Authors: Allison Brennan
Lucy looked over to see Noah standing in the doorway, listening. Omar saw him too.
“Agent Kincaid, may I speak with you for a moment?”
Lucy looked at him quizzically, then followed him into the storage room. “Isn’t ‘agent’ a little premature?”
“Omar needs to think that you have as much authority as he does, because you’re going to find Callahan and the Swain kid.”
“I’m getting Sean.”
“Let me do that. I’m taking Agent Lewis with me. I don’t trust him.”
“But if Sean is injured—”
“An FBI agent needs to take orders. You’re the psychologist here. You figure out where Jon Callahan is going, and you’re the one who can talk him down. You saw what I saw—Omar has tunnel vision. So does Callahan. Our priority is to save our team, Sean, and the innocent people in town. But I think we can do that and defuse the situation enough to set a trap for Sampson Lowell. If Omar is right and he’s coming here personally, we can’t miss this opportunity to capture him. But not at the expense of people’s lives.”
Noah was right. Her mind ran through scenarios, thinking like Jon Callahan, trying to understand his grief and guilt over losing his love, Victoria. His narrow-minded need for revenge against Bobbie Swain. “I understand.”
She knew what was expected of her as a professional; she needed to put her personal feelings aside. Extremely difficult when the life of the person she loved was in grave danger. But she trusted Noah as much as she trusted Sean. For her, such faith was rare, and it had taken her years to develop the ability to have faith in anyone.
He hesitated, as if not quite sure how to reassure her. He reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. “I
will
rescue Sean. It’s becoming kind of a habit.”
“Don’t tell him that.” But Lucy cracked a half-smile.
“He saved my ass today which made us even, and I kind of prefer being one up on Rogan.”
They walked back into the bar. Noah told Omar the plan hadn’t changed and Lucy filled in Patrick.
“Sean will be okay,” Patrick said to Lucy as much as himself. “He has nine lives.”
“How many has he already used?”
Behind her, she heard Omar Lewis raise his voice. “I don’t work with partners. You have no authority!”
Noah was firm. “My boss and your boss came to the conclusion that shooting at civilians, even without the intent to kill, is gross and negligent behavior. You’ve crossed the line, and I know all the reports you haven’t filed, the check-ins you’ve missed, the orders you’ve disobeyed. I will take your badge and disarm you now, or you can do what I say.”
“Fuck it all, I guess I have no choice.”
“Good. You understand.” Noah nodded to Patrick and Lucy. “I’m getting Sean.”
The distant rumble of a powerful explosion shook the foundation of the bar and rattled the glasses. Lucy grabbed the counter and watched as three glasses fell off a shelf and hit the floor behind the bar.
“Holy shit!” Patrick exclaimed.
Omar kicked over a table. “I’ll kill him!”
“Stand down, Agent Lewis!” Noah demanded.
“That came from the marijuana warehouses. Callahan must have blown them up! Do you understand what this means? Thirteen months of the perfect setup, gone.” He threw a chair across the room.
Noah rushed Omar and pushed him against the wall. Several pictures fell to the floor, the glass breaking. Omar pushed back, but Noah had his forearm against his chest and the strength of both training and anger. “Listen to me, Lewis,” Noah said. “I will not repeat myself. I am in charge from this moment forward. You will control your temper. You will do exactly what I say. Do you understand?”
Omar bared his teeth, breathing hard, his eyes narrowed. “Yes.
Sir
.”
Noah stepped back and Omar put his hands on the bar and looked down. “If you only knew how many deaths Sampson Lowell is responsible for.”
Noah offered his understanding. “We’ll get him. It might not be tonight, but we’ll get him.”
“Before how many more people die?”
“Are you with me? Or do I have to lock you in the storage room?”
“I’m with you.”
“Good, because we’re short on numbers and I need everyone working together.”
Lucy had some sympathy for Omar and his fury at Sampson Lowell. There were some people in the world who didn’t deserve to live, who were individually responsible for destroying the lives of countless others. There was no doubt in her mind that Lowell was one of the few so evil and ruthless, he needed to be destroyed. And she wished she could be part of taking him down, because she had known others, like him, who were so deadly that the justice system wouldn’t be able to stop them.
But love had to win over hate, and saving Sean took precedence over stopping a bad guy.
“There will be another chance to take down Sampson Lowell,” Lucy told Omar. “But if Sean dies, he won’t have a second chance.”
After Adam left Tim at the lodge, he drove his old beat-up four-wheel-drive truck as close to the Callahan property as he dared. He didn’t know what kind of security Bobbie and her people had surrounding the place, but if Gary Clarke and the others were still at the Fosters’ house, at least her team was divided. He knew these woods as well as anyone who had grown up in Spruce Lake.
The only way to get to the house and rescue Henry and Emily was to run through a clearing. He’d been in the house several times in the past, and from this angle, he could see the kitchen and living area brightly lit on the right, and a dim light on the opposite side of the house. All blinds were closed, and he hoped Jon was right that Henry and Emily were in the downstairs bedroom.
He sprinted across the clearing toward the faint light on the left, praying he wasn’t shot in the back.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Tied to a chair in the Callahans’ dining room under the reproduction of
The Last Supper
, Sean had been watching Bobbie Swain for two hours. She was a walking contradiction—strategic about her business, but with no common sense. Her voice had a melodic lilt, but her words were crude. She was volatile, but maintained a tight control over herself, so tight that Sean could see the battle raging behind her green eyes.
In fact, her temper was simmering, ready to boil over. She was having a harder time controlling herself, which could be problematic. When she was in control, she was shrewd and smart; when she was out of control, she was more of a loose cannon.
He needed to use Bobbie’s temper against her, but how? An explosion brought his strategizing to an abrupt halt. Bobbie completely lost it. Any chance of calming her down or reasoning with her was gone.
She knew exactly what had happened and who to blame, which made Sean think the explosion wasn’t wholly a surprise.
“I want Jon Callahan here!” she screamed at the guy named Ian. “He’s the only one who has access to my explosives. I never thought he had the balls to fuck with me.”
“Omar is out looking for him.”
“Callahan walks in here, he’s dead. The deal is OFF! You think Sampson is going to show up now? Do you know what Callahan has done? I had it all planned so perfectly. I would have slid into Sampson Lowell’s operation so smoothly I would have ruled a bigger kingdom. I will slit Callahan’s throat!”
“Bobbie.” Ian’s voice was calm, but Sean saw the concern in his eyes. “We should disappear. There will be cops and Feds swarming this place in under an hour.”
“No, no,
no
!”
Ian was right, but Bobbie wouldn’t listen to him.
“I know this area better than anyone,” Bobbie said. “I’ll get out just fine even if there are a thousand cops! I want the rest of the explosives, I want my money, and I want Jon Callahan on his knees begging me to kill him.”
Sean had a choice comment, but kept it to himself. The last time he’d spoken, she’d hit him with a lamp, and his head still ached. With her extreme volatility, she’d likely shoot him next.
Ian’s phone rang. As he looked at it, Bobbie snatched it from him. Her face reddened and her hand shook as she answered. “I will kill you, you fucking traitor!”
Obviously, it was Jon on the other end.
“Your family is as good as dead! Get them, Ian, so Jon can hear them beg for their lives!”
Sean strained against the handcuffs. His wrists were chafed and sore, and he couldn’t slip off the restraints. He had to find a way to help Henry and Emily.
Bobbie sneered into the phone. “Don’t play me, Jon. I know you. You might think you’ve won, but I will kill you. You’ll suffer more than you can imagine. If you think I don’t know how—”
Ian returned to the living room without the older couple.
“Where are they?” Bobbie spat. Her face was red, her tone livid.
“They’re gone. They must have left by the sliding door—”
“How did they get out? They were tied up! Are you against me, too? Are you working for Paul? Are you screwing him, too?”
“Bobbie, I’ve always been on your side. Only your side.” Ian had his hands up. He knew she was volatile, but he thought he was safe. Protected.
After only two hours with this lunatic harridon, Sean knew differently.
No one
was safe from Bobbie.
“How did they escape? Tell me!”
Ian hesitated. That was his mistake, Sean realized.
“Did you do it?” Bobbie screamed. “Did you let them go?”
“Absolutely not!” Ian said. “I tied them together with duct tape on the bed, just like you told me to.”
“And you’re telling me that the old prick and his dying bitch just slipped out of the tape and walked away? Is that it?”
“No—I mean, someone cut the tape. It’s there, on the bed. I swear.”
“
Someone
cut the tape?
Someone
let them out? Do you understand what this screwup means? I lost my collateral with Jon Callahan! Do you think he cares about the fucking private investigator?”
She turned her gun on Sean, who sat just on the other side of the opening into the dining room. Sean sat stone-faced. He wasn’t going to say a word, not when Bobbie wasn’t thinking straight. She had to know that all her plans were already destroyed. If she were thinking, she’d get out of town now before the authorities arrived. With the explosion, they’d be sending in the troops and blockading the roads. But her rage interfered with her judgment.
“Bobbie,” Ian said in a calm voice. “I’m sorry. I’ll find them, bring them back here.”
“No, no, NO!” Screaming like a child throwing a temper tantrum, Bobbie turned the gun on Ian and shot him three times in the chest.
Eyes wide, Ian hadn’t seen the attack coming. He staggered for an agonizing five seconds before falling heavily to the floor, dead.
Tears streamed down Bobbie’s face. “You made me do that! Why did you make me do it?”
Jon must have said something on the phone—Sean had almost forgotten he was still on the line. Bobbie turned her attention back to the conversation. “You’re dead, too, you fucking bastard.” She hung up.
Reverend Carl Browne—who was no man of God as far as Sean was concerned—ran into the room from down the hall. Sean had seen him when Ian and Omar first brought him in, but then he’d disappeared and Sean had assumed he’d left.
Carl stared wide-eyed at Ian’s bloody corpse. “Why?”
“Henry and Emily Callahan are gone!” She threw a lamp to the floor. “Jon Callahan just blew up my warehouse. That was
mine
!”
Carl evidently knew how to handle Bobbie. He changed the subject. “I found some of the disks, Bobbie.”
She caught her breath, and smiled. “Thank you. For once, someone listens to me and does what I ask! And my money?”
“I searched the entire house. It’s not here.”
Bobbie whirled around, knocking a row of dainty figurines off a shelf. They flew halfway across the room and shattered on the hardwood floor.
“Where’s Jon?”
“He set off the explosions,” Carl said. “You know where he is.”
“He wouldn’t dare. I’ll push him down that hole myself if he touches my stuff.”
Carl glanced at Sean. “Should we kill Rogan now? I don’t see any advantages to keeping him alive.”
Bobbie glared at Sean, as though debating the value of his life.
Sean tried to avoid showing any reaction. A raw anger had him wanting to lunge for her throat. “He’s probably still worked up about what happened to his girlfriend,” Bobbie said. “But right now, he’s the only hostage we have. With that explosion, the fucking cops will be all over the place, we may need a shield.” She sneered at Sean. “And if you make this difficult, I’ll spend my entire life hunting down every person you’ve ever cared about.”
Carl’s voice was calm. “Let’s go to the mine and collect what’s ours, then leave. The Feds will have enough to sort through. By the time they realize we’re not here, we’ll be far away.” He glanced at Sean. “I’m still not sure what we do with him after we get out of the mine.”
Bobbie stared at Sean for a long minute.
Then she smiled, and a shiver of fear ran up Sean’s spine.
Adam carried the frail Emily Callahan from his truck into the lodge, followed by Henry.
“How is she?” Tim asked, leaning forward on the chair.
“She’s scared and disoriented,” Adam said. He carried her into the downstairs guest room. He told Henry to help himself to anything he needed, then he left Henry at her side, talking to her in soothing tones.
Adam returned to the living room and sat across from where Tim lay on the couch, his bandaged leg stretched out in front of him. He kept his voice down when he told Tim what had happened. “Bobbie Swain had them tied with duct tape. I cut them out, but Emily’s wrists are raw and bleeding. You saw Henry—he looks like a ghost. How could anyone treat them like that?”
Tim said, “I called Agent Armstrong and told him about Jon Callahan and the explosives—then not fifteen minutes later, there was a huge explosion. You heard it. I think it was on the northeast side of town, up near the valley.”
Henry stepped into the living room and shuffled over to a chair, where he sat heavily. “I gave Emily some cough syrup to help her sleep.” He rubbed his eyes. “I need to get her to a doctor, but for tonight she’s safest here.”