“Absolutely, we need to
“Very funny. What about Reverend Browne or Callahan’s uncle?”
“Henry Callahan worked for the Kelley Mine as a young man. Married Emily Richardson when they were both nineteen, right out of high school. They have no children. When the mine closed, he enlisted in the army, served five years stateside as a mechanic. Opened his own shop in Colton. It went under a few years later and he retired early.”
“He has a huge spread of land next to the Hendricksons’. Where did he get the money?”
“The Richardson family, inheritance. Mostly land, little cash.”
“Henry and his nephew Jon seem complete opposites,” Lucy said. “Middle-class blue-collar worker and wealthy international lawyer. How did Jon pay his way through college?”
“I didn’t go that deep; all this is basic intelligence. You want me to give them both a full rectal exam?”
“You’re full of humor today, Patrick.”
He laughed. “Oh, and the local reverend. He’s lived in Spruce Lake his entire life, owns two acres in town where he has both a house and the church. His father was the preacher before him. Looks like the only time he’s left the county for any length of time was four years’ divinity college in Ohio.”
“Thanks for everything,” Lucy said.
“On another note, when I said low profile, I meant in more than just staying safe. You know how Sean can get, and the last thing I want is for him to in any way jeopardize your future with the FBI. He should never have let you go down to that mine again. What were you thinking?”
The conversation went from cordial to confrontational real fast. It took Lucy a moment to respond. “Sean doesn’t
“You’re not a cop-yet. Watch your step, Lucy. Sean isn’t going to think about your future when he’s on a case. It’s one of the reasons he’s so good, but it could damage your career.”
Lucy’s stomach dropped. Patrick had voiced the largest obstacle in her relationship with Sean. She didn’t want to think her brother was trying to put a wedge between them, but he’d made it clear three months ago that he didn’t think Sean was good for Lucy. They had somewhat of a truce, but Lucy felt Patrick constantly assessing her, as if waiting for moments like these to sow dissent.
“It was my idea to go back to the mine,” she said evenly. “I take responsibility for any repercussions.”
When Patrick didn’t respond right away, she added, “No one else seems to care about the fact that a young woman was murdered.”
“Lucy-” he began, then stopped himself. “I understand. Just be cautious.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hung up, wishing Patrick hadn’t scratched that issue. It made her wonder if everyone she cared about was waiting for her relationship with Sean to self-destruct.
Lucy had no illusions that she was normal. One horrific mistake seven years ago had changed her life forever. She had survived her attack, but had become a different person. She was so focused on her career goals, her careful planning, that life passed her by. What normal person turns down a shot to be on an Olympic team? But though she swam on her college team, she couldn’t make the commitment necessary to train for the Olympics. Seven years ago it had been one of her dreams, but no longer. What normal person goes to college year round-and one night class-in order to get the units necessary for a double major? What normal person moves from one law enforcement internship to another, building a resume solely to get into the FBI?
Being busy-swimming, studying, working-had saved her. She hadn’t had time to think, had no time to feel sorry for herself. And she was proud of what she’d accomplished.
But she also had no close friends from college, because she hadn’t had time to socialize. Her one serious boyfriend before Sean had been a cop she’d met through one of her internships. She didn’t know how to have fun, didn’t know what to do when she wasn’t working or training or exercising.
Until Sean.
Simply, he made her happy. He’d taken her ice skating, flying, and now on vacation-such as it was. A couple of weeks ago before he went out of town on a case, he’d taken her to a G-rated kids’ movie. And he’d laughed as much as the kids surrounding them, giving her an all-too-rare carefree feeling.
Sean seemed to understand her, to
Maybe that was why their earlier fight was so disturbing. It was the first time that he couldn’t read her mind-when he didn’t push her to explain herself, or reveal what she was thinking as if she’d said the words out loud. Though it was unnerving at times, she’d come to depend on the unspoken connection.
And thanks to Patrick, the conflict with Sean continued to eat at her as she meticulously went through each missing woman in the file.
SEVENTEEN
After sending the bullet casings to his brother Duke at the RCK main office in California, Sean headed to the St. Lawrence County Sheriff’s Department. It was housed in a large building with numerous other county departments, including the property records.
In the sheriff’s office-a small, clean, functional space-Sean was pleased that they acted professionally, but frustrated he couldn’t get any real information. He used all his charm on the fifty-year-old secretary, but she just smiled sweetly and told him someone would contact him, or he could wait until one of the detective sergeants was available. Essentially, “kiss my ass” but in the nicest way possible.
Sean left his contact information, because waiting would drive him up a wall. If he was lucky, someone would call his cell before he left Canton. He much preferred face-to-face meetings because half of what he learned in conversation came from body language, which revealed what someone
He found the property records office, filled out the paperwork, and sat at one of the early 1980s monitors. They all fed into a larger mainframe but didn’t store any data. Searching for property records by parcel number was easy, but the actual records were on either microfiche or paper, depending on how old. New transactions were in a different database, but Sean wanted to learn more about the ownership history of the mine.
Bureau of Land Management leases would be federal, but Sean could get those online when he got back to Spruce Lake. Right now, he was more interested in the mine and surrounding property. He pulled all the files and didn’t see anything unusual.
He went to the new computer terminal that housed all property transactions for the last decade. He searched all parcels in the Spruce Lake area-and was surprised when Jon Callahan’s name popped up on almost every record. When Patrick told him Callahan owned the majority of the property, he hadn’t realized it was divided into so many individual parcels. To contrast, he looked up the Hendricksons’ property. They owned one large parcel of over five hundred acres; Callahan owned dozens of parcels anywhere from one acre-the lots in town-to upward of one hundred acres.
The transfer dates on Callahan’s properties were recent, starting about seven years ago. Most of them, however, were during the last two years.
Sean sweet-talked the clerk into letting him download the information to a flash drive, rather then waiting for her to burn a CD or print out the documents. He left wondering if Jon Callahan wanted Tim’s property, and if so, why? Property could be a good investment, but Spruce Lake was in a depressed area.
After finishing his research, he was almost back to the turnoff to Spruce Lake when he saw the sign to Colton, ten miles to the north. He glanced at the time. Nearly three in the afternoon-maybe he could get to the high school in time and catch sight of the teenage arsonist.
It was worth a shot.
St. Lawrence County had its share of crime, but compared to the rest of New York State, it was a safe place to live. In fact, Detective Sergeant Kyle Dillard had lived pretty much everywhere in New York and Pennsylvania, and he was set on raising his kids and retiring in Canton. While the bitter winter got to him from time to time, the St. Lawrence Valley was one of the most beautiful and serene places to live-without hordes of people to mess with
