Blood Trade: A Sean Coleman Thriller

by John A. Daly

  “It’s more than fine,” said Sean.

  Lumbergh took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, it’s not going to do me any good. I’m going away, Sean. Martinez is dead and I’m to blame for that.”

  “Martinez,” Sean grumbled. “I never liked that guy.”

  “It doesn’t matter. His death is my fault.”

  “Actually, it’s Jefferson’s fault.”

  Lumbergh’s eyes narrowed. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “I talked to old Jeffrey on the phone a little while ago. In the hospital. I think I interrupted his sponge bath. He said he crashed the side of the police cruiser into my car yesterday—which he’ll be paying for by the way. He fucked up the door somehow. The lock wasn’t working right. That’s how Martinez escaped.”

  “Shit,” Lumbergh moaned, leaning back in his seat. “Don’t tell anybody that. Don’t drag Jefferson into this.”

  “I won’t. It’s got to be hard enough for him just to be . . . you know . . . just to be Jefferson.”

  “Be nice, Sean. He’ll be the acting Winston Police Chief now.”

  “Christ,” Sean breathed.

  Neither man spoke for a while. Lumbergh stared out the side window while Sean did the same out his window.

  Lumbergh finally broke the silence. “When I’m done answering for all of this, I’ll be lucky if I can find a job as a security guard.” Upon digesting his words, he winced and added, “No offense.”

  “None taken.” Sean twisted in the seat until he was looking Lumbergh directly in the eye. A sly smile slowly formed on his face.

  “No, Sean. I don’t want to be a security guard with you,” said Lumbergh, dead seriousness in his eyes.

  “Like I’d even ask,” said Sean, shaking his head in dismissal. “Gary, what if I told you that you’re going to stay Winston’s police chief?”

  Lumbergh let his head tilt to the side. A less than amused expression lined his face. “I’d tell you to stop fucking with me.”

  Sean chuckled. It was the reaction he was expecting. He then told his brother-in-law that Sheriff Richard Redick was willing to overlook every illegal act Lumbergh had committed under one condition: Redick was to get sole credit for using Martinez to track down and find Andrew Carson.

  Sean watched his brother-in-law’s face twist in confusion and audacity as he listened. “Andrew Carson is a huge story, Gary. No one was expecting to find him alive. A politician like Redick knows better than to waste that kind of press and celebrity on you. I think the fathead wants to be the governor someday. Something like this might actually get him there.”

  Lumbergh shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but Sean cut him off.

  “Don’t say anything. Just think about this for a minute, Gary. Everyone knows that you’re the man—the guy who took down Alvar Montoya. You’re a rock star. If this story is played legit, Redick will be the man who put a hero cop behind bars. And for why? Because that hero cop defied Redick’s shitty judgment and found Andrew Carson all on his own.”

  “And?”

  “My point is that all of that will come out in court, and it would be best for everyone if it just went away.”

  “Oh Jesus, Sean!” Lumbergh cried out. “That’s not going to work!”

  “Yes it will, Gary! But only if you let it. Redick’s not going to cut you totally out of the picture. He knows he needs you here at the scene for the timeline to work out right in the report. You just need to be working under his toota . . . Um . . .”

  “Tutelage?” Lumbergh jumped in.

  “Yes!” Sean said, snapping his fingers and pointing. “That’s the word he used. He’s just has to be the one who compelled Martinez to talk and bring you all here.”

  “And, of course, Martinez is not around to explain otherwise,” said Lumbergh with his eyes bearing down on Sean.

  “Right. In his escape attempt, he accidentally got run over. That’s the truth anyway, isn’t it? No one’s going to question that.”

  Lumbergh leaned forward, placing his elbow on his knee and his outstretched hand on his forehead. He used his palm to press his right eye wide open. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “All of that bullshit lecturing Redick gave me about following procedure and being a professional. . . What an asshole!”

  Sean smiled. “I won’t argue with that. Still, he knows you’re a good cop, and that all of that Montoya bullshit was what fucked with your head.”

  Lumbergh swung his body back into his seat and stared up at the ceiling.

  “If you’re on board, I just need to let Redick know and we’ll get you out of the back of this car.”

  Lumbergh closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

  “Listen Gary, I know you’re a man of integrity. It’s one of the things that irritate the hell out of me about you. But tell me what kind of justice would be served if you went to prison because some loon who nearly killed Oldhorse and Jefferson got what was coming to him. Tell me what justice would be served if the man who killed Alvar Montoya, saved Andrew Carson’s life, and has been a good husband to my sister was put behind bars.”

  “Enough!” Lumbergh sputtered out, opening his eyes. “I hear what you’re saying, but . . .”

  “There’s something else, Gary.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t be a good father to your baby if you’re behind bars.”

  Lumbergh’s eyes immediately shot open and his posture snapped forward. He breathlessly glared at Sean with his mouth gaped open. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. Diana’s been waiting for the right moment to tell you. She didn’t want to do it while you were acting all loony. You scared the shit out of her when you sent her and Mom away.”

  “I’m going to be a dad?” he whispered to himself once his eyes slid from Sean’s face.

  “That’s right. Don’t tell her I told you, either. She wanted it to be a precious moment or whatever, but you didn’t give me any choice. I know you don’t want your kid visiting you in the clink in between bang sessions with some of the guys you put away over the years. The decision should be an easy one, Gary. I need you to make it right now.”

  Lumbergh furiously shook his head, then laughed out loud as a broad smile lifted his cheeks. “You know,” he said with a chuckle, “you’re an asshole for not telling me about this when you first got in the car.”

  “I know,” said Sean with a smirk. “I just wanted to let you sweat it out for a few more minutes. Prime you up for the big decision.” Prime you up was a term he had once heard Dennis Franz say on NYPD Blue. He’d always wanted to use it himself. His face slowly turned serious. He waited for Lumbergh to look at him before he spoke again. He then told his brother-in-law that the truth needed to be stretched just a little bit more—not for Redick but for Sean himself. “Jessica was an unwilling participant in this,” he said. “Do you understand?”

  Lumbergh stared right through him. His smile disappeared and he seemed to be fighting back the urge to launch into a tirade. “Sean,” he said calmly. “I know what you’re doing, but it won’t work. The story just won’t work.”
He reminded Sean that Martinez only knew about the restaurant because he followed Jessica and her brother back to it.

  “Who knows that it was Jessica?” asked Sean. “Who knows that Martinez saw a woman that night at my house? Redick sure as hell doesn’t know. He just knows that two people took me. I already told him that those two people were Adam and Dr. Phil.”

  “You what?” said Lumbergh with wide eyes and a gasp.

  “You heard me.”

  Lumbergh’s mouth gaped open for a good five seconds before he spoke again. “Sean, once I have time to think straight, I know I’ll be able to give you a dozen reasons why that story just won’t fly.”

  “And I’d give you a dozen reasons why it will. I’d start with telling you that Jessica and Anna don’t even live here. They have a place in Lakeland. That’s a fact. This old restaurant is owned by her brother, Adam. As far as anyone needs to know, Jessica’s involvement was limited to discovering Norman Booth’s super-plasma at GSL last summer and telling her family about it.”

  Lumbergh shook his head, but Sean continued.

  “Adam and Dr. Phil did everything else on their own. Understand? Adam was very close with his niece and was desperate enough to do anything to save her. Dr. Phil just wanted to make a name for himself. They put this all together themselves. They kidnapped Norman Booth, brought him back here, and invited Jessica and Anna over just last night to tell her what they had been up to. She told them she wanted no part of it. She even helped me escape.”

  “Why would you even be here, Sean?” exclaimed Lumbergh. “Why would Adam and Phil even know who you are and what you were doing? Jessica’s the only link between you and them!”

  Sean answered quickly, having formulated the answer in his mind earlier. “Jessica helped search for Andrew Carson on her day off from work. She was just being a good citizen, having heard about Carson’s disappearance on the news. After I saw her picture in the Denver Post and decided that I was going to try and impress her—this woman I knew from GSL who I’d been building up the nerve to ask on a date—finding Andrew Carson was my way of impressing her.”

  “Oh give me a break!” Lumbergh shouted out. “This sounds like the plot line of an old John Cusack movie! You had a crush on her, so this was your way of impressing her?”

  Sean glared angrily at Lumbergh, deciding not to tell him that that part of the story wasn’t very far from the truth. “Yeah,” Sean continued. “And I looked into it. When Jessica mentioned to her brother that some guy at the plasma bank was interested in Andrew Carson, he and Phil became nervous. They were worried I’d figure something out. They came to my house that night, wanting to know what I knew. That’s when all hell broke loose and I ended up in the back of their car.”

  “How in the hell did you come up with all of that?” asked Lumbergh, his face displaying disbelief, but also a hint of admiration.

  “I watch a lot of TV,” Sean responded. “And I’ve had a lot of time to think over the past few hours.”

  “You’re forgetting something big,” Lumbergh said.

  “Andrew Carson?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t worry about Carson. We’ll be on the same page. Before they took him away in the ambulance, he agreed not to talk to the police until I talk to him first. He doesn’t want that poor little girl to be without her mother any more than I do.”

  Lumbergh let a breath of air escape his mouth and shook his head in exasperation. “Wow.”

  “I’m not asking much from you, Gary. Nothing I told you is inconsistent with the physical evidence. It’s only contradicted by what Martinez told you about what he saw that night at my house. I can fudge the rest of it. Believe me.”

  Lumbergh nodded in reluctant understanding. “You’re doing all of this for a woman you barely know?”

  “I’m not doing it for her,” Sean said before turning his face away from Lumbergh and reaching for his door handle. “I’m doing it for the girl.”

  With that, Sean exited the sheriff ’s car and let the door close behind him just as he heard Lumbergh whisper to himself, “I’m going to be a father.”

  Sean walked up the road toward the restaurant, hearing the snow, now packed from multiple vehicle tracks, crunch below his feet. He glanced up at the sky, letting the fiery clouds and light breeze consume his senses for a moment before his eyes wandered to the tall sign that stood in front of the building.

  “The Fox Den Grill,” it read. Printed in smaller lettering below it was a message of closure. “We thank you for your years of patronage. God bless our troops.”

  Sean pressed the palm of his hand to the bandage at the back of his head. When he looked at his hand, he found only a little blood.

  He could hear some scattered conversations among the remaining people from County. A few chuckles. Small talk. Sean leered through the open garage and saw Sheriff Redick inside feeding some instructions to one of his deputies. When Redick turned his head and spotted Sean staring back at him, Sean offered him a nod in acknowledgment of Lumbergh’s decision. A wide grin formed on Redick’s round face.

  Jessica suddenly appeared behind the sheriff, with her long frazzled hair hanging in front of her face. She was being escorted outside in handcuffs by a deputy. Redick stepped aside and followed in behind them once they passed him.

  Jessica’s eyes squinted from the brightness of the sunlight when they left the shelter of the garage and crossed onto the driveway. When she adjusted to the glare, she found Sean standing just a few yards away. She stopped walking. The two held each other’s gaze with neither saying a word.

  There wasn’t anything left to say. While inside, Sean had given his testimony at such a raised voice that he knew Jessica could hear every word he said; she was being held in the next room. The interview had driven Redick absolutely nuts. The sheriff couldn’t figure out why for the life of him Sean was being so loud.

  Sean was convinced that Jessica had gotten his message. While inside, he had whispered to her not to say a word. She didn’t, and promptly lawyered up. She had to know that corroborating Sean’s story would give her the best possible chance of staying with her daughter. As he looked at her in handcuffs, he could read the recognition in her profoundly remorseful eyes. The two seemed to peer through each other’s souls for just a few moments.

  “I’m sorry,” Jessica mouthed to Sean with her back turned to the others.

  Sean nodded subtly. “Me, too.”

  The clack of a woman’s heels echoed sharply from inside the garage. A stocky, middle-aged lady with frosted blonde hair and dressed in a gray pantsuit soon appeared. She walked behind a wheelchair she was pushing. In the wheelchair, covered with blankets and wearing an oxygen mask, was Anna. The sun lit up the child’s head and then her face as she lifted it.

  The woman in gray was with social services. Redick had called the department after discovering that the child’s father had died overseas years ago. There was no other family left to watch over Anna, who required daily medical treatments.

  The woman stopped pushing the chair when she reached Jessica.

  Jessica lowered herself to a knee and planted a kiss on her daughter’s cheek, then nestled her face against hers. Tears slid d
own their faces.

  “Don’t give up hope on that transplant coming through,” said Sean, commanding the attention of everyone who stood around them. “Never give up, okay?” he added with a crack in his voice.

  Jessica nodded her head. She didn’t seem particularly comforted by his words, but appeared to appreciate them nonetheless.

  Anna watched Sean as her mother spoke to her softly. Sean couldn’t even imagine what the little girl was thinking—how much she could possibly understand about everything that had happened and what was going to happen next. All he knew was what Andrew Carson had told him the night before when Sean first found Anna sitting on his lap: She was an angel.

  The angel suddenly lifted her thin arm and unexpectedly waved at Sean. Though the oxygen mask covered Anna’s mouth, the tightness of her eyes suggested that she was smiling at him.

  Sean bit his lip and felt his breath leave him. He raised his hand and waved back. His eyes watered up, but he kept a brave face and smiled at the girl. As he did, the warm sun washed over his back and he felt as though his uncle was telling him something from above. He wasn’t sure what was being said by the old man, but he knew he had somehow earned his pride, and at that very moment, it seemed to be enough.

  The sharp angle of the sunlight cast a long shadow from Sean’s body across the trampled snow before him. He couldn’t help but take notice of how defined and large its outline was. It felt to him as if there was finally no dispute in the world over who it belonged to. It wasn’t the dark shadow cast over him by his father’s abandonment, and it wasn’t the bright shadow of his uncle under which he’d chosen to live.

  It was Sean’s and only Sean’s.

  He was soon to become an uncle himself, and the sudden realization of that brought a subtle grin to his face. He was his own man, and it was time for him, for possibly the first time in his life, to serve as an aspiring example for someone else.