Boots shuffled to the kitchen, looked at the missed call and hit the re-dial button. Isaac Solminski answered and said, “We’re on the road. Next stop is near Charleston. Is Courtney still there?”
“Yes, brother. She’s tucked in the trailer down by the creek. She’s a good kid. Very independent, and scared. Maybe Bandini won’t find her down here.”
“You know them … revenge doesn’t have an expiration date in their mind. But rumor has it that the guy Courtney knows, Sean O’Brien, the man who Courtney said has a unique Shamrock birthmark, supposedly gave Bandini a spanking and warned him to stay away from her.”
“Really? Well maybe he will.”
“He’s a small threat compared to what’s going on with that poor child now.”
“What?”
“I’m driving and listening to it all on NPR. They’re saying Courtney might be the daughter of Senator Lloyd Logan’s wife, Andrea. And the father might be Sean O’Brien. Maybe that’s Courtney’s family connection to him. Cops and probably the Democrats, for that matter, are searching for her. If her DNA is a match, the entire presidential election could be drastically affected.”
“This could get nasty.”
“Boots, watch the news online or on TV. And tell Courtney what I just shared with you. I fear for her now more than ever.”
Courtney Burke watched the setting sun ignite Bullfrog Creek in a river of fire, deep crimson and orange, a breeze across the water creating a sea of winking gold coins on the surface. She sat on the seawall overlooking the creek, tearing bits of bread from a hotdog bun and tossing the pieces to a mother mallard duck and three ducklings. Courtney said, “Ya’ll share. Everybody will get some bread.”
She smiled and looked over her shoulder as Boots approached. He sat beside her. “That mama duck was born here on the creek a few years ago. I can tell because she has that little piece of her beak chipped. Looks like a gator tooth caused it. Anyway, this is her second brood.”
“She seems to be a great mom.” Courtney watched him look at the ducks and then at her. “What’s going on, Boots?”
“Sean O’Brien, the good Samaritan.”
“What about him?”
“Do you know a woman named Andrea Logan?”
“No. Who’s she?”
“She’s the wife of the man who may be the next president of the United States.”
“What’s that have to do with me?”
“Well, I was about to feed Sheba a morsel when my brother called.” Boots told her everything Isaac told him, and then added, “There will be a lot of people trying to locate you. Isaac and I both believe this could be very dangerous for you. Your face is on all the news stations and online. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you can. Maybe you could find a way to get to someplace like Costa Rica. Just disappear until this thing works its way out.”
“I’m not their daughter any more than I’m a serial killer.”
“I know you said your mother and father were murdered. Before his death, what was your father like?”
“A salesman. Life of the party. And then one day, before his death, it changed. Daddy was an Irish traveler, sort of like gypsies. Here today, gone tomorrow. Mama usually worked in hospitals from time to time. She was a natural healer, real good with patients. One day Daddy left Mama and me in our trailer home in South Carolina. He came back a year later. Never admitted to her where he’d been all that time, and he never seemed the same since. Said he was lookin’ for work, but he always found trouble.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have siblings?”
“No.”
“How long were your parents together before you were born?”
“About four years. They told me they’d almost giving up trying to have a baby. Mama said her eggs didn’t always drop like most women. When she became pregnant with me, she called it divine intervention, and I was supposed to be her angel.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But I’m not so sure that I was, and that bothers me a lot now, you know?”
“This may sound like a strange question, but I’m strange, okay? Could your parents have adopted you?”
She looked at Boots, her eyes widening, face skeptical, thoughts racing. “No. I have pictures from the time I was a tiny baby.”
“You might have been adopted out right after you were born. That appears to be the case of the infant girl fathered by Sean O’Brien and given up for adoption by her mother. And, as I mentioned, that woman’s husband is running for president of the United States. Look, Courtney, maybe you should consider ending this hunt for your uncle. If he is the Prophet, he’s more aligned with the devil than God. If you turn yourself in, it could be safer for you in the long run.”
“Safer? They’d find a way to kill me in jail. One thing my uncle knows is who I am and where I come from. Maybe he’ll admit it before …”
“Before what?”
“Nothing.”
“If you kill him, you become him.”
“No, I don’t. I may be part of his blood, but I’m not part of his soul.” She tossed the last of the bread to the ducks.
“My brother, Isaac, mentioned the Shamrock birthmark that you said is on this man … Sean O’Brien’s shoulder. How’d you know? What does it mean for you?”
She turned towards Boots. “If my life’s in danger from those powerful people, it’s best I don’t tell you. Because if you know, then your life might be in danger, too. And I don’t want that to happen. You and Isaac have been so kind to me. I would never forgive myself if something bad happened to either of you because of me.”
“No worries. Oh, I almost forgot. This package came for you.”
She nodded and opened the small package. She unwrapped a slim cell phone. “This came from my grandma.” She looked over his shoulder, her eyes far away.
“What is it Courtney?”
“I have to go.”
“Wait until daybreak. It’ll be safer to travel. You can take my old Toyota truck.”
“I’m not sure I can wait that long, Boots.”
44
On the way back to the Ponce Marina, I called Dave and asked him to take the Zodiac and meet me at a remote dock away from the Tiki Bar parking lot and the main entrance to the private docks. I parked my Jeep behind a boatyard storage building, away from the central public areas. I walked about one hundred feet to the dock used for hauling boats out of the water. Deep in thought, I waited for Dave to motor up to the dock. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t recognize the number. I answered.
The woman said, “Sean?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Andrea.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask you how you’re doing. I can only imagine.”
“It’s been very difficult. I shouldn’t be calling you, but I had to.”
I said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
She exhaled a pent-up breath into the phone. “I overheard Lloyd and two of his top advisors talking. I was in the next room on the campaign bus and heard them say things that frightened me.”
“What kind of things?”
“It’s about this girl … Courtney. Do you really think she’s our daughter?”
“I don’t know, maybe.”
“Regardless, whoever she is, she’s someone’s daughter. I heard Robert Cairo, the man who will be chief of staff if Lloyd wins the election, say, and I’m quoting here, ‘there’s no way in hell that the girl can ever be tied to us. She must be found and removed.’ Sean, he said it like he was talking about pulling weeds in a garden. And the worst part is that Lloyd said if that’s the way it has to be, then for the good of the nation as a whole, we have to take certain uncomfortable risks. I had to call you. Do you know where to find her?”