She blinked rapidly. “Are you saying you like him?” Her voice was hushed.
“Aye. There’s a lot to like.” Her dad leaned toward her. “But if he hurts you, I’ll sink him to the bottom of the Atlantic. Just say the word.”
Man, she hoped he was kidding. “Um, thanks? But I’ve got this, Dad. You can trust me.”
“I do.” He sobered. “I trust you, baby girl. You’re a smart one, you are. Just like your mama.”
Her heart swelled, and her eyes ached. Had he just said that? She pressed her lips together to keep from bawling like a moron. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me too.” Were his eyes misty? “How about you promise to come home for Christmas this year? We can do it up right. Big tree, presents, music and your mom’s Tom and Jerry recipe.” He shook himself out of it. “And you can bring that Raider, if you want. I won’t drop him in the east pasture for the night this time.”
She coughed out a laugh. That shouldn’t be funny—it really shouldn’t. But Raider was always in control, always knew exactly what he was doing. The thought that anybody could get the drop on him and leave him nearly hogtied in a field was inappropriately funny. “I don’t know. He might want payback sometime.” She couldn’t think beyond the next week with Raider right now. It all was too much.
“Aye. Can’t blame him.” Sean studied the peeling paper on the wall. “I like this place.”
She blinked, looking at the dented conference table and rough concrete floor. “Seriously? This office is a dump.”
“Yep.” Sean ran his hands over the rough wood of the table. “It’s the shiny government offices that give me the creeps. This one is well worn and remote. Obviously you all aren’t in the good graces of the HDD, and I think that’s a good thing.” His eyes twinkled. “You can get away with more sh—stuff that way.”
Maybe. Having better resources would be nice, though.
The elevator dinged in the other room, and heat rushed through her body like she’d been plugged into an outlet. Heavy footsteps sounded, and Raider carried in a dirty metal container the size of a large postal box. “Agents just delivered this,” he said.
Brigid moved the two pizza cartons, and Raider deposited the box in the middle of the table.
Angus Force followed. “Wolfe is meeting with his reporter to see if she has any new leads, Malcolm is working a lead with the coast guard, and Nari is meeting with HDD techs and should’ve been back an hour ago.” His face didn’t change expression on the last, but there was an odd note in his voice.
Brigid stood. “So. The box.”
“Yep. That’s it,” her dad said, standing and yanking the rusty clasp away from it. “It’s all yours.”
* * *
Raider gauged the atmosphere in the room. Light and relaxed, at least until he’d set down the box. Good. Brigid and her dad needed to make peace. She’d be much happier that way. He tried to act natural, but their night together kept running through his head. He couldn’t get enough of her. Even now, her scent was driving him nuts. “Show us what you have in there, Sean,” he said.
Sean wrenched the top back. “Ah, look at that.” He pulled out a worn leather journal wrapped several times in see-through plastic. “This is a record of every crime committed by the Coonan organization during my tenure there.”
Tenure? Raider barely kept from shaking his head as he accepted the journal and started to unwrap it.
“And?” Force said, moving between them and leaning over the box.
Sean drew out five cassette tapes also wrapped in plastic. “I don’t suppose you have a tape recorder around here.”
“No,” Force said, taking the tapes. “We’ll have to track one down. What’s on these?”
“Different recordings of crimes being planned or executed. Not many.” Sean looked back in the box. “There’s an interesting conversation between Tyson and Eddie Coonan in there. I’m sure they want badly to know we have that—and what exactly they said.”
“Give me the short version,” Raider said, still unwrapping the journal.
“Tyson, long before he was a senator, had a girlfriend in high school who disappeared. On the tape, Eddie mentions her in a way that sounds like he took care of the problem.” Sean rubbed his chin. “Bodies were often buried—”
“Wait.” Brigid turned, holding up her hand. “My dad wants immunity before he says anything else.”
Sean chortled. “Baby doll, don’t you worry. I have the recording and I’m not on it. Wasn’t there. Didn’t even know about the conversation until weeks later when I fetched the tape recorder I’d hidden.” He shuffled his feet. “There’s plenty I ain’t proud of in my past, but I never killed anybody. Not once.”
So any statute of limitations had run out on the crimes he had committed, unless Sean could be charged with conspiracy to commit murder. Something told Raider that even if Sean had done so, there was no evidence of it. So there was no reason to ask the question.
“Did you ever help plan a murder?” Angus Force apparently had no problem asking the question.
