Allison Brennan - If I Should Die

“How about a martini? Extra vermouth and three olives?”

“That sounds lovely.”

Sean followed Henry through a large formal dining room that didn’t look as though it had been used for some time. One of the most famous reproductions of The Last Supper had a prominent position on one wall. Henry glanced at the picture, sadness in his eyes. He didn’t stop until they were in the back of the house, where a country-style kitchen looked far more lived in.

He cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”

His eyes were bright, not from pain or drugs, but emotion. “Usually, I’m okay with her forgetfulness, but it’s been a hard week.” He looked pointedly at Sean. “I think you know why.”

“I need answers, Henry. What’s going on in Spruce Lake?”

Henry sighed and pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator. He handed one to Sean and opened the other for himself. “I didn’t tell Emily your name so she won’t repeat that you were here. I don’t want to put you in more danger than you’re already in.”

“Explain.”

Henry shook his head and sat on a barstool, resting his elbows on the table.

Sean slammed his unopened beer bottle down on the kitchen counter. “I can bring in the cavalry-just say the word.”

“And tell them what? You bring in the police, they’ll find nothing, because your people need warrants. The bastards in charge will know before the ink is dry and destroy the evidence, then punish whoever they think turned them in. The devil you know …”

“I need your help,” Sean said.

“Paul Swain was a ruthless bastard, but he took care of this town. As long as you were on his side, he took care of you. Someone turned on him.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. When he went to prison and the cops left, some of the players changed.”

Sean was getting frustrated. He didn’t have time for a history lesson, and he wished Henry would just spit it out.

“I know a lot more than you think I do.” The pieces were beginning to take form and Sean could see part of the bigger picture. “Before Paul Swain went to prison, someone undermined him. I don’t know how-by threat, bribery, sex-but when she got enough people over to her side, she turned her own brother in to the cops. Though Swain was in prison, he had something on her-something that would get her killed or imprisoned-so she stayed away.” As he spoke, Sean saw Henry’s expression grow darker. He knew Sean was talking about Bobbie Swain.

“Bobbie Swain couldn’t gloat or run the business the way she wanted, relying on people like your nephew Jon to keep it in line,” Sean continued. “But something changed, and Bobbie’s come back.”

“Dear God, you saw her?” A look of terror crossed Henry’s face.

“She was bartending tonight.”

Henry’s whole body sagged. Sean didn’t actually know everything that he’d just told Henry, but he’d been working on the theory after hearing what Duke told him about Miami. If Bobbie Swain was cold-blooded enough to kill her husband and frame another drug dealer, she was certainly cold-blooded enough to turn in her brother Paul.

“Jon heard she was coming back,” said Henry. “She called him, told him to convince Tim and Adam to postpone the resort. But you don’t understand-Jon’s not what you think he is. All he wants is to help people keep food on their table and a roof over their head. Protect them from Bobbie and her people.”

“So that’s why he bought up all the land? Put everyone into indentured servitude as a form of protection?”

“You should leave.”

“I’m not leaving without answers.”

“You won’t find them here.”

Sean turned away from Henry, frustrated but knowing that being a hard-ass with the old man wasn’t going to get him the answers he needed. Henry was more than a little scared-for himself and his ailing wife.

He glanced around the spacious kitchen, circa late fifties. The brown appliances, though old, fit with the colorful tiles and collection of spoons on the wall above the gas stove. It was homey and comfortable. The dishes had been hand-washed and were drying in a rack on the counter. On the refrigerator were a variety of magnets from local businesses holding up faded pictures of Henry and Emily, some showing a younger, happier couple. Jon Callahan was in many of them. There were also snapshots from important events-his college graduation stood out.

Sean walked over to look at the pictures, but didn’t really focus. He finally opened his beer and drank a long swallow. He’d taken the wrong tack with Henry. Maybe if he came back with Lucy, they could convince him to trust them.

Sean stared at one half-hidden photograph of Jon Callahan with a familiar blond woman. It was taken outside during spring or summer, the trees lush and green. He pulled it off the refrigerator. The blonde was turned partly away from the camera, so he only saw her profile, and her face was partly obscured by her long hair. But it was clear from her smile and their pose that she and Jon were more than friends.

He showed the picture to Henry. “Who is this?” He didn’t need to ask, his gut told him he knew who the woman was, but he wanted to hear it from Henry.

Henry looked up with a long, sad face. “Jon’s fiancee.”

Sean hadn’t been expecting that answer. “ Fiancee ?”

“She died.”

“How?”

“You need to leave.”

“My girlfriend found Jon’s fiancee dead in the mine. Now her body is missing. Pack a bag for your wife, I’ll get you out of town tonight.”

“You saw my wife! She can’t travel; she can barely remember what she likes to drink and eat. She’s dying. She needs to die in her own home.”

“Henry, you’re not thinking straight.” Sean ran a hand through his hair, wishing again Lucy was here. “Did Jon kill her? Is that why you’re scared?”

Henry shook his head. “He loved her more than anything.”

Frustrated and desperate, Sean said, “Did you know she was an FBI agent? Did she find out what Jon was doing-”

Henry cut him off. “You have to leave. If they’re watching me you may have just signed my death warrant, Mr. Rogan. Leave now. I’m not asking again.”

“Dammit, Henry!”

“Don’t swear at me, young man!” Henry rose from the stool. He still looked old, but he had fire in him. “You came to town three days ago and think you can solve generations’s worth of problems? Spruce Lake has been on the wrong side of the law for more than a century, starting with Paul’s great-grandfather, one of the original moonshiners in the county. Smuggling into Canada is as old as sin for our town. Alcohol, cigarettes, meth, marijuana-what’s next? I don’t know, but we’ll be in the middle of it, and nothing you or I can do will stop it. These folks have killed for far less. And now that Bobbie Swain is in town-so help us God, she’ll slash and burn on a whim if it strikes her fancy. I’m telling you to get out now, before you’re not able to.”

“Please, I need-”

Henry put up his hand. “Go, before Jon comes home. Last year, he would have agreed to help you. Now, I don’t think he has a soul. Bobbie destroyed it. I can’t do anything. I’m sorry.”

Sean wanted to argue, but Henry was right-he couldn’t be here when Jon Callahan returned. If only to protect Henry and Emily. Yet, Henry didn’t seem to fear his nephew.

He handed Henry his card. “Call me. I’ll drop everything to help.”

Henry stared at Sean, tears in his eyes. “Leave Spruce Lake tonight, Sean. Take your pretty lady with you. And never come back.”

Sean shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere until I stop that woman.”

“You don’t know Bobbie. She’s a monster.”