by E B Corbin
“That narrows the list down some, at least,” Roxanne said. “Do you think someone else is looking for the money?”
Roxy shrugged. “Could be. I don’t know why else they’d be following us around.”
“Who knows what you’re doing?” Callahan directed the question to Conor.
“Nobody but you guys, as far as we know.” The Irishman made no attempt to hide his resentment at the question.
If Callahan were not already annoyed with her about going to the office, Roxanne would have nudged him to keep quiet. As it was, she threw him a warning glance before she turned to Roxy. “Are you going back out again today?”
“We’re leaving in a few minutes. This is Jeanette’s last day off this week and we haven’t even covered half the roads around here. We hope today will be more productive.”
“What will you do if you find a location she recognizes?”
“Well, we’re not going to stop and search with some goons on our tail. We’ll make a note of it and keep going. We can always return later once we ditch our shadow.”
Callahan nodded in agreement. “Do you want Ron to come with you?”
Roxy dismissed the offer with a shake of her head. “Nah, we can handle ourselves. Speaking of which, how are you, Roxanne? I heard someone was using you for target practice yesterday.”
The way news sped around the small town always amazed Roxanne. “I’m fine.”
“Do you know who it was?” Roxy asked Callahan.
“He got away but Pete has a BOLO out. If we knew why someone wanted Roxanne out of commission, we’d have a better chance at catching the bastard.”
“Could it be connected to one of your clients?” Roxy stepped closer to her daughter and reached for her hand.
Roxanne dodged before her mother inadvertently jarred her injured arm. “I can’t imagine who, unless someone was upset about a stipulation in a will. But most of those are pretty straightforward. Children or other blood relatives inherit, with maybe a small portion going to charity. No reason for anyone to shoot me over it. Anyhow, none of the clauses were my idea, I just followed what my clients wanted.”
“Don’t you do other legal work?” Her mother seemed unwilling to give up the possibility.
“We don’t have too many real estate transactions at this time of year. Only the Donaldson’s farm sold to some couple from Cleveland who think they can live off the land. Both parties are thrilled about the deal.” Roxanne took a breath as she lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “It could have been a random shooting, I guess.”
Roxy snorted. “I doubt that.”
“I don’t believe it, either,” Roxanne said. “I’ll just have to be careful and keep my head down.”
“Does Maureen know about this latest development?” Roxy gave her a solid stare.
“She doesn’t need to know every little thing that happens,” Roxanne said, uncomfortable with the turn of conversation.
“You should tell her,” Roxy said. “I’m sure she’ll want to know that you’ve been shot.”
Since when do you care about my relationship with Maureen? Roxanne managed to swallow the words before they rushed out.
Callahan cleared his throat. “We’d better get going. Pete’s meeting us at the office and Ron’s sitting outside in a cold car. I just wanted to let you know you’re being watched in case you weren’t aware.”
“We appreciate it but you needn’t concern yourself with us. Concentrate on finding those murdering sons of bitches. Any luck with that?”
“Not yet but I won’t give up until we have them behind bars.” Callahan nodded farewell and took Roxanne’s arm with care. “Keep us informed and yell if you need any assistance.”
“Will do,” Roxy said before locking the door behind them.
Ron sat slouched in the back seat of the SUV with Puka’s head in his lap. “It’s about time. I’m turning into an ice cube out here.”
“Sorry,” Roxanne said. “It took a bit longer than expected.”
“Anything I should know?” he asked.
“Nothing much. They knew about the black SUV and insisted they could handle it.” Callahan started the engine and turned the heater to full blast as they continued into town.
Roxanne tried to convince him to stop by the B & B to pick up her Lexus which she’d left in the parking area the night before. He remained adamant that it would be safe where it was and she didn’t need it for the foreseeable future. Unable to come up with a counter argument, she let it slide.
The street near the office had no empty parking slots so Callahan dropped her and Puka off. He waited until they were safely through the door which was now covered with a board. It had to be Sylvia’s doing. Roxanne marveled at the older woman’s efficiency even though she, too, had been in the line of fire.
Sylvia sat at her desk as usual. Puka made a dash for her, his tail wagging. She patted his head as she spoke. “I wasn’t expecting you today. Are you sure you’re up to it?”
Roxanne answered in the affirmative although she had grown weary of answering the questions about her well-being.
Pete barreled into the office before Roxanne had a chance to hang up her coat. He told her he wanted to inform her of where things stood with the shooter.
“You found him?” she asked. A surge of hopefulness died when she noticed his grimace.
He glanced around the waiting area. “Is Callahan here?”
“He went to park the car and should be along any minute. Do you want to wait until he gets here?”
“Uh, no. I have some information I’d like you to hear first.” Pete’s face twitched with discomfort. “Can we use your office?”
“Sure.”
As Roxanne started down the hall, she heard Pete address Sylvia. “Can you keep Callahan occupied for a few minutes when he gets here?”
She couldn’t make out Sylvia’s answer but assumed she had agreed.
Pete made sure the door to her office closed before he spoke. “I found a couple of guys who claim they saw the shooting.”
“You did? That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Maybe, maybe not. The rest of their story doesn’t add up.”
He took the seat in front of her desk and waited for her to settle in. “They claim to have seen a guy with a rifle in the alley behind the parking garage. He wore a tan parka with the hood pulled up so they couldn’t see his face.”
She knew there was more to his story and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it. Her stomach clenched as he reached into his pocket for his notebook.
He scanned an open page before he spoke again. “They also said they saw Callahan talk to him before the guy in the parka turned and ran off towards Third Street.”
“Why would Callahan let the shooter go?” Roxanne’s voice came out in a squeak.
Pete tucked the notebook back in his jacket. “You tell me.”
- 9 -
Roxanne felt like her chair had grown roots that wrapped themselves around her. Her chest constricted; she could scarcely breathe. Those men had to be mistaken. Callahan would never let anyone harm her.
But why hadn’t he mentioned seeing a man in the alley with a gun? And if he were truly concerned with her well-being, why did he let the shooter go?
A million possibilities catapulted through her mind. Could Callahan be the mole they’d been looking for? And if the mole had been keeping the IRA informed, wasn’t it pointless now? According to both Niall and Callahan, the IRA had given up the search for the money.
So why is someone shooting at her?
This latest development made no sense. Nevertheless she couldn’t discount it. “Do you trust these guys?”
“I don’t have any reason not to at this point.” Pete glanced around the office before continuing. “I haven’t been here long enough to recognize all the locals, but I
never saw them before. I have their names and a contact number so I can check up on them if it becomes necessary. They claim they’re just passing through town on their way to visit an old Army buddy and made a wrong turn into the alley where they saw Callahan and the guy in the parka.”
“How did they know it was Callahan?”
He wriggled in the chair. “They didn’t… exactly.”
Roxanne’s eyebrows rose as she waited for him to go on.
“They described Callahan’s brown leather jacket. Not too many people wear World War II bomber jackets with an insignia on the back. They also nailed his build and his hair. They had a tough time describing his features but said he was good-looking. They offered to work with a police artist if I wanted.” Pete threw up his hands. “Like I have a sketch artist on payroll.”
“This is weird,” Roxanne said. “Don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence for them to turn into that alley? Maybe one of them was the shooter and they’re covering their asses.”
“Possible,” Pete said. “I’m going to confront Callahan with this new info. Not saying that I believe it, but I thought you should be aware of it.”
Giving a faint nod, Roxanne slumped against the back of her chair. Thoughts pinged through her mind like a metal orb in a pinball machine. Could Callahan be playing her? Who was the guy in the tan parka? What made her a target? Why would two strangers lie? Why would Callahan lie?
Had she jumped from the frying pan into the fire by moving from the B & B? Was she safer with Pete and Sam at her back? Sam had come across as more than capable when those two thugs tried to grab her. Two thugs; two strangers pointing the finger at Callahan. Were they related?
She came up with no answers, then wondered where Ron was at the time of the shooting. Did he have a tan parka in his duffel? The B & B was only four blocks away, easily within walking distance. But why would Ron want to kill her? And where would he hide a rifle? She never saw him with one. As she rubbed her arm near the gunshot wound, she still harbored doubts about him.
The continuous questions gave her a headache.
Roxanne leaned over to pat Puka’s silky head as he lay beside her. It seemed everyone was a suspect except for the dog.
While she ruminated over the possibilities, Pete reached into his pocket and pulled out a clear plastic bag marked “Evidence”. With a thud, it landed on her desk.
She smiled for the first time since they had started their conversation. Inside was the Beretta Tomcat her father had given her. “You found it?”
“It was stashed in the so-called ‘evidence room’ at the station. According to procedure, Walters sent it to the State Crime Lab to match the bullet with the one removed from Luke Myers.”
“What?” Roxanne frowned at him. “That wasn’t necessary. I admitted to shooting him and was exonerated. Why would the sheriff do that?”
Pete shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he still hoped to nail you for it. At any rate, it’s a moot point. The crime lab refused to do the testing because there were no charges pending.”
“Yet he held on to my gun.” Roxanne turned the bag over, noticing the bullets rolling loose inside. “Can I keep it?”
“It’s yours,” he told her. “I didn’t inspect it but if I were you, I’d clean it and check it out before relying on it.”
Roxanne looked at the bag again. “Two bullets. A lot of good that will do me.”
“You don’t have extras?”
His routine question took her by surprise. “There might be a bullet or two lying around in the rubble of my house, but I doubt they’d be usable.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Pete scratched his chin. “I was told there’s a gun shop out by the Interstate entrance.”
“I’ll check it out.” Roxanne put the pistol, still in the bag, in her bottom desk drawer. “I appreciate your returning it.”
“If you need protection, it’s good thing to have around. Wasn’t doing you much good in the evidence room.”
Roxanne stared at the gun before she shut the drawer. She wanted to keep it close, feel the weight in her hand. But she slammed the drawer shut, saving the reunion for later. A chuckle almost escaped her as she wondered what Pete would think about her caressing the gun.
Someone rapped at her office door. The golden retriever lifted his head at the sound but stayed put. His soft whine was more of a greeting than a warning.
Callahan stuck his head into the room. “Can we join you?”
“Come in.” Roxanne forced a smile. “We were waiting for you.”
Ron entered behind him. The room quickly shrank with three men in the space and she had only two chairs for them. She suggested they move to the waiting area; no clients were expected until the afternoon.
Sylvia needed to be kept informed about this latest attack anyway. If Roxanne felt she was endangering the older woman by her presence, she could try to work from Chester’s place until the shooter was identified and caught.
The law firm’s owner gave them a quizzical look as they trooped into the waiting area with the dog trailing behind. “Something wrong with your office?”
“Too small,” Roxanne said. “Besides, I thought you should hear this discussion since you could be in danger, too.”
“About time.” Sylvia huffed. “If I’m getting shot at, I’d at least like to know why.”
Sylvia went to the front door, turned the lock and threw the deadbolt. “No sense being disturbed.”
Pete nodded at the wood covering the entrance. “You call someone about that?”
“The glass people were here first thing this morning and took the measurements. They said they’d be back tomorrow. But in the meantime, I’ve already had four or five people poke their nose in asking what happened. At least the locks still work,” she said as she returned to her desk. “Okay, I’m all ears. What’s the plan?”
Callahan and Pete regarded each other with equally blank expressions.
“My only plan is to try to keep my head down.” Roxanne pulled a chair closer to Sylvia’s desk and gave her a stern look. “As you should, too.”
“I intend to.” Sylvia sat back and uncrossed her arms. She waved at the empty space in front of her desk. “Gather ‘round, boys.”
Callahan slid his chair forward and addressed Pete. “Did you find out anything on your canvas after we left?”
“Well… maybe.” Pete adjusted his seat to better face Callahan.
All heads swiveled to the new sheriff as they waited for him to continue. He studied his fingers for so long, Roxanne wanted to kick him to get on with it. The sooner the allegation against Callahan came out the better. She was tired of alternating between trust and suspicion of the DSS agent.
“I found a couple of guys hanging around the alley behind this block. They claim they saw a male in a tan parka talking to another man.” Pete stopped to clear his throat before he turned to Callahan. “From their description, the second man sounded like you.”
Callahan’s face paled. “Me? Who are these guys?”
“Don’t know for sure. I’m going to background them this morning. I couldn’t find out much last night.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Callahan said. “What makes them think it was me?”
“They didn’t know your name or anything. They gave me a physical description.”
“Am I the only person in town who fits it?”
“Your jacket is rather distinctive.” Once started, Pete wasn’t backing down. “They even offered to work with a sketch artist.”
The agent sat stiffly in his chair. When he spoke, his words came out clipped. “What else did they say?”
“They saw you talking to a guy holding a rifle. They were too far away to hear what was said and the firearm unnerved them. They kept their distance, but they watched the guy in the tan parka shake your hand and ru
n off towards Third Street.”
“That’s bullshit!” Callahan jumped to his feet. “I didn’t see anyone in the alley. And if those two were there as they claim, why didn’t I see them? There’s nowhere to hide back in that alley.”
“I’m just telling you what they told me. I didn’t say I believed them.” Pete patted the air with both hands as the other man towered over him.
Callahan shoved his chair out of the way and began to pace behind it. He ran his hands through his hair, studying the floor as he strode to the front window and back. “Who are these two bozos? Do you know them?”
Pete shook his head. “No. They claim they aren’t from around here; they were just passing through.”
“Just passing through in an alley?” Ron added skepticism to the charged air in the room. Clearly he was on Callahan’s side.
“Look, I’m telling you this because we need to have it out in the open. For all I know, these guys were setting you up. Something about their story just doesn’t ring true. I have their names and will run a check on them when I get back to the station. In the meantime, we must be able to trust each other or we’ll never get anything done.”
Callahan stopped pacing for a moment and sighed. “You’re right. We need to find out more. It doesn’t make sense that two strangers would accuse me of such a thing out of the blue.”
“I agree. Another thing… could just be coincidence. But they were driving a black Chevy Suburban.” Pete glanced at Roxanne. “Some might call it a big, black SUV.”
She jerked around to face him. “A HULKING big, black SUV?”
He nodded.
“You didn’t tell me that before.” She screwed up her eyes at him.
“Didn’t have time,” he told her as he twisted around to Callahan. “Why don’t you sit down? My neck hurts watching you prance about.”
Callahan plopped back into the chair, resting his arms on his knees. “So can we all agree that I didn’t let the shooter go last night?”
“I believe you.” Ron’s assertion came out in full force.
Pete and Sylvia nodded their agreement while Callahan searched Roxanne’s face for her response. She nodded slowly, not quite ready to give up her doubts but wishing with all her heart she could.