Mariah Stewart - Last Look

Maybe shower first, he thought, then slip out when it was dark. Maybe Dorsey could meet him somewhere. He’d really been enjoying her company these past few days. She was smart. Had a good sense of humor. Took the job seriously. Not to mention the fact that the woman had some depth, and that put her head and shoulders above a lot of the women he’d known. She seemed to have it all. Including, he suspected, scars on her wrists and who knew where else.

His cell phone rang and he thought-hoped-it might be her.

“Agent Shields, this is Chief Bowden.”

“Hey, Chief, how are-”

“I’m over here at the Randall place, and they got a truckload of reporters out there.” Bowden had no time for pleasantries. “Miz Randall, she’s awfully upset about the whole thing, didn’t know what she should do, so she called me. I personally don’t mind going on out there and talking to those folks, but frankly, I don’t have a damned thing to say to them. I don’t know where y’all are going with this thing. Now, Miz Randall did call the daughters, but they don’t want to speak with the press either right now, so I’m asking you to come on over here and do the talking. I just don’t know what to say.”

“You’re right not to say anything, except maybe that the FBI is handling the investigation, Chief. Thanks for the heads-up,” Andrew said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“’Preciate it if you’d hurry.”

“Ten minutes, tops,” Andrew promised. “Oh, Chief? You can tell Mrs. Randall that I’ll be wanting to speak with her husband after the press conference. I’d appreciate you setting that up for me.”

“Do what I can,” the chief replied. “He’s not in a good way right now, from what I understand.”

So much for a shower and time to type up some reports for John, Andrew thought as he grabbed his jacket from the chair. He knew he looked a little shopworn, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. He wasn’t as adept at speaking to the media as some others in the unit were, and he’d assumed that John would send in someone from the Bureau who was proven at handling the PR aspects of the job since this was such a big case. But John had declined that as quickly as he’d declined to discuss the Beales. Andrew would have only the ten-minute drive from the motel to the Randalls’ to figure out what he wanted to say and the best way to say it. He just hoped the network hadn’t picked up the story.

The last thing he wanted was to face any of the reporters who’d covered the story about Brendan. They’d be compelled to ask about that situation, and Andrew wasn’t ready to talk about it in public. Hell, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d spoken about it in private. Once or twice with his sister, Mia, and once with Dorsey, and that had barely skimmed the surface. He still wasn’t able to face his cousins Connor and Aidan. The tragedy had left a hole inside him big enough for a small child to walk through.

He knew he should call Dorsey, but decided to do that from the car. He grabbed his phone and headed outside, where he was promptly approached by several reporters.

“I’m on my way to the Randalls’ home.” He held up both hands as if warding off their questions. “If you’d like to meet me there, you’ll hear everything I have to say on the matter.”

Ignoring their protests, Andrew got into his car and locked the doors. He dialed Dorsey’s number, knowing she wasn’t going to like what he was going to say.

“Hey,” he said when she answered, her voice sounding somewhat groggy. “Did I wake you?”

“Yeah. But it’s okay.” She yawned quietly. “Sorry. You thinking about trying to sneak out past the gathering crowd for a bite?”

“Too late for that,” he told her. “Listen, I got a call from Chief Bowden. He’s asked me to come to the Randalls’ to deal with the press.”

“You’re going now?” Suddenly she was wide awake. “You’re on your way?”

“Yes. Look, I’m sorry, but you know we have to keep any involvement on your part from becoming public knowledge.”

“It’s your case,” she said somewhat stiffly.

“That’s not what this is about. No one wants a camera picking up your face so that everyone in the Bureau knows you’re here. I wouldn’t leave you out if I didn’t have to.” He paused. “I hope you know that.”

“Will you give me a call when you get back?”

“Of course. But you know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to, right?” He wanted to hear her say it. For some reason, it was important to him to know that she didn’t think he was deliberately cutting her out.

“I do.” She sighed. “Yeah, I understand. You did the right thing. And it’s not your fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault, Dorsey. It’s just what is right now. But as soon as I get back, I’ll fill you in on whatever I can drag out of Franklin.”

“You’re going to talk to Franklin?”

“I’m thinking a little quid pro quo here. I’ll handle the press for them, but only if Franklin agrees to talk to me after.”

“Why not make it before? What if he weasels out?”

“I’m not going to let him do that. They’re going to understand up front that he talks to me, or I don’t talk to the press for them. Which means either they talk-which you and I both know, no one in that family wants to do-or they’ll have reporters camped on their front lawn until they do.”

“So I guess I should tune in the eleven o’clock news to get the official version.”

“I’m hoping to be back before then,” he told her. “I promise to fill you in on everything.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Well, you could sneak out and pick up pizza and some beer after the news vans leave.”

“I’d be glad to, but by the time you get back here, the beer will be warm and the pizza will be cold.”

“Hey, anyone who can’t deal with cold pizza has no place in law enforcement.”

“I trust the same cannot be said for warm beer.”

“Good point. Beer’s always better at the proper temperature.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’m here.” His eyes scanned both sides of the street for a parking spot on Sylvan. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way back.”

“Good luck. With the press and with Franklin,” Dorsey said as she hung up.

Andrew found a spot at the end of the block and parked the rental car. He walked toward the house, thinking about what he’d say once the microphones were turned on and the cameras began to roll. And he thought about what he wanted to ask Franklin about his relationship with Shannon. Dealing with reporters was going to be far easier than accusing a man of molesting his own daughter.

He was halfway up the Randalls’ driveway before anyone noticed him. He quietly made his way to the front porch, where the door opened before he had time to knock.

“Agent Shields, we are so grateful that you agreed to come over here and deal with those people for us,” Judith Randall said immediately. “I apologize for having cut you off so rudely the other day.”

“Perfectly understandable, Mrs. Randall,” Andrew told her as she closed the door behind him. “You’ve been under enormous strain.”

“I appreciate your kindness.” She led him into the living room where Chief Bowden sat talking quietly with Franklin.

“Agent Shields, I’m real happy to see you.” The chief stood but seemed not to know what to do next. “You saw the crowd outside…”

“I did, and I’ll be out to talk to them in a moment. Would you mind going out and letting them know I’ll have a statement for them? I just need a moment with the Randalls.”

“Be glad to.” The chief excused himself.

Once the door had closed behind Bowden, Andrew turned to Franklin. “I’m willing to give you a hand with this, but first, I want your agreement to meet with me as soon as I finish up outside.”