“What time was that?” asked Sean.
The husband looked at him suspiciously. “What does it matter to you?”
The wife added, “You two ask a lot of questions.”
Before Sean could say anything, Michelle spoke up. “Okay, we should have told you before.” She paused and then said in a low, girlish voice brimming with awe, “We were the ones who found his body.”
The couple looked at her and then Sean. He nodded. “We did,” Sean said quite truthfully.
The words tumbled from Michelle’s mouth. “And it was awful. But exciting at the same time. I mean nothing ever happens to us like that. I’ve never even seen a dead body before. And certainly not one that was murdered.” She shivered. “I absolutely hate guns,” she added with a completely straight face. But then her features lit up. “But it was so exciting. It’s weird, huh?”
The husband said derisively, “Well, it’s excitement I can do without.”
“We found the body around midnight,” prompted Sean. “But he must’ve gotten back from seeing Roy long before that.”
“Oh yeah, about eight. He didn’t have any dinner. Said he wasn’t hungry.”
“Did he talk to you before he left again?”
“No. I didn’t see him leave either. I know he was here around nine. Saw his light on in his room. But I got busy after that.” He looked at his wife. “You didn’t see him either?”
“No. Told the police that too. I was back in the kitchen cleaning up.”
Michelle said, “So it was after nine when he left. But when you talked to him after he got back from Cutter’s Rock, did he mention going out again? Or where he might be going?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
Sean asked, “Did Bergin get any phone calls or packages that day?”
“Phone calls, no. Most people have cells now, of course. And no messages or package at the front desk, nothing like that.”
After asking a few more questions they thanked the couple and left.
Outside, Agent Murdock was waiting for them.
“Playing detective?” he said in a surly tone, nodding toward the couple through the window.
“Just having a cup of coffee. It’s chilly today.”
“Yeah, a cup of coffee with the owners of the lodge where your guy was staying.”
“Another coincidence,” said Michelle.
“Let it be your last one,” replied Murdock.
“Can I have my gun back? I’m feeling kind of naked without it.”
“Ballistics isn’t done yet. I’ll let you know. Could be a while. Paperwork gets backed up. You know how it is.” He stared up at Sean. “I’m hoping I don’t run into you two again. Why don’t you get back to Virginia? Nothing to keep you here.”
“I thought you said we were material witnesses and couldn’t leave the area.”
“I changed my mind. So go!”
“It’s a free country,” said Sean.
“Until it’s not free,” shot back Murdock.
After he left, Michelle headed over to the gas station attendant. “Where’s the closest gun shop?”
“About two miles north of here, right on this road. Place called Fort Maine Guns.”
“Nice assortment of pistols?”
“Oh yeah. You shoot?”
“Only when I have to.”
CHAPTER
11
MICHELLE SLIPPED the 9mm Sig into her belt holster and let out a prolonged sigh of satisfaction.
Sean stared at her in amusement. “Smoke ’em if you got ’em.”
“Why do I think having a gun up here is a really good idea?”
“Because it is.”
“I’d just gotten used to the H&K, but I have to say I’ve always been partial to Sigs.”
“You carried a Glock for a while, too.”
“You know what they say: some girls like shoes, some girls like guns.”
“I’ve never actually heard anyone else say that.”
She stuck a couple boxes of ammo in her bag and said, “Time to head to Portland to pick up the baby lawyer.”
They had traveled about twenty miles when Michelle said, “Possible tail.”
Sean kept his gaze straight ahead. “Where?”
“Dark sedan two hundred yards back. Lose it on the curves and pick it back up on the straights.”
“Could be nothing. He could be heading where we are.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?”
When they reached the cut over to the interstate the car kept going.
Michelle said, “Guess you were right.”
“Still, good to be alert. Now if the folks at Gray’s Lodge saw Bergin at around nine and he was killed around midnight, that still leaves him with nearly three hours or so to move around somewhere.”
“He didn’t go back to Cutter’s. It’s locked down after dark. So—”
The bullet broke through the passenger’s side window, passed in front of both Sean and Michelle, and shattered the driver’s side glass on the way out.
Sean ducked down and Michelle immediately cut the vehicle to the left. She rode the shoulder momentarily while Sean looked behind them.
“No other car?” he asked.
“No. Shot came from long range.”
“Pull the car down there,” he barked, pointing to the trees set off the road. “And keep down.”
She banked into the soft grass and pulled the Ford farther down to a stop next to a stand of trees. They slid out of the car on their bellies, keeping the metal of the car between them and where the shot had come from. Michelle had her Sig out and was scanning the possible firing lines. Sean edged his head over the hood and then ducked back down.
“No optics signature that I can see.”
Michelle eyed the broken windows. “Helluva shot with us going at speed.”
“I’m taking this as a warning.”
She nodded. “Anyone who could make that trigger pull could’ve easily killed us. I think I saw the damn round pass right in front of me, although I know that’s not really possible. And auto glass these days is not the crap it used to be. To shatter both and keep going takes some horsepower.”
Sean studied the surroundings. “Slight breeze, lots of trees, maybe some high ground where the shooter was. Sun behind him, which favored the shot. Still impressive. We’re moving perpendicular to the shot at sixty miles an hour.”
“Seventy,” corrected Michelle. “Shooter must be a hell of a mil-dot counter. That was some fancy reticle figuring.”
Sean nodded. “Military sniper?”
“Maybe. Only question is whose. If ours, it’s not a pretty picture. Question is why, and the answer is pretty obvious.”
“Edgar Roy,” said Sean. He put his back to the front panel of the car and slid down on his butt. “Government bean counter?”
“What the file said.”
“FBI watch list. Lawyer murdered. Cutter’s Rock hospitality. Long-range warning shot for us.”
“Doesn’t add up, does it?”
“Not in the world I live in, no.”
She said, “You think it’s safe to get going?”
“I guess we have to chance it. But you have my permission to drive like you’re auditioning for NASCAR.”
No more shots hit as they raced onto the interstate.
They retraced their journey from the night before and got to Portland ten minutes before the flight from D.C. landed. They took a couple minutes to clean out the shattered safety glass, which had acted as designed, shattering into a zillion pieces but staying together as a cracked whole.
Sean waited for the deplaning passengers while Michelle went to check on another rental car.
There were thirty-nine passengers on the flight.
Megan Riley was the thirty-ninth coming through the exit gate.
She probably didn’t want to get off the plane, he thought.
She looked over at Sean expectantly. He said, “Megan?”
She nodded and headed to
ward him.
Michelle walked up to him at that moment and whispered, “She looks like she’s about to start high school.”
Riley was petite, her red hair sprawled across her shoulders and her face heavily freckled. She was struggling with a roller and a heavy litigation bag that no doubt contained Ted Bergin’s old-fashioned paper files. Sean took the bag from her, shook Riley’s hand, and introduced Michelle.
When they got to the Ford, Riley saw the shattered windows and the broken glass still littering the floorboards.
“My God, what happened?”
Sean looked at Michelle, who said, “Could’ve been worse. Only problem is there are no more rentals available. Hope you brought a heavy jacket, Megan.”
“Was it an accident?” she asked.
“Not exactly,” said Sean, as he opened the rear door for her.
CHAPTER
12
“WE GOT YOU A ROOM at Martha’s Inn, Megan,” said Sean, as Michelle drove them back. “A couple of guests checked out.”
Megan’s gaze had really never left the shattered windows. She tugged her thin jacket closer around her. “Did you report this?”
Sean glanced back at her. “Not yet. But we will. Unfortunately, the police are pretty busy with other things. Bullets that missed from an unknown shooter probably rank pretty low on their priority list right about now.”
“I know one FBI agent who’ll probably be sorry they missed,” added Michelle.
“Their priority is Mr. Bergin’s murder?” said Megan.
“You can call him Ted.”
“No, he’ll always be Mr. Bergin to me,” she said stubbornly.
Michelle asked, “Anything good in the docs you brought?”
“I’m not sure. I was in court all day yesterday and just got back to the office when I called you back today. But I brought everything that looked relevant.”
“We appreciate that,” said Sean.
“So are you working with the FBI?”
Sean glanced at Michelle and said, “Sort of.”
Michelle added, “What about Bergin’s house in Charlottesville? Has the FBI searched it?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
Sean said, “If we can get there first, it might matter a lot.”
“But wouldn’t that be interfering in an official investigation?” Megan pointed out.
Michelle raised her eyebrows but held her tongue.
Sean turned around in the seat. “Do you have Hilary’s home phone number?”
She gave it to him off her cell phone contacts list. He punched it in, waited.
“Hilary? Sean King. Quick question.” He asked her about Bergin’s house.
“Okay, how far away are you from it?” He paused as she answered. “Do you think you can drive over there and let us know if there’s any activity? Okay, thanks a lot. We’ll wait to hear from you. Oh, one more thing. Did the FBI come by the office? Nobody? All right.”
He put his phone away and glanced at Michelle, who was swinging her gaze back and forth like a lighthouse beam. “See anything suspicious?”
She shrugged. “We won’t see any optics sig until the round hits. End of story.”
Megan must’ve overheard this remark because she immediately sank lower in the backseat. “Do you need me to stay up here long?”
“Maybe,” said Sean.
“I have to get back at some point.” Her gaze flicked to the darkness all around.
“We’re all hoping to get back home at some point. Unfortunately it’s too late for Ted,” he added, his tone a bit harder.
She obviously noted this. “I’m not trying to chicken out. It’s just that—”
Sean turned around in the seat once more. “You don’t look like a coward to me at all, Megan. You got on the plane and came up here. You saw what happened to our car and didn’t turn tail and run. That takes courage.”
She said slowly, “Well, truthfully, I almost did run. But I do want to help.”
“I know.” A thought struck him. “Was Hilary at the office all day?”
“No, by the time I got back from court she’d left to look into some funeral arrangements for Mr. Bergin. But no one came by while I was there.”
Sean turned back around. “I’m not sure when they’ll be done with the remains.”
“I still can’t believe he’s dead.”
He turned back around and saw the tears trickling down her face. He reached over the seat and took her hand. “Megan, it’s going to be okay.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No, I can’t, but we can do everything possible to make sure it turns out that way.”
She quickly wiped her face dry. “I’m cool. It’s okay. No more tears.”
Michelle said, “No law against grieving.”
“From the looks of things up here I’m not sure we have time for that.”
Sean and Michelle exchanged another glance, each visibly impressed at her insightful remark.
“So what’s the first order of business?” asked Megan.
Sean answered. “We go back to Martha’s Inn, make a big pot of coffee, and start going over these files.”
They were an hour out when Michelle’s phone rang. It was Eric Dobkin from the Maine State Police. Michelle listened and then clicked off.
“He wants to talk. Got some info for us. I know it’s late, but why don’t I drop you and Megan at the inn and then swing over and meet him? Save us some time to split up.”
“After what happened this afternoon I’m not sure splitting up is a good idea.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know that. I was worried about me and Megan.”
“I know Tae Kwon Do,” said Megan. “I have my green belt.”
“That’s nice,” said Sean, holding back a smile. “But if they go with their prior method, they won’t be near enough for you to kung fu them.”
“Oh.”
Sean studied Michelle. “Okay, you meet with Dobkin. The legal stuff will go faster with Megan and me anyway. We can fill each other in when we’re done. Where are you meeting him?”
“At his house. He gave me the address.”
“Okay, but you better put on your A game all the way. Okay?”
“Only way I know how to play, Sean. Thought you would have known that by now.”
CHAPTER
13
ERIC DOBKIN’S HOUSE was in a location that the GPS finally gave up on about a half mile away. Michelle had to call him, and he led her the rest of the way by voice instructions. When she turned a corner and saw the lights of the house up ahead, she also saw a late-model Dodge pickup truck parked in the driveway. Next to it was an old Chrysler minivan. As she peered inside the van she saw three car seats buckled in. “Wow,” she said to herself. “I’m betting no one in that house is sleeping much.”
The house was constructed of pine logs, the roof of cedar shakes, and the door of unadorned oak. The little flower garden around the house had long since lost its summer luster and just looked exactly what it was: dead.
She knocked.
A light tread started somewhere inside. Not Dobkin’s. Perhaps his wife. Michelle stared at the structure, figuring out the interior from her observations of the exterior.
Front room. Three bedrooms set off a central hall. Kitchen probably in the back. No garage, which in Maine seemed a little crazy. Maybe one and a half baths. It looked sturdy, each log tethered securely to its neighbor.
The door opened. The woman was short and carrying a child on her hip. The size and shape of her belly indicated she was also clearly expecting another little one. And soon.
“I’m Sally. You must be Michelle,” she said in a good-natured if tired tone. “This is Adam. Our oldest. Just turned three.” The little boy stared back at Michelle, one finger in his mouth.
“You have three kids?”
“How’d you know?”
“Car seats in the van.”
�
��Good observer. Eric said you and your partner were good at what you do. Yep, three little boys.” She patted her stomach. “And one in the oven. Each a year apart.”
“You didn’t waste any time.” Michelle stepped inside. “Sorry to come by so late.”
“With Eric’s work hours we’re all night owls. He’s back in the den.”
Michelle looked around. A den? There must be a room in the back that she had missed in her internal calculation.
“I’ll be right back,” Sally said.
She disappeared and Dobkin appeared about a minute later. “He was dressed in LL Bean jeans, a white cotton shirt, and a sleeveless orange ski parka. His blond hair was still matted down from his trooper hat.
“Nippy tonight,” said Michelle.
He looked at her funny. “Nippy?”
“Well, I guess by Southern standards. You really live out in the boonies.”
He cracked a grin. “I’m only five miles from the stoplight. You should see where some of the other guys live. Now that’s the boonies.”
“If you say so.”
“So your partner’s preoccupied?”
“Trying to cover all the bases. And I appreciate you calling. I know this can’t be easy. Sort of stuck in the middle.”
“Come on back.”
He led her past the kitchen where they could see Sally feeding Adam and what was probably the two-year-old, who looked half asleep and ready to fall right into his plate of food. The youngest child already must be in bed, she assumed.
They settled in the small den, which held an old, battered, gunmetal-gray desk, a shelf made of planks and concrete blocks, and a scarred, two-drawer oak file cabinet. A red Dell laptop sat on the desk along with a locked portable gun case, where she presumed he kept his service pistol. With three little and no doubt inquisitive kids in the house, that was a real necessity. One window looked out onto the back of the house. A rectangular blue rug did its best to soften the starkness of the wooden floor. Dobkin sat behind the desk and indicated a ladder-back chair with a faux leather seat for Michelle to take. She drew it up and plunked her butt down.
Dobkin eyed her waistline. “Fresh hardware?”
She glanced down at the revealed Sig. “When in Maine, you know. And Murdock was vague about when I could expect my weapon back.”
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