Ciaran smiled. “Only with legal action. You are an elected official, and any elected official can be recalled…especially if there are concerns of corruption and miscarriages of justice.”
“You might want to take a step back. This isn’t a John Grisham novel,” Silas replied. “And bringing yourself to the attention of law enforcement and immigration might not be to your advantage.”
Quentin stepped in then. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was under the impression that since his father is a citizen, Ciaran’s kind of good there. But maybe you need to consult John Grisham on that.”
Silas flushed angrily. “I can arrest you for obstruction, Darcy. Don’t think I won’t.”
“You’ve found what you were looking for,” Lowey said. “And you’ve destroyed everything that was left intact in this bar after your cousin opened fire on it. So, just go, Silas. Take what you came for and go.”
Ciaran’s lips firmed as he watched Silas’s expression turn smug. God, he hated that bastard and what he was doing to her and to Quentin. Sure, he and Quentin had their issues, but he respected him at least. At some point or other, he hoped they’d be able to at least be civil to one another. But their strange-ass family situation aside, what Silas was doing was wrong, plain and simple. The son of a bitch was railroading a woman who was innocent, whose only real crime was to have the unfortunate luck of having been married to Silas’s bastard of a cousin.
“I’ll go because I’m ready to, not because you demanded it.”
Ciaran wanted more than anything to tell him it didn’t matter why the hell he left, so long as he did. But saying anything would just escalate the situation and keep Silas trying to come out on top. So, he bit his tongue and watched the asshole walk out, taking his minions with him.
When he was gone, Quentin turned to Ciaran and said, “The only way she’s getting out of this is to figure out who did kill Joey Barnes.”
“That’s an easy enough question to answer,” Ciaran said. “Silas killed him.”
“What about the Russian drug dealers?” Lowey asked.
“They were waiting for him to show up,” Ciaran replied. “And when he didn’t, Matt’s whole case went south. He can’t arrest someone for trafficking if they don’t actually ever receive the trafficked goods…Silas is a man with political aspirations. When I told him what his cousin was up to, he saw that political career going up in smoke and decided to do whatever was necessary to prevent it.”
Quentin shook his head. “That’s a pretty big damn leap there, Sherlock. How exactly, if you’re right, do we prove that?”
“Wedon’t,” Ciaran replied. “Ido. In the meantime, you all put together a timeline of your whereabouts and anyone who can verify it. You’re going to need it.”
Lowey looked scared while Quentin just looked pissed off. He wanted to tell them not to worry, but the truth of the matter was they needed to. Silas had the tools at his disposal to make this very ugly, and he was highly motivated to do it.
“Right,” Ciaran muttered. “I’m out. I’ll work on what I can. You two…just stay the hell out of trouble for a change, will you?” Ciaran turned and headed for the door. His only remaining option was to lean on Silas, and for that, he’d need to do some digging.
Eighteen
Lowey sat down in one of the few remaining chairs. Half of them were broken, the other half were turned over on the floor, the cushions slashed by overzealous deputies on a witch hunt.
“He’s going to arrest me, isn’t he?” She wanted Quentin to lie to her, but she knew he wouldn’t.
“He’s going to try,” he said. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to keep that from happening. We both know you didn’t do anything wrong. They took your gun…and they knew where to find it. Everyone in this town knows where you keep those under the counter. So why was that the very last place they looked?”
“So that they would have ample opportunity to destroy every piece of furniture and upholstery that Joey hadn’t?” she replied. She didn’t know why the hell Silas did what he did, but she was pretty damn sure that everything the deputies had done since they’d walked into the bar had been on his orders.
“I have a bad feeling here, Lowey…if Silas wanted that gun, it’s because he knows it will match whatever slug they dig out of Joey. This would be so much easier if you had cameras in here!”
“I do,” she replied. “I had them installed with the security system when I moved into the apartment upstairs. They loop every forty-eight hours.” It hadn’t even crossed her mind. The security cameras focused on the areas behind the bar, in front of the storeroom, and the entrance to her apartment. With Joey’s shooting spree, they’d have been pointless. But if Silas or one of his minions had let himself into the bar to help themselves to her gun, they might have the proof they needed.
“What time does the loop reset?” he asked.
“At midnight,” she replied.
“We’ve got fifteen minutes,” he said. “Let’s get upstairs.”
Lowey followed him up the stairs to her apartment. The security feed went directly to her desktop computer. She sat down at the desk and opened up the program. Rather than try to play beat the clock, she just downloaded the file and saved it for them to review.
“Does anyone know about these cameras?” he asked.
“No. I didn’t exactly advertise that I put them in. The whole point of security cameras is to not tell people where they are so then they can’t avoid them.”
Lowey pulled up the footage and started forwarding through the sections that she knew were clear. When theypassed the point in the video where Joey had shot up the place she settled into her chair.
