Read Chasing River (Burying Water #3) Online
Authors: K. A. Tucker
I don’t give a shit, truly. All I care about right now is knowing that Rowen will be okay.
Ma was with Aengus in his room this morning when he came to after surgery, groggy. Doctors said he should recover just fine, though with plenty more scars.
Until I get hold of him, that is. Because if Rowen doesn’t pull through, I’ll kill the bastard with my own bare hands.
My hospital room door suddenly swings open. Ivy rushes through, rare alarm in her eyes. “The gardai just arrested Amber. They’re taking her to the station.”
“
What?
” Any last bit of shock from the bombing vanishes instantly as panic sets in.
“I don’t know why.” She frowns. “But he knew her name.”
Fuck.
I should have known. Of course Duffy himself would be coming here to question me about last night.
And Amber lied to him.
“Shit, shit, shit . . .” What the hell is going to happen to her now?
“You need to fix this, River,” Ivy insists through gritted teeth.
“I will,” I promise. But how?
A knock against the glass pulls our attention up in time to see Duffy poke his head in.
“Call the shop when you have news about Rowen,” she mutters, scurrying past him and out the door.
Duffy watches her with curiosity for a long moment, and then dismisses her, letting the door slip from his finger’s grip to shut. He adjusts his hat. “River. Glad to see you up.” He strolls forward, as if here to check on me, to see how I’m doing. As if he cares. I know that’s not the case at all. “Terrible thing that happened. I hear you got a nasty bump on the head.”
“Why did you just arrest Amber?” I blurt out.
He eyes me, flipping open his notepad. “She has some things to answer for. And I have a few questions for you, about last night.”
I know how this works. It’s a dance of information, back and forth, and he’s not going to make the first move. He’s still trying to pin the Green on me and he clearly has no evidence aside from some whispered rumors from his criminal informants. If I didn’t care about Amber, I’d tell him to fuck off. The problem is, I
do
care about her. More than I’ve ever cared about any girl before.
And I think he’s figured that out.
“What do you remember, exactly?”
All morning, I’ve been quietly piecing bits of memories together. “The pub was closed. Aengus showed up, pounding on the door.”
“Was he running from someone? Afraid for his life?”
“No.” I snort, recalling Aengus’s arrogant attitude. “He was right pissed. Been drinking all day.”
“So, you let him in.”
“Of course.”
“And did you lock the door behind him?”
“No.” I’ve beaten myself up about that for a while this morning, but, really, there’s no point. Beznick’s fellas would have gotten in eventually. At least there weren’t any customers.
“And then? What happened after that?”
“I poured a round of pints, because we still needed to finish up and Aengus wasn’t going anywhere. Then suddenly a man showed up, tossed the bomb, and ran out the door.”
Duffy’s pen moves quickly, scratching down notes. “Did he say anything?”
“He did.” I hesitate. “ ‘Tit-for-tat, Delaneys.’ ”
His pen stops and his gaze levels with mine. “What do you suppose that meant?”
“He didn’t care to elaborate.”
“Right.” Duffy’s jaw shifts in thought. Deciding on whether to push me on it, I assume. “Did you see his face?”
“Half of it.”
“Enough to identify him?”
“Possibly.” If I don’t kill him first. I saw a tattoo on his forearm—a giant scythe, or something like that. Between his eyes and that marking and his short stature, I might be able to pick him out of a lineup. That information would be of help to the gardai. Maybe they could lay charges. But I know that I could also pass this information on to Jimmy and guarantee that the guy is tracked down and punished, swiftly. Not because Jimmy necessarily cares what happened to me or Rowen, but because his right-hand man was nearly blown up and that’s an affront to Jimmy’s image.
“We don’t have a lot of time to find the man who did this to your family, River,” Duffy warns. The clever garda must be able to read the thoughts on my face.
“I know that.” The bomber will go to ground as soon as he finds out that we lived.
He sighs. “They’re releasing you soon, I gather?”
“Just waiting on paperwork.”
“I’d like ya to come down to the station and look through some mug shots.”
“Only if you let Amber go. She’s completely innocent.”
“Innocent of what?” he asks casually, his raptor gaze watching my every tic and twitch.
I swallow, not taking the bait. “Of whatever you’re trying to drag her into.”
“She lied to a garda. That’s a serious offense.”
Fuck.
“If she did, it was to protect me.”
“From what?”
I meet his question with silence. I can’t let her take the fall for this, but I need to think this through before I talk.
“You must really like this bird.” A heavy frown casts over his face. “Where do ya see this going, with you unable to step foot on American soil? Hoping she’ll move here?” When I still don’t speak, he goes on. “If she’s found guilty of providing false information to an officer of the law during an investigation, she may never be allowed back in Ireland. Then where will that leave you two?” He flips his notebook shut. “Be smart, River.”
Ma plows through the door, boring holes into Garda Duffy’s back with her glare. “Not enough that ya disturb the son who’s barely conscious, now you’re here to bother another?”
I watch Duffy’s eyes glaze over as he prepares himself for Ma’s tongue-lashing.
“If you spent less time bothering us and more time chasing down Dublin’s scum, maybe our entire livelihood wouldn’t be lying in shambles now. And to think, ya knew someone was threatening me family and ya did nothing. I should bring charges to the lot of ya!”
Ma may seem the simple-minded
culchie
sometimes but she’s not daft. She’s already figured out this is Aengus’s doing. Yet she’ll defend her pride for her family until she’s six feet in the ground.
“I’ll be expecting you in later today, River.” With one last pointed look my way, Duffy disappears out the door.
“That bastard!” Ma exclaims, glaring at the door.
“Any update on Rowen yet?”
Her bottom lip wavers with her firm head shake. “Your da’s waiting for the doctor.”
I collect my wallet and keys from the end table. I’m assuming my phone didn’t make it out of the pub last night. “Tell them I discharged myself.”
She frowns. “Where you goin’?”
“To talk to Aengus.”
Aengus has always been a force to be reckoned with. Even now, bandaged like a mummy, cords dangling from his limbs, his eyes mere slivers as he watches me approach, I sense the fury radiating from him.
“Beznick’s not goin’ to get away with this,” he mutters, his words slightly slurred from the heavy dose of pain medication. “I need you to go see Jimmy, tell him it was Jackie Hanegan.”
“That’s the guy’s name? You sure?”
“Positive. I had words with the muppet a few weeks back. Tell Jimmy.”
I sigh. “And then what?”
He pauses, and I can see him processing the question, not sure if he heard it right. “What the fuck do you mean, ‘and then what’? Jimmy will take care of it.”
“Yeah. He will. He’ll put a few bullets in Jackie’s back. Maybe blow up his house with his family in it, as a warning. And then Beznick will send someone after Jimmy, and maybe after you again. Open your eyes and look at what just happened! They’re still trying to fix your baby brother in there. Don’t you care?”
“Of course I care!” he spits back. I know he does, because Aengus is loyal to the Delaney name, to the beliefs that made us who we are today. The problem is he can’t see how Jimmy’s beliefs—and the actions of today’s IRA—have diverged from what our family stands for.
The rhythmic beeping of his heart rate monitor increases and I pause for a moment, waiting for him to calm himself while I study the tiny, private room they’ve stuck him in. He won’t be in critical care for much longer, I gather. Some poor fella will get stuck sharing a room with him soon enough. “Duffy was here to see you?”
“Tried, but Ma chased him away. I pretended I was asleep.” He pauses. “You?”
“He came in.”
“You told him to fuck off, right? We’ll handle this ourselves. Garda’s never done anything good for us.”
“Neither have you.”
He glares at me. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Did you forget all the times I helped you out? I would’ve been out of prison years ago had I not been protecting you. Have you forgotten that so quickly?”
“I wouldn’t have needed protection if it wasn’t for you,” I throw back. Though I don’t truly blame Aengus. I made my own choices. “Everything that our family represents is now lying in a heap of rubble, my brother is lying on a surgeon’s table, fighting to keep his leg, and that is all because of you.” A glance over my shoulder finds a nurse peering in. I take a deep breath before I say what I resolved myself to on the way here. It’s the only way out of this mess, and what I know Amber would tell me to do, if she were here. “I’m going down to the station now, to identify Jackie Hanegan’s ugly mug, like a normal Irish citizen looking for justice. And then I’m going to try and help Ma and Da pick up the pieces of a life
you’ve
destroyed. And when Duffy shows up here and questions you, you are going to give him every last piece of information that he wants. Everything. Names and locations. He’s going to connect this to the Green, and you’re going to admit to it.”
He chokes on his laughter, coughing and then grimacing against the pain. “Are you mad? Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll give Duffy what he wants myself.”
Honest shock fills Aengus’s face. “You’re serious? You’d really do that? You’d turn on your own flesh and blood?”
“No. I’m
protecting
my flesh and blood. Ma and Da. And Rowen. I’m protecting them.” And I’m protecting Amber.
He stares long and hard at me. “Do you even know what you’re asking?” he finally whispers, realization dawning on him.
“That you pay for your sins.”
“And put a nail in my own coffin?”
“Are you really too stupid to see that you’ve already done that? It’s only a matter of time before someone tries to pick you off again. I won’t let you take the rest of us down with you.”
The door flies open then, and our da storms in as quickly as his limp allows him to. The tears in his eyes are a swift punch to my chest. I’ve never seen Da cry, not even on his worst days of pain. “They couldn’t save his leg. Your brother lost his leg because of you!” Da makes it all the way to the edge of the bed, his face the color of ripe tomatoes, too red for a man with his blood pressure issues. “And if that’s not bad enough, there’s also nerve damage to his other leg. He could be in pain for the rest of his life!”
If anyone understands what that’s like, it’s Da.
Ma sweeps in after him, her face wet from crying. “He’s goin’ to be just fine. Stop worrying, Seamus. You’ll get yourself sick!”
Da’s not even listening to her, though. “What did you do, Aengus!”
“Nothing,” he grumbles like a sullen child who knows he’s guilty but would rather take punishment than admit to it.
I guess the yelling caught the attention of the hospital staff because a nurse and doctor step in behind Ma. “You’ll need to leave while we examine him,” the doctor says, slipping a stethoscope around his neck. “You can come back a little later.”
“I won’t be comin’ back,” Da says, and his tone leaves no room for guesswork. It’s a declaration. Aengus is dead to him. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a thing happening in Delaney history.
My brother flinches, as if the words slapped him across the face.
With the doctor hovering, there’s nothing left to do but leave.
“When Duffy comes, you tell him everything, Aengus,” I warn him. “Because if
I
have to do it . . .” I let my words drift, the meaning clear. Going on the stand as a witness against the IRA sometimes doesn’t end well for the witness. “And then that blood’ll be on your hands, too.”
I’m guessing all interrogation rooms have a universal quality to them. The one in the Deschutes County station was like this—small, rectangular, with a simple table in the center and two hard chairs flanking either side, and a camera in the corner to record and monitor the interviews. My dad and I ate lunch in it one day, on a “Take Your Kids to Work” day.
I wish my dad were here right now.
I thought about calling him, but decided against it. For now, at least.
Garda Duffy shuts the door quietly behind him as he enters, a tan folder tucked under his arm, much like the one he brought to show me that day when I lied to him about knowing River. “Do you need anything? Water? Toilet break?”
“No.” I clear the nervousness from my voice. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Alright, then. Let’s begin. Your rights have been read to you and you’re aware that what you tell me today may be used against you in future.”