If I Should Die_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [48]
“Thanks, Patrick.”
“Watch out for Butch Swain. Even though word is he isn’t a sharp tack, he could have acquired a new partner. I told Sean the same thing.”
“Does anyone think the little brother has a new meth lab up and running?”
“I called Noah, and he’s putting a feeler out with the DEA about drug activity in St. Lawrence County. There was nothing on the FBI radar, at least with the Swain name or Spruce Lake attached. They’re focusing on labs in Massena now, which they believe picked up the slack when the Swains went out of business.”
“Take one down, two more pop up.”
“Got that right. Luce, I don’t know what’s going on in Spruce Lake, but keep a low profile until Sean gets back. I wish he hadn’t left you alone.”
She sighed. Long ago she realized that she’d be forever coddled by her family. “Patrick, I’m not alone. Tim and Adam Hendrickson are both here. And do you remember I’m practically an FBI agent? When I have my badge, will you still tell me to be careful?”
“Yes.”
She laughed. “Fair enough.”
“And you’d better have your gun on you now.”
She glanced across the room to where her Glock was partly hidden on a bookshelf. Sean had given her security measures to follow since they became involved, many of which she’d already learned from her oldest brother, Jack, a former army sergeant. There was another gun hidden in the bathroom and a third under the cushion on the couch.
“I have it covered,” Lucy told Patrick. “Nothing we’ve found indicates the vandalism on the resort is drug related. Did you run the other names Sean gave you?”
“There’s nothing much on Jon Callahan. He’s originally from Montreal, but after his father died when he was twelve, his mother sent him to live with his Uncle Henry in Spruce Lake. He went to college in Connecticut, became a naturalized citizen—easy because his dad was an American—and settled in Spruce Lake. He owns a lot of property—most of the town, in fact, that isn’t owned by the Hendrickson estate.”
“How did he make his money?”
“He’s a lawyer specializing in international law—no criminal law, all civil. He’s with a major firm based in Montreal with a U.S. office in New York City, very respectable, seems to work primarily in intellectual property rights, contract law, estate planning. I’m going to look at the type of work he specializes in.”
“But how can he practice law living in the middle of nowhere?”
“With technology these days, he wouldn’t necessarily have to go into an office. He gave you the creeps?”
“No. He seemed to be the most normal person I’ve met here; maybe that’s why he stood out. Very smooth, like a good salesman.”
“Absolutely, we need to especially watch out for the normal people.”
“Very funny. What about Reverend Browne or Callahan’s uncle?”
“Henry Callahan worked for the Kelley Mine as a young man. Married Emily Richardson when they were both nineteen, right out of high school. They have no children. When the mine closed, he enlisted in the army, served five years stateside as a mechanic. Opened his own shop in Colton. It went under a few years later and he retired early.”
“He has a huge spread of land next to the Hendricksons’. Where did he get the money?”
“The Richardson family, inheritance. Mostly land, little cash.”
“Henry and his nephew Jon seem complete opposites,” Lucy said. “Middle-class blue-collar worker and wealthy international lawyer. How did Jon pay his way through college?”
“I didn’t go that deep; all this is basic intelligence. You want me to give them both a full rectal exam?”
“You’re full of humor today, Patrick.”
He laughed. “Oh, and the local reverend. He’s lived in Spruce Lake his entire life, owns two acres in town where he has both a house and the church. His father was the preacher before him. Looks like the only time he’s left the county for any length of time was four years’ divinity college in Ohio.”
“Thanks for everything,” Lucy said.
“On another note, when I said low profile, I meant in more than just staying safe. You know how Sean can get, and the last thing I want is