“Why do you suppose Dr. McCall was there?”
“I have no idea, sir. I guess you’ll have to talk to her about that.”
“Oh, I’ll definitely do that.”
“Just out of curiosity, why had you pulled the McCullum file?” John asked.
“Oh. Well, I was looking for the name of a CI that we used in that case. I have another case in Detroit and I could use a little inside information.”
“Did you find it?”
“Yes, thanks. I already put in a call.”
“Good. In the meantime, we owe you a huge thank-you. It appears you may very well have saved Dr. McCall’s life. Of course we need your gun and your badge until the investigation is complete…”
Luther nodded solemnly.
“… and the Director is going to want to talk to you first thing in the morning. He and the Shields brothers-that’s the last generation, Thomas and Frank-go way back. This is going to be very hard on everyone; I’m sure you understand that. But God only knows what might have happened to Annie if you hadn’t been there to save her.”
“I only did what any of us would have done, sir.”
John nodded and stood up, a clear sign that the interview was over.
Luther was half out the door when John called to him. “I’m going to ask you not to discuss this with anyone for the time being. We have the local police to deal with. We’re going to try to keep this out of the press as much as possible. I don’t have to tell you what a PR nightmare this is going to be. And then there’s the Shields family. As I’m sure you know, they’ve given more than their share to the Bureau. Brendan’s father is going to be heartbroken over this whole thing. We need to be sensitive and respectful of their situation. And it goes without saying that I have your word you will not be leaving the area.”
For a moment, John Mancini appeared to be about to cry.
Luther left the office feeling better than he had in a long, long time.
Were it not for the fact that it would surely have drawn suspicion, he’d have been skipping down the hall and whistling a happy tune. He’d gotten rid of one horrendous thorn in his side and made himself look like a hero at the same time. Oh, sure, his original plan had been to get rid of Annie, too, but then that woman next door had come out and blown that.
What the hell, at least he’d come out of it looking good. And it was actually better for him in the long run, he rationalized as he walked to the elevator. Annie could corroborate his version of what happened, and no one would ever question Anne Marie McCall.
All in all, it had been a very good day.
24
Connor sat in the darkened room, swirling the amber liquid around in his glass until it spun like a whirlpool. If there ever was a time in his life when he wanted oblivion, it was now.
He’d been en route from his weeklong rest in Essaouira to his latest assignment when he’d gotten the call from John Mancini on his cell.
“Call me from a secure line. Now.”
It had taken Connor another hour to return to the Villa André and make the call. He’d spent every minute since wishing he had not.
His cousin Brendan was dead, shot by a fellow agent who’d seen Brendan with a gun pointed at Annie McCall’s back.
At first he’d been tempted to laugh out loud. How crazy was that scenario? Brendan holding a gun on Annie? Was he kidding?
Then came the bombshell.
From all the evidence, it appeared that Brendan had been the one who shot and killed Connor’s own brother Dylan.
For Connor, the world had tilted and was now spinning off its axis. None of this could be true. Brendan couldn’t have killed Dylan, Connor had told John. Brendan hadn’t even been there that night.
“Actually, he was. His presence was mentioned on a report. A report he may have killed to have kept secret.”
And then John had told him about Melissa Lowery’s report, and her disappearance, and her death… and her marriage to Grady.
No way would Brendan have killed the woman his brother loved, Connor had insisted. This is all insanity.
“Connor. If he killed Dylan, what would have stopped him from killing a woman he barely knew?”
“What are you doing to determine whether or not he did in fact kill Dylan?”
“We’ve confiscated the weapons from his house. We’re going to start running ballistics tests this morning.”
Then came the kicker.
“Connor,” John said, “can you think of any reason why Brendan would have wanted you dead?”
“Me? You think he was coming after me next?”
“No. The theory is that you might have been the original target.”
“That’s just crazy.”
“Think for a minute, would you? I know this is all coming as a shock, but put your emotions aside and think. Is there any reason Brendan would have wanted you dead? Anything you had over on him, or anything that you knew that could hurt him, anything questionable about his actions, anything strange that struck you as odd or out of the ordinary. Anything he seemed secretive or evasive about?”
“Santa Estela.” The words left Connor’s lips before he’d even thought of them.
“What about it?”
“A couple of years back, I was there right before the elections…”
“I remember.”
“On the night I was to leave, I was on my way down to the dock for the boat that was to pick me up, and I took a shortcut through an alley that ran between some abandoned warehouses. There was a deal going down; I watched from the alley. Six, seven men, a truck filled with kids. One of me. I was trying to figure out what to do when I ran into Brendan.”
“You ran into Brendan in the alley?” John had been clearly surprised.
“He walked in one end while I was at the other. Almost didn’t recognize him at first, it was dark, and let’s face it, the last person you expect to run into under those circumstances is a member of your own family.”
“What was he doing there?”
“He told me he was on the op that was just about to close down the kiddie traffic.”
“What op?”
“The operation to shut down the traffic in children coming out of Santa Estela. He told me not to worry about the kids in the truck because he was part of the team that was shutting it down that night. When I asked him about it later, he blew me off as if it wasn’t important, but an op like that could have had international repercussions and I…”
“Connor, there was no team in Santa Estela that had been sent in to work on the child-slave trade.”
“He must have been working for another unit then, because he told me-”
“Listen to me. He was working for me. He’s always worked for me, and only for me. There was no op. He was there to keep an eye on the rebels, to keep the political situation stable.”
“John, you’re wrong. They closed it down that night, he told me they did. There’s a whole file on this, he wrote a report-”
“Did you see it? Did he show you the report?”
“Well, no, but he told me-”
“Connor, we’re talking about the man who may have killed your brother. Why are you defending him?”
“I can’t believe any of this. The Brendan I knew-”
“Just how well did you know him?”
Connor had paused to take a deep breath.
“If any of what you’re telling me is true, I’d have to say I didn’t know him at all.”
There’d been talk after that of a memorial service to be held the following week.
“You might want to think about coming home for it, Connor.”
“I don’t have to think about it. I won’t be there.”
“I can arrange for you to come home.”
“That bastard.” Anger had started to take over. “The bastard. How could he have pulled the trigger on Dylan?”