Molly Brown (21 page)

“Gerry’s put it out over the networks that his undercover agent is alive and well and
they’ve staked out the hospital. He’s just waiting for Frankie to play his hand. They don’t expect it to take long. Frankie’s empire has begun to implode, and if he wants to make sure he doesn’t end up on a chain gang, he has to silence his witness.”

“And you’re okay?” Lizzie stifled a yawn. He heard the soft intake of breath and smiled.

“Lizzie, I’m better than okay, totally beat, but relieved it’s all over. I’ll wait until its light, then I’ll head on home to you. I have some good news for Molly.”

“You do?”

“Marty managed to trace her grandmother.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. She’ll be so pleased.”

“How has she been? Has she said anything?”

“Not to me, b
ut she seems happier, less afraid. She and Joe have been keeping company. They’ve been helping Parker in the barn. She seems quite drawn to him. He’s harmless, in a grumpy old grandfather way. Finding her own family, her own grandmother can only be a good thing.”

“Well, it’s a mixed bag
to be honest.” Connell thought of the body pulled from the river and the likelihood of it being Brown. “Not all good news and I figure things will likely get worse before they get better, but we’ll be there for her till things are sorted, and they will be, I can promise you that.”

“You’re such a good man, Connell. I’ve missed you so much.” Liz
zie’s voice was full of longing; it matched his own. He closed his eyes and let it sink right in. Whatever had been going on to upset Lizzie was behind them, he felt sure of that. All he needed was to be with her and everything would be fine.

“Not much lo
nger now, sweetheart. It’s late. I shouldn’t have woken you. Go back to sleep and I’ll be there in the morning.”

“And you’re sure it’s over and we’re all safe now?”

He rubbed wearily at his eyes and doubted he’d be able to keep them open much longer. “Absolutely.”

“I’m including you in that.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel happier, I’ll check all the locks before I turn in.”

“Make sure you do,” she scolded softly.

“Love you, Lizzie. I’ll be there when you wake up.”

“Love you too. Now get some sleep.”

*
  *  *

The banging on the door woke him and dragged him kicking and screaming from a nightmare where fear was all he could recall. He kicked at tangled sheets, wiped perspiration from his brow and struggled to his feet.

It was still dark out, that murky time just before dawn.

The noise was relentless. He’d dropped the latch the night before and done up all the locks and chains just like he’d promised Lizzie. Now, he couldn’t co-ordinate, his senses confused, the noise, the back taste of fear and broken sleep, all interfering in an essentially straightforward task. He slammed a hand at the door in an effort to shut out the din so he could think. Four bolts, two locks - where was the fucking key?

“Okay, Jeez, I’m coming,” he cursed. “Give me a goddamn minute!”

The banging stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and in the subsequent eerie silence Connell became aware of a different sound. A muted sob, the whispered wail of someone so desperate, so alone, that he felt his own throat constrict. His nightmare paled as his fear grew exponentially.

“No,
Lizzie! I’m coming. I’m here, babe, hang on.”

When he finally wrenched the door open,
she was crouched on the floor, hugging her knees, rocking on the balls of her feet. She looked up through a curtain of wet curls, her cheeks streaked with tears, her eyes rubbed red. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms tight around her slender frame. She trembled beneath his hands.

“What’s happened? It’s the middle of the goddamn night. Where’
s Joe?” He leaned away from her and caught her face gently between his hands. “Lizzie, honey, you’re scaring me. You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong?”

She looked at him and he was stung by the accusation in her eyes.

“You promised me we were safe.”

He felt it then, a churning deep in his stomach. He dropped his hands, felt the room sway and steadied himself against what he knew was to come.

“What’s happened, Lizzie? Just tell me, honey.”

“They came, after you called
,” she sobbed, the words fractured, forced between desperate gasps for air and normality. “They took Joe and Molly. I tried to stop them. I pleaded with them.” She took a breath and seemed to draw strength from somewhere deep inside. “They said you’d gone too far and now it was time to pay.”

He stared at her, looked through her,
past her, and the moment hung, the gulf between them widening in front of his eyes, as if he stood at the edge of a precipice of his own making and the only way forward was down. He re-focused and saw that her face was bruised, her lip swollen. When she raised her hand to shield the bruises from him, he saw angry finger marks on her pale wrist. She had fought to protect his son and a child she barely knew, and despite her efforts she had failed. His nightmare returned with sudden clarity, the fear, the uncontrollable anger and despair. He could not lose any of them. This couldn’t be the end.

“Did they hurt you?”

“Of course they hurt me. What did you expect? They wrenched Joe from my hands. I’m more than hurt ...”

Connell reached out his hand and begged her silently to take it. “I
... I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” He needed her now, more than he’d ever needed anyone in his entire life.

“It’s a little late for sorry.”

She dropped her gaze, seemed unable to look him in the eye. He understood. He’d let everyone down. Despite the warnings, and there’d been plenty, he’d ignored those closest to him and gone his own reckless way. He’d played the wrong hand and the consequences were too terrible to contemplate. He felt his stomach lurch. His own hand, hovering in the void between them, began to shake. He wanted to shout and rage, and felt the anger and frustration building inside. Instead he took a step toward her, caught her arm and pulled her to him.

“I’ll
fix it,” he murmured, his voice calm despite the tumult inside.

“How?”

“I’ll get them back.”

He felt her arms around him, tight around his waist, and his confidence was instantly recharged. He pressed
a kiss on the top of her head, inhaled the scent of rain and flowers, and forced his inner demons back in their box.

“Did they say anything else?”

“Yes,” she stammered “You’re to meet them.”

Despite a real need to get out there and do something, he sat her do
wn instead. Frankie was no fool; he was playing a game and wasn’t about to lose his advantage by risking his ace cards. Connell knew he wouldn’t harm Joe and Molly, yet.

“Okay, honey. Take it real slow and tell me everything they said.”

Chapter Twenty One

They had tied Lizzie’s hands and bundled her into the back of a car for the long journey back to the city. She’d sat curled in the back
, all the while knowing that the children were alone and scared and there was nothing she could do about it. They could easily have kept them all together and called Connell themselves. It would have been quicker. He’d have come running and they knew it. But Frankie wasn’t after quick and painless. He wanted to draw things out, he wanted Connell to suffer and he knew tormenting Lizzie would just add to his pain.

“Tell me again,” he said softly. “What happened when they arrived?”

They’d been through it a number of times. Lizzie was about done in with replaying the scene over and over, but Connell knew that the tiniest thing could make the biggest difference. And they had plenty of time while they waited for the phone call that would finally reveal where Frankie had orchestrated his showdown.

“I told you,” sobbed Lizzie, “t
hey dragged us from our beds and put a gun against Joe’s head. He cried so loud and they said if I couldn’t get him to stop they would make him. I told him to be very brave and he was, Connell, so, so brave. Molly took his hand and held him tightly. She glared at the men. I think they were a little unnerved by her.”

“How many men?” asked Gerry.

Connell shot him a look. He hadn’t wanted to involve him. Truth be told, he was the last person he wanted to see. As far as he was concerned, if Gerry had been more forthcoming from the outset, his family would not now be at risk. He’d been persuaded by Marty, who was doing a valiant job as peace maker, keeping the men at arm’s length while they all tried to get to grips with what had happened. Connell was ready to lash out at someone, and until he had Frankie in his sights, he figured Gerry was a good substitute.

“She already told you,” he muttered sourly.

Gerry sighed. “A word, outside.” Connell made to shrug him off. Gerry could go screw himself. “Now!” added Gerry. Connell pulled himself to his feet. Sure, if Gerry was fool enough to want to step outside, he’d oblige, but he wouldn’t be held responsible for what might happen. He clenched his fists and followed Gerry to the door.

“Connell
…?” Lizzie called after him, hesitantly.

“It’s okay, honey. Gerry and I just need to straighten a few things out.”

Marty shook his head, a silent warning that Connell chose to ignore.

They stood in the dank hallway amidst the builder’s crap -
Connell, fired up, muscles bunched, adrenalin pumping; Gerry, calm as usual, with only the pulsating vein at his temple betraying his emotions.

“Tommy, get a grip. I know you’re mad, at me, at Fra
nkie, at the world in general, but you’ve got to quit with the attitude. It’s not helping.”

“Fuck off, Gerry. You’ve been leading me by the nose for the past
week, drip feeding me with half-truths.” He flung an arm at the closed apartment door. “That’s the result. My son’s life is in danger. Molly, a little kid with nobody but me to look out for her, is in danger, and Lizzie is in fuckin’ pieces. And you dare to tell me to quit with the attitude.”

He took a step closer. Gerry stood his ground, p
ersonal space not just invaded but held to ransom as they squared up almost nose to nose.

“Who are you really mad at, Tommy? Me, f
or playing by the rules - ‘cause we do have rules, Tommy, whether you accept that or not? At the world in general, for dealing you a bum hand? Or are you mad at yourself for fucking around and ignoring advice, and leaving the kids with only Lizzie and an old man to look out for them?”

Connell paused. The churning cauldron of guilt in his gut was a real pain now, white hot, tearing
at his flesh. His heart pounded and his head was crammed with jangling alarms and self-hatred. Suddenly he understood why good men did bad things. He dipped his head, inhaled slowly and tried to regain control. Gerry was on the money. He wasn’t mad at the world, he was mad at himself.

“Okay,” he said slowly, on the verge, panic flooding every cell, almost ready to drop to his knees and admit he was out of his depth.  He reached out a hand and braced himself agains
t the wall, determination alone holding back hot tears of fear and regret. “I need to do this, Gerry. You have to understand that. I need to finish what I started … I … I just don’t know whether I can anymore.”

Gerry nodded, his demeanor softening. “And that’s why we’re h
ere, Marty and I, to help you, to make sure this ends the way it should. It doesn’t matter who did what, who should have or shouldn’t have. We have a situation, a terrible situation, and we all need to pull together and use whatever resources are available to us. If we start pulling each other apart, looking to apportion blame, then we may as well accept failure now.”

“We can’t fail, Gerry.”

“Exactly. So we’re going to go back in there and you’re going to pretend you’re in control, even if you’re not. Don’t imagine for one minute that you’re the only one who has a bucket load of regret to lug around. We’ve all made mistakes, we all have to live them. So, you’re going to bury yours, turn on that Connell charm and make Lizzie believe that you can fix it. We are going to go over everything that’s happened since you started tailing Gibbons and Scott, right up to the point where Frankie invaded your home. If that means getting Lizzie to repeat the story as many times as we need her to, then that’s the way it’ll be.”

Connell straightened himself up, cocked his head and forced a weak smile. “Sometimes, Gerry, I just wonder what I’m doing, where I’m going. You know, I’ve got it so good with Lizzie, but that in itself is scary. I’d do anything for her, anything, but right now I wonder if it’s going to be enough.”

Gerry reached out and patted his shoulder. “Life is scary, Tommy. You just have to be brave. Courage isn’t about being the reckless hero, it’s about facing fears and we all have them.

*  *  *

Connell resumed his seat alongside Lizzie and took her hand in his. He smiled reassuringly and got a quick nod of approval from Gerry.

“You said there were three men, Porter, Frankie
… and who else? Who was the third?”

Lizzie shrugged. “I didn’t see him. They sent him to search the outbuildings. They must have left him there. He didn’t come back when they called.”

“What about Parker?”

“Parker’s lights were out. I suppose he was sleeping.”

Connell doubted that. The old guy was like a bat - snoozed in the sun and hunted critters at night. He hoped he hadn’t met his match. “You didn’t hear a shot?”

“No.”

“Okay, what about Mom and Dad. They were meant to be visiting.”

Lizzie blushed and looked down at her hands
, and her eyes filled with tears. When she replied her voice trembled with remorse.

“I
… I told them not to. They rang quite late. I assumed you’d asked them to come and babysit us but the kids were already in bed. I thought, it would just be another bunch of people for Molly to wake up to and she didn’t need it, not when she and Joe and Parker were getting on so well.” She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry. If your dad had been there, maybe he could have stopped them.”

“Maybe so,” said Gerry, “but the likelihood is that if they had been there when Frankie arrived, they would have become victims too. It’s probably best they weren’t there, Lizzie. You don’t have anything to feel sorry about. It wouldn’t have changed the outcome.”

“Gerry’s right. Dad would have put up a fight that he couldn’t possibly have won. I shouldn’t have asked them anyway. I should have been there myself.” Connell pulled Lizzie close. She leaned into him, needing the contact and the support as much as he did. “It’s okay, honey. We’ve just got to wait for Frankie’s call. Gerry has back-up on standby. He’s got alerts everywhere. As soon as Frankie shows his face, we’ll know about it.”

“Who brought you here?” continued Gerry.
“Who drove the car?”

“Porter. H
e spent the entire journey telling me what they intended to do with you, Connell, how he was really going to enjoy your last meeting.”

“All talk.
Porter is mad as hell that he backed the wrong team. He’s so tangled up in Frankie’s business, he’s going to follow him to hell, whether he wants to or not.”

“I told you that guy had no sense of humor,” called Marty from the kitchen. “He’s
just mad, Lizzie, ‘cause Tommy wound him up at Frankie’s.”

“The things he said were awful.”

“Talk, Lizzie, just talk. Don’t worry about it. I won’t give him the chance.”

“What about the kids? Are they definitely with Frankie? Did you see them leave the farm?” Marty took a seat on the edge of the table and sipped at his coffee. “I’d hate to think we were waiting here for a call
, and all the time the kids had never left and we were two hours away from being able to help them.”

Gerry shook his head. “I’ve got guys up there now, searching. Tommy’s brother, Will, has the entire Sheriff’s office on alert. The kids aren’t there.”

“Did they find Parker?” Connell couldn’t bear the thought that somehow the old man, who had been through two wars and remained defiant to the last, had somehow met his end at the hands of the very people he had warned Connell about.

Gerry shook his head. Connell wasn’t sure whether he was lying, not wishing to alarm Lizzie further, or whether the old guy had in fact managed to stay under the radar. He recalled hi
s last conversation with Parker and the tale of the intruder who’d insulted his wife all those years before.

“Get
your guys to check the West Forest, down by the river. Will, knows it, the place where we used to shoot squirrel when we were kids. It’s a long shot but I think they might find Parker there, and if they hurry, they might even find Frankie’s other stooge. If he’s still alive he might be able to shed some light on where Frankie was headed.”

Connell got to his feet. Knowing that he had h
is brother Will on-side as well lifted his spirits. “Gerry, we can’t just sit here and wait. Let’s see if we can’t get the jump on Frankie. So if Will comes up with zilch, if he finds nothing but a corpse and Parker nursing that old shotgun of his, we haven’t wasted any more time.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Frankie is going to hole up some place where he feels familiar. Where he thinks he has an advantage. We just have to think of where that might be.”

“Vlad Towers, for one,” suggested Marty. That place is like a castle, probably has dungeons, secret tunnels, all kinds of weird shit.”

“It was built in the fifties, Marty, of the plastic Gothic school of architecture. Not much call for dungeons then, but yeah, most rats run back to the nest, so good call.” He turned to Gerry. “Can we get some guys down there?”

Gerry smiled. “I’m way ahead of you boys. The place has been locked up since CSI were down there looking for traces of Gibbons. Why do you think Frankie was so pissed?”

“Doesn’t mean he hasn’t got a spare key.”

“I’ll have them check it out, Marty.” He turned to Connell. “You’re not convinced though
, are you?”

“No, it’s a little obvious. You know, like following the outlaws back to the hideout.”

“What about the Lakes Sanatorium?” suggested Gerry “Plenty of places there to stow a couple of kids. They could holler all they liked. That place is so big no one would hear.”

“Gerry!” He cast a quick glance at Lizzie. The look on her face said it all. The thou
ght of the kids stowed anywhere had set the tears flowing again. Anyway, the sanatorium was something else. He didn’t think Frankie had anything to do with him ending up there. “Tell me, Gerry, did you ever find Gibbons’ body?”

“Yes, in the river
, same as Brown. No evidence that he’d ever been at the Lakes, except vicariously, on your jacket and just about everything you’d touched down there. You must have been rolling in the guy to pick up that much blood.”

Lizzie groaned and Connell smiled apologetically.

“What did you make of the room with the spotlights?”

“What room?”

Connell shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” No, definitely not Frankie’s doing and obviously a message meant just for him. He turned to Marty. “When you traced Molly’s grandmother, did you find out anything else?”

“Like what?”

Connell pulled the now crumpled photos out of his pocket and laid them on the table. “See, that’s Molly’s grandmother, Beatrice, and this other one is Molly’s dad and some other guy.”

“It’s an old photo, Tommy. They don’t look much more than lanky kids with fishing poles. It could be anyone.”

Gerry leaned across, picked it up and adjusted his glasses for a better look. “Get another look at him, Tommy.” He tossed the photo back at Connell. “A real good look. Add ten years, a few pounds and a flat iron and who do you have?”

“Fuck!”

“Exactly.”

Marty looked impatiently at Gerry. “Who? Come on guys, who is it?”

Connell shook his head. He couldn’t believe he’d missed it. “That, Marty, is none other than Luther Pearce, arm in arm with his best buddy Brown, ten years before he shared a cell with him.”