Lewis!” Noah demanded.
“That came from the marijuana warehouses. Callahan must have blown them up! Do you understand what this means? Thirteen months of the perfect setup, gone.” He threw a chair across the room.
Noah rushed Omar and pushed him against the wall. Several pictures fell to the floor, the glass breaking. Omar pushed back, but Noah had his forearm against his chest and the strength of both training and anger. “Listen to me, Lewis,” Noah said. “I will not repeat myself. I am in charge from this moment forward. You will control your temper. You will do exactly what I say. Do you understand?”
Omar bared his teeth, breathing hard, his eyes narrowed. “Yes. Sir.”
Noah stepped back and Omar put his hands on the bar and looked down. “If
you only knew how many deaths Sampson Lowell is responsible for.”
Noah offered his understanding. “We’ll get him. It might not be tonight, but we’ll get him.”
“Before how many more people die?”
“Are you with me? Or do I have to lock you in the storage room?”
“I’m with you.”
“Good, because we’re short on numbers and I need everyone working together.”
Lucy had some sympathy for Omar and his fury at Sampson Lowell. There were some people in the world who didn’t deserve to live, who were individually responsible for destroying the lives of countless others. There was no doubt in her mind that Lowell was one of the few so evil and ruthless, he needed to be destroyed. And she wished she could be part of taking him down, because she had known others, like him, who were so deadly that the justice system wouldn’t be able to stop them.
But love had to win over hate, and saving Sean took precedence over stopping a bad guy.
“There will be another chance to take down Sampson Lowell,” Lucy told Omar. “But if Sean dies, he won’t have a second chance.”
After Adam left Tim at the lodge, he drove his old beat-up four-wheel-drive truck as close to the Callahan property as he dared. He didn’t know what kind of security Bobbie and her people had surrounding the place, but if Gary Clarke and the others were still at the Fosters’ house, at least her team was divided. He knew these woods as well as anyone who had grown up in Spruce Lake.
The only way to get to the house and rescue Henry and Emily was to run through a clearing. He’d been in the house several times in the past, and from this angle, he could see the kitchen and living area brightly lit on the right, and a dim light on the opposite side of the house. All blinds were closed, and he hoped Jon was right that Henry and Emily were in the downstairs bedroom.
He sprinted across the clearing toward the faint light on the left, praying he wasn’t shot in the back.
THIRTY-EIGHT
If I Should Die Page 27