If I Should Die_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [93]
“Gone? Misplaced? Checked out?”
“Gone. But the last person logged in to look at the Paul Swain sting operation was Victoria Sheffield.”
THIRTY-ONE
Patrick was behind the wheel driving to Spruce Lake while Sean got to work on his laptop. “I really hope the Feds don’t screw this up,” Sean said.
“You were being difficult,” Patrick said. “Maybe you need a lesson in diplomacy.”
Sean glanced at him. “What was I wrong about?”
“Nothing, but you could have pulled out your charm.”
“Maybe,” he said without conviction. “So Victoria Sheffield took the disk of Bobbie Swain’s accusations two days before she met Swain. Who else knew she had the information? And what was on the disk that could get Bobbie thrown in jail?”
“You’re missing something,” Patrick said. “That letter from Ricky’s mother was written over five years ago. Sheffield took the disk five months ago.”
“The question is, did she take it for Jon Callahan or for Paul Swain? What might be on it?”
Patrick considered. “FBI interview, supposedly friendly. They’d ask her tough questions, as well as the same question in different ways to see if her story changes, but if they considered Bobbie Swain a victim, they wouldn’t have pushed too hard.”
“Would they verify the information?”
“They did—they got a warrant based on her testimony and arrested nine people involved in drug trafficking.”
Sean snapped his fingers. “If there’s an appeal and the warrant is deemed illegal, what happens to the convictions?”
“Well, any evidence obtained because of the warrant could be thrown out. Could be, Sean. It’s fruit from the poisonous tree. But in a situation like this—with a widespread drug network and multiple meth labs—they most likely had other evidence to back them up.”
“Unless Paul Swain wasn’t on the radar until Bobbie put him there.”
“I’m not a lawyer, Sean. But I’d imagine that if she told the truth about her brother’s operation, it didn’t matter what her motivation was. Bad guys cut deals all the time. They do it to get reduced sentences, to get off, to save their life.”
“She didn’t cut a deal.” Sean didn’t know why it bothered him so much. Bobbie Swain was, as Abigail wrote, a monster. “Looking at the timeline—she kills her husband, injures herself, goes to the police a changed woman. They feel sorry for her, she gives them the sob story about how she was raised by a brutish father and abusive brothers and she wants it all to stop. They take down Paul Swain and in walks Bobbie, free and clear.”
“Except she didn’t. She wasn’t in town.”
“She was running things, nonetheless.”
“That’s going to be hard to prove.”
“She’s here now.”
“Tread carefully, Sean. We don’t have any proof that Bobbie Swain has committed a crime. There’s a lot of circumstantial evidence, but nothing solid.”
“The witness who saw two figures near Weddle’s house.”
“Who couldn’t identify them in a lineup if she tried. She admitted she saw them from behind.”
“If we can place Swain in Potsdam.”
“Circumstantial. You’d need to have physical evidence that she was in Weddle’s house.”
“And you wonder why I’m not a cop. You know she’s guilty.”
Sean saw a new message on his email. “Dillard came through. Here are Jimmy Benson’s phone records.”
He scanned the numbers and compared them to a list he had compiled. “On Wednesday, Ricky called him at ten-thirty-one a.m. One minute, probably left a message. Benson returned the call two hours later. They spoke for three minutes.” That made sense—Benson was on duty, he’d probably been at the lodge putting out the fire when Ricky first called. “According to Dillard, he left early Wednesday afternoon, taking sick time. We don’t know where he was from then until he showed up at the Lock & Barrel. The bartender didn’t remember when he came in, but he left shortly before seven. He made one call after he left the bar. Jon Callahan. Two minutes.” One more thing to ask him about.
Sean glanced at the time. “It’s nearly four. Let’s regroup at the lodge, and I’m going to try to convince Callahan to come to us. If that