Allison Brennan - If I Should Die

Sean knew a bit about the international drug trade-his brother Kane had been fighting drug and human trafficking in South and Central America for twenty years. It was war down there-murder, bribery, corruption. It was the same here, but on a smaller scale. Cleaner. Cops were harder to bribe, though not impossible. Corruption existed, but not as blatant or as widespread.

But a town like Spruce Lake would be perfect for drug running. Near the Canadian border, remote, with people desperate to survive and no way to get out. The big cities in Canada had the same drug and gang problems as big cities in America.

What was it about the resort that scared them? Drug labs were everywhere, littering both urban and rural areas. A resort in the middle of nowhere shouldn’t slow them down. Unless there was something about the location …

Sean had left the property maps in the cabin. Spruce Lake, the actual lake itself, was split between Hendrickson, Callahan, and federal land. But he didn’t see how that would be crucial to the dealers. There had to be something else going on that the few people the resort would bring in would jeopardize.

Maybe it wasn’t drugs. Maybe it was something else entirely. Which brought Sean back to: who would be hurt the most if the resort opened?

What bothered him at this point was the extent of the conspiracy. There had to be at least two people, other than Ricky and his uncle, who were involved. And a large number of people knew about it, and were either intimidated into keeping silent or part of the problem.

The swinging door leading from the kitchen burst open and Jon Callahan entered. He stopped abruptly at the sight of Bobbie.

She turned around and smiled. “Hello, Jon!” she said and waved from the opposite end of the bar.

Callahan didn’t speak. He looked around at the patrons, most of whom had cut their conversation down to a whisper. Something in his face shifted, and he smiled. “Would you be so kind, sugar, and pour me a Scotch?” He sat down next to Tim.

Bobbie slammed a glass on the counter in front of him.

“Don’t call me ‘sugar,’ Boss ,” she snapped. The two stared at each other a beat too long.

“The Jameson will be fine,” Callahan said.

She splashed a shot into the glass, then strode back across the bar to her security.

Callahan nodded at Tim. “Things okay out at your place today?”

“Other than some prick taking potshots at my friend,” Tim said. Now that he was into the game, Tim was doing well, Sean thought. He let Tim run with the conversation.

“I didn’t know,” Callahan said. “I was in Montreal all day. Just got back.”

“No one was hurt,” Tim continued, “but I was thinking about what you told Adam last night. Maybe it would be best if we postponed the opening. I don’t know who’s screwing with me, but I can’t take the responsibility of protecting my guests from some gun-toting lunatic. Adam is really torn up about it.”

“He has his heart set,” Callahan agreed, “but it’s not forever. I’m sure things will get all smoothed over. And I’m happy to help with that over the next year.”

“Thanks, Jon. I appreciate it.”

Sean was missing a big piece of the puzzle. He watched the crowd. Everyone was focused on Jon and Bobbie, as if they were waiting for something to happen.

Sean decided to add fuel to the fire. “I didn’t think this town was big enough for two bartenders. Reggie was cute and all, but the redhead is cuter,” he said with a wink.

“Reggie deserves some time off,” Jon said. “I didn’t know when I’d be back from Montreal.”

Sean hadn’t expected that answer. Obviously, Jon hadn’t known Bobbie was going to be here. He observed the way his eyes watched her in the mirror behind the bar. Was this a turf war? Over a town of fewer than four hundred people?

Sean glanced around the bar again. No one was ordering anything, food or drink. Trina stood at a table in the far corner with two older men and an even older woman. Conversation was virtually nonexistent. The band was still out on break.

“Any news about the body in the mine?” Jon asked suddenly.

“Not that I know,” Sean said.

“Did you check the missing persons in the area?”

“Yes, we looked through them. No one matched.”

“I didn’t know you saw the body,” Jon said. “Didn’t you say it was your girlfriend who found her? What an awful experience for such a sweet girl.”

Sean didn’t deny having seen the body, though Deputy Weddle and the Fire and Rescue guys knew that only Lucy had seen it. Sean’s protective instincts kicked in. Was Lucy in danger because she was the only person to have seen Agent Sheffield?

He discreetly sent Lucy a text message to check in and make sure she was all right while telling Jon, “Yeah, but Lucy’s tough. She works at a morgue.”

“Still, that must have been a shock.”

“I think it was more of a shock that the body disappeared,” Sean said. He watched Bobbie in his peripheral vision. Her head was turned away from them, toward the bodyguard, but her body language-the way her feet were pointed, her hair tucked behind her ear and her body turned just a bit too much in his direction-told Sean she was listening intently.

“How long are you staying on?” Jon asked casually. Too casually. Bobbie was definitely listening for the answer.

Sean shrugged. Bobbie looked over her shoulder, ostensibly to inspect her patrons’ beers, but she made no attempt to refill their empty mugs.

Sean glanced at Tim. “It hasn’t been much of a vacation, wouldn’t you say?”

“Sorry about that.”

Sean shook his head. “No worries. Lucy and I were talking about sticking around for a few days. Try to relax, give my leg a couple more days to get back full mobility. And I promised Deputy Weddle we’d be available for questions whenever the detective assigned to the arson comes around. I’ve never seen such disinterested police before.”

“Odd,” Jon said. “They are usually so responsive.”

Bobbie sauntered over. “Can I get you boys refills?”

She wanted to talk. Sean didn’t want another beer, but he nodded. “Thanks-Bobbie, right?”

She grinned. “That’s right, sugar.” She poured two more drafts for him and Tim. She glanced at Jon, and he held up his glass. She grabbed a bottle off the shelf and poured two fingers while glaring at Jon.

Sean had a sudden idea. He and Tim should hit Henry Callahan now, while his nephew was here. He didn’t know how much time he’d have, but if they left and sped over there, he might have ten, fifteen minutes.

He drained half his beer. Tim gave him an odd look. Sean made a motion that he wanted to leave. He glanced at his phone. Lucy had responded to his message.

I’m fine. All quiet. You?

Good, she was safe for now, but he sent her a message to be diligent and to say he’d be late. He then inconspicuously snapped a no-flash picture of Bobbie. It was not quite three-quarters of a profile shot, but Sean couldn’t risk getting closer or waiting until she was looking at him.

The band returned from their break and started tuning up their instruments. Sean used the disruption to stand, stretch, and put twenty dollars on the bar. “Jon, good to see you again. My leg’s acting up; I think we’re going to call it an early night.”

“Stop by before you leave town,” Jon said. “I’ll buy you lunch for the road.”

“Thank you, I’ll do that.” Sean tipped an imaginary hat to Bobbie. He sent the picture to Duke and Patrick when he walked outside and began to text. The air had turned much colder now that the sun was down.

Says her name is Bobbie. Possibly Roberta Swain. Five feet six inches, 125 lbs, dark red hair, might be dyed darker than natural, but is natural redhead (eyebrows). Has bodyguard or boyfriend who is in security. Approx. 180, five ten to six feet, blond, blue, possibly Russian or Scandinavian descent. Need to confirm Bobbie’s identity, run through all databases .