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  “Not one that touches so many people personally. Not one in which everyone involved knows everyone else. And certainly not one in which everyone in town gets to carry a gun.”

  The ADA stared me down with her dark eyes and said, “The gun politics of Maine are none of your concern. If the Linewiler Police Department wants to accept your help, that’s okay with me, but don’t try to do things the NYPD way. We’re not in New York. We’re in Maine. We have our own way of doing things.”

  “I’ve seen that firsthand. And so far, I’m not terribly impressed.”

  Chapter 72

  That night we were sitting at our extra-large dining table. Seamus had just said a moving prayer. The old man never failed to surprise me. Just when I think he likes to play the part of a priest as much as he actually likes being a priest, it feels like he opens a connection for me directly to God.

  Seamus said, “Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful meal. Give us strength in this time of crisis. Let us see the pain of others and through that understand their actions. No one here on earth can judge us. No one here on earth can truly hurt us. With faith and love, please show us the path. And, as always, please protect our precious Brian.”

  It made me think about how I felt when Brian got in trouble. What I had considered doing to get him out of trouble. How it felt when the judicial system didn’t work the way I thought it should. These Linewiler people were going through the same thing, but with a slightly different perspective.

  Sadie sat between Bridget and Fiona. She seemed to have fallen right in with the family and was accepted by all the kids. Somehow her face looked fuller and her eyes more focused. She still had that winning smile and laughed easily at some of the stories being told.

  I listened to the kids talk about their day. It hurt me a little bit to know I was missing out on so much of the vacation. Jane had taken Shawna and Chrissy on a hike into the hills west of the house. She had packed a lunch, and they were gone almost all day. It sounded amazing to me.

  The twins and Sadie had collected pinecones and smooth pebbles for some sort of arts-and-crafts project that was going to be undertaken tomorrow. There was no question that Sadie would spend another night at the house. I had no problem with that.

  The boys had gone fishing, and Eddie had devised a way to lure fish into a submerged net and ended up catching half a dozen catfish. Then they built a little pen on the edge of the lake where the catfish were waiting if we needed them for dinner. It was ingenious, and I was sorry I couldn’t see Eddie’s mind at work that day.

  Mary Catherine tried to soften the blow by telling me that the kids were taking advantage of their chance to spend time in nature and that they couldn’t wait for me to come with them.

  Seamus said, “Aye, it’s a fine vacation. I spent the day comfortably in the rocking chair on the back porch. It let me keep an eye on the kids and catch up on my reading.”

  “What reading?”

  Mary Catherine said, “I finally got him to pick up a Michael Connelly novel by telling him that Connelly was an Irishman. Once he started reading about Harry Bosch, he couldn’t put the book down.”

  I may have missed a day with the family, but I was starting to enjoy the evening. The dinner Mary Catherine had made was excellent. Some kind of casserole with vegetables and ground beef in a dark, garlicky gravy. Everyone gobbled it up, including Sadie. I was happy to see her eating so well.

  Then a burst of noise made me jump. It sounded like an explosion. The sound of shattered glass filled the room, and I instinctively covered the two kids closest to me. There were shouts, and Chrissy cried out like she’d been hurt.

  It took me a moment to realize that one of the front windows had been knocked out. I rose to my feet and looked over the table. “Is anyone hurt?” I kept my voice even and calm. No one really answered me. “Guys, is everyone okay?”

  Everyone nodded, and I gave a quick extra look at Seamus to make sure the shock hadn’t affected his heart.

  I slowly stepped forward into the living room and found a red brick lying on the thin throw rug.

  “Son of a bitch,” I muttered in a low voice.

  I reached for my car keys on the table by the door. Someone was going to pay for this. As I grabbed the door handle, I felt Mary Catherine’s hand on my arm.

  “It’s all right, Michael. No one’s hurt. We need you to stay here with us.”

  I thought about what she said as well as the tone she used. She was right. I needed to stay here.

  I looked over at the table and saw that the kids were still terrified. Suddenly I wasn’t sure I liked Maine as much as I thought I did. Nothing like this had ever happened to us in New York City.

  Chapter 73

  The next morning, I used a pane of glass I found in the garage to fix the shattered window. Seamus and I went to work before any of the kids were awake. I appreciated his steady hand holding the glass in place while I used some sketchy, dried-out caulk to seal it in.

  Seamus said, “Not exactly the vacation you were looking for, is it?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “But in adversity, God often shows us what we really need.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t want you feeling sorry for yourself because your vacation isn’t what you expected. I want you to see what good could come from it.”

  “Sometimes I swear you’re from the Far East. You’re absolutely inscrutable.”

  He gave me that charming crooked smile and said, “The Irish have always been inscrutable. We just call it mystical.”

  Later, after my grandfather showed me the wonders of sitting in a rocking chair, looking out over a lake, I couldn’t ignore the sunshine or how much fun the kids were having jumping off the dock. This was, after all, my vacation.

  I stood up, pulled off my shirt, and said, “To hell with worrying. I’m going swimming with my kids.”

  Seamus clapped his hands and said, “That’s the spirit.”

  That was the day I taught the kids the difference between a cannonball and an atomic cannonball.

  The wake of my splash washed Ricky onto the floating dock, much to the delight of all the kids. Even Sadie was cautiously hanging on to a float in shallow water, taking part in the family fun.

  Then I saw a speedboat sitting on the lake off in the distance. I hadn’t noticed it putter into position. It’d come down from the wide North River, which entered the lake between the forest in the foothills.

  I couldn’t see who was piloting the boat. It looked like a man. The engine was off, and he was just drifting. I imagined him staring at us.

  I tried not to let my paranoia get the best of me. But the longer he watched us, the more angry I became. I stepped off the dock into the old rowboat that was moored alongside. It was clunky and awkward. We’d used it to fish a couple of times, and the kids liked to sit in it and rock back and forth. Now I was on the middle bench with both the oars firmly in my hands, and I pulled with all my might.

  The rowboat was surprisingly agile and cut through the water directly toward the speedboat. If nothing else, I wanted this idiot to realize I was paying attention. No one could watch my family without my taking some sort of action.

  As I got closer, I heard the speedboat’s motor roar to life. The operator was a middle-aged man with short dark hair. I didn’t recognize him. He hit the throttle, and the boat jumped to life. He made a sharp U-turn and came past me at close to full speed. The wave from his boat soaked me and threatened to swamp my rowboat.

  Then the speedboat made a pass toward shore. Not too close to the kids, but aimed directly at the house. He made another sharp turn, and the maneuver kicked water up onto the yard. It also destroyed the pen the boys had made for the catfish.

  They shouted at the man as he pulled away from shore and headed directly at me again. He buzzed my rowboat, and this time the water was so deep that when the stern of my boat dipped, the lake almost flooded over the sides.

&
nbsp; The man turned the boat and headed back toward the wide stream. He gave me a jaunty wave as he disappeared behind a clump of trees. I could hear the motor for another twenty seconds after he was out of sight.

  Even if I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t ignore what was going on in this town. I had to help Sandy with this crazy case and these ungrateful townspeople.

  Chapter 74

  I was antsy. I was supposed to be on vacation and enjoying my family, but instead I found that the only thing I could think about was the mess in Linewiler. For my entire career, I could never relax when a partner was working. It didn’t matter who that partner was. Apparently it didn’t matter where that partner was, either.

  Mary Catherine, bless her heart, understood exactly what I was feeling and gave me a nod to let me know it was okay to leave for a few hours.

  Sandy was happy to see me when I pulled up in the front yard of Dell Streeter’s compound.

  She gave me that familiar wide grin. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  I said, “This is some shitty duty. Protecting a dope dealer from irate townspeople. Sounds like the plot of an old horror movie.”

  Sandy said, “I have my extra blue light on the roof so there’s no mistaking that this is a police car. We’re sort of acting like a big dog. Anyone who sees us doesn’t want to fool around.”

  “It’s too bad you have to waste any time protecting this scumbag.”

  Sandy just shrugged. She was always better than I was at accepting a situation and just moving on. She had kept me from saying stupid things to the bosses before, when we worked the streets together.

  She said, “The lab is working overtime. I pray to God we’ll have something to link him to the bodies soon. Until then, we can’t let anything stupid happen. Every politician in Maine has made it clear they don’t want this to be on the news.”

  “I hate to be cynical, but guys like Dell Streeter ruin neighborhoods and towns all the time. I can’t say I’d be too upset if the town decided it had had enough.”

  Sandy said, “You saw that crowd at the fire station. What’s scary to me is that I know all those people. Until last night, I never had a reason to think they could do something crazy, like shoot someone for revenge. Now I have to rethink everything I believed. Now I have to look at my neighbors with suspicion. It’s the exact reason I left New York.”

  “We could call in sick and forget this whole nasty business.”

  Sandy laughed and said, “You always could cheer me up, Bennett.”

  “Seriously, why is the town’s only detective sitting on a midnight shift?”

  “The truth is, a couple of the patrol officers refused to do it. They’re close with some of the angry residents. And some of the cops are locals and have known the families their whole lives. I didn’t want to take the risk that they would allow something to happen.”

  As usual, her reasoning was sound.

  Dell Streeter stepped out onto his porch and performed an exaggerated stretch. He smiled and waved at Sandy. Then he looked more closely and saw me in the front seat. He casually came down the steps and across the yard to the car.

  “Oh, great,” I muttered.

  Sandy dutifully rolled down her window. Dell leaned down as if he were talking to a couple of his neighbors on their way to the grocery store.

  “Howdy, folks,” said the Texan.

  Neither of us answered.

  Streeter said, “How funny is it that we kicked your asses the other day, and now you’re supposed to protect us? Life can be a hoot, can’t it?”

  Sandy said, “Sometimes I just can’t stand how much fun it is.”

  He looked past Sandy to me and said, “How about you, Mr. NYPD? Are you having a good day?”

  I turned my head to face him and calmly said, “You know, Dell, guys who run their mouths too much always regret it later on.”

  “I might agree with you, except the man I’ve tried to model my life after has proved too many people wrong about that.”

  “Who have you modeled your life after?”

  Streeter had a broad grin when he said, “Jerry Jones, of course.”

  As soon as he said it, I had to agree. The answer was obvious.

  Chapter 75

  While sitting in the front seat of Sandy’s car, I dozed off. That’s not accurate. I fell asleep. Deep sleep. For some reason I was dreaming about the movie Jaws. I guess the boys’ little impromptu skit about fishing had stuck in my head.

  I awoke to Sandy shaking my shoulder.

  She said, “Jesus. I was about to check your pulse.”

  “Sorry. You know how vacations can wear you out.” I looked around and wondered why she bothered waking me. “Is everything okay?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. There hasn’t been any activity at the house for a few hours. And I thought I saw a vehicle on the back road.”

  “When did you see the vehicle?”

  “About two hours ago. That’s when everything went silent.”

  I looked around the yard and said, “I see Streeter’s pickup truck and the other two cars that were here before.”

  Sandy said, “I have no idea how many cars are parked in the back or in that run-down barn. They could’ve used any of them if they wanted to sneak away.”

  “Why would they sneak away? We’re protecting them. It’s not like we’re on a surveillance of the house.”

  “I don’t know, but it makes me nervous.” Sandy’s ringtone was a pleasant chime. She picked the phone up off the seat and said, “Hey, Charlie, what’s up?”

  All I heard from Sandy was a couple of “Uh-huh”s and a “No shit?”

  She put down the phone and looked at me. “One of the men who was at the meeting last night was just shot outside a sports bar in town.”

  “You think it could be connected to Dell Streeter? You think it might actually be Dell Streeter?”

  Sandy said, “I can’t just sit here and guess. Let’s go knock on the door.”

  “I don’t want to talk to that snot again. But if there’s a chance to make some kind of a case against him, I’ll do whatever you want.”

  We hopped out of the car, and I followed her up the stairs to the porch. We stood there and listened for a minute. There was not a sound or vibration coming from the house. I looked across the compound to the dirt road that ran on the other side of the property. It was dark, and I couldn’t see much. It was around one in the morning, and the clouds obscured the moon.

  I said, “What do we do if no one answers? Do we kick in the door? How do we justify it?”

  Sandy looked at me and said, “For a guy who always flies by the seat of his pants and rarely worries about consequences, you’re starting to sound like an old man.”

  This time I stepped up and pounded on the front door. There was no way that sound wasn’t going to wake someone up.

  Still, there was no answer and no activity in the compound. I tried looking in the windows, but heavy curtains blocked my view.

  Sandy said, “What do you think?”

  “I think we can articulate it by saying there was a shooting in town and we had to verify his safety inside the house. Who can argue with a safety check?”

  “I like the way you think.”

  I lined up on the door. I could either kick it or use my shoulder. I didn’t like either option, but they both looked like they would work on the old wood-frame door.

  I braced myself and got ready to ram my shoulder into the upper part of the door. Then I froze when I heard a noise. Someone moved the curtain on the window beside the door, then the door started to open.

  Dell Streeter popped his head out and said, “What’s all the commotion about?”

  I blurted out, “You didn’t answer the door, you moron. That’s what the commotion is about.”

  “Well, excuse me all to hell. But you know it is late at night. I dozed off in the storm cellar. It’s always a cool sixty-eight degrees down there. Are you going to knock on the door
every time you don’t see me for a few minutes?”

  Sandy said, “Mickey Bale was shot and killed outside of the Bear and Buffalo Wings sports bar.”

  “Looks like you might’ve been protecting the wrong man. Sorry to hear you lost someone on your watch. Not surprised, just sorry.”

  At that moment, I wished Dell Streeter had been the one who was shot.

  Chapter 76

  I pulled up to the scene of the shooting right behind Sandy. We were in the middle of town. Everyone recognized her car as an official police vehicle. My van didn’t warrant a second look from anyone.

  There were a lot of people on the street for this time of night. This was not a typical evening in a quaint Maine town. This was a police crime scene involving a shooting, and it looked just like every other shooting scene I had ever been to. It could’ve been a street in the Bronx, except the buildings were smaller and there wasn’t quite the diversity you saw in the city.

  Official vehicles were pulled in at odd angles, and a crowd of bystanders was being held back by a young officer. They were looking at nothing. Like bystanders everywhere.

  A medical examiner’s investigator was photographing the body.

  The dead man was a slightly overweight guy in his late thirties with a scruffy beard. His flannel shirt had two giant bloodstains on the front where the bullets had struck him directly in the chest.

  I stepped up behind Sandy and said, “Where are the privacy blinds to block the media’s view?”

  Sandy said, “We don’t have any. We’ve never needed any. This isn’t Chicago. This is Linewiler, Maine.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that a body is lying on the street.”

  She nodded, irritated at my insistence. Sandy looked at a stocky city worker who wasn’t a cop. She said, “Chuck, can you get into city hall and bring me three cubicle dividers?”