If I Should Die

THIRTY-ONE

Patrick was behind the wheel driving to Spruce Lake while Sean got to work on his laptop. “I really hope the Feds don’t screw this up,” Sean said.

“You were being difficult,” Patrick said. “Maybe you need a lesson in diplomacy.”

Sean glanced at him. “What was I wrong about?”

“Nothing, but you could have pulled out your charm.”

“Maybe,” he said without conviction. “So Victoria Sheffield took the disk of Bobbie Swain’s accusations two days before she met Swain. Who else knew she had the information? And what was on the disk that could get Bobbie thrown in jail?”

“You’re missing something,” Patrick said. “That letter from Ricky’s mother was written over five years ago. Sheffield took the disk five months ago.”

“The question is, did she take it for Jon Callahan or for Paul Swain? What might be on it?”

Patrick considered. “FBI interview, supposedly friendly. They’d ask her tough questions, as well as the same question in different ways to see if her story changes, but if they considered Bobbie Swain a victim, they wouldn’t have pushed too hard.”

“Would they verify the information?”

“They did-they got a warrant based on her testimony and arrested nine people involved in drug trafficking.”

Sean snapped his fingers. “If there’s an appeal and the warrant is deemed illegal, what happens to the convictions?”

“Well, any evidence obtained because of the warrant could be thrown out. Could be, Sean. It’s fruit from the poisonous tree. But in a situation like this-with a widespread drug network and multiple meth labs-they most likely had other evidence to back them up.”

“Unless Paul Swain wasn’t on the radar until Bobbie put him there.”

“I’m not a lawyer, Sean. But I’d imagine that if she told the truth about her brother’s operation, it didn’t matter what her motivation was. Bad guys cut deals all the time. They do it to get reduced sentences, to get off, to save their life.”

“She didn’t cut a deal.” Sean didn’t know why it bothered him so much. Bobbie Swain was, as Abigail wrote, a monster. “Looking at the timeline-she kills her husband, injures herself, goes to the police a changed woman. They feel sorry for her, she gives them the sob story about how she was raised by a brutish father and abusive brothers and she wants it all to stop. They take down Paul Swain and in walks Bobbie, free and clear.”

“Except she didn’t. She wasn’t in town.”

“She was running things, nonetheless.”

“That’s going to be hard to prove.”

“She’s here now.”

“Tread carefully, Sean. We don’t have any proof that Bobbie Swain has committed a crime. There’s a lot of circumstantial evidence, but nothing solid.”

“The witness who saw two figures near Weddle’s house.”

“Who couldn’t identify them in a lineup if she tried. She admitted she saw them from behind.”

“If we can place Swain in Potsdam.”

“Circumstantial. You’d need to have physical evidence that she was in Weddle’s house.”

“And you wonder why I’m not a cop. You know she’s guilty.”

Sean saw a new message on his email. “Dillard came through. Here are Jimmy Benson’s phone records.”

He scanned the numbers and compared them to a list he had compiled. “On Wednesday, Ricky called him at ten-thirty-one a.m. One minute, probably left a message. Benson returned the call two hours later. They spoke for three minutes.” That made sense-Benson was on duty, he’d probably been at the lodge putting out the fire when Ricky first called. “According to Dillard, he left early Wednesday afternoon, taking sick time. We don’t know where he was from then until he showed up at the Lock amp; Barrel. The bartender didn’t remember when he came in, but he left shortly before seven. He made one call after he left the bar. Jon Callahan. Two minutes.” One more thing to ask him about.

Sean glanced at the time. “It’s nearly four. Let’s regroup at the lodge, and I’m going to try to convince Callahan to come to us. If that doesn’t work, we’re going to the bar. Funny how both times I showed up there, he arrived within fifteen minutes.”

His cell phone rang. “Hey, Duke,” he answered.

“I set off a big alarm, so expect the weight of the federal government to come crashing down pretty quick.”

“What happened?”

“I ran the bullet casings as soon as I got them this morning. I cut some corners that I probably shouldn’t have, but nothing I haven’t done before. I got a call from ATF.”

“ATF?” The Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid agency rarely worked with Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. While they had high-ranking contacts at the FBI, in the military, and in Homeland Security, they had no go-to person in ATF.

“They didn’t tell me anything, but they had a lot of questions. How I obtained them, who gave them to me, where had they been recovered, when-I told them shit, because to be honest, the guy who called was a prick and refused to answer my questions. However, I sent him to your pal Noah Armstrong. I hope he can get the answers.”

“They were common casings.”

“That’s what I thought too, so I called in a favor with a friend of mine at the FBI lab. Emailed him pictures of the markings, and he told me the bullets were manufactured exclusively for law enforcement.”

Sean considered that revelation. “That doesn’t surprise me,” Sean said, almost relieved. “I told you about the corrupt deputy.”

“Maybe you’re right, but that doesn’t really explain why the ATF jumped down my throat less than three hours after I uploaded the technical data.”

“Thanks.”

“I don’t need to tell you to be careful, Sean.”

“Believe me, I’m watching my back on this one.”

SAC Hart didn’t want a copy of the remaining Swain file removed from the office, especially considering the missing documents, but she allowed Lucy to read it in the conference room. Lucy took extensive notes. She would much rather have watched or listened to Bobbie Swain, but the written statement was almost as good. On the surface, Bobbie said all the right things, tears timed just right to elicit sympathy.

Lucy had a difficult time reading the file and thinking that a woman had faked abuse. And maybe she had been abused. But it wasn’t sexual, and Bobbie Swain stated as such.

Noah stormed into the room, Candela in his wake.

“Lucy, are you ready?” Noah’s tone was severe.

“What happened?” she asked.

“The ATF called me. Bastards.”

Noah kept his emotions close to the vest, like she did, and had always acted supremely professional. But right now, he looked as if he wanted to hit something.

He said to her and Candela, “The bullet casings from the sniper yesterday morning? Issued to ATF. They refused to give me any information, but demanded plenty. I had a few choice words with the jerk when he ordered me not to return to Spruce Lake.” Noah shook his head. “He has no authority. After ten years in the Air Force I’m not easily intimidated.”

Candela said, “They must know who shot at Lucy and Sean Rogan.”

“Damn straight they do. But I also played them. Sean’s brother Duke gave me the heads-up about the ATF-he ran the casings against the database, then was locked out. Duke didn’t tell them anything, not even where the casings came from. The ATF agent slipped by letting me know he knew where they were found. So I called Rick Stockton and told him I needed a favor.”

Rick Stockton was a high-ranking assistant director stationed at FBI National Headquarters.

Lucy said, “I’m not following.”

“Based on the tone of the call, I suspect they have an undercover operative in place.”

Candela now looked as angry as Noah sounded. “They’re not supposed to run an undercover op without informing our office. Excuse me, I need to talk to Elizabeth.” He left Noah and Lucy alone in the conference room.

“If the sniper is an ATF agent, why would they shoot at us?” Lucy recalled that the bullets all hit the ground-it was something Sean thought odd at the time, but now it made sense. “That’s a dangerous plan to chase us off. Sean returned fire; he could have killed the guy.”

“Agreed. Stockton is going to call the head of ATF and get answers, but we need to leave for Spruce Lake now. Sean and Patrick need backup.”

“Did you tell Sean?”

“He knows everything I know.”

Lucy had already gathered up her notes. “I’m ready,” she said. She glanced at her phone and realized she should have told Noah about Sean’s earlier message. She glanced at the closed door.

Noah picked up on her quandary. “What is it?” he asked.

“You need to see this message from Sean.”

Noah took her phone. He stared at it for far longer than it would take to read it.

Lucy finally said, “You’re mad.”

“This came in over an hour ago. He specifically told you not to share critical information with the FBI.”

“A life is at stake.”

“Sean follows his own rules.” Noah stared at her. “Do you want to be an FBI agent?”

“I know what you’re saying, Noah, but Sean has proven himself. He thinks-”

“Sean has proven himself in his business. His business doesn’t always mesh with government business.”

“You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing in his shoes-”

“You didn’t give me the chance.” Noah picked up his files and started toward the door. “Trust is a two-way street, Lucy. For all intents and purposes, you are my partner until you check in to Quantico. But I won’t work with a partner who doesn’t trust me.” He looked over his shoulder at her as he opened the door. “Or whom I can’t trust.”

Lucy felt sick to her stomach when Noah walked out of the conference room. He was right. If she kept information from her partner, she put them both at risk.

Years ago, when her sister-in-law Kate was a new agent, she had a partner who lied to her about something that seemed minor at the time, but spiraled into a deadly confrontation that got Kate’s boyfriend and her partner killed and sent Kate on the run. The tragedy had changed Kate’s life forever, and while she was now teaching at Quantico, it had taken her years to reclaim her life.

Lucy had enough tragedy and dark clouds hanging over her FBI career and it hadn’t even started yet.

Lucy followed Noah out. He was talking to Candela and Hart in the foyer. “As far as this office knows,” Hart was telling Noah, “there’s no ATF operation in St. Lawrence County at all. I put in a call to the Brooklyn office, which would have to approve any undercover op in the state. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“I appreciate it. Let’s keep in touch,” Noah said.

Candela said, “We’re putting together a team to search the mine for Agent Sheffield’s body and to gather further evidence, and Martinelli and Strong are packing to investigate her appearance and disappearance in Spruce Lake. But we need to confirm this new intel first. If we blow an ATF op, we’ll have major problems.”

“They should have told us,” Hart said, frustrated, “but we have to go in quietly. Agents Martinelli and Strong will be flying into Ogdensburg first thing in the morning, but I instructed them to contact Detective Dillard first. If you need them, here are their numbers.” She handed both Lucy and Noah business cards.

They shook hands and left. As soon as they got into the car, Lucy blurted out, “I’m so sorry, Noah. You’re right. I should have told you immediately.”

Noah let out a sigh and turned to face her. She couldn’t read his face-Noah was only three years out of the Air Force and still acted like the officer he’d been. “Sean is annoying, impulsive, and arrogant. He’s also intelligent, knowledgeable, and courageous. There’s no one else I would rather have on my team, but the fact remains, he’s not on my team. He’s on your team because he has one more redeeming quality-he loves you. I’m not his favorite person-” Noah put his hand up when Lucy opened her mouth to protest. “As far as the FBI goes, he has shown complete disdain for our mission, responsibilities, and rules. That he asked you to keep something from the FBI tells me he has no respect for your job or mine. That you chose to delay sharing the information tells me you’re torn. Sean breaks the law whenever he wants-he always has a compelling reason, but where does it end? Someday he’s going to land himself in hot water. He has an unusual knack for getting himself out of trouble, but he’s going to make your life extremely difficult if you don’t give him strict boundaries. And I fear he won’t adhere to them anyway, so where does that leave you?”

Lucy rarely cried, which made the tears that burned behind her eyes that much more frustrating. Noah had clearly articulated each fear in her relationship with Sean and what it could potentially mean to her career.

“I understand. I am sorry, Noah. There’s no one I’d rather work with in the FBI than you. I don’t want to give you any reason not to trust me. I’ll get through to him.”

“If anyone can, it’s you.” Noah tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work. He shifted in his seat and turned the ignition. “Love doesn’t always work the way we want.”

He wasn’t looking at her, and Lucy had the distinct impression that he was thinking about a lost love of his own. She realized that Noah knew everything about her-her life was, unfortunately, an open book-but she knew next to nothing about Noah. There was much more to him than she had thought.