Sun Storm

by Marlow Kelly

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Finn pulled on his wool-lined leather gloves as he made his way across the square toward the elegant headquarters of Public Domain Energy. He was tired and a touch irritable, mainly because he’d slept in his chair. Maybe he should have stayed with Kennedy in her downtown apartment. Fraternization between agents wasn’t exactly frowned upon. They were allowed to date, but they weren’t allowed to work in the same unit if they were involved, and he didn’t want anyone to misinterpret his intentions.

  Now, in the stark light of day, he had to wonder if he’d imagined last night’s conversation with Jake. The idea the whole police department was corrupt seemed implausible. He could believe there were one or two crooked cops, but the department consisted of almost a hundred men and women.

  He pictured Officer Calder with his earnest, young face. He was a likeable, open man with two young children. No, they weren’t all bad. At first glance, Calder had believed David was a threat, which was understandable considering Quinn had instigated a confrontation by shoving him. And when PDE security had opened fire, he had drawn his weapon, but he had not shot at the victim. Once it was over, he questioned his responses.

  The square was almost empty. There were a few city workers plowing sidewalks, an old lady feeding the sparrows, and a group of children from a local playschool making snow Angels. Their teacher struggled to keep the kids contained in one small area.

  Finn doubted Portman had made it home last night not if, as he suspected, he was hunting Dr. Wilson and David Quinn. Hopefully, the president of Public Domain Energy was in his office. It was a risk, and he had no idea what he hoped to accomplish with this interview.

  The jazz tune played on his phone. He answered before the melody could finish. “Callaghan.”

  “It’s me, Kennedy. I have coffee.”

  The thought of coffee made Finn’s mouth water. “Meet me in the square by the fountain.”

  She was already sitting at an outside table when he arrived, two to-go cups in hand.

  “We need to talk.” Finn took a drink from her hand.

  “That’s mine,” she snapped, passing him the coffee in her other hand and taking hers back.

  “I had a visit last night.”

  “From whom?” She leant back, taking a long sip.

  “A man named Jake. He had a message from David.” Finn filled her in on everything Jake had told him.

  “You believe Marshall Portman is behind the home invasion, and he set up David to take the fall for Dr. Wilson’s murder. You also think the police are corrupt and doing Portman’s bidding.”

  “Yes, I do. It’s the only explanation that fits. If David thought Marshall Portman controlled the Granite City-Elkhead County Police Department, that would account for his actions. He had come barreling out of the PDE building and run into Marie accompanied by a cop. His first instinct would have been to save her.”

  “But you only have David’s word. Your witness left. Where’s your proof? For all we know, he’s lying to throw you off the trail.”

  “Why would he bother? I’m not on the case.”

  “He might not know that.”

  “He brought her to us—to me—because she was in trouble, and he trusted me. That has to count for something.”

  She narrowed her eyes, considering him.

  He sighed. “I suppose it comes down to trust. I trust Quinn. You have to decide if you trust me.”

  She stared into the distance for a moment and then nodded. “Okay boss, what’s our next move?”

  “Let’s go.” He stood and walked toward the PDE building.

  “Where are we going?” She tossed her coffee cup into the garbage as she jogged to keep up.

  “To see Marshall Portman.”

  ****

  Finn was struck by how sophisticated the furnishings were in the Public Domain Energy headquarters. The orange and brown color scheme added a simple elegance that indicated class and wealth without being ostentatious.

  A receptionist, who could’ve easily made a living as a model, ushered him and Kennedy in to Portman’s office. The president of PDE stood as they entered and extended his hand.

  “Agent Callaghan, it’s good to meet you.”

  “Hello.” Finn shook his hand, noticing the faint traces of a New England accent. “This is my partner, Special Agent Norris.”

  “Is this a friendly visit?” Portman made himself comfortable in a very expensive-looking leather chair and picked a piece of lint from his lapel, which registered with Finn as a subconscious sign of annoyance.

  “Unfortunately no, I’m here about the kidnapping.” Finn sat opposite Portman, while Kennedy roamed the room. Disclosing he was here about Quinn was risky and provocative, but that was the point of the interview. He was shaking the tree, hoping something would fall out.

  “Ah, bad business. My security personnel tried to protect her. We’ve cooperated with the police.”

  “I see.” Finn kept his response vague, hoping that Portman would fill in the blanks.

  “I don’t know if there’s anything new I can tell you.” Portman struck him as one of those people who wanted to seem ordinary, but when push came to shove, would insist on preferential treatment.

  “Can you give us the details again?”

  “Well, to start, I have no idea why Quinn was here. I don’t know his mental state, but I can speculate.”

  “Speculate?” Finn wanted to hear this hypothesis. It had probably been carefully planned, researched, and rehearsed.

  “Yes, it is known that his military career finished under a cloud. Maybe he’s having a breakdown.”

  Quinn’s career had finished abruptly, and it was obvious he’d experienced some kind of traumatic event, but he’d received an honorable discharge. “And you think he took her?”

  “There’s no doubt in my mind. I saw the video.”

  That damn ten second video.

  “Is there any chance of seeing the whole film?” Kennedy studied the porcelain figurines that adorned an antique, dark wood dresser on the far side of the room.

  “What do you mean the whole—”

  “It’s only ten seconds long. There must be more,” Finn said.

  “We gave everything to the police. You’ll have to take it up with them.”

  Finn decided to take a chance and ask about the only other subject Portman and David had in common. “Tell me about Marshall House.”

  “What about it?” Portman leant back in his leather chair, distancing himself from Finn and the conversation. He was uncomfortable with the line of questioning.

  “Was David one of the street kids who went through your program?”

  “Yes, he and his sister, Sinclair. Did you know he has a twin sister?”

  “Yes, but we haven’t been able to locate her.” It was a lie. Finn knew damn well that Sinclair was on her way here, but he wasn’t about to tell Portman that.

  “Neither have I.” He leant forward, obviously more at ease talking about Sinclair.

  “Why are you trying to find her?”

  “I feel responsible. I took the twins off the streets and put them back into society. I’ve helped many children and have a ninety-five percent success rate. That’s something I’m very proud of. This kidnapping puts the whole program in a bad light. If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.” Portman relaxed, interlocking his fingers.

  “I’ve read Quinn’s file. I have a hard time believing a decorated soldier would kidnap anyone,” Kennedy said as she examined personal photos that hung on the wall.

  Marshall placed his coffee mug in the middle of the table and leant back to put a barrier between them. Portman wanted them to believe in David’s guilt and was uncomfortable with Kennedy’s last statement. “I’ve told you everything I know, which I admit isn’t much—”

  “What can you tell us about Dr. Marie Wilson?” Finn asked, once again changing the subject.

  He shrugged. “Nothing. I have no con
nection to her.”

  “Oh, I’m surprised. She told me you were interested in sponsoring her research.”

  Portman’s eyes widened. “I-I don’t personally deal with all the projects we sponsor, but I can have my assistant find the relevant department head if you want.” He momentarily squinted and then relaxed his features. A negative response, covering what Finn knew to be a lie.

  Finn stood and walked to the window. “You have a great view.”

  “Thanks.” Portman rose and placed his leather office chair between himself and Finn. It was another barrier, and another attempt to put some space between them.

  “Do you know anything about Dr. Wilson’s solar panel?” Finn paced around the room as Kennedy took Finn’s vacant seat.

  A framed photo of Portman with a bunch of kids standing in front of a grand brick house caught his attention. Marshall House. He examined the children’s faces, searching for David.

  “I know nothing about her portable solar panel, but as I said, I can put you in touch with—

  “No, that’s fine.” He pointed to the photograph. “Is David in this picture?”

  Portman glanced at the photo, squinted again, and then smiled. “No, that was taken at least eight years before David’s time in the program.”

  “How long have you been operating Marshall House?”

  “Nineteen years. It never occurred to me when I started it that it would be a long-term project, but there seems to be an endless supply of homeless children. It’s so sad.”

  Finn nodded and walked back to the window, staring at the snow-covered town square. He couldn’t very well accuse the President of PDE of trying to kill David and Dr. Wilson, not without proof.

  “To be honest, I’m surprised to see you.”

  “Oh, why’s that?” Kennedy asked.

  “I’m no lawyer, but I thought the kidnapping of an adult fell under local, not federal jurisdiction. Isn’t that breaking the rules?” And there it was—a veiled threat.

  “There might be a connection to a local terrorist group, the Sons of Freedom. We have to investigate all leads. Thank you for your time. You’ve been most helpful.” Finn headed for the door.

  “Anytime. You can see yourselves out?”

  Finn and Kennedy waited for the elevator in silence. Portman’s response to the photo of Marshall House had been the hardest to read. He had squinted and then smiled. The squint showed an adverse reaction. Initially, Marshall hadn’t liked him looking at the image. Then he had smiled and relaxed when Finn asked about David. What was in the picture that Portman hadn’t wanted him to see?

  The elevator pinged and then doors opened. A tall, slim man with cropped dark hair and glasses walked out. There was something in the man’s gait, a familiarity. He knocked Finn’s elbow as he passed, mumbled an apology, and then ducked his head and carried on as if nothing had happened.

  What the hell? That was Michael Papin, the same Michael who had called him yesterday morning demanding to know what was going on with David. What was he doing in the PDE building? Had he inserted himself into the investigation? Of course, he had. Michael, David, Tim, and Sinclair were family. Finn gathered his thoughts and followed Kennedy in as the doors slid closed.

  Finn stuffed his hands in his pockets and was surprised to find a crumpled piece of paper, probably a note from Michael. He had gone old school. Bumping into someone and slipping them a message was a trick from a bygone era.

  Finn waited until they were in the middle of the square before taking the paper out of his pocket. “Keep your phone on. Evidence forthcoming.”

  He passed the note to Kennedy, who glanced at it and then said, “What am I supposed to do with this, eat it?”

  A laugh bubbled up from his throat, which had nothing to do with humor and everything to do with relieving tension.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Marie struggled to control her tears, which was silly because she’d known Mac for less than a day. He’d lied about everything and was not a very nice man, but to see his life snuffed out was…was…devastating. She wanted to pretend it had never happened, or hide her face in her hands and weep. If David had stepped through that door first, it would’ve been him lying there on the ground. Her pulse thumped against her temple, and she put a shaky hand to her head. The idea that David might have died caused a crushing pain in her chest so real her heart felt like it was being compressed. She stared at the trees, trying to banish that image from her mind. It didn’t work. Pain and guilt overwhelmed her. David continued to place himself between her and danger because he couldn’t turn his back. It was an important clue to his true nature. Beneath the scar, the intensity, and his cynicism was an honorable, decent man. She’d only known two men well, her father and her former lover, both were unreliable at best and deceitful at worst. David was rough, ready, supremely capable, and despite the fact she had known him for less than two days, she sensed that every man she met from now on would be compared to him.

  They’d been driving for an hour, heading north. The snow-capped mountains were on their left, visible through the gaps in the trees. Snowplows hadn’t worked this back road yet, but David managed to steer the pickup through deep grooves in the snow.

  His warm hand clasped hers, lending her his strength and comfort. “Try not to think about it.”

  He let go of her hand to negotiate a snaking curve in the road. A large black pickup overtook them and swerved in front of them. David struggled to control their truck as the back wheels swung wide, coming to a stop sideways on the narrow road. The black truck did a U-turn, stopping ten feet in front of them.

  Without glancing at her David said, “Do you have your seatbelt on?”

  “What is it? Didn’t he lose control on the ice?”

  “I don’t think so. I want you to duck when I give the signal.”

  “What’s the signal?”

  He didn’t answer, but kept his gaze trained on the newer vehicle.

  “What’s the signal?”

  A tall athletic man with a rifle climbed out and marched toward them, his eyes shadowed by the wide brim of his cowboy hat.

  “Put it in reverse,” Marie ordered. Everything about this man screamed military, from his square shoulders to his ramrod straight back.

  A slow smile curved his mouth as David stared at the stranger.

  “What are you waiting for? He has a gun.” Marie yanked on David’s elbow to get his attention.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. What’s he doing here?” He opened the door.

  “He? You know him?”

  David didn’t answer. He tugged his arm out of her grip and walked toward the newcomer.

  The man grinned, placed his rifle on the hood of their truck, and took David’s hand, embracing him in a short hug.

  David seemed to relax, the tension easing out of his spine as he waved for Marie to join him. “Marie, this reprobate is Tim.”

  Tim was a head taller than David. He took her hand and placed it palm down against his chest. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Tim gave her a wide, warm smile, and she found herself staring into a pair of hazel eyes, trimmed with long black lashes that would be the envy of any woman.

  “Let go of her,” David growled.

  “But we just met. I want to get to know her a little better.” Then turning to Marie, he said, “Would you like to come back to my place?”

  “Tim.” David stepped closer.

  “We’ll get to know each other later.” Tim winked and released her hand.

  She couldn’t be sure if he was flirting with her or just being nice, but then she had limited experience with men. She’d only been fourteen when she’d started college, so she’d been too young to go out to bars and to interest the boys in her classes. By the time she was old enough to date, she’d already experienced heartbreak and had walled herself off. She wasn’t good at reading social cues, but she didn’t want any confusion about where her affection lay. She took a step back and grabbed David’s hand.


  Tim’s smile grew wider. He nodded as if answering a question. His grin disappeared, and he pointed to David. “You have a problem.”

  “No kidding. Portman—”

  “Yeah, I know all about that. Michael kept me updated and sent me to find you. He said you’ve picked up a tracker—”

  “Michael? What the hell has he got to do with it?”

  “He said—”

  “Fuck it. He’s conducting his own investigation, isn’t he?”

  Tim shrugged. “You’re not our protector anymore. We can make up our own minds. If we want to get involved, we will. There’s nothing you can do to stop us.” Tim smiled at Marie. “Michael is working as a computer expert for Portman. He’s conducting his own lines of inquiry.”

  “That sounds dangerous.” Marie pictured Mac lying on the ground, bleeding. What would they do to someone who’d infiltrated their ranks?

  David poked Tim in the shoulder. “You need to contact him and tell him to get out of there. These people will kill him—”

  Tim shoved David back. “What do you think he does for a living?”

  “Computer stuff—hacking.”

  “He works for Army CID. I get the impression he does more than sit at a computer.”

  “How would you know?”

  “He’s never said anything definite, but I can read between the lines. I wouldn’t be surprised if he routinely worked undercover.”

  “Really?” David’s brow creased.

  “Why are you surprised?”

  David shrugged. “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him much in the last five years. I guess I’ve lost touch, but I’d feel better if he hadn’t put himself in danger.”

  “I get it, but you’re in trouble, and you’re our friend, so let us help.”

  David nodded and clapped a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Something inside Marie softened. This was what it was like to have friends and be loved. No matter what trouble came their way, they stood together. The fact that David had friends who would put themselves on the line for him touched her. He was so lucky, but maybe luck had nothing to do with it. She could easily picture him, placing himself in harm’s way to protect them. He had earned their friendship and loyalty just as he’d earned hers. And one day she would find a way to repay them.