If I Should Die

convictions?”

“Well, any evidence obtained because of the warrant could be thrown out. Could be, Sean. It’s fruit from the poisonous tree. But in a situation like this-with a widespread drug network and multiple meth labs-they most likely had other evidence to back them up.”

“Unless Paul Swain wasn’t on the radar until Bobbie put him there.”

“I’m not a lawyer, Sean. But I’d imagine that if she told the truth about her brother’s operation, it didn’t matter what her motivation was. Bad guys cut deals all the time. They do it to get reduced sentences, to get off, to save their life.”

“She didn’t cut a deal.” Sean didn’t know why it bothered him so much. Bobbie Swain was, as Abigail wrote, a monster. “Looking at the timeline-she kills her husband, injures herself, goes to the police a changed woman. They feel sorry for her, she gives them the sob story about how she was raised by a brutish father and abusive brothers and she wants it all to stop. They take down Paul Swain and in walks Bobbie, free and clear.”

“Except she didn’t. She wasn’t in town.”

“She was running things, nonetheless.”

“That’s going to be hard to prove.”

“She’s here now.”

“Tread carefully, Sean. We don’t have any proof that Bobbie Swain has committed a crime. There’s a lot of circumstantial evidence, but nothing solid.”

“The witness who saw two figures near Weddle’s house.”

“Who couldn’t identify them in a lineup if she tried. She admitted she saw them from behind.”

“If we can place Swain in Potsdam.”

“Circumstantial. You’d need to have physical evidence that she was in Weddle’s house.”

“And you wonder why I’m not a cop. You know she’s guilty.”

Sean saw a new message on his email. “Dillard came through. Here are Jimmy Benson’s phone records.”

He scanned the numbers and compared them to a list he had compiled. “On Wednesday, Ricky called him at ten-thirty-one a.m. One minute, probably left a message. Benson returned the call two hours later. They spoke for three minutes.” That made sense-Benson was on duty, he’d probably been at the lodge putting out the fire when Ricky first called. “According to Dillard, he left early Wednesday afternoon, taking sick time. We don’t know where he was from then until he showed up at the Lock amp; Barrel. The bartender didn’t remember when he came in, but he left shortly before seven. He made one call after he left the bar. Jon Callahan. Two minutes.” One more thing to ask him about.

Sean glanced at the time. “It’s nearly four. Let’s regroup at the lodge, and I’m going to try to convince Callahan to come to us. If that doesn’t work, we’re going to the bar. Funny how both times I showed up there, he arrived within fifteen minutes.”

His cell phone rang. “Hey, Duke,” he answered.

“I set off a big alarm, so expect the weight of the federal government to come crashing down pretty quick.”

“What happened?”

“I ran the bullet casings as soon as I got them this morning. I cut some corners that I probably shouldn’t have, but nothing I haven’t done before. I got a call from ATF.”

“ATF?” The Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid agency rarely worked with Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. While they had high-ranking contacts at the FBI, in the military, and in Homeland Security, they had no go-to person in ATF.

“They didn’t tell me anything, but they had a lot of questions. How I obtained them, who gave them to me, where had they been recovered, when-I told them shit, because to be honest, the guy who called was a prick and refused to answer my questions. However, I sent him to your pal Noah Armstrong. I hope he can get the answers.”

“They were common casings.”

“That’s what I thought too, so I called in a favor with a friend of mine at the FBI lab. Emailed him pictures of the markings, and he told me the bullets were manufactured exclusively for law enforcement.”

Sean considered that revelation. “That doesn’t surprise me,” Sean said, almost relieved. “I told you about the corrupt deputy.”

“Maybe you’re right, but that doesn’t really explain why the ATF jumped down my throat less than three hours after I uploaded the technical data.”

“Thanks.”

“I don’t need to tell you to be careful, Sean.”

“Believe me, I’m watching my back on this one.”

SAC Hart didn’t want a copy of the remaining Swain file removed from the office, especially considering the missing documents, but she allowed Lucy to read it in the conference room. Lucy took extensive notes. She would much rather have watched or listened to Bobbie Swain, but the written statement was almost as good. On the surface, Bobbie said all the right things, tears timed just right to elicit sympathy.

Lucy had a difficult time reading the file and thinking that a woman had faked abuse. And maybe she had been abused. But it wasn’t sexual, and Bobbie Swain stated as such.

Noah stormed into the room, Candela in his wake.

“Lucy, are you ready?” Noah’s tone was severe.

“What happened?” she asked.

“The ATF called me. Bastards.”

Noah kept his emotions close to the vest, like she did, and had always acted supremely professional. But right now, he looked as if he wanted to hit something.

He said to her and Candela, “The bullet casings from the sniper yesterday morning? Issued to ATF. They refused to give me any information, but demanded plenty. I had a few choice words with the jerk when he ordered me not to return to Spruce Lake.” Noah shook his head. “He has no authority. After ten years in the Air Force I’m not easily intimidated.”

Candela said, “They must know who shot at Lucy and Sean Rogan.”

“Damn straight they do. But I also played them. Sean’s brother Duke gave me the heads-up about the ATF- he ran the casings against the database, then was locked out. Duke didn’t tell them anything, not even where the casings came from. The ATF agent slipped by letting me know he knew where they were found. So I called Rick Stockton and told him I needed a favor.”

Rick Stockton was a high-ranking assistant director stationed at FBI National Headquarters.

Lucy said, “I’m not following.”

“Based on the tone of the call, I suspect they have an undercover operative in place.”

Candela now looked as angry as Noah sounded. “They’re not supposed to run an undercover op without informing our office. Excuse me, I need to talk to Elizabeth.” He left Noah and Lucy alone in the conference room.

“If the sniper is an ATF agent, why would they shoot at us?” Lucy recalled that the bullets all hit the ground-it was something Sean thought odd at the time, but now it made sense. “That’s a dangerous plan to chase us off. Sean returned fire; he could have killed the guy.”

“Agreed. Stockton is going to call the head of ATF and get answers, but we need to leave for Spruce Lake now. Sean and Patrick need backup.”

“Did you tell Sean?”

“He knows everything I know.”

Lucy had already gathered up her notes. “I’m ready,” she said. She glanced at her phone and realized she should have told Noah about Sean’s earlier message. She glanced at the closed door.

Noah picked up on her quandary. “What is it?” he asked.

“You need to see this message from Sean.”

Noah took her phone. He stared at it for far longer than it would take to read it.

Lucy finally said, “You’re mad.”

“This came in over an hour ago. He specifically told you not to share critical information with the FBI.”