by Russell Fee
“Could there be a mistake?” asked Callahan.
“What mistake do you mean? Are we mistaken about your man’s identity, or are we mistaken that he’s dead?” said Dempsey.
* * *
When the call ended, Callahan asked, “Did you hear enough of that?”
“Yes,” said Jackson.
Callahan had turned on the speaker function and placed the phone on the cruiser’s console when he realized who was calling.
“Did Susan tell you that this guy was still alive and that she was communicating with him?” There was no mistaking Callahan’s accusatory tone.
“Matt, I swear. She said nothing about him to me or to anyone else at the service. This is a complete surprise.” Jackson was shaking his head.
“So, you have no idea what their relationship might have been?” Callahan’s attitude remained suspicious.
“No, and please believe me. Frankly, I’m shaken by this news,” said Jackson.
Callahan turned off the pavement and onto the gravel road that fronted Susan’s cottage. He remained silent the five minutes it took to reach the cottage. When he parked the cruiser, he turned to Jackson.
“Here’s what I believe,” he said. The US Marshals Service is responsible for placing someone on this island who has attracted people that pose a danger to its citizens. That danger is now clear and present. Someone murdered Susan, and an assassin has come looking for something she had. My job is to make sure this island is safe for the people who live and visit here. You can help me do that by telling me everything you know, or you can continue keeping me in the dark. You’d better make that decision now, and it had better be the right one.”
It had become clear to Jackson that he needed Callahan as much as Callahan needed him. It was also clear that he couldn’t tell Callahan what he needed to tell him without Callahan becoming suspicious of the source of his knowledge. It would be apparent that he knew far too much about Susan’s human trafficking organization and her potential testimony against it for a mere handler in the Witness Security Program. He would have to give Callahan a plausible source for his knowledge and hope he would buy it. But the one thing he would never reveal to anyone, ever, was his relationship with Susan.
“I’m a member of a new division of the US Marshals Service. We investigate the death of a witness under our protection to determine if it resulted from a breach or failure of any Witness Security Program protocol. I’m investigating Susan’s death to see if she, or we, did anything that might have revealed her true identity and placed her life in jeopardy. That assignment included a briefing on the organization she belonged to and her potential testimony against it.” Jackson paused and waited for Callahan’s reaction. The part about the division and his investigation was true. When he and Susan could no longer deny what was happening between them, he had requested a transfer to the new division, hoping to sever any connection between them. But it was too late. Their relationship had become unbreakable.
“Go on. I’m listening,” said Callahan.
“We have completed that investigation. The report I filed with the service concluded that a boating accident caused her death. The known facts and autopsy supported that cause. I could come to no other conclusion at the time. But now it appears she continued to communicate with someone connected to the trafficking organization. She was never to do that. I believe that communication got her murdered, and I am here to find her killer. I need your help to do that, and you need mine. What I know can help us both.”
“So, you’ve gone rogue?” said Callahan.
“No. I’m here on my own time but doing the business of the service. If we find credible evidence that someone murdered Susan, I’ll reopen the investigation. If it turns out her death actually was an accident, then it will remain closed.” Jackson checked Callahan again for his reaction and found a look of heavy skepticism even his mask couldn’t hide. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re doing the same damn thing I am. You should have closed Susan’s file, but you haven’t. I’ve been open with you, Matt. You need to go along with this.”
Callahan thought for a moment and then said, “Okay, but the second I find you’ve been holding back on me, you’re history; and I drop a dime on you with the service.”
Jackson had faced threats before and recognized the difference between the flab girdling a boast and the sharp edge of a vow. “Understood,” he said.
Callahan wasn’t convinced.
* * *
Their search of Susan’s cottage had been as thorough as they could make it without tearing out walls or pulling up floor boards. It was also thoroughly unproductive. They found nothing.
Chapter 36
Nick had found a place to live along Main Street. He was renting the converted attic of a spacious vacation home perched at the back of a wide lawn that gently sloped down to the edge of the bay. The landscaping consisted of nothing more than manicured grass. No tree, flower, or bush interrupted the expansive view of the water. The view alone was worth the rent to Nick. A couple with young children had inherited the house and stayed in it only a few weeks a year. The rest of the time, Nick had the place to himself. It was a perfect arrangement for him and the couple. He had great digs, and they had someone to look after the house during their absence.
He and Amanda had dinner together on the deck and then decided to take a walk to the lighthouse at the tip of the bay’s crescent. The street lamps had just begun to glow, and the town had settled into a warm quiet. A quintessential time for a stroll but not for what he had to tell Amanda.
“I may be losing my job soon,” he said.
Amanda dropped Nick’s hand and stopped walking. “What are you talking about?”
Nick was a step ahead of her before he realized she’d stopped. He turned back to face her. “It may all be bullshit, but the governor is threatening to cut off funding to the university if it allows the station to publish our ecological evaluation of shoreline tracts.”
“Why?” asked Amanda.
“He accused us of using false science and invalid data. Apparently, the governor objects to our evidence regarding the impact of climate change on the ecology of the lakeshore,” said Nick.
“That’s definitely bullshit,” said Amanda.
“Well, the basis of the threat certainly is, but not the threat itself. Professor Zakaryan says he’s been reliably informed that the governor has the votes in the legislature to cut off our funding. No funds mean no station and no job.”
“Why’s such a fuss being made over that report?”
“Good question. None of us at the station know for sure, but Zakaryan has a theory,” said Nick. “The oil from the pipeline spill has begun to reach the shoreline, and Zakaryan wants to compile data on the spill’s initial ecological impact so that we can chart any lasting effect over time. He’s had his ear to the ground and believes that the powers that be don’t want us to collect the data.”
“Do you know what the university or Zakaryan is going to do?”
“Zakaryan refuses to be bullied. He says he’s going to publish the report no matter the consequences and begin collecting data on the spill. But he may not be able to buck the university if it says no and he wants to keep his job,” said Nick.
They started walking again, following the slow arc of the sidewalk along Main Street toward the lighthouse.
“If you lose your job, will you leave the island?” Amanda already knew the answer.
“I’d have to. I’ve got to find work in my field, and there are no other jobs on the island that would qualify.”
“You could do something else,” said Amanda.
Nick gave her a look of exasperation.
“Okay, okay. I just don’t want you to leave.”
“I don’t want to leave either,” said Nick.
They walked in silence until they got to the dock for the fishing boats. Amanda never stopped being amazed at the number of seagulls that stood, single-footed, along every inch of t
he rails and gunwales of the boats. Every gull on the island seemed to rest there in the evening wedged in tight rank like soldiers, nudging, shoving, pecking, and squawking.
“We’ll work something out,” said Nick.
Chapter 37
Callahan sat on the bed and screwed the cap back onto the tube of medication. He tossed the tube onto the bedside table next to his mask and remained sitting, hesitant to turn towards Julie. Time had not lessened the abhorrence he felt at exposing the raw ugliness of his wounds. He believed Julie when she professed that flesh melted by acid into a gargoyle’s mien did not sicken her. At least, he perceived himself as having the face of a beast. The attack still flashed through his dreams: Turning at the call of his lover’s name and the unbearable, unstoppable pain that burned into his soul—that still burned.
Julie patted the mattress. “C’mon. It’s late. Get under the covers.”
Callahan pulled the covers back and lay down.
“I’m a little concerned about Max. Have you noticed the way he’s been acting lately?” Julie said.
“Nothing unusual. He seems fine to me. What have you noticed?” asked Callahan.
“He’s just been sort of secretive. It’s the best way I can describe it. I found a piece of paper on the floor outside his closet and put it on his desk. He had written something on it. It didn’t make any sense, so I thought I could help him correct it if he wanted. When I asked him about it, he got upset. The paper’s not on his desk anymore. It’s gone, and he still seems upset with me.”
“It’s probably nothing, but I’ll see if he’ll talk to me about it, if you like,” said Callahan. He pressed his head back into the pillow and lay staring up at the ceiling.
Julie turned out the lamp on her side of the bed. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Sure,” said Callahan.
“What are you thinking about, Matt?”
Callahan hesitated and then said, “It’s just that you’ve never really told me about Max and you.”
“You mean the how and why of Max, and how I fit into the how and why?”
Julie’s immediate response surprised Callahan. It sounded defensive and set up a narrative that he did not want to follow. “I’m sorry,” he said. Let’s just get to sleep.”
Julie took a deep breath and then sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. “No, it’s me who should apologize. I want you to know more about Max and me and my marriage.”
“It can wait,” said Callahan.
“No, it can’t.” Julie took another deep breath and said, “You know I married late. It was a surprise to me. I thought I would be single forever, but then I met Sean and things took on a life of their own; and, before I knew it, there I was or there we were, betrothed. Another surprise was that Sean wanted children. It seems crazy now, but we never talked about children before we were married. My age placed me well into the high-risk pregnancy category, but Sean was insistent and convincing. And something I had given up on as a possibility looked like it could become a reality. That’s when I got pregnant.
“My doctors were adamant about amniocentesis. But there’s a risk to the fetus with the test, and I wasn’t sure what I would do if any abnormalities were detected. This was my only chance to have a child, and I wanted it so badly. So, I opted out of the procedure.
“I’ll spare you the lurid details, but Sean blamed me for Max; and not long after Max’s birth, he was gone. I’ve not seen or heard from him since our divorce.
“I’ve never regretted my decision though. Not for a second. I’m thankful for Max every day. I feel that I should be the one helping him through life, but the opposite is true. He’s given me so much. He meets the challenges he faces with courage and dignity. There are times when I’m overwhelmed by his kindness and generosity. He’s so forgiving and—”
“—And he saved my life,” said Callahan.
Julie smiled and reached for Callahan’s hand. She raised it to her lips and brushed a kiss against his skin. “Yes, and I’m eternally grateful to him for that too,” she said.
* * *
Callahan had decided that the best way to approach Max about Julie’s concern would be to start with something Max liked: grocery shopping. So, he had stopped at Foy’s Market on the way to taking Max to his job at the Adult Day Care Center. As soon as they had walked through the door, Max went straight to the packaged dinner aisle. Callahan picked up a basket and followed him. Max waited for him at the far end of the aisle with three boxes of macaroni and cheese.
“You think you have enough there?” Callahan smiled and held out the basket.
Max dumped the boxes into the basket and reached for another box on the shelf. “Okay, one more,” he said.
“I need to get milk for the coffee at the station,” said Callahan.
“Orange juice too,” said Max, and he stepped passed Callahan and headed for the coolers at the opposite end of the aisle.
“Wait,” said Callahan. “I want to ask you something.”
Max stopped and turned to face Callahan, jouncing slightly on his toes with impatience.
“You mother is a little worried,” began Callahan.
“About what?” said Max, settling into a flat-footed stance.
“She just wanted to help you when she saw the paper that—”
Max hunched over and clinched his sides with his elbows, turning his head away from Callahan.
“Max, it’s okay. I only wanted to talk with you about it,” said Callahan in as soothing a voice as he could muster.
Max’s body tightened, and he shook his head.
Callahan put his hand on Max’s shoulder. The muscles were knotted. “Max, remember our conversation about my being the sheriff?”
“Yes,” said Max.
“Then you know what my being the sheriff means, don’t you?”
“You’re supposed to help people if something’s wrong,” said Max.
“Yes. And I’m your friend too, which means I’m supposed to help you if something’s wrong. Is something wrong, Max?”
“We find things,” said Max.
“Who? Who finds things?” asked Callahan.
“Me and the man on the beach. We look for things and find them. He wants to know what I find, but I won’t tell him. It’s my treasure, not his.”
“What man, Max? Do you know him?” Callahan’s voice had switched from calm to urgent.
“No,” said Max.
“Max, did the man want you to go with him anywhere?”
“No. The dog doesn’t like him. He went away,” said Max.
“Have you seen him again?” asked Callahan.
Max shook his head.
“What did you find Max?”
“I don’t know what it is. If I show you, you won’t take it away from me, will you? If you find things, they’re yours, nobody else’s. Right?”
“Yes and no, Max. If it belongs to someone and we know who, we must give it back to them. It’s theirs. You know that’s the right thing to do. What if you lost something and someone found it and wouldn’t give it back?”
Max’s body relaxed, and he looked up at Callahan.
“If you show it to me, I might know what it is. And if there’s a way you can keep it, I’ll make sure you can,” said Callahan, trying to adopt a calming tone again.
“Okay,” said Max.
“Good,” said Callahan, and they started to walk down the aisle together when Callahan thought of a final question. “Max, what did the man look like?”
“Like he wanted to find things everywhere,” said Max.
“What do you mean?” asked Callahan.
“Like this,” said Max, bending over and looking down at the floor.
* * *
Max insisted that Callahan wait in the hall outside his room while he retrieved the treasure. Callahan used the wait to call Max’s boss at the Adult Day Care Center and tell her that Max would be a little late due to something that was not his fault. He said that he would drop Max
off soon. She told Callahan not to worry and that she understood.
When Max reappeared, he held what looked like a wadded up red rag or towel. Max stared down at it for a second and then handed it to Callahan.
Callahan almost dropped it. He had expected the weight of cloth, but the object was heavy and slipped from his grasp. He caught it with his other hand before it hit the floor. Grasping it carefully, he examined the cloth. It was tightly woven and a faint red, almost pink color. He began to gently pull it away from whatever had entangled it. As he did, he saw that the fabric was adhered to two rounded forms. It took him a moment to realize that he clutched the top of a woman’s swim suit. He drew the cloth aside and saw that the shoulder strap of the suit was wrapped around a narrow metal box sandwiched between a jagged sheet of cracked and broken plastic and what looked like the remnants of an electronic circuit board.
Callahan wasn’t positive, but he thought he held the hard drive from a laptop computer.
Chapter 38
Jackson finished buttoning his shirt and reached for the Styrofoam cup of coffee on the dresser. He took a sip and walked to the window of his motel room. The coffee, which he made from the two-cup electric brewer in his room, tasted rancid. But he ignored the bitterness as he looked out over the lake. The window spread wide enough to provide him a panoramic view of the water where he watched the morning ferry glide out of the bay and disappear as it turned south toward the mainland. He had been on the island long enough to establish this routine, and he looked forward to it every morning. The lake fascinated him, constantly changing from day to day, even from hour to hour. The water placid one moment and then roiling with whitecaps the next, transmuting from turquoise blue to slate gray almost imperceptibly. He had never seen a lake so massive, and it was difficult not to think of it as the ocean.