If I Should Die

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.”

“You both can stay as long as you want.”

“I’m so sorry for everything. I should have told you at the beginning. I didn’t know everything, just bits and pieces. Right now I have to stop Jon. It’s my fault-I didn’t realize that he was waiting for my call to start blowing things up. But right after I called and told him Emily and I had gotten away, I heard the first explosion.”

“It’s not your fault, Henry,” Adam said. “I think Jon would have blown up the warehouses either way. You didn’t do any of this.”

“But I remained silent. For far too long. Jon’s going to die. I’m the only one who can talk him out of this madness.”

Tim rubbed his face. “I would go, but with my leg-and someone needs to stay with Emily. I’ll make sure she’s cared for.”

“Thank you, Tim. You’re a good man.” Henry looked from Tim to Adam. “Your father would be proud of both of you.”

Adam nodded. “For him, we need to end this peacefully. No one else has to die. Do you know where Jon is?”

“I don’t know for certain. But I overheard Carl Browne talking to one of his people that the meeting was still on at dawn in the church. If Jon knows about that, and he has more explosives, then I think he’ll go there.”

Adam caught Tim’s eye. Jon definitely had plenty of explosives to blow up anything he wanted.

Noah and Omar were hidden by bushes on the edge of the Callahan property, their breath visible. There was just one vehicle in sight, identified by Omar as the rental that Ian Galbraith, Bobbie Swain’s right-hand man, had been driving. There was no sign of movement in the house, and the only noise was from emergency vehicles headed to the fire on the far northeast side of Spruce Lake.

Noah assessed the house. The brush and grass had been cleared for a hundred feet surrounding the house, but they had the advantage of darkness.

“You’re sure the alarm is only on the house?” Noah asked.

“I’m sure.”

On Noah’s signal they moved in, circling the perimeter until they were in the rear of the house. Still no movement visible inside. Lights shined in a rear bedroom.

Gun drawn, Noah peered around the corner, looking for shadows or movement. All he saw was scraps of duct tape and ropes on the floor next to the bed.

The sliding glass door was cracked open, just a fraction. Noah motioned to Omar who silently pushed open the door.

Silence. No alarm, no voices.

A whiff of gunpowder hung in the air.

And the scent of blood.

The primary reason Noah hadn’t wanted Lucy with him was because of the very real possibility that Sean was dead.

Omar looked as grim as Noah felt. He motioned to the ATF agent to open the door on the far side of the room. Noah put his back against the wall while Omar opened it and went out low. Noah aimed high.

Still no sounds.

They went down the wide hall side by side, Omar checking the doors to the right, Noah to the left, until they reached the end, which branched off-the left to the living room, the right to the backside of the kitchen. A quick look in the kitchen showed no one was there.

In the living room, they found the body. Noah breathed a sigh of relief.

“She killed Ian?” Omar was shocked. “They were bed buddies. Screwed like rabbits. Rumor was they got off killing together. He worshipped her.”

“Seems she felt differently,” Noah said. He looked around the room while Omar continued searching the house.

“All clear,” Omar said when he returned.

Noah stared at an overturned dining chair and two broken lamps. “Sean, where the hell are you?”

Ricky huddled in his jacket outside the mine. The night was frigid, but still.

“How do you know Bobbie’s going to show up here?” Ricky asked Jon.

“She wants her stuff.”

Ricky almost didn’t ask, but he was curious. “What stuff?”

“Do you know what C-4 goes for on the black market?”

“That was hers?”

“It was the down payment from the gunrunner she was supposed to meet with in the morning. That and a hundred thousand, which she’d already spent. The C-4 is worth more than that, but harder to move. She sold some and hid the cash until she could find a way to launder it properly.” Jon laughed.

“She thinks she can play God and get away with it because she has for so many years,” he said, sobering. “It ends tonight. Are you with me, Ricky?”

“Yes.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“There’s one more warehouse. You do the honors.” He held the remote detonator out for Ricky.

Ricky hesitated, but only for a moment. Drugs had driven his father, even if he hadn’t done them himself. Drugs had destroyed his family, putting his father in prison and leaving his mother at the mercy of a monster. Drugs had fueled Bobbie’s greed and revenge, and he didn’t care if it was meth or pot-as long as there was a drug business in Spruce Lake, the town would never be free.

He flipped the switch and pressed the button. Nothing happened for two seconds.

Then the last explosion was twice as powerful as the first.