Blood of Cain

26

By the time it took me to walk to the end of Dock L, the rain was slacking. I stepped onto Nick’s boat, St. Michael, and tapped on the sliding-glass door between the cockpit and the salon. Nick opened the door, Max at his feet. “Sean, you picked a great time to take a stroll through the marina. C’mon inside. Lemme get you a towel.”

Max sniffed my damp shoes, stared at me and cocked her head with a look that said: Don’t you have enough sense to get out of the rain? Then her tail danced. Nick tossed a towel to me. “You just gettin’ back from The Villages?”

“I drove slowly. Had a lot to think about.” I dried off as my phone rang.

Dave Collins said, “I saw an aberration board Nick’s boat. It looked a little bit like you, Sean. I just watched the story on Channel Three, hell it’s on the cable news networks, too. Stay put. If you feel up to talking about it, I’ll be right over.”

“There’s not much to say.”

“Then I won’t stay long.”

Dave disconnected and I dropped my phone back in my pocket, bent down and picked up Max. She licked one side of my face and then stared through the glass door, watching Dave amble across the dock, an umbrella in one hand, a bottle of Jameson in the other.

I set Max down and handed Nick the towel. He asked, “Want some dry clothes? You’re taller than me, but I got some sweats that ought to fit you.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be heading over to Jupiter in a few minutes.”

Dave opened the door, closed the umbrella, and said, “Welcome back from the big V.” He stepped over to the salon bar and settled on one of the three stools. “Nick, can I trouble you for three glasses and some ice? I believe Sean could use a drink, and after he tells us why his meeting with the wife of Senator Lloyd Logan set her off into tears, followed by hugs and kisses, we might need a drink, too.”

Nick reached for glasses and ice. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“The latest YouTube video to go viral, starring our good friend, Sean O’Brien. Sean, what the hell happened? You went to a political rally and caused a political firestorm.”

Dave and Nick sipped the Irish whiskey as I told them the story. Neither saying a word until I had finished. Dave swirled the ice in his glass, looked out the window at the rain falling over the marina, and then cut his eyes to mine. “You think this daughter you conceived with the woman who might be the next first lady is Courtney Burke?”

“I don’t know.”

Nick blew out a long breath. “Maybe Pandora’s Box won’t get completely opened and this’ll all blow over.”

Dave said, “Pandora’s Box is open, and there’s no getting that prophetic genie back in the bottle. Sean, we’re your marina mates and the closest thing you have to a band of brothers, let’s assess the situation. Hypothetically, if Andrea tells her husband how she and you are connected, if they believe there is the possibility of Courtney Burke’s identity being related back to Andrea, there will be trouble, no doubt about it. Although Courtney is innocent until proven guilty, this is a presidential election year, and all bets are off the table of due process. Your background alone, even without the premise of a daughter between you and Andrea Logan, would be fodder for the media and Logan’s opponents. You have enough surreptitious baggage to keep Fox News and CNN speculating for days.”

“Thanks, Dave.”

He grunted. “This unfortunate chain of events might play out very poorly for Courtney. She’s hiding somewhere in a house of cards, and all it takes is some investigative reporter to connect the dots. What we know now is four people working in the carnival business have been killed. We don’t know if Courtney was in close proximity to the first two killings. She was definitely at the scene and may have been the source of the last two deaths, certainly the shooting of Tony Bandini. The FBI will intensify their investigation, should Courtney be connected to the Logans. The Secret Service will join the posse. In the meantime, local police are searching, and members of the Bandini family may be looking, too. By now, there might be a hit placed on the girl. And if, by sowing of the seeds of fate, Courtney is your daughter, Sean … even with your considerable skills and tenacity, how in the hell can you protect her?”

“The best I can.”

Dave nodded. “Fair enough.”

“But I don’t know that she’s my daughter. Until a few hours ago, I didn’t know that I had a daughter. Adoption records were sealed. Andrea says she never knew the adoptive parents nor wanted to interfere with their parenting of the child. Right now the only tangible connection, the common familiarity, I have with Courtney is her awareness of my birthmark. How’d she know about it? How’d she know its symmetry to a four-leaf shamrock if Andrea didn’t tell her? If she didn’t, then who did?”

Nick stood from his stool. “The only way to find that out is to track her down and ask her.”

“And that’s what I’ll do.”

“You will?” Nick’s dark eyebrows arched.

“Yes, and I’ll need your help to start. I figure if I go to the carnival before it pulls out, I might find those guys you overheard talking in the bar. If you come with me, you can point them out. Saves time. Makes it simpler.”

Nick grinned, his thick moustache lifting. “Sounds good. I’ll be your back-up.”

“I hope it doesn’t get to that.”

Dave crushed a piece of ice with his back teeth and said, “If it was a simple case of a run-away, and you’re just trying to help someone — no problem. But this case is far from simple. It’s now national. A missing girl wanted in connection with serial murders, a missing girl who may be biologically linked to the wife of a powerful U.S. Senator who is spending millions to occupy the White House, a missing girl who’s killed a member of the Bandini family … and last but certainly not least, a missing girl who might be your daughter. Now, Sean. How the hell are you going to simplify that?”

Dave poured himself a second shot of Jameson.

And I had no answer.