by E B Corbin
“I am, but your car is a little worse for wear.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the panic from her voice.
“Did you see who shot at you?”
“No. Same deal as last time. I think whoever was doing the shooting was on a rooftop in the next block.”
“Shit,” Callahan mumbled. “Stay where you are for now. Ron and I will see what we can uncover. But be ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.”
“Be careful,” she said. “Don’t go out the front door. He could be waiting for you.”
“We know what we’re doing. We’ll be fine.” The call ended before she could say another word.
Roxanne kept the motor running and the heater cranked as she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. She considered moving closer to the action, but dismissed the thought the second it entered her head. Instead, she patted the front seat for Puka to wiggle over the console and sit beside her.
As soon as the dog settled into the front seat, Roxanne ran her hands over his entire body to be certain a stray bullet hadn’t hit him. Everything seemed fine, so she rotated her line of vision to include the back window.
That’s when she noticed a third bullet hole in the tailgate window. She checked over Puka again to make certain she hadn’t missed any blood and hugged him tight when he didn’t flinch.
The minutes ticked by with no word from Callahan. Her fidgeting increased every time a blue number on the dash clock turned over. After thirty minutes of staring at nothing, she heard a ding on her phone. She cursed at her awkwardness as she fumbled her cell before she managed to read the text.
Callahan told her they would be a while longer and there was no point to her hanging around. He told her to go to Chester’s, or to Roxy’s if she felt uncomfortable at the farm by herself.
Although she hated to leave until she knew what was happening at Vicki’s, in the dark SUV, her nerves were strung tighter than a newly-tuned guitar.
Sucking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly and pulled away from the curb. She arrived at Roxy’s cabin with no recollection of how she had gotten there.
- 11 -
Even though Roxanne had often been to the cabin in the woods, this time felt different. As she approached, the lights gleaming through the darkness seemed to welcome her. Her terror of the last hour subsided at the sight of smoke rising from the chimney. Its promise of warmth and hospitality soothed her jangled nerves.
Puka ran to the front porch and barked before Roxanne could grab his leash. The look of surprise on Roxy’s face faded when she saw her daughter trudging up the path behind the retriever.
The dog jumped on Roxy, licking her face and whimpering in delight. Roxy eased the golden from her shoulders with an authoritative, “Sit.” Puka’s rear plopped down and his tongue lolled to one side while his adoring brown eyes locked on his former owner’s features.
“To what do we owe this visit?” Roxy asked her daughter.
“I’ve been shot at again,” Roxanne said.
As her hand reached out to grasp her daughter’s shoulder and pull her inside, she surveyed the surrounding area with a sweeping glance. “When? Where?”
“About thirty minutes ago. Outside Vicki’s Veggie Cafe.” Roxanne nodded to Conor who sat in front of the fire with an open book in his lap.
He closed the paperback, Lonely Planet’s South America on a Shoestring, and turned to Roxanne. “Did they catch him this time?”
Roxanne shook her head. “I don’t think so. Callahan told me to clear out. He and Ron were trying to locate the shooter.”
She realized she could eliminate Ron from her list of suspects since he was inside with Callahan when the first bullet hit. Not that she ever seriously considered the DSS agent as out to get her. But it gave her a measure of relief to rule out one candidate. Of course, that meant she had nothing but a tan parka as a clue.
Roxy led her to a chair next to the fire, across from Conor, and helped her out of her parka. She looked askance at the duct tape repair job on the sleeve. “I have another parka you can wear.”
“This is fine. It keeps me warm,” Roxanne said.
“And makes you look like a homeless waif.” Her mother slipped the jacket from her shoulders, took it into the kitchen and lifted the trash can lid with a touch of her foot. “I’ll make some hot chocolate and you can tell me about this latest incident.”
“Not much to tell. I discovered the door to Vicki’s cafe was open but the lights were out and nobody was there.” In spite of the heat in the room, she felt a chill recalling the creepiness of wandering into the empty cafe that evening. “Callahan and Ron offered to try to secure the door.”
“Why couldn’t Vicki do it?” Roxy grabbed a container of Hershey’s Cocoa from the shelf and mixed a spoonful with sugar in a Disney World mug.
“We don’t know where she is. I tried calling her but it rings and rings. Doesn’t even kick over to voicemail.”
“That’s odd.” Her mother poured hot milk into the mug and stirred until all was combined. “Sit,” she ordered in the same tone she’d used on Puka. The dog, who’d been lying in front of the fireplace, lifted his head and gave Roxy a quizzical look. “Not you, big boy.” She laughed, handing Roxanne the mug. Then she reached over to stroke the golden retriever’s back.
As Roxanne sipped the hot drink, she realized she was starving. She’d doubled up on appointments today, trying to free some time later in the week, and hadn’t stopped to finish the chili Sylvia had brought back from Vicki’s for lunch. Roxanne felt awkward asking for something to eat. Instead, she sniffed the faint aroma of food that still hung in the air. “Something smells good.”
“Pork roast,” Roxy said. “There’s plenty left over. You hungry?”
“Starving,” she admitted. A blues riff sounded from the counter where she’d placed her cell phone. She jumped up. “I’ll get that. Might be Callahan. Maybe they caught the bastard.”
While Roxanne listened to Callahan’s news, her mother popped a plate loaded with pieces of pork roast, mashed potatoes and green beans into the microwave. By the time she hung up, it lay steaming on the kitchen island. She dug in with gusto.
“So, what did Callahan have to say?” Roxy stood across the island watching her eat.
Roxanne swallowed a bite of pork before she answered. “They didn’t find the shooter but they found a spent .308 casing in a vacant apartment two blocks from Vicki’s.”
“Poor technique on the sniper’s part.” Conor spoke from his chair near the fire. “Any professional shooter worth his salt knows to pick up his spent casings.”
“Could be he’s not professional.” Roxanne halted the fork halfway to her mouth. “He doesn’t seem to have the best aim. He missed me twice.”
“He didn’t exactly ‘miss’ you.” Roxy nodded at her daughter’s wounded arm. “Perhaps he just hasn’t found the best location for a sniper’s nest yet.”
She swallowed the last piece of meat on her plate. “Well, that’s reassuring.”
“I want you to be careful.” Roxy scooped the empty plate from the counter. “Be aware of your surroundings at all times.”
“I will. I’m not keen on getting shot at twice in one week.” Roxanne grabbed the mug before Roxy could whisk it away and slurped the last drop of the lukewarm beverage, much the same way Jonathon drank his mother’s hot chocolate. When she finished, she flashed a bogus smile. “So, how’s your day been?”
“We made some progress, finally.” Roxy rinsed the mug and placed it in the dishwasher along with the plate. “Jeanette recognized two areas where the road forms a slight Y. The blacktop curves left and a smaller road stays straight. Can’t tell if the straight road is paved or simply a dirt path with all the snow piled on top of it. Jeanette remembers a dirt lane but it could have been paved by now. Thirty years is a long time.”
“You said two ar
eas. Are they close together?”
“Not by a long shot.” Roxy laughed and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. “One is out Rt. 62 and the other is three or four miles out our road going north.”
“None near O’Malley’s cabin?”
“Nope. That’s where we started yesterday and Jeanette saw nothing familiar.”
“So how are you going to find the stash? What if he buried it? You’ll never locate it under all this snow.” Roxanne swung around on the stool to include Conor in the conversation but the Irishman’s attention had returned to his book.
“I’m hoping we’ll find some kind of marker not too far off the path.” Roxy dug out the dishwasher detergent, filled the little container and slammed the lid closed. “Or there might be a cave or an abandoned cabin in one of the areas.”
“It could take a long time to cover so much territory,” Roxanne observed. “Too bad it’s not gold or some other alloy; then you could use a metal detector.”
“Lot of expanse to cover even with that.” She turned the knob and the dishwasher began filling with water. “I may have to rely on my gut instincts.”
Roxanne scoffed. “Good luck with that.”
“We could use some luck,” Roxy told her.
“Do you think Jeanette is telling you the truth? Does she really recognize those two places or is she just tired of riding around in the back seat of a car?”
“Who knows?” Her mother shrugged as she wiped the counter. “At least it’s a start. Better than trying to cover the whole county. The only problem is the first location is now surrounded by a chain link fence with No Trespassing signs all over it. Seems the One Shepherd Chapel of Grace purchased the land to use as a summer camp for kids from six to sixteen. From what I’ve heard, they built a few cabins and put up some tents. I just hope they didn’t build anything over the space where Liam buried the money.”
“Well, if they did, no one will ever find it.”
Roxy studied her nails. “Unless Pastor Jones found it already and used it to build his new temple for fools.”
“Do you think he might have?”
“I sure hope not. Those sanctimonious bastards are almost worse than the IRA. I don’t care if the money gets used for a good cause, but Pastor Jones is as rotten as they come.”
“What do you have against him?”
“When he first opened his Chapel of Grace, Leonard’s mother started attending services. After the third time, she was asked to not come again. Her kind had their own church.” Roxy’s voice grew angrier with each word.
“I met him once,” Roxanne said when she could get a word in. “I didn’t like him.”
“Well, at least you have some sense.” Roxy let out a huff. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s the devil incarnate. He rants about the Second Coming and how the only way to achieve salvation is through his teachings.”
She had never seen her mother so worked up. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”
“Hard not to. When he first arrived in town, he’d show up at the diner seeking the unhappiest people for converts. I threw him out more than once.”
“So he’s not from around here originally?” Roxanne had assumed Pastor Jones was a homegrown demagogue.
“Don’t know where he came from but I wish he would go back to wherever it was.”
“Wow, you really don’t like him.”
“My blood pressure shoots up just thinking about him. Now I have to figure out a way to ask him for permission to search his property.”
Roxanne hesitated before she spoke. “Maybe I can ask him for you.”
“That’s a thought.” Roxy’s forehead wrinkled in speculation. “Do you have time?”
“I can adjust my schedule. We’re not extremely busy right now but Sylvia assures me that after the spring thaw, the place will be jumping.”
“Yeah, that happens. You won’t recognize the town come April or May.”
“That’s too long to wait.” Roxanne gave an involuntary shiver just thinking about it.
Roxy cut off talking about the weather. “Do you think you can talk to Jones tomorrow?”
“I’ll check with Sylvia but I don’t see why not.” Roxanne realized she needed her car. Why drag Callahan away from his search for Pearse and Seamus? Of course, with the bullet holes on the passenger side of his windshield, driving around in his SUV could prove less than ideal. “I might need a ride to Kate’s place in the morning. My car’s still in her parking area.”
“No problem. But you can take the rental if you want. Conor and I won’t be joyriding all over creation anymore now that we’ve narrowed it down to two areas. If possible, I want to start at the good reverend’s campgrounds. Once he hears about us searching, he’s liable to become more difficult to deal with.”
“I’ll get out there first thing but I’d feel better with the Lexus,” Roxanne said. “It’s been sitting for a couple of days. And, besides, you never know when I might need it.”
“Where are you staying tonight?” Roxy asked.
“Pete is supposed to drop Callahan and Ron off here when they’re finished searching for Vicki and the shooter. We’ll be at Chester’s place, at least for the next couple of days.”
“If they get tied up, you can always stay here tonight,” she offered. “I have an extra bedroom now that Niall’s gone.”
“I thought you only had two bedrooms.” Roxanne spoke before considering the implication.
“I do.”
“Oh…um…” Roxanne didn’t want to know where Conor would be sleeping. It gave her the willies to think about her mother’s love-life and, besides, it was none of her business.
Roxy laughed. “It’s all right, dear. Conor and I have known each other for years.”
Roxanne held her hands in front of her face to avoid looking at Roxy. “Don’t…I don’t need to hear any more. Anyway, I’m staying at the farmhouse with Callahan and Ron.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stay, if you want.”
When a car door slammed outside, Roxanne rushed to the window. “They’re here.”
Roxy greeted the newcomers at the door. “Come in, come in. It’s too cold to worry about a wet floor.” Callahan entered first, stomping snow from his shoes on the porch while Ron waited on the last step. Pete and Sam Turner stood behind them.
Roxanne was surprised to see Sam, but she was glad Pete had some help in addition to Callahan and Ron. Bud wasn’t the best option for assistance of any kind.
Her mother gestured for them to take a seat. Pete, Sam and Ron crowded onto the sofa, while Callahan leaned against the wall.
Conor stuck a leather strip in his book to mark his place and looked up. Roxanne took that as her cue to make introductions. “Sam, I don’t think you’ve met my mother, Roxy O’Hara, and her friend Conor Walsh. Roxy, Conor, this is Sam Turner.”
Sam half-stood and leaned across the coffee table to shake hands with Conor. She waved to Roxy, who had remained in the hall after ushering in her guests.
“Nice to finally meet you, Sam,” Roxy said. “I understand you were a huge help in saving my daughter from a couple of thugs the other night.”
Sam looked uncomfortable with the praise. “No big deal.”
“So, what brings you to town?” Roxy made no attempt to hide her curiosity.
Roxanne considered stepping up to Sam’s rescue, but she also wanted an answer to the question.
As all eyes turned to Sam, the blonde shrugged and replied, “Business.”
“What kind of business?” Roxy’s persistence made her daughter flinch. Roxanne liked Sam and didn’t need her mother to cause problems.
Sam took no offense. “Actually it has to do with Vicki. That’s why I asked to join in the search.”
Roxy took in Callahan and Pete in one glance before she continued. “So, you haven’t
located her yet?”
“Nope.” Pete rested his elbows on his knees. “Her car isn’t parked in the back of the restaurant where it usually sits. We tried calling her with no results, so we decided to wait till morning.”
“Probably a good idea.” Roxy nodded to emphasize her agreement with their plan. “She could be out of cell range. The reception is dicey in certain spots.”
“Or maybe she needed something from the outlet mall,” Roxanne put in her two-cents worth.
Callahan shook his head. “There’s a storm warning out. The mall closed down at six o’clock.”
“A snow storm?” Roxanne knew it was a silly question as soon as the words left her mouth. “Haven’t we had enough snow to last a lifetime?”
He and Roxy grinned at each other. “She’s new around here,” Callahan said.
“Wait a minute,” Sam broke in. “Do you get this much snow every year?”
“Just about,” Roxy told her. “Not as much as Erie, but we’re still in the snow belt from the lake. I have to admit it’s not my favorite time of year.”
“Geez, I’m glad my rental is a Subaru.” Sam leaned against the back of the sofa and let out a sigh.
Callahan left his post against the wall and moved to the window. “As a matter of fact, it’s starting to flurry now.”
“Well, hell,” Roxanne said. “I have to go out to the One Shepherd Chapel of Grace tomorrow.”
“You thinking of converting?” Callahan drew the curtains over the windows.
“Very funny. I need to talk to Pastor Jones. You probably remember him from our meeting at the Haynes’.”
“Oh, yeah. How can I forget? He struck me as a smug narcissist.”
“You got that right,” Roxy said.
“He may be, but you still need his permission to search the church’s campground.” Roxanne twisted toward her mother.
“What if we just take our chances?” Roxy muttered.
“Isn’t that campground posted with ‘No Trespassing’ signs?” Pete asked. “I’d sure hate to arrest you.”
“Relax. We’ll wait to hear what that despicable pastor has to say. We don’t plan on tearing the place up, so I can’t think of why he’d refuse our request.” Roxy paused to gaze at the ceiling. “Unless, of course, he’s hiding something.”