Chapter 37 – You Da Bomb

MARY POV

My new office at Regional Headquarters is just a high ceiling box with a small window, a door and its own thermostat. The view isn't much. I have to stand up to see anything. Doesn't matter. I have sole control of the thermostat. Now that I'm seven months pregnant I have my own heater. Even though it's a mild fall day I can wear my professional jacket and a sweater all day.

It's hard to leave the kids every morning. I'm actually looking forward to maternity leave when the little ankle biters will run me and my beach ball ragged. But today I'm happy to be working. Today I'm reviewing a case of unprofessional conduct of my favorite – not – white collar criminal, Allison Pierson, former Regional Director. There's a knock on my door and my assistant leads in the guilty party. Oh yes, I am going to party today.

"Good morning Ms. Pierson, please take a seat."

She's wearing that light weight crepe suit she refused to pin her badge on. I let her sit and stew. She knows why she's here. The charges were filed in DC but the Review Board in her former region gets first crack at her. I ignore her, signing completed reports and reviews, fussing with paperwork more important than her. I glare at her her goose bumps are the size of quarters. "I'll start by reading the charges. Sexual harassment of an employee under your command, unprofessional conduct, bribery, larceny, buzz. . . "

What the hell is buzz? I'm looking at the charges and saying the word but all that comes out is Bzzzz. What kind of criminal offense is Bzzz? Bzzz. I open my eyes to my sunlit bedroom and search for my damn phone.

"Mary," I croak. Who in the hell is calling me at dark o thirty? Wait, that's the sun coming in my window. Sunshine? Seems like the middle of the night I'm still so tired. There's someone squawking in my ear. I push the covers back and swing my feet over the edge. Who is this? I check caller id. Dawson?

"What the hell do you want Dawson." Isn't it Saturday? I should sleeping. Except my cherub alarm clock goes off at 6 a.m. every day of the week. If it's Saturday who's in the kitchen?

The voice in my ear is insistent. "Mary, I've been trying to tell you, Marshall's been hurt."

All thoughts of sleep vanish. I slither into my pants while looking for my boots. Where's Joanna? What day is this? Bug, where's bug? I crack open my door and hear the high pitched giggles of toddlers and a gruff male voice interspersed with the familiar female one.

"Dawson, where is he? What the hell happened? Was a witness involved?" I put him on speaker as I finish getting dressed. Dawson gives me the name of the hospital. Finally fit for public consumption I press the phone to my ear and grab my keys. I have to get to him. He has to be all right.

"Good morning Mary." In my single minded rush to the door I hardly notice Seth. Oh God, Seth.

Breathlessly I take Joanna and Marshall's Dad aside. No sense upsetting the tykes. "Marshall's in the hospital. You're coming with me." Seth grunts in agreement. "Joanna, I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

"Go, go. Don't worry about the kids. We'll be fine." She urges us toward the door. It's awkward hugging Norah in her high chair. I give her a kiss more for my peace of mind than hers. Seth hugs Marty, and then rubs noses with Norah. I bend down to Marshall's mini me and look him in the eyes. "Marty. I'm going to borrow your Grandpa for a while. Is that okay?" He shrugs nonplussed. I kiss his cheek. Seth gives me an odd look.

I grab Seth's elbow and head for the door. Away from the little ones I murmur, "Marshall's at UNM. I'll drive." The phone is still in my hand.

"Dawson, don't hang up." I shout into the speaker before handing it to Seth.

Seth's gravelly voice asks, "Who's this?" Seth is buckled up. The tires squeal as I force the lumbering mom mobile to warp speed.

"Inspector Dawson? This is Seth Mann. What happened to my son?" I can hear Dawson's voice rise clear across the car. No, no, no. Marshall has to be alright. He's always alright. There's nothing going on with the witnesses. No one dangerous in town. Right?

When Seth hangs up, I have to know. "What did he say?"

"There's been an explosion," he replies grimly.

"Explosion?" What could have exploded? Where was he? "Was he injured?"

"The EMT's took him. Dawson doesn't know how bad. His truck is toast."

"Where did this happen? Was anyone else hurt?" Oh Marshall, don't be a hero, please.

"I didn't get the location. As far as your Inspector knows no one else was injured."

I push the gas pedal harder.

The ER is chaos as usual. Seth and I scan the room and spot Abigail. Seth strides over, leaving me to check at the desk. "Detective, what happened?"

Abigail's trench coat is smudged with soot. She crumples under Seth's glare and then straightens her spine. "It appears to have been a car bomb, sir. The bomb squad has it. I assure you, as soon as I know, you'll know."

Seth stands down. "What about Marshall?"

"I arrived after the EMTs took him, but my officers say he was bleeding. A . . . a cut to his head. His pants were bloody."

The desk jockey had no new information on Marshall. I nod to Abigail. "Where did it happen?" What in hell was he doing out so early?

"Rio Grande Boulevard."

"Any idea what he was doing there?" Seth asks. "He didn't mention anything to me."

Instead of answering Abigail glares at me. "I think that's a question Mary could answer. I haven't talked to Marshall in weeks."

Seth fires off his next question using his finest interrogation technique. "What's open at that hour?"

Oh my God. My new favorite bakery is on Rio Grande. I've been craving the lavender and sea salt macaroons. "L'Amour Bakery," I supply. "They make macaroons."

"I didn't know Marshall like macaroons," Abigail demurs. Actually he doesn't but that's beside the point.

"What about ABQPD?" I ask. "Were any of your guys hurt?" Is that why she's upset? Or is it Marshall? She only cares when someone else hurts him?

She shakes her head. "No. One of the firemen was caught by the gas tank explosion, but as far as I know no one else was hurt."

Seth's patience is at an end. "Where's that nurse? I need to find my son." I pity the medical professional he finds. They better be able to take us to Marshall STAT. I take a seat, letting him do the leg work. Baby bean is complaining about missing breakfast. My stomach is roiling. Maybe morning sickness isn't over.

"Hey Mary." Abigail moves next to my chair. "How are things?" Oh no, Miss Southern Fried Detective wants to make small talk? Too bad. I didn't get the small talk gene, and even if I did I wouldn't use it with her.

I put my elbows on my knees so I don't have to look at her. I'm not ready to forgive that bitch for breaking Marshall's heart. I should be grateful. If she hadn't dumped him we wouldn't be together now.

"How does Marshall like being Chief?"

I grunt. "He doesn't talk about it."

"I suppose things at the office are good?"

"You could say that." I've had enough.

"Excuse me." I grab my phone and find a corner, away from her. I let the office know we're at UNM. Then I try Stan's phone. No answer. I'll let Seth take care of Beth. We and the rest of Albuquerque WITSEC are waiting to hear Marshall's condition.

I check in with Joanna who is shocked and worried. She knows less about our jobs than Jinx. I finally track down Stan. He was in the middle of a golf game. Golf? Really? Must be a DC thing. The weird thing is Stan isn't shocked. It's not like a US Marshal gets car bombed every day. Did he know someone was gunning for Marshall?

I didn't call Jinx. I don't tell her anything about the job. Jinx was exposed to enough when she watched Norah. That didn't go well, but we're doing okay now. Thank God for Joanna. She loves the kids and tolerates me.

Phone calls finished I walk toward Seth who has a guy in scrubs cornered. Abigail's gone. Seth seemed to make her nervous. I'd be nervous too if I refused to have anything to do with his grandson. I'm surprised Seth went easy on her. Probably too worried about Marshall to deal with the defective detective.

Seth's whole body seems to soften but the doctor is smiling. Marshall has to be okay. The Doc leaves and Seth puts his arm around me. "The doc says he doesn't have any major injuries. They took their time checking. There was a lot of shrapnel."

I shift to face him. "Have you called Beth?" I never thought I'd see Seth Mann look sheepish. He removes his arm from my shoulder and focuses behind me. "I don't want to talk to her till I see Marshall." A lame but justifiable excuse designed to protect her. Now I understand how they stay married.

We're shuttled off to a private waiting room. As the target of a car bomb Marshall will go to a secure ward as soon as the ER docs are done. Delia said our WITSEC Inspectors have volunteered to stand guard. Marshall hasn't been Chief long, but the troops seem to respect him. He never had my knack for pissing people off.

"Seth?" "Is there anyone at the Regional Office who needs to know about this?"

He shakes his head grimly. "No. They already know."

How does he know that? If I get that job at Region maybe I'll learn the whole secret handshake. I'm not one to see conspiracies behind every bush, or even every ocotillo, but this whole thing strikes me as hinky. The evidence:
#1 Pierson's visit
#2 the car bomb
#3 Stan's calm response

You're an ass Mary. You should be thinking about Marshall.

I don't like being left in the dark. Once we know Marshall is okay I plan on grilling Seth. Retired or not, he knows something.

"If I know Beth she will catch the first plane out."

"But if she doesn't know . . . "

"She can't get a flight out till tomorrow. I promise I will call her as soon as we see him," he checks his watch, "and it's after 3 o'clock." He sports a thin grin.

I bet he's longing for the Old West when Marshals were out of touch with their 'office' for months at a time. I can see the appeal. In some cases. This isn't one of them. Just the thought of Marshall being hurt and not being able to get to him makes me nauseous, or is it morning sickness. Could this be love? I feel as if my heart outside of my body, held captive by those I love.

I've wrapped my arms around my soon to be vanishing waist when I spot the nurse and my stomach lurches again.

"Follow me please. Mr. Miller is resting."

I hesitate and Seth puts his hand on my back, guiding me down an interminable hallway. Damn it Doofus, you better be okay. This baby bean and I are counting on you.

I freeze in the doorway. His eyes are closed, he's the color of milk, there's a tube up his nose and machines are beeping monitoring things that Marshall could explain. Seth squeezes past me and stands at the head of the bed peering at his son.

I take a step into the room. He's so still. "Are you sure he's breathing?" The nurse smiles and points to a display above his head. "The ER docs gave him something for pain, to relax him. His body has been through a lot, but he'll be fine. The doctor will be in shortly."

Seth grabs Marshall's chart from the end of the bed. So that's where Marshall gets it. I can never make any sense out of those things, not even my own. Too many abbreviations scrawled in unreadable chicken scratches.

C'mon Shannon. You can do this. You have to do this. This is Marshall. Oh my God, Marshall! I don't know how I got there but I'm at Marshall's bed. My hand hovers over his cheek, afraid to touch him, but afraid not to. I lean over him, memorizing every scrape and cut. His eyes flutter and those blue eyes I can drown in open at last. "Mare?"

Thank God. His free hand reaches for me and pulls me down. I climb the bed to hold onto him. He runs his fingers through my hair, murmuring comforting nonsense, resting my head on his shoulder. I pull back. "I don't want to hurt you." The shoulder of his gown is damp. I wipe my eyes. "Damn hormones."

"You're not hurting me. My head looks worse than it is. You know head wounds bleed a lot. My shins took some hits. Don't worry Mare."

"What do you mean don't worry? Someone tries to kill you and I shouldn't worry?" I shrug off my tears and reclaim my anger at whoever dared to hurt him.

His Dad holds out a cup of water with a straw that Marshall takes eagerly. I'm relieved to see his grip is steady. He pushes the cup away after a few sips. "Better go easy with this till the doc says its okay." His gaze moves from his Dad to me. He caresses my hand growing stronger more alert as I watch. "What happened? The last thing I remember was getting out of the car at the bakery."

I shake my head hoping my hair hides my weakness. "You managed to piss off someone enough to bomb your car. So much for you being the nice one." Despite my light hearted description my voice trembles.

"Car bomb? Who would want to kill me?" He grunts, confused, thinking. "Who even knows who I am or what I do?"

"I don't know Doofus. It would make more sense if they tried to off me. I can make enemies inside or outside the service without trying."

Seth examines the far wall and clears his throat. "It's possible that you were the target Mary. Marshall's car has been at your house enough that the bomber could have thought it was yours."

"That sort of makes sense." I admit.

"We don't know enough," Marshall decides. "Who knows about the bombing?"

Taking a calming breath I tell him. "The office and Stan. I told Delia to keep a lid on it. ABQPD is working the scene. Abigail was at the hospital when we got here. Seth was at my place when I got the call so Joanna knows something happened."

Marshall turns toward his Dad, his concern writ large. "Does Mom know?"

"Not yet." Seth takes out his phone but Marshall covers it with his hand.

"Wait Dad. Just wait a minute."

I can see those hamsters spinning the wheels in his brain. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we have a chance to figure out who did this."

"Of course," Seth starts, but Marshall interrupts.

Marshall gestures for the cup and more water. Seth and I wait impatiently.

"Look, if the bomber thinks he was successful, he'll act now that I'm out of the way." His eyebrows knit and he winces. "Unless Mary was the real target."

Marshall turns to Seth. "Get someone to keep an eye on Mary. Someone not in the Marshal Service."

"You think this is an inside job?" I ask. Seth doesn't deny it, which only adds to my suspicions and fear.

"We just don't know, but the number of people who know who I am and what I do is relatively small. I usually vary my routine, but I've been stopping at that bakery every morning. I could have been spotted there."

Seth takes his phone back but before he can use it Marshall gestures for him to stop.

"Wait!" My pregnant brain is finally getting in gear. "You mean want us to tell everyone you're dead? Even your own mother?"

Marshall nods.

"You can't do that to your mother!" Seth doesn't agree but he's certainly unhappy about it.

"Can't be helped, but it won't be for long. Here's how I think it should go."

A/N: Thanks for reading and following this story. The muse has a few more tricks up her sleeve. Thanks for your patience.