by E B Corbin
Since his family’s prestigious law firm handled some of the biggest corporations and real estate transactions in Louisiana, she didn’t see how she could serve them unless it was in some shady manner. But, still she carried on, hoping for the best.
The last straw came when she caught Adrian in flagrante delicto with an heiress whose family happened to be close friends with the Boudreaux clan. Why had she even tried to fit in? She filed for divorce, then resigned her position in the DA’s office shortly after. She never looked back and still hated it when that time of her life wormed its way into her thoughts.
She shook her head to clear her mind and logged into her computer for her schedule. Fortunately Sylvia kept her electronic agenda current. Besides her eleven o’clock appointment to modify a will, she had two clients scheduled this afternoon. One was a pain in the butt who repeatedly tried to get rich by suing others. Much as she dreaded the upcoming meeting, she had always managed in the past to talk the woman out of her outrageous plans.
Her intercom buzzed and Sylvia told her the eleven o’clock appointment would be several minutes late. She then read off a list of calls that had come in while Roxanne met with Vicki. None sounded urgent, so Roxanne told Sylvia to fit them in however she wanted.
“I’m going to lunch around noon,” Sylvia said. “Do you want me to bring you something back? I doubt you’ll have time to go out.”
Roxanne appreciated the offer and asked her to get something from wherever she planned on eating. The other woman wanted to try Vicki’s place.
“Great idea,” Roxanne said. “She has very good chili.”
“That’s what you’ll get, then.” Sylvia clicked off, giving her no chance to make another choice. Good thing she liked the chili.
Her eleven o’clock appointment showed up close to noon, and Roxanne’s rumbling stomach had her dispensing with the couple in record time. But her two o’clock showed up early, allowing her a chance to swallow only a few bites of the chili. By the time she got back to it again, the meal was cold and tasteless. She tossed it in the bin and went back to work.
Callahan showed up close to six. By then, she was overjoyed to see him. “How was your day?”
“Kind of shitty, if you want the truth.” He smiled at her with his lopsided grin.
“So you didn’t locate Seamus and Pearse.”
“Not even close. But we did put pressure on Clancy. He’ll be discharged in short order and we’re shipping him to Virginia as soon as there’s an agent free to accompany him. From there, he’s going back to Ireland since you told us he wasn’t around when Chester was shot. Maybe when he’s behind bars overseas, he’ll think a little harder about where his friends went.”
“Couldn’t you use him as bait?” Roxanne asked. “I mean in case Pearse and Seamus try to get in touch with him.”
“We’ve tried that.” Callahan ran his fingers through his sandy hair, mussing the wavy locks. He hadn’t had a haircut since Roxanne first met him in November and his once military style had grown over his collar.
Roxanne preferred the unkempt look—it gave her more to run her fingers through. Not that she would ever tell him. “But you will keep an eye on him until you move him, right?”
“Ron has been sitting in the waiting room on Clancy’s floor for almost a week. Nothing.”
She saw his frustration in the rigid lines of his body. “Do you have any other leads?”
“Pete and I went over and over it today. We’re both stymied,” he said. “Nothing we can do short of driving around and looking for that navy van.”
“Maybe you should have Roxy and Conor keep an eye out for it when they’re driving Jeanette around.” Roxanne didn’t expect him to take her suggestion seriously and was surprised when he agreed.
“Seems like a long shot, but we don’t have anything else to go on at the moment.”
- 7 -
Callahan went out to warm up the car while she reviewed last-minute scheduling with Sylvia. Relieved that the next day promised to be uneventful, she grabbed her coat and stepped outside. She’d put in a full day and couldn’t wait to leave the office.
But she paused to drink in the evening light. The sun’s last rays mingled with the encroaching dusk, giving her a feeling of tranquility. Twilight had always felt magical to her—a time when anything could happen.
Looking forward to continuing her conversation with Callahan, she walked over to the waiting SUV. As she reached for the handle, Sylvia called to her from the office doorway. When Roxanne spun to answer something flew past her arm and hit the sidewalk; it sent sparks and cement particles flying.
“Get down!” Callahan yelled. He threw open his door, his gun in hand. “Sylvia! Back inside!”
Roxanne froze for a split-second until the glass shattered in the door where Sylvia had been standing only a moment before. Roxanne ducked into the front seat, keeping her head down while Callahan scanned the area. He aimed behind the car, fired twice, then took off running.
She fumbled in her purse for her phone, thankful that Pete had insisted she include his cell number in her contacts. She hated to bother him when he was off-duty. All the same, it felt like her best option. The alternative—to dial 911 and deal with Bud—held zero appeal.
Pete answered on the first ring. “Roxanne, what’s up?”
“Someone’s shooting at us!” She barely recognized her voice as the words screeched out.
“Who? Where?”
“In front of my office. I don’t know who. We didn’t see anyone. He must be hidden somewhere, using a rifle.”
“Are you safe?”
“I’m slouching in Callahan’s car. He took off after the guy.”
“Was anybody hurt? Do I need to call an ambulance?”
“No, I think we’re fine, but I can’t see Callahan.” Roxanne struggled to keep her panic under control. “And I haven’t heard any more shots. Sylvia’s inside. Callahan told her to stay there.”
“Did you call Bud?” Pete asked.
“Um, no.” Roxanne felt chastened, immediately sorry she had contacted Pete. She should have done the right thing and let Bud deal with the situation in spite of her personal issues with him. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’ll call him right now.”
Before she could disconnect, Pete shouted, “Stay where you are! I’ll call him, then I’ll be right there.”
She slumped lower in the seat, straining to hear anything to indicate that Callahan was in trouble. No one remained in the business area of town this late on a cold, February evening and she began to worry that Sylvia might wonder what was happening. What if she had been hit by flying glass? As far as she knew, the older woman didn’t have a heart condition. But if being shot at made her own heart pound, what effect would it have on Sylvia?
Unable to control her anxiety, Roxanne eased out of the car, and bolted around to the front, her head down, using the open door as a shield. When she raised her head to scan the street, she saw nothing. In the dimming daylight, she didn’t expect to spot the shooter but had hoped to see Callahan. After taking a deep breath, she flew towards the office to check on Sylvia.
She opened the door, stopped dead and cried, “Don’t shoot!”
Sylvia hunkered behind her desk, her 9mm pointing at the entrance. When she saw Roxanne, she lowered the gun and slumped against a filing cabinet. “Damn! That was close. I almost plugged you.”
“But you didn’t,” Roxanne said. “Are you all right? You didn’t get hit, did you?”
“No, I’m fine. But it looks like you did.” Sylvia used the desk to haul herself up; she nodded at Roxanne’s sleeve.
A slash ripped through the puffy material of her parka. The white cottony lining was tinged red with her blood. Damn! Her first random thought: now she would need a new winter coat.
Immediately her upper right upper arm began to burn. She felt light-head
ed. Leaning against the wall for support, she clutched at her torn sleeve. She struggled to remove the jacket to better inspect the damage, but her vision blurred as she fumbled with the zipper.
“Here, let me help.” Sylvia hurried around the desk and led Roxanne to a chair in the waiting area.
While the other woman inspected her arm, Roxanne clutched the seat of the chair with her other hand and forced herself to stay upright. The injury did more than sting. It hurt like hell!
“It looks like you were just grazed.” Sylvia pulled at the fabric stuck to Roxanne’s arm. “Let me get something to wipe up that blood.”
Sylvia was in the office bathroom banging around when the outside door flew open. Roxanne’s pulse thudded in her throat as she searched for something to use as a weapon. Then she realized it was Bud.
“What’s going on here?” Bud demanded. “Pete called and said shots were fired. Did you shoot somebody again?”
“No.” Roxanne twisted in the chair to give him a dirty look. The movement caused pain to zing up her arm and made her wince. “I’m the one who was shot.”
Before Bud could accuse her of some other foul deed, Pete pushed his way into the room. “Roxanne. You okay?”
“Sylvia says I was grazed by a bullet.” Roxanne raised her arm to show the torn sleeve on her new suit and coagulating blood.
“The EMT’s are on their way,” Pete told her.
“Aww, damn. I don’t need medical attention. It’s just a scratch.”
Sylvia entered with a first aid kit. “It needs to be cleaned out, and you might need stitches to prevent a scar.”
“I’m not worried about a scar.” Roxanne got to her feet but grabbed onto the arm of the chair to keep from falling when another wave of dizziness overtook her. “Has anyone seen Callahan?”
“He’s trying to get in touch with Ron for backup,” Pete said.
“That’s unnecessary.” Bud puffed out his chest and adjusted his gun belt. “What can Ron do if the shooter got away?”
“We can canvas the area. Find out if anyone saw anything. Maybe get a lead on what he looks like and which way he went.” Pete turned to Bud. “You call it in, so Gertie can bring the State Police up to speed before they take over the calls tonight. Then you might as well get back on patrol. I’ll handle this. But keep your eyes open for anyone who looks suspicious.”
Bud grudgingly nodded and went out the door mumbling to himself.
Worry about Callahan spiked the adrenaline in Roxanne’s system. She wanted to pace but was afraid of falling flat on her face if she removed her hand from the chair. Instead, she sat and let Sylvia remove her ruined suit jacket to wipe at the blood still oozing from her upper arm.
By the time the EMTs arrived, only small drops of blood remained on the surface of the gash. They cleaned the wound thoroughly while Roxanne gritted her teeth. Then they slathered on some white gunk to guard against infection and wrapped gauze around her arm. It felt better, but every time she shifted her right arm, she felt a stab of pain.
One of the EMTs, a tall scarecrow of a man, suggested she ride with them to the emergency room to consult a doctor about the possibility of stitches. She turned him down with a thanks but no thanks. No way was she going near a hospital, even though Sylvia and Pete encouraged her to have her arm checked more thoroughly. She remained firm. How could she leave here when she still didn’t know Callahan’s fate?
She shrugged off their pleas and the EMTs finally packed their gear. Before they left, they had Roxanne sign a release refusing further treatment. Despite the difficulty caused by holding the pen and moving her arm, she scribbled her signature well enough to pass.
As the white EMT van pulled away, Callahan stepped into the office. “Who’s hurt?”
Pete and Sylvia answered simultaneously. “Roxanne.”
His nod indicated he wasn’t surprised, but he muttered, “Shit.”
“I’m fine. It’s just a little gash.” Roxanne indicated her arm. “I think the EMTs went a little overboard with the gauze.”
Callahan dropped to his knees to better inspect the bandaged arm. “It doesn’t look like any blood’s seeping through.”
“Of course not. It’s not much worse than a brush burn.”
Sylvia cleared her throat at Roxanne’s proclamation but remained silent. Pete shuffled his feet, refusing to look the agent in the eye.
With a sigh, Callahan stood and helped Roxanne out of the chair. “Let’s get you home.”
At the mention of “home,” Roxanne lost it. Tears ran down her cheeks as the gravity of her situation sank in. Not only had she become a target, but without a place to call her own, she felt rootless. She blubbered, “I don’t have a home.”
Callahan wrapped his arm around her shoulders, careful not to jar her arm. “You’re in shock. This will all seem better in the morning.”
She sniffled, then swallowed, took a deep breath and tried to smile. “I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I’ll get over it.”
“I know you will.” Callahan picked up her ruined parka. “I’ve been thinking, maybe it’s time you and Ron moved into Chester’s place with me.”
“Kate won’t like that.” Pete spoke for the first time since Callahan’s arrival.
“You know as well as I do, it’s better to keep Kate and Jonathon out of this mess,” Callahan said.
Pete nodded slowly. “You’re right, but Kate’s still not going to be happy about it.”
“She’ll come around if we explain we’re worried about Jonathon, don’t you think?” The agent raised his eyebrows at him.
“Maybe.” Pete scanned the office before gazing at Roxanne. “It might be best if you stayed out of sight for a while. At least until we find the lowlife who shot at you.”
Roxanne shook her head. “I work here. I can’t run away and hide.”
“Just for a few days. Let us check around to see what we can find.”
“Street was deserted when the shot was fired,” Callahan said. “I didn’t see another soul.”
“Could be somebody was looking out a window.” Pete stepped back to allow Callahan and Roxanne room to pass. “I’ll knock on some doors. Whoever did this can’t disappear into thin air.”
Callahan shook his head. ”You can’t do everything yourself. Ron and I will pitch in.”
“I appreciate it,” Pete said with a slight nod. “This ‘acting chief of police’ gig gets old after a while.”
“How’s Walters doing?” Roxanne asked in an attempt to take the focus away from her sorry state.
“He’s still in the hospital but improving every day. The doctors don’t want to release him until he agrees to take it easy. This morning he spoke to me about the possibility of retiring and moving to a warmer climate.” Pete shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see if he means it.”
“So then would you become the actual chief?” Roxanne picked up her purse and the ruined suit jacket but kept her eyes on Pete.
“It’s not something I look forward to, but I can’t leave the town without any law enforcement.”
“There’s always Bud.” Roxanne grimaced as she slung her purse over her shoulder. The movement made her arm throb, but the thought of Bud taking charge gave her the willies.
“Oh, that would be a mess. This town would turn into a joke with him as sheriff. You’re not planning on stepping down, are you?” Sylvia asked.
“Not anytime soon.” He smiled at her.
“That’s good to know.” Roxanne guardedly twisted her shoulders to indicate she was ready to leave.
Callahan took her left arm and guided her out the door. “Call if you find out anything or need some help,” he told Pete before the door shut behind them.
When she attempted to walk with a brisk step, it jarred her arm. She hoped by tomorrow it would heal enough to alleviate the annoying p
ain she felt every time she moved.
After they settled into the SUV, she turned her head slightly to catch Callahan’s profile. “So you finally agree with me that I’m posing a threat to the residents of the B & B.”
“I’m mostly worried about Kate and Jonathon. Seems like Sam Turner can take care of herself.”
“Yeah, she’s a surprise.” Roxanne let the observation speak for itself. “But I don’t know if it’s wise to be out in the country where no one else is around. At least in town, there’s always the chance a neighbor will see or hear something.”
“Do you think Ron and I can’t handle it?”
“No, but what if one of you gets hurt, or shot like me?”
“It’s what we’re trained to do.”
“You’re trained to get shot?”
“We’re trained to act as bodyguards and NOT get shot.” Callahan gave her an exasperated look before he turned his eyes back to the road. “Now will you please quit coming up with excuses? Under the circumstances, it’s our best option.”
“I guess you’re right.” In a way, Roxanne was relieved to get out of the B & B and free her friends from danger. On the other hand, she feared that her attraction to Callahan would overcome her reticence when they were alone together. Of course, she reasoned, they wouldn’t be alone. Ron would be there. But he might not be around all the time. What would happen if they found themselves in an awkward situation?
She gnawed on her lower lip. Why was she thinking about all these crazy scenarios? So what if they solidified their tenuous bond by making love? No, wait a minute! That wasn’t the right terminology. If the “L” word reared its risky head, things could really spin out of control.
Puka greeted her at the door with a whine and a wagging tail. He seemed to sense that she couldn’t give him the usual enthusiastic strokes but was satisfied with a pat on the head. The dog also took care not to press against her and she was grateful for his instincts.
Kate called to them. “We’re in the kitchen having some wine. Join us!”
“I’m having hot chocolate,” they heard Jonathon add.