Chap. 15 – Suspicion –
Mary beamed at the restorod. Driving the powerful machine made her feel in control. After all of the events last week that she couldn't control, having the wheel in her hands felt good. Winter gripped the dark city streets. The roads were bordered by mounds of snow streaked with gray and crowned with black. The main roads had lost their jacket of ice. The cement gleamed wetly reflecting the headlights of the few cars braving the weather. Mary had no fond memories of driving in snow and ice, but it was like riding a bicycle. She trusted she knew how, but Stan had the plan. "Where to?"
"North, get out of the city. Head toward Poughkeepsie. Keep off 95." Stan and Eleanor had carefully chosen the safe house. Not too far from Newark, but not close enough that the Newark PD or local office of the FBI or DEA would stumble across them. If they did get company, it would be clear that they were sought out, followed, targeted.
"Aye, aye, Chief." Mary took them to the nearest on ramp, pointed the nose north and stepped on the gas. The shushing sound of the tires made them aware of driving conditions. Mary glanced in the rear view mirror to see Stan's queasy face. "Hang in there Stan. We've got Michelin Xi3's on this baby and I've driven in snow and ice all my life." Stan sat back and while not exactly relaxed, did look less like he'd swallowed something sour.
Looking back at Stan, Mary saw something else in the rear view mirror. "Marshall. Check out those bright headlights behind us." Marshall leaned to check the side mirror then craned his head to join Stan looking out the rear window. "Looks like an SUV. A black one." Mary cursed and changed lanes, slowing down to get behind the other car. The SUV sped up and passed them. "It's not them. I could see a kid, maybe two in the back. Just a family on their way home." Mary breathed out and Marshall could see her grip on the wheel relax.
Marshall steered the conversation away from Stan's gut and Mary's driving. He fiddled with the radio finding a weather station. The weather report was scratchy with static interrupting the broadcast. Marshall put his ear close to the speaker. "Sounds like there are no snow storms coming our way. Not all of 87's been plowed. We may end up stalled behind the snow plows," Marshall informed them.
The road ahead was clear, for now. "What are you doing here, Chief," It was unusual for the Chief to leave his office and fly across country. This case didn't even involve a witness, just Mary. "I'm glad to have you here, Stan, just, I never expected . . . . "
"I thought you'd need rescuing," said Stan looking at Marshall. "Rescued from Mary," Stan clarified with a tiny smirk. Stan figured if he left them together too long they would self combust.
The fact that he'd come in person meant there were further complications, other parties involved in targeting her and her family. Paddy, the gangs, the mob, Rosco. Who else wanted a piece of her? "He does all right by himself, Stan," Mary defended Marshall before he could object.
"Right here, folks. I'm right here." Marshall reminded them. It felt weird to have Mary and Stan talking about him. "I believe we are adequately rescued, Chief." Getting back to the business of keeping them alive he asked, "You had this car swept for bugs?" Marshall knew Stan would do everything to keep Mary safe. The fact that it could save them all was a bonus.
"No bugs or trackers or bombs. I went over it myself," Stan supplied. Mary didn't know a lot about Stan's background. If he trusted his skills to do the sweep, she had to accept his expertise.
"Must have been easier than figuring out if the on board computer had been tampered with," Mary commented. "You would have needed the geek here," she motioned toward Marshall.
"No kidding. But this" Stan searched for an adequate description. "This race car has so many modifications, and performance enhancers, it took hours." Chief seemed to know a few tricks. She hadn't considered a bomb.
"So," Mary queried. "Now that we're pretty sure the NSA isn't listening, whatcha got?"
Stan unzipped his heavy coat and retrieved a folded sheet of paper. Reaching forward he handed it to Marshall. Marshall studied it under his flashlight. "This is Lamarko Rosco and. . ." he paused, uncertain, his finger tracing the other person in the photo. "James Shannon?"
"Correct," Stan confirmed. Mary was trying to see, leaning toward Marshall. "Eyes on the road Mary or we'll all end up in the ditch." Marshall didn't want Mary driving distracted. She'd want to know but he needed to be careful if they all were to survive her reaction.
"When was it taken? Where did you get this?" Mary was anxious to hear every detail.
"Eleanor's 'friend' intercepted a feed going to the Newark PD." Stan said. "The image is from a surveillance camera in an industrial district south of Newark. It's private security equipment but the PD has access. She was running facial recognition for Rosco when this turned up."
"Who else has seen this?"
"Detective Ruiz, I'm sure. He may have shared it with the Jersey marshals by now." Stan answered. Mary wasn't sure how she felt about Chief Varney knowing that her father had been spotted. She found it hard to believe that he was the leak, but someone in the Annex was.
"It's a positive id? This is pretty grainy." Marshall needed to be sure. But if Stan and Eleanor had checked the photo, they must be certain. Marshall was handling the paper, turning it under the flashlight.
Mary had enough. "Show me what you've got or I'm pulling off the road and we'll be late to our rendezvous." Ack! Rendezvous?
"It's from a private security cam. It shows your father and Rosco. Were they coming or going Stan?" If Rosco and James Shannon had left the area, they needed to know. Rosco seemed to be the one who had set up the hunt for Mary. What did Mary's father have to do with that? Was Mary in the clear now?
"Show me the damn photo." Mary demanded. Marshall held the paper in front of the steering wheel allowing Mary a few moments to glance at it, while mostly keeping her eyes on the road.
"Damn , damn, damn." Words failed her. Even her grasp of derogatory expletives wasn't up to framing the proper response to seeing a recent picture of her father. Marshall couldn't tell if she was cursing James Shannon's involvement in Jinx's kidnapping or his sudden appearance in her life.
"Yeah, well, we got bigger fish to fry," Stan told them, as he settled back. "Looks like the mob is ready to whack you and Marshall. They don't care about James Shannon anymore, if they ever did. After this was taken Rosco and your father fell off the grid. No more video has turned up. The mob would be their most pressing problem. They fronted Rosco the money for the latest heist. They always collect on their debts," he continued ominously.
"Or my father could be delivering Rosco to the mob," Mary advised. "We know Rosco had dealings with the mob. What do we know about my fathers' mob connections? You think the mob got them both?"
Mary didn't know how she felt about that. Daddy had been gone so long. His sporadic letters had been a cherished secret when she was younger. Looking at the letters as marshal creeped her out. Why should she care if he was dead? Except for some words scribbled on cheap paper he'd been out of her life for decades. The two men in this car meant more to her than her father.
Marshall insisted they switch drivers. Mary needed to get a good look at that photo. He hadn't driven their incognito race car once since Mary had pried it out of slime ball Larry's hot hands. "C'mon, Mare. You can't have all the fun."
"When was the last time you drove on ice, Marshall?" Mary did trust his driving. She just didn't want him to think she was melted by his charm. Wouldn't do to let the Mann have the upper hand. He'd think she was sick.
"Taos," Marshall retorted. "Santa Fe, Sandia Peak. Remember?" In the whirlwind weeks after Mary moved to Albuquerque Marshall had shown her the natural beauty of New Mexico, cementing her decision to stay. She did remember that.
"Stop whining. I have to pee anyway. Where's the next rest stop?" She'd let him win this round. It would take his mind off the dangerous issues facing them. Give him something else to think about besides who could be gunning for them.
Fifteen minutes later, Mary got out, and stretched. When Marshall unfolded himself from the passenger seat, he leaned against the car, waiting for Mary. Instead of getting into the passenger seat, Mary leaned against him, cheek to his chest, giving Stan an eyeful. He gave her a hug, and opened the passenger door.
Back on the road, Marshall could tell by her furrowed brow Mary's life had been jerked out of its track. To give her time to adjust her world to the changes caused by this photo, he continued to probe Stan. "Do you know if the mob ordered a hit on them?"
"No. We don't," Stan replied. "No bodies have been found. They could be under a snow bank and not discovered till it melts. Nothing from the usual agencies has mentioned them." Stan admitted. "There are too damn many unknowns."
"What about Evans and Jeburk?" Mary had recovered from the shock of seeing the photo. He looked different, older. Of course he's older. Even he can't stop time. She had only a glimpse, but the man in the photo looked grizzled, lean, as if he'd been living on the streets. She refused to feel sorry for him. He deserved everything that he had caused.
"That's where it gets sticky." Stan says. "That's partly why I'm here. Jeburk was in Northern State Prison in Newark."
"Was?" Marshall interrupted. If this was going where he feared it was going it was bad news. He could see the concern reflected in Mary's face.
"Until two days ago. He was working in the prison laundry and never showed up in his cell," Stan reported. Eleanor had of connected the dots, persistently asking the right questions and getting answers that none of them wanted.
"You think Jeburk hooked up with Rosco?" Mary was touched Stan cared enough to come to Jersey because of the threat. She'd never had a boss who took that responsibility so seriously. Stan had to pull in some large favors to get the office taken care of and then get him here.
"Or Rosco went after James Shannon to get the money that never turned up from their last heist, pay off the mob, and get himself out of hot water," Marshall theorized. "Then where's Jeburk?"
"What about Evans?" Might as well know all the bad guys who could be after them.
"Eleanor has a call to the warden of his prison. As soon as the warden lays eyes on Evans, she'll call." Stan supplied.
"What's in Poughkeepsie?" Mary fretted. "Why are we going there?"
"There's a safe house with secure access," assured Stan. In the discussion about who wanted to kill them, their destination had taken a back seat.
Marshall had more questions. "Who knows we're going there?" They were in the secret keeping business and Marshall knew how difficult it was to arrange a get away without any other marshals or officials knowing.
"Eleanor." Stan declared.
Mary couldn't believe it was that simple. "Who else? The Marshal Service knows which safe houses are being used. You had to ask somebody."
Stan leaned back, his expression smug. For the first time since he arrived at their hotel door, he didn't look worried. "I didn't have to. Eleanor did. The house we're going to has no connection to the Marshal Service."
"Mare? You need to rest." Marshall was concerned that she'd been hyper alert, turning over possible scenarios for too long. "You'll lose your edge and not be the backup Stan and I need," he cajoled. Mary Shannon knew guilt when it raised its ugly head. She did great guilt. Unwillingly, Mary leaned her head against the side window and closed her eyes. "When do they land? When I know they are in Albuquerque, I'll relax," she promised. Marshall snorted, not believing her for a minute.
Marshall checked with Stan. "They should be landing in 30 minutes. By the time we get to the safe house, they should be at your place. The sooner we get going, the sooner we'll be where you can contact them." Marshall looked down at her, trying to catch her eye. "OK?"
"Yeah, yeah," she replied tiredly. "I'll close my eyes and be the river." She snorted but complied. She was sure she wouldn't sleep, but her body betrayed her once again. The car was warm and she enjoyed the feeling of being safe knowing it wouldn't last.
After another hour, Stan directed Marshall to a blue two story detached house. Two lamps gleamed on either side of the white front door. Another light, around the side, lit the garage door. The house was built on a slight rise with the earth scooped away on one side so that the garage was the basement. No trees or bushes grew near the house. A clear view from the windows in all directions. No porch. The front door opened onto the front walk. Mary approved.
Stan aimed the garage door opener at the white sectional door. It rose smoothly. A furnace, water heater and large cardboard box greeted them. They got out of the car as Stan closed the garage door. A motion sensor triggered the light. Mary headed for the box. The top flaps were open and she could see a loaf of bread. Looking to Stan for the OK.
Stan nodded, "Yeah, a gift from Eleanor."
"Yeah, Mare. She knows how cranky you get when you don't get fed." Marshall teased.
"Me? Me? You overgrown," she stumbled for words, finally settling on "Doofus." Your stomach growls loud enough to wake the dead."
"Going by this argument, we're all hungry. Let's check this place out, and get something to eat."
"Wait," Marshall ordered. "I've got a signal on the burner phone. Is it ok to call Eleanor about Brandi and Jinx?"
"Yeah. I gave her the number for that phone. She'll answer."
Mary stopped rummaging through the groceries as soon as she saw the phone in Marshall's hand. She stood close enough to hear both sides of the conversation. A loaf of bread was cradled in the crook of her arm.
"Eleanor? It's Marshall."
"Yeah, it's good to hear your voice too. I'm calling about . . . "
Eleanor already knew why he would risk calling her. Mary and Stan were both startled by Marshall's next words.
"Bobbie? Yeah, yeah. Sounds good. We'll contact you tomorrow. Thanks for everything." He hit the off button and turned to his two companions.
"Dershowitz has arranged for a patrol car to check your house tonight. Eleanor didn't give him any details, but she got him to provide surveillance."
"Eleanor can be quite," Stan paused, "persuasive."
"I don't care what she told him. I'm just glad Bobbi's keeping an eye on Brandi and Jinx. Hope they don't trash my place," she sighed.
"That's my girl. Always able to find the down side in the most positive of situations," Marshall declared.
Mary snagged peanut butter to go with the bread then headed to the stairs. Marshall grabbed the box. They stairs led to the kitchen, where Marshall deposited the groceries.
The house was small, two bedrooms, and one bath. "Good thing we're close buds. By the looks of this place, we're going to be close whether we want to be or not." Mary?
"Dibs on the bathroom." Mary put the bread and peanut butter on the counter. "If you touch that you damn well better make me a sandwich too."
"Wouldn't dream of doing anything else, Sunshine." Marshall.
Stan walked into the living room, flicking the hall lights on, but leaving the living room dark. He pulled the drape away from the front windows, checking the exterior. It was late. Cars were parked on the street. The snow hadn't hit as hard here. Stan could see the lawns dusted lightly with white. Clouds of heat rose from most of the houses. Many houses were dark. Their residents in bed hours ago. Having completed the perimeter check, Stan went to see what Marshall was doing in the kitchen.
Marshall had gotten out of his long coat, scarf and gloves. He turned on the stove for heat. "What have we here? Bread, peanut butter, macaroni and cheese, hmm. Hey Stan, is this how you provided for your witnesses back in the day?" He held up a two magnums, a chardonnay and a cabernet.
Stan smiled at Eleanor's thoughtfulness. Marshall scrounged for glasses and a pot to cook the mac and cheese.
"Eleanor didn't mention anything new on the ambush." Marshall stirred the boiling macaroni. He was wearing a 'Kiss the Cook' apron found in one of the drawers when he went looking for pots and pans.
Stan sighed plopped himself down on a kitchen chair, legs extended, jacket open. He had turned the heater on before leaving the garage, but it was still chilly.
In addition to checking out the sole bathroom, Mary checked the upstairs windows. She could see out the front and back of the house, but there were no side windows. She remembered the garage vent window. It was on a side and would be a good sniper location. Satisfied, she went downstairs to the kitchen. Her eyes lit up when she saw the bottles of wine and she scrounged for glasses.
"Marshall, which one would go better with mac and cheese?"
"The chardonnay. I already opened it. It's chilled."
She poured and offered a glass to Stan. He looked doubtful, but took a sip. "One won't hurt."
As she neared Marshall with a glass for him, Mary snickered at Marshalls' apron. "You really want Stan to kiss you?" Marshall grabbed the glass and glared at her. "If you want to eat, you'd better behave."
She winked at him and said softly, close to his ear, "You like it better when I don't behave." Stan's eyebrows reached his nonexistent hairline, but neither Mary or Marshall noticed. The chardonnay did go well with the mac and cheese.
Fed and somewhat rested, Mary insisted she take the first watch. Stan took one upstairs bedroom and Marshall the other. Mary sat in the living room, peering out the windows at the cold winter night. She searched for stars in vain. The overcast and bright lights of the east coast overwhelmed the starlight. She thought of the bejeweled night sky of Albuquerque and hoped Jinx and Brandi were settled. She wondered if she would see her father at the end of this chase.
She had gotten the photo from Stan. It was printed on regular paper, not the glossy photo paper that would sharpen the image. How was James Wiley Shannon involved? Was he being sought by Rosco for another robbery? Were Rosco and Jeburk and Evans working together to grab her father and make him cough up the money from their last heist with him? Was that grey haired wiry man in the surveillance photo really her father?
Mary was pretty sure of the last item. The other theories jostled her thoughts, going round and round like clothes in a dryer. Ideas, facts and presumptions jumbled together in different permutations with the mark of the mob staining everything.
Then there was Marshall. In the few months she'd known the real Marshall, he was everything the Marshall of her dreams promised, and so much more. There'd never been a man who knew her like Marshall. There never was a man she called partner. Her Dad had tainted that word calling Mary his partner. Mary never referred to anyone on the FTF team as her partner, even when one had been assigned to her.
Why did her partner shrug off her abrasive cynicism and take her disparaging nicknames as intimacies? Always the professional, he watched her back. She trusted him to cover her blind. Few people, few men, had earned her trust. Marshall had it from day one. How could that be? Not only the how. The why confounded her. She'd trusted her instincts, her gut, all her life. But this was different. Deeper somehow, more central to who she was, and who he was. She was a better person with him by her side. Was she becoming dependant? How could she be such a girl?
She made a quick trip to the basement garage, checking out the side window. Marshall would have said she was looking for a disturbance in the force. Silly man. Once back on the first floor, she checked all the windows and settled on the couch, facing the front door. A sliver of night visible from the crack in the drapes.
As though her thoughts had summoned him, she heard Marshall's quiet footfalls on the stairs. He checked the perimeter then sat next to her. "All clear, Mare. Go on, go get some sleep. I'll join you when it's Stan's watch."With that sweet promise, Mary gave him a chaste kiss, trailing her hand over his cheek, and went upstairs.
She peeked in the room Stan was using. He was sacked out on top of the covers, only his shoes removed. She folded the other half of the covers over him. The house had warmed up but it was winter and covers needed. In the other room, the sheets still had a warm spot. Marshall. His jacket hung on the chair next to the queen sized bed. Surrounded by his scent, she fell into a dreamless sleep.
It seemed as if she had just closed her eyes when her very own Doofus lay down next to her. "Sleep, Sunshine. Stan's got it." And she did sleep, on this the second night since they found Jinx.