Jinxed Redux
Chapter 7 –Jinxed in Jersey
Rejuvenated by a full night's sleep, Marshall opened his eyes, feeling Mary's warmth next to him. Mmmm. Doesn't get any better than this.
Other than the fact that, Mary's mom is still missing. Someone is trying to kill Mary, and Brandi is a virtual prisoner.
That wasn't good. But lying here, next to Mary, that was definitely. . . good. He smiled at how Mary would tease him for being at a loss for words.
Marshall took stock. Meeting Brandi was a surprise; she was nothing like Mary. Brandi didn't have the sharp brashness of her sister. She wasn't driven. He wondered what Jinx was like.
Wading through yesterday's events he remembered a question that needed answering. Why would the motel manager recognize Mary? She had him sign them in saying that the desk clerk might know her. Was this a spot she used when she saddled up a cowboy? He quickly banked the embers of jealousy by wondering if it was work related. Had she bunked here while chasing fugitives?
"G'morning, Mare," he greeted as she stirred, wriggling closer to him, uh-oh. She smacked her lips dried out by the room's heater.
She rolled over and looked at him. He was pleased to see recognition in her green eyes. Recognition and a certain fondness, if he wasn't mistaken.
"Sleep okay?" he asked.
Stretching her arms up, Mary murmered, "mmm uh huh." The blanket slipped down, giving Marshall a look at two of his favorite places.
"This motel was a good choice." A little flattery never hurt. "It was so quiet I wondered if we were the only guests." He hoped to get her talking about the place, about Mr. Woodson, the owner, and the legal standing of the clientele. Present company excepted, of course.
Mary shrugged in response to his comment. "Nyah, there were other cars in the parking lot, remember?"
Marshall did recall other vehicles. He had checked them out, noting the license plates. Still, there must be lots of empty rooms, given the size of the motel, and the few cars. Mid-week vacancies?
"So," he teased. Nothing lost by being direct. "Come here often?"
Mary flipped hair out of her face and raised herself on her elbows, narrowing her eyes and calculating why Marshall had asked.
"You mean is this my usual throw down spot?" She could tell by the way he drew his head back that she had hit the mark. He was damn curious about her pre-Marshall love life. Why was that? She'd never been with the same man as long as she'd been with Marshall. Maybe it was a time thing.
"Well, was it?" It wasn't prying because they were a couple. He'd gladly reveal his past life and loves. He hoped she would do the same.
She smirked, rolling her eyes, then closing them. "Nope."
Relieved, he waited for her to continue. And waited. Finally Mary laid back, opening her eyes. "The Marshal's picked up the bill when I stayed here."
Whew. So it was related to work. "Fugitive? JPATS?" he asked.
"Nuh uh." Mary decided to let Marshall stew a while and see what his imagination cooked up. It was bound to be more interesting than the truth.
Finally realizing what Mary wanted to hear, Marshall said "I give up."
Mary eyes lit up as she turned to face Marshall. "Protecting a judge."
"Wait, you were never on courthouse duty." Marshall had seen her service record. No court security time in her file.
"Special case. I was familiar with most of the members of the gang that was after the judge. My partner and I were assigned to protect her while the other LEOs and Feds did their thing. Which they did." She paused to sit up. " They caught most of them. One douchebag escaped. Stashing the judge here, which the gangs had declared safe territory, meant an attack on the judge would bring retribution from the other gangs. Made him think twice. "
Now fully awake, Mary relished telling the details.
"Did you get him?" Mary seemed pleased. The outcome must have been good.
"Oh yeah," she replied, a note of warmth at the memory of that take down. A smile graced her face as she looked away, remembering.
"You're the one who arrested him? Right?" Marshall concluded.
"Well, . . . " she dragged out. She may have told the story often, but he had never heard it. "I was the decoy. Dressed right, I could pass as the judge - if you didn't look too close. Stupid shit thought he could take me," she harrumphed. "Not gonna happen. Not just one guy."
"You took him down, alone." Marshall stated, clearly worried. He was afraid the lone she-wolf, exposed herself to danger needlessly.
Mary scooted up against the headboard. "The gang banger thought he'd snuck up on me. Fffttt" She dismissed her attacker. "He was as noisy as a pig in purgatory. He was right behind me, and back up was behind him. Stupid shit didn't even notice."
Despite the fact that Mary sat before him, whole and healthy, he had to know if she had been hurt. "So," he dragged out the vowel, "he made a grab for you?"
"Yup. I stomped on his instep, grabbed his elbow, threw my head back and broke his nose."
Marshall chortled, "That's my girl."
"All that was left for the back-up was to pick up the pieces and jail the bastard. He's still there," she replied smugly, looking down at the blankets covering them.
"Speaking of up" Mary nodded toward him. Marshall started to choke when he saw which part of his anatomy had Mary's attention. Mary snarked "One of us is up."
She loved seeing pink spread from Marshall's cheeks to his ears. "That's a good color on you." He got out of bed, thwapped her head and shoulders with his pillow and escaped to the bathroom.
Jersey Marshal's office, Newark, NJ
The Jersey Marshal Office Annex was a slab of federal architecture grimed by decades of smog and snow. It was lower than the surrounding skyscrapers, but taller than the Sunshine Building. Several different divisions of marshals made their home in this unremarkable building. Mary squealed the tires as she pulled into the underground parking garage. Marshall's knuckles whitened on the 'oh shit' bar as she swirled through the garage and came to an abrupt stop.
It had taken them till early afternoon to get there. Marshall drove, Mary directed. Both kept a lookout for the goons that tried to run them off the road. After a break for food they switched drivers. Mary took a circuitous route to the office of the Jersey Marshals where she had worked.
"Too fast for ya Doofus?" She was hoping to get Marshall to turn a nice shade of green. He remained stubbornly Marshall colored. Hmph, tougher than I thought.
"That was a reasonable imitation of the Super Fire Ball at Cliff's." Marshall wasn't wild about roller coasters but they didn't scare him. Mary's driving. That scared him.
As they threaded their way between the posts of the underground garage Mary continued, "You mean that sorry excuse for an amusement park in Albuquerque? You need to go ride the Kingda Ka in Jackson, New Jersey. That's a coaster."
The guard nodded his agreement. "It's pretty sick."
"What can I do for you" he paused as they showed their badges, "Inspectors?" Mary asked for Chief Varney. They were given directions to his office and pointed to the elevator.
Small offices filled out the perimeter of a large rectangular room. Desks crammed the center. No windows could be seen. No mountains. They threaded their way to a glassed in office with a single desk, and a window with a view of the next building.
The occupant spotted Mary and came out to greet them. "Mary!" the Chief exclaimed. The tall fit looking man with silver sideburns knew Mary wouldn't welcome a hug. He grabbed Mary's hand and held it in both of his. "Good to see you, Inspector" His greeting changed quickly to the business at hand. "I'm sorry about the reason for this visit."
Marshall saw Mary tense at the Chief's touch. Her mother was missing. Someone had tried to run her over. She had every reason be off her feed. Nevertheless, Mary tolerated the Chief's greeting, dropping her head so her hair hid her discomfort. She swallowed her reaction to introduce Marshall.
"Chief, this is my partner, Marshal Marshall Mann." Marshall extended his hand only to have it crushed in a vice like grip that suddenly released as the Chief looked up at him with surprise.
"Mann?" he asked. "Any relation to . . .
"Yes sir. Seth Mann is my father," Marshal supplied.
Mary knew of Seth Mann, and knew his son was nothing like him. Seth Mann was a legendary Fugitive Task Force leader. A hunter of men. Seth Mann was not known for his planning and threat assessments.
"Your father has quite a legacy. You have a lot to live up to," the Chief acknowledged.
Or live down. Marshall grimaced at the comments, but the Chief, focused on Mary and didn't seem to notice.
Mary did.
"Marshall's the strategist," Mary announced. "He's almost as good a shot as me," she added, bumping his shoulder. "His brain and my gut make a good team."
Marshall looked at Mary, pleased at her compliment. The Chief wondered how the tall marshal had earned her loyalty. Partners routinely backed each other up. A good partner could save your life. Great partners saved each other. "Riding herd on you is probably the most difficult part of this job," Chief Varney joked.
She swallowed, and muttered, "Yeah." The Jersey office had only known her as a lone wolf, a tough cynical bitch. Way to ruin your reputation, Shannon. Praising your partner.
"Any word on my mom?"
"Come on in, and I'll show you what we've got. It's not much." He led them to a conference room. It was shabbier than Mary remembered. All institutional paint and plaster walls. The clean lines of the Albuquerque office made this place look grim. The glass of the conference room added a pall to the room. No sun light here.
The Chief plunked himself into a chair and gestured Mary and Marshall to sit. "Eleanor sent this." He slid a file folder across the table.
"Not much new here," Marshall conceded, "but it's a place to start." He handed over the slim file to Mary who focused on every word of the few pages.
"We think," Marshall began, looking at Mary to get her approval to reveal their analysis. She nodded. "James Shannon, Jinx's husband has something to do with her disappearance. We know that his last bank job was two years ago." He paused, looking to the Chief, "James Shannon is. . ."
"Inspector Shannon's father. I'm well aware of that," the Chief interrupted.
"Good," Marshall replied without rancor. "I think you'll see how that explains the connections we want to check."
Mary picked up the narrative. "The money never surfaced although the banks have the list of serial numbers. If one showed up, Treasury would have sent an alert. I think he worked with Christopher Lawrence Jeburk, Daniel Evans and Lamarko Rosco, but didn't get arrested with them because he blew off that last heist."
Although this was news to Marshall, he concealed his surprise.
Marshall added, "Seems reasonable that they would blame him. Think he sold them out. Revenge is motive and the missing money could explain why they went after a family member. Leverage."
"Yes," the Chief agreed with their reasoning. "Damn scum."
"Those fucking rats still ruin lives even after we lock them up," Mary groused.
"James Shannon has been of interest to local organized crime, and it's rumored the MS13 gang is looking for him." Chief Varney informed them.
"That's new," Marshall's voice was quiet calculating this complication.
Mary's voice sounded far away. "Organized crime makes sense. They can launder the money from a bank heist. What would the gangs want with my father?" Her brow furrowed and Marshall knew that the mention of a violent street gang only increased her worry about Jinx. These weren't your business suited mobsters. These were irrational violent excuses for humanity.
Chief Varney sighed. "That we don't know. The gangs usually stick to drugs. Maybe they want him to plan a drug heist? Break into a pharmaceutical plant?"
They all paused thinking of the carnage the gangs could cause.
Marshall broke the silence. "Chief, I need a computer."The Chief sighed, "Let me make a few calls. The techs get bent out of shape if we try to subvert their firewalls."
Within half an hour, Marshall was making nice with a loaner, encouraging it to contact and emulate the machine at his desk in Albuquerque. He was pleased but irritated that his computer's security was more robust than anticipated. He had to call Stan and walk him through the protocol to let Marshall use the programs on his own computer. Once in, he and Mary discussed leads, set up searches and composed a threat analysis. Chief Varney watched with interest.
"That's pretty slick," the Chief complimented. "Bet you could teach our tech heads a thing or two." Marshall was glad that the Chief grasped the usefulness of the programs he had created. He wondered if his father would understand.
"I'll leave you two to it. I'm heading out. You need anything, ask Inspector Larrison." The Chief nodded toward a blonde man sitting at a desk in the middle of the bullpen. "He's been briefed on Jinx's case and knows the local gangs. Try bouncing some of your theories off him."
"Thanks Chief, and thanks for letting us camp out here" Mary said to his retreating back.
On their own in the practically deserted office, Mary stood to Marshall's left, leaned over his shoulder and whispered "Getting your geek on?" Marshall shuddered as her breath whooshed across his ear."That's Inspector Geek to you." He replied, his eyes never leaving the computer screen.
Mary though she saw a tiny smile grace his aquiline face. She saluted and responded, "Yes sir!" broadening Marshall's smile. Mary blew in his ear again.
"Mare," he whined, "I'm workin here."
Appalled that she had forgotten her mother for those few seconds, Mary sobered, drew back and muttered "Focus, Shannon, dammit, focus." Her mother could be injured, tortured or even dead. How could she?
"Don't beat yourself up," Marshall soothed. "You're allowed a break from this nightmare." His voice was gravely and low.
She turned her back to him. "Get away from me Marshall. Everything I touch turns to crap. You. . . . " she sniffed "deserve . . . . You're a good man, you deserve better."
Marshall completed a few keystrokes, then pushed his chair back, and stood walking around her so they were face to face.
"Don't I get a say in this?" calling on Mary's sense of fairness got her attention.
"You are a good woman, and a good marshal. You are the yin to my yang, the hot to my cool."
All he could see was the top of her golden haired head, but he heard her. "Don't say yin" then after a beat, "or yang." She was forced to look up to see his reaction. He gingerly put his arms around her. She tensed, then relaxed. "That's my girl."
"So you're cool, huh?" she snorted in disbelief. Marshall smiled and nodded.
"That's me. Cool, refreshing, invigorating." Mary snorted, but stayed in his arms.
"Get back to work, Inspector Cool."
Marshall toiled through the night. He had moved the keyboard hours ago to avoid the blonde hair splayed across the desk. After her nights of interrupted sleep her body was giving the orders. Marshall felt driven to do all he could, but by 3 a.m. the sand in his eye sockets told him he needed a break. Chief Varney had shown them the break room, which smelled of coffee and stale packaged pastry. It also had a couch.
Marshall walked a drowsy Mary to the institutional style couch and covered her with his long winter coat. She roused briefly, but his whispered nonsense returned her to slumber. Fortified with the sludge that passed for coffee, he went back to the computer, trawling for information connecting James Shannon or his former partners to Jinx's abduction.
Somewhere in New Jersey
The heavy solid door made little sound as a slender man, clad in jeans and a flannel shirt entered the threadbare office. He stood in front of the big battered wooden desk, waiting. The desk lamp was the only light in the room. A middle aged man with a beer belly and squinty eyes held a pencil over sheets of blueprints.
Without looking up, he asked "How's the old broad doing?" His button down shirt was open at the collar, exposing a clump of salt and pepper chest fur. Despite the lack of heat, he appeared comfortable in shirtsleeves. His underling cleared his throat and said "She's good. All it takes to keep her quiet is booze."
"Yeah?" the man looked up, cold eyes piercing the younger man's confidence. "How much?"
"She's gone through three bottles of rotgut."
"Imbicile! Do I have to do everything myself?" he yelled.
The younger man wilted, and stammered, "No, no sir."
"Haven't you ever heard of alcohol poisoning?" He skewered the slender man with a look. "Dumb shit. I need her alive." The underling scampered toward the door. "Wait. What are you going to do?"
"Uh, uh, check on her. Make sure she won't choke if she upchucks. Ah what else should I do?"
"Get Jeff to look at her. He'll know."
The underling left as quickly as he could, catching the door with his hand so it wouldn't slam. The man went back to reading the blue prints, making notes.