If I Should Die

“How?”

“You need to leave.”

“My girlfriend found Jon’s fiancee dead in the mine. Now her body is missing. Pack a bag for your wife, I’ll get you out of town tonight.”

“You saw my wife! She can’t travel; she can barely remember what she likes to drink and eat. She’s dying. She needs to die in her own home.”

“Henry, you’re not thinking straight.” Sean ran a hand through his hair, wishing again Lucy was here. “Did Jon kill her? Is that why you’re scared?”

Henry shook his head. “He loved her more than anything.”

Frustrated and desperate, Sean said, “Did you know she was an FBI agent? Did she find out what Jon was doing-”

Henry cut him off. “You have to leave. If they’re watching me you may have just signed my death warrant, Mr. Rogan. Leave now. I’m not asking again.”

“Dammit, Henry!”

“Don’t swear at me, young man!” Henry rose from the stool. He still looked old, but he had fire in him. “You came to town three days ago and think you can solve generations’s worth of problems? Spruce Lake has been on the wrong side of the law for more than a century, starting with Paul’s great-grandfather, one of the original moonshiners in the county. Smuggling into Canada is as old as sin for our town. Alcohol, cigarettes, meth, marijuana-what’s next? I don’t know, but we’ll be in the middle of it, and nothing you or I can do will stop it. These folks have killed for far less. And now that Bobbie Swain is in town-so help us God, she’ll slash and burn on a whim if it strikes her fancy. I’m telling you to get out now, before you’re not able to.”

“Please, I need-”

Henry put up his hand. “Go, before Jon comes home. Last year, he would have agreed to help you. Now, I don’t think he has a soul. Bobbie destroyed it. I can’t do anything. I’m sorry.”

Sean wanted to argue, but Henry was right-he couldn’t be here when Jon Callahan returned. If only to protect Henry and Emily. Yet, Henry didn’t seem to fear his nephew.

He handed Henry his card. “Call me. I’ll drop everything to help.”

Henry stared at Sean, tears in his eyes. “Leave Spruce Lake tonight, Sean. Take your pretty lady with you. And never come back.”

Sean shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere until I stop that woman.”

“You don’t know Bobbie. She’s a monster.”

Sean had heard it before. “I’ve slain dragons before. I’m not going to be scared away by Bobbie Swain.” He walked out the way he came. Mrs. Callahan smiled at him. “Nice to see you again.”

Sean understood Henry’s fear. He was protecting his wife from a monster. Sean looked around the comfortable, simply furnished home. The handmade blankets. The clean, worn furniture. The older-model television. Stitchery on the walls, a framed hand-stitched ornate cross embroidered with the words I am the vine, you are the branches.

Simple home, simple people. If Jon Callahan was making a fortune in the drug business, he wasn’t sharing it with his family.

He looked at Henry one last time before leaving. “Remember what I said.”

On his way back to the lodge, Sean called Patrick. “I need to change the plans for tomorrow.” He told his partner about the possible threat to Lucy. “Lucy’s the only one who saw the body in the mine, and right now no one knows we’ve already identified the victim.” He doubted Henry would say anything.

“So what are we doing to keep her safe?” Patrick asked.

“I need Noah to come with you on the commuter flight tomorrow morning.” As much as he disliked Noah, the Fed was a former Air Force Raven and a good cop. Sean didn’t particularly like the plan he’d come up with, but it was the best way to make sure nothing happened to Lucy on her way to Albany.

TWENTY-FOUR

Coming home is always bittersweet.

Ian and I finished inspecting the barns, the pleasing, sweet smell of drying cannabis making me proud of what I’d accomplished. This was the end of an era; I was ushering in the future. On Sunday, I would lead my men down a richer path.

“Are you ready to go?” Ian asked.

“A minute,” I said. I told Ian to run through the plan again with the others. Though he was irritated, he agreed, leaving me alone.

I enjoyed Ian, but he was becoming clingy. On our return trip from Potsdam, we had to pull over for a fast screw. It was fun, but not as exciting as in the past. I appreciated Ian’s attention, but he was too subservient when I wanted him to take charge.

I sighed and walked around the side of the barn farthest from the house, looking out into the dark valley spread all around. A coyote called, followed by another. I heard the flapping of wings-bats, I figured, this time of night. A perfect, crisp quarter moon sliced the sky, surrounded by a field of stars.

My empire.

As a child, Spruce Lake was truly my kingdom. I was the princess, my father the king, my brothers the two princes, the townsfolk our servants. Daddy taught us the power of fear. He’d never expected that it would be his daughter who learned the lesson best.

Paul was Daddy’s pride and joy. Paul could do no wrong. I hated him because Daddy loved him best. As if being born with a penis gave him the right to the keys of the kingdom.

Paul became the king when Daddy died, even though Daddy promised to hand the reins to me. Paul banished me when he saw I was a threat. That I was smarter than him, more ruthless, more focused.

My brother lost his focus when he fell for a woman.

He was in l-o-v-e. I was eager to see how long that would last when I told the little lady just how our family made our money.

Sweet dumb little Abigail deserved to know who she had married. That Paul killed for Daddy. That he ran drugs up to Canada with the oh-so-proper Jon Callahan. That he’d screwed half the women in Spruce Lake. He especially liked to screw them from behind like dogs, and I had a few tapes to prove it.

When Paul was sixteen, he’d been pulled over for speeding by a cop Daddy didn’t have in his pocket. A payload of pseudoephedrine was in his truck, and he could have been hauled in if the cop had an ounce more brainpower. I watched Daddy beat the shit out of Paul. It had been quite thrilling. I hated Paul, the Golden Child.

The day I turned eighteen, Paul stared at me for a long time. He said, “I want to kill you, but you’re family.” I stared back. He turned around and walked to Daddy’s desk.

“Ten thousand and I never want to see you again.”

“Fifty thousand,” I countered.

“Fuck you.”

“Sick pervert. Like I’d really screw my own brother?”

He wanted to hit me, and I wanted him to try.

Unfortunately, he didn’t. And though he gave me the fifty thousand, I regretted not killing him that day.

It took years to build my own empire. Though banished, I cultivated my own people in Spruce Lake. I learned about the drug business from the best and brightest. It took time, and what I had to suffer …

The night I killed my husband was the culmination of all that I had learned. I risked everything because I trusted no one. I had set it up all on my own. It was the only way I could ensure I would never be a suspect, by the police or Herve’s people. All because of one small misstep, and Herve’s suspicions, I knew my days