Bannon Brothers (34 page)

Authors: Janet Dailey

BOOK: Bannon Brothers

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“I thought about that too.”

Erin reached down and picked up the folded yellow sheets of paper, crumpling them in her hands. “I feel like I don't exist.” She threw them away from her and began to cry for real. He couldn't stand it. Bannon got next to her and held her tight.

She didn't use her fists on him this time. He kept on holding her. Charlie came over, keeping a respectful distance but clearly alarmed. Bannon had tears in his eyes too. A couple of the little bastards rolled down his face and into her hair.

Erin sobbed her heart out. He didn't know how many minutes went by before she cried herself out. For now, anyway.

The dog moved closer and put a paw on her thigh.

“I know that's not you, Bannon,” she whispered into his soaked T-shirt.

He could almost feel her shaky smile through the wet fabric.

“No. It's not. Charlie, lie down.” The dog obeyed, but he didn't move away, settling his big body protectively at their feet.

Erin lifted her head without looking at Bannon or the dog. She gave a raw sigh and buried her face in Bannon's neck. He couldn't adjust his position and his back was killing him, but he didn't care. He kept on holding her and stroking her hair. It seemed to help.

Linc's number flashed on the cell phone screen. Bannon flipped it open before it could ring.

“Hey. I called to see how you two are doing.”

Bannon glanced toward the shut bedroom door. “She's not awake yet.”

“Oh. Did you tell her about what happened?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess she wasn't thrilled to hear that the creep came back.”

“No, she wasn't.” Bannon knew his brother was taking the situation seriously. Linc wasn't big on drama and emotions. He just got things done, like all of them. Their father had brought up his three boys that way.

He provided the barest outline of Erin's reaction. That was between her and him. His brother didn't need to know what they'd talked about. Or that she'd cried a river.

“You going to keep her there?” Linc asked.

“It's not a good idea. But she has no place else to go. You got the back story on her.”

“Yeah, chapter and verse. What is it with you and stray cats?”

“Watch it, Linc.”

“Sorry. You know I was about to say she can stay with me,” his brother offered.

“I figured as much. In fact, I volunteered you. She's not interested in going someplace else.”

Linc didn't seem surprised. “Not a problem. Here if you need me. Really. Look, maybe we can help her hide out of state somewhere orâat the cabin.”

“It's too isolated, even if I went with her,” Bannon said. “I thought of that too. Maybe I've got too many damn things to think about.”

He could practically hear his brother analyzing pros and cons in his head. Linc had a knack for simplifying. Bannon could use some of that. His own head was spinning.

“All right,” Linc began. “One. Erin is alive and safe. Two. All the rest can wait. The important thing is that we gotta get that guy.”

“And when we do, the chief can hire some other thug. Speaking of that, did you get an image we can use from the vidcam?”

“Not yet. I did do a screen grab. But I have to amp up the pixels, smooth out the visual noise, and do some fairly sophisticated enhancement. Give me an hour.”

“How about dusting for prints?”

His brother sighed. “I forgot I had all that stuff. Which box were the vidcams in?”

“One of them. It was brown cardboard.”

“Thank you, Bannon. That's very helpful. We took out about twenty boxes matching that description.”

Bannon cleared his throat. “Good thing you have that big garage.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I get the picture. You want me to handle the forensics and come up with an ID. You defend the maiden and chop off dragon heads.”

“What I want to do is confront Hoebel.”

“With a receipt for his pancake breakfast? I don't think that's going to scare him, bro. His ugly mug didn't pop up on the vid.”

“I'm following up on it today. You know, have a chat with the waitress, tip her a ten for a cup of bad coffee. She might remember a name, or at least what the guy who came in with Hoebel looked like.”

“Better than nothing,” Linc said.

“You can't find out everything on a computer,” Bannon retorted.

Linc relented. “Don't I know it. Look, receipts are a gold mine of info. Time, date, items purchased, and bingo-bango, an authentic signature that can be tied to a credit or debit card. And speaking of not finding out everything, you'd better do a sweep of your car for bugs. Forgot to check that off. There's a gizmo for it in the box under your bed.”

Bannon rubbed his aching head. “I believe you. Thanks for the reminder. And I'll do the dusting on the receipt. It's here, safe and sound. Somewhere.”

“Don't lose it. Our guy's fingerprints might be on it. And why did he have it in the first place, hmm? Care to speculate?”

“Maybe he wanted to forge Hoebel's signature on something. Maybe it stuck to his shoe. Let's not get too logical. The guy is a psycho.”

“Guess we're going to find out together.” He heard Linc's swivel chair creak and knew his brother was leaning back. “Take care of yourself, Bann. And her too.”

Hoebel pushed the budget projections away from him with one angry sweep. He preferred to have a clear deskâif any of the county or state brass showed up for a surprise visit, they'd get the impression that he was caught up. In charge.

Of course, most of this crap had come from them. Maybe they would want to see him nose-deep in their damned paperwork. They could have e-mailed him all of this and made it easier to ignore. He glanced at his monitor, which had gone dark, and poked a thick finger at a key.

The real-time data from the GPS beacon on Bannon's car appeared as a glowing line on a county map. The sonuvabitch was putting in some miles today. Fifty miles east, then a jog to the south. Then back to the west, not too far away. Keeping busy.

Too bad he couldn't just fire the guy. Keeping him broke was about the only weapon he had at his disposal. Bannon's continuance of claim forms were still waiting for Hoebel's signature. But he was a little surprised that Bannon hadn't found the thing yet. He'd pegged the detective as detail-oriented and dogged, a real never-say-die type. Intuitive too. And essentially fearless, which made him a serious threat to the chief's idea of law and order. He glanced at the icon for the GPS gizmo. It was moving along the county road that led out to Montgomery's stud farm. Was Bannon snooping around out there today?

At least Montgomery wouldn't be calling the office to give him hell. The old man's stroke had shut him up for the moment, although Hoebel understood that it hadn't been a biggie. Monty had been seen at his stables staggering around on the arm of some nurse, trying to show his underlings who was boss.

Pathetic.

One more reason for him to quit early, Hoebel thought. He wanted to enjoy himself before old age whacked him in the back of the knees. Take the money and run. He made a note to call his favorite hacker tonight. Time to steal Montgomery's remaining loot.

As for Bannonâhell, he didn't have time to spy on the guy at the moment. Hoebel dragged the stapled reports and spreadsheets back in front of him.

The department was going to have to cut back. No overtime for the officers; involuntary furloughs for some of the non-uniformed staff. He could kiss the walnut paneling he wanted for his office good-byeâif he put in for a new pencil cup to go begging with, he'd be lucky to get it.

Like his jurisdiction didn't have enough problems. The beautiful rural country around Wainsville wasn't immune to crime, and the statistics confirmed it. The numbers for residential burglaries and related crimes were trending upâthat made a lot of folks unhappy. Especially rich folks. They felt entitled to complain to high-level officials who could put him through the wringer because the corresponding numbersâfor arrestsâwere down. The bad guys were getting smarter and they kept changing the rules of the game. Dealers in cheap black-tar heroin had abandoned the city street corners and come out here to sell to college kids and middle-class types who couldn't afford their painkillersâthey were doing a booming business out of their cars, and they delivered. Tough to catch.

And don't even get him started on meth. The last lab his boys had busted had to have been bringing in a million a year. That kind of money was tempting, but he didn't want to work with tweakin' freaks. He glanced at the first page of that thick report and slammed a hand down on it.

Jolene chose that moment to come in with his coffee. He looked up, glaring at her, then saw that the unexpected noise had made her spill a little of it. She was brushing at the front of her dress.

Good. Once she'd put it on his desk, she would have to bend down and sop up the drops beading on the varnished floor with the paper napkin in her hand. He wouldn't mind watching her do that.

“Did I startle you?” he asked blandly. “Sorry. Put the cup right there.” He moved a stack of reports aside.

Jolene set it down along with the napkin, then turned to walk out.

“You spilled some coffee,” he said, stopping her in her tracks.

She cast a contemptuous look over her shoulder. “The cleaning service is here. I'll send someone in.”

Hoebel grunted. How did she get to be so full of herself? But it wasn't like he could make her scrub floors. He returned to his perusal of the reports and budgets, in a worse mood than ever.

When he was done, he sipped the coffee. It was lukewarm by now. Asking Jolene to bring him another was asking for trouble. And he needed to stay focused. The chief took out a pad of paper and began making notes on who around here was going to stay and who he could do without. He chewed on the end of his pencil, thinking. His son-in-law he had to keep. But Doris could go on furlough. The archiving project wasn't that important. And he didn't like the way she spoke her mind sometimes. It occurred to him that she might be the one who'd been egging Jolene on. He thought it over and wrote down a few words.
Joleneâstay or go?

He did like looking at her, even if she was a bitch sometimes. And she got along well with everyone else. He wrote the answer next to her name.
Stay.

Hoebel leaned back, scratching his head. He couldn't make cuts in the ranks. And the officers were going to complain about the no-overtime thing, but that couldn't be helped. He knew most of them would keep on working hard anyway. The Wainsville PD attracted good men and women to serve on the force, some locals, some from away. The town itself was a pleasant place to live, affordable for civil servants and cops. But he wanted more than thatâno, he deserved more than that.

For a second or two he felt almost ashamed of what he was doing on the side. Then he looked at the budget reports and thought that his pay might be the next thing on the cutting block. The chief blew out an irritated breath and the feeling of shame vanished.

All this paperwork was beneath him. But he had to respond to it. Hoebel turned to his monitor, which had gone dark again, and pulled the keyboard toward him. The GPS tracker map was still up but the icon that tracked the beacon's movements wasn't moving, just blinking. He grabbed the mouse and clicked on that part of the screen, enlarging it.

Blink blink. Jones Road at the intersection of Broad. What the hellâ

Bannon wasn't out at the Montgomery stables. He was here.

Hoebel swiveled and looked at the door that Jolene had closed behind her.

“Go right in,” he heard her say.

He stood.

“Hello, Bannon.”

The young detective glowered at him.

“I haven't signed those papers.” Why were Bannon's hands in his pockets? The chief was glad his gun was where he could reach it, in the top desk drawer. Locked and loaded.

“That's not why I'm here.”

Hoebel stayed behind his desk. He wasn't going to sit down. Bannon was taller than he as it was.

“I'm not interested in a game of Twenty Questions. Don't waste my time,” the chief snapped. “You can see I'm busy.”

“Yeah. Seems like you get around.”

Hoebel folded his arms over his chest. “What are you talking about?”

“You going through garbage now?” He tsked. “Hard times. Things are tough all over.”