Mercy (Buchanan-Renard #2)

Mercy (Buchanan-Renard #2) Page 28

Monk was sitting in his SUV waiting for the doctor and her lover to come out of The Swan. His vehicle was well concealed between two vans at the back of the parking lot. There were four cars in the next row in front of him. It was hot and muggy, but he didn’t turn on the air conditioner. All four windows were down, and he was being eaten alive by mosquitoes. Compared to standing in the brush watching the doctor’s house with bugs crawling up his legs, this watch was luxurious.

He was thinking about calling to tell Dallas about the latest developments, but just as he decided to wait until he got back to the motel, his cell phone began to vibrate.

“Yes?”

“Buchanan’s a U.S. attorney.”

Monk’s head snapped up. “Repeat, please.”

“The son of a bitch works for the Justice Department.”

Expect the unexpected. Monk took a breath and waited as Dallas read the report. What the hell had the Sowing Club gotten him into? He could hear voices in the background.

“Where are you?” Monk asked.

“At John’s house. We’re all here.”

“Who’s shouting?”

“Preston.”

He heard another voice yelling. He thought it might be Cameron. Monk was disgusted. They were acting like rats turning on one another for a scrap of meat. If there hadn’t been so much money involved, Monk would have walked away from this mess. Cameron had already become a loose cannon, and from the argument he was listening to now, he knew it wouldn’t be long before the others began to disintegrate.

“I can’t believe you didn’t immediately run the report,” Monk said. “You’ve wasted valuable hours.”

“You told me he was a football coach . . . No, you’re right. I won’t make excuses or blame you. I should have run the report much earlier.”

Monk was somewhat placated by Dallas’s taking accountability.

“When can you kill him?” Dallas asked.

“Let me think,” Monk said. “I don’t like to be rushed. These things take time to plan, and I refuse to go off half-cocked. Spontaneity leads to mistakes. But if your report is accurate —”

“It is,” Dallas rushed out.

“Then perhaps he’s in Bowen simply because of her. Men will do crazy things for —”

Dallas interrupted him again. “A piece of ass? You think that after he gave that speech in New Orleans, he drove all that way just to get laid?”

“You haven’t seen her,” Monk said. “She’s quite . . . lovely. Beautiful, in fact.”

“Okay, so what you’re saying is that this Justice guy is in town just to see her. Right? I mean, it does make sense, doesn’t it? She does his surgery, saves his life, so he falls for her, and since he has to return to New Orleans anyway, he figures he might as well drive out to Bowen and screw her.”

Monk puckered his lips in disapproval of Dallas’s vulgar vocabulary. “Have you reevaluated, then?”

“Hold on,” Dallas said. “John’s saying something.”

Monk patiently waited. He heard Preston arguing, shook his head, and reminded himself once again how much money was at stake.

“The doctor’s got to be killed before she remembers where she’s seen Cameron before,” Dallas said. “Buchanan has had death threats, so John thinks we could make it look like a hit on him.”

“And the doctor just happened to be with him and got in the way?”

“Exactly,” Dallas said. “We’re coming to Bowen tomorrow. You stay on the doctor until I call you. And watch for that package.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “And, Dallas, just so you know, I’ll be reading those files before I hand them over.”

“You’re still concerned your name is there? It isn’t. I read the damn thing twice. When this is over, you’re going to be set for life. You know that, don’t you, Monk?”

“Yes,” he said. “I am curious about how much money is in that account, however. If it’s as sizable as I imagine, I do believe I’m entitled to a percent. Call it profit sharing, if you like, but since I’m taking all the risks . . .”

Dallas responded to the greedy bastard’s demand by hanging up on him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Theo certainly wasn’t jealous. Teenage boys got jealous, and he was way beyond that stage in his life. He was getting irritated, though. Michelle was laughing and having a good old time dancing with Noah. Theo sat at the bar making notes while a man explained his problem. The guy had purchased a used car that had a thirty-day guarantee. The man paid cash, drove the car off the lot, but two blocks later the muffler fell off and the radiator exploded. Since he hadn’t owned the vehicle for thirty minutes, he had it towed back to the lot and demanded his money back. The owner of the lot explained that the guarantee of satisfaction only covered the tires and the engine. He also suggested that, next time he purchased a car, he read the fine print before signing.

Michelle laughed again, drawing Theo’s attention. He loved the sound of her voice, and from the way Noah was smiling at her, Theo figured he was enchanted too.

Once again turning back to the man sitting next to him, he tried to concentrate. When he glanced over at the couple for about the hundredth time, Noah had pulled up his T-shirt and was showing Michelle the ugly scar on his chest.

He muttered, “Enough,” dropped his pen on the counter, and went over to put an end to the dance.

“You trying to impress Michelle with all your bullet holes?”

“I already impressed her with my wit and charm,” Noah said.

She shook her head. “You were very lucky. That bullet should have killed you.”

“I was lucky,” he agreed. “God was looking out for me, I guess,” he said. Then he laughed. “I was in church when I got hit.”

She was sure he was joking. “Did you fall asleep during the sermon and make the minister mad?”

“Something like that.”

“Daddy will want to hear that story,” she said. “Where is he?”

“He’s in the kitchen making sandwiches,” Theo answered.

“You can’t still be hungry after the catfish.”

“He offered, said he was making one for himself. He’s making one for Noah too.”

Thinking to help her father, she went around the bar and headed to the kitchen. She heard Noah say, “By the way, Theo, you might want to look at the sign-up sheet for the fishing deal Saturday. The sheet’s tacked to the wall over there.”

“Why do I need to look at it?”

“You’ve been bumped.”

“No way.” Theo refused to believe him . . . until he looked. His name had been crossed off, and Noah’s was written above it.

Michelle hurried into the kitchen. Her father handed her a paper plate filled with a double-decker turkey sandwich swimming in mayo and a huge mound of greasy french fries. He carried an identical plate out and set it on the counter.

“If Theo stays another couple of weeks, he’ll have to have a bypass,” she said. “You’re killing the man with kindness.”

“Turkey’s not bad for you. You said so yourself.”

“A jar of mayonnaise on it makes it bad,” she said. “And there’s a gallon of oil in those fries.”

“That’s what makes them good.” Turning his back on her, he called, “All right, boys, here’s your snack. I made the sandwiches without any of my hot barbecue sauce, Theo, just in case you were worried.”

Noah and Theo were looking over the list. She nudged her father and whispered, “Did you trade Theo for Noah as your partner in the tournament?”

He looked guilty as sin. “Honey, I had to.”

Incredulous, she asked, “Why?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “How friendly was that, making a promise and then breaking it?”

“I was being practical.”

“What does that mean?”

She followed him back into the kitchen. “Wrap up my sandwich for me, Mike, so I can take it home with me.”

She got the foil out and did as he asked. “You still haven’t answered me,” she reminded him.

Jake leaned against the island and folded his arms. “The way I see it, we stand a better chance of winning if there’s four of us trying for the prize instead of just two, and Noah was going to sweet-talk you into partnering with him. I didn’t figure Theo would appreciate hearing that, so I told Noah I’d be his partner. Now you and Theo can spend the whole day together. You should be happy to be included.”

He was exasperating. “In other words, that means you think Noah might be a better fisherman?”

“He did mention he’s done a whole heck of a lot more fishing in the past four years, but that isn’t the reason why I switched,” he hastened to add when he saw that stubborn glint come into his daughter’s eyes. “There isn’t any reason to get in a snit about this. You should be thanking me for paying your fee.”

“I don’t want to fish Saturday. I have a hundred other things to do.”

“You could win the prize. Everyone knows you’re a better fisherman than I am.”

She wasn’t buying it. “That’s not true, and you know it. Are you trying to play matchmaker? Is that why you want me to partner with Theo?”

“After the way I heard you talking to him? I don’t need to do any matchmaking. You’re holding your own just fine.”

“Daddy, I was teasing . . .”

He acted as though he hadn’t heard her. “Noah might be doing a little matchmaking. He told me he’s never seen Theo acting like he does around you.”

That remark got her full attention. Her father nodded, then went to the refrigerator to get some milk. He poured himself a full glass and took a long swallow.

“How does Theo act?” she asked.

“Noah says he’s smiling a lot. I got the feeling that’s a rarity.”

“The man’s on vacation. That’s why he’s smiling. Is your stomach bothering you? You only drink milk when you have indigestion.”

“My stomach’s just fine,” he said impatiently, and then went right back to the subject at hand. “And when it comes to Theo, you’ve got a reason for everything. So explain this: How come he can’t take his eyes off you? Noah noticed, and after he pointed it out to me, I took notice too.” Before she could argue, he said, “Did you know that Noah works for the FBI? He wears a gun, just like Theo’s. I saw it clipped to his waistband. I’m telling you, Theo has some real influential friends.”

“And you know a lot of people who need help from influential friends.”

Jake finished his milk and set the glass in the sink. When he turned around, she noticed in the harsh overhead light how tired he looked.

“Why don’t you go home now and let Theo and me close up.”

“I can see to it.”

“I know you can, but the next couple of days are going to be busy.

People are going to be stopping in to sign up and eat, and you know how crowded it gets in here on Thursday and Friday. Go home, Daddy. Get off your feet and rest.”

“You need your rest too. You’ve got to start working on those papers at the clinic.”

“I’ll have help.”

“All right, then,” he said. “I am tired, so I’ll go on home. You shut down at one instead of two.”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He opened the back door, then closed it. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that Ben Nelson called looking for you. He still doesn’t have any news or any suspects, but he’s going to keep an eye out just in case something else bad happens. Now, I ask you, is that something you want to say to a father? He had me worried sick about you, but then I remembered Theo is staying with you. You turn your deadbolts tonight.” He reopened the door and stepped out into the moonlight. “It’s a comfort,” he said.

“What’s a comfort?”

“Knowing Theo’s going to be there with you.”

Michelle nodded. It was a comfort. She locked the door, flipped off the light, and went back into the bar. Theo and Noah had carried their plates over to one of the round tables and were eating their sandwiches.

One of the regulars wanted a refill. She noticed how bleary-eyed he was and asked, “Are you driving home tonight, Paulie?”

“Connie’s coming by to pick me up after her shift’s over at the plant. She’s my designated driver tonight.”

“Okay, then,” she said, smiling. She poured another glass of beer, noticed how stuffy it was inside, and turned up the speed on the overhead fan. There were only five customers in The Swan. She made sure everyone was happy, then filled two tall glasses with ice water and carried them over to Noah and Theo.

Theo pulled a chair out. “Sit with us.”

She handed Noah his water, then sat down between him and Theo and put Theo’s glass next to his plate.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I sent Daddy home, which means I have to close up the bar tonight,” she said.

“It’s so damned cute that you call your dad ‘Daddy.’ Is that a southern thing?” Noah asked.

“It’s a Renard thing,” she said.

Noah had just popped the last of his french fries into his mouth and was washing it down with a big gulp of water when she asked him if he wanted her to accompany him to her clinic to survey the damage.

“I’ve already been there. I think Theo’s right. Kids didn’t do it. It was a one-man operation. And whoever it was got real frustrated looking for something. Did you notice the desk? The lock was destroyed. Somebody took a long time working at that lock.”

“Michelle thinks maybe it’s one of Robinson’s patients trying to steal his file.”

“Couldn’t a patient simply ask for his records?” Noah asked.

“He could get a copy of his records, but I would keep the original,” Michelle answered.

“I doubt it was a patient. Patient charts are confidential. Everyone knows that. Whatever is in the charts stays private. And why would a patient go to such extremes tearing the place up? If he wanted his records so badly, all he had to do was break in and lift it out from those boxes. No, I don’t think it was a patient, but what does Robinson say? Did he have any pain-in-the . . . difficult patients?”