‘Webb told us to go home,’ Logan told him.
Cahill shook his head. ‘I can’t. Not yet.’
Logan stared at him.
‘I need to ask Webb a favour.’
‘Don’t you think that we’ve used up all our goodwill already?’
‘Maybe. But I need a favour anyway.’
‘You are a stubborn-’
Cahill waved him off and started walking across the street to find Webb. Logan didn’t have the energy to follow him so he sat on the steps of the ambulance and watched.
Jake Hunter and Danny Collins walked over to the ambulance from the chaos of the diner.
‘How is he?’ Hunter asked, looking at Cahill.
‘He’s got a hard head.’
Hunter laughed.
‘I noticed. And you?’
‘I’m okay. But if you don’t mind I won’t stand.’
Hunter reached out a hand. Logan took it and they shared a firm handshake. Collins did the same.
‘You probably saved someone’s life in there,’ Hunter told him. ‘We owe you a thanks.’
Logan didn’t know what to say, so said nothing.
‘I heard that Raines is still hanging on,’ Collins said. ‘Tough son of a bitch. Took three slugs.’
‘And the rest of his crew?’ Logan asked.
Collins shook his head.
‘That guy Grange,’ Hunter said. ‘He’s some cowboy.’
‘Still an asshole,’ Collins added.
Logan wanted to laugh but found that he couldn’t.
‘Take care,’ Hunter said.
They turned to leave Logan at the ambulance. Hunter stopped halfway across the street and turned back to Logan.
‘They got the guy over in Scotland,’ he shouted. ‘Shot a cop before he went down.’
The words rattled around in Logan’s head like a bullet, tearing through the delicate tissue of his brain.
Shot a cop.
Becky.
2
Cahill found Webb outside the door of the diner talking to an FBI press officer.
‘Is he dead?’ Cahill asked. ‘Raines.’
Webb turned to look at Cahill and told the press woman to give him a few minutes. She headed off to a wooden barrier where the massed ranks of the press had already assembled, their flashbulbs popping as she approached.
‘No,’ Webb told Cahill. ‘Not so far, anyway.’
‘Will he make it to trial?’
‘Initial indications are that he will.’
Cahill looked back over at the ambulance where he had been treated and saw Logan walking away from it frantically punching a number into his phone.
‘Why did he do it?’ Webb asked. ‘The suicide mission. I mean, walking into a place full of men with guns and opening up.’
‘Maybe he got tired of it all. It happens.’
Cahill scuffed his feet on the sidewalk. ‘Sorry to hear about your agent,’ he said.
Webb nodded.
‘I appreciate that,’ he said. ‘But I want you and your friend out of here, like, yesterday. I don’t need the headache.’
‘Logan’s leaving today.’
Webb’s head tilted to one side. ‘And you?’
‘There’s something I need to do.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I need your help doing it.’
‘You’ve got stones, I’ll give you that.’
‘It’s been said before.’
‘I’m fine,’ Irvine told Logan as he walked away from the noise and the crowd outside the diner.
He put a finger in his ear as another ambulance whooped on its way to the hospital. Or maybe it was the morgue.
‘It wasn’t me who got shot,’ she said.
‘What happened?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘I’ve got the time.’
‘We were following up a lead. Going to speak to some witnesses — a couple of prostitutes. Turns out this guy Butler had been hiding out with them and he came out shooting. He got Kenny Armstrong.’
‘Is he okay?’
‘Yes. Lost a couple of fingers, though.’
‘What about Butler?’
‘He’s dead. I watched a truck crush his car while he was still inside.’
‘How do you feel about that?’
‘Probably for the best.’
Logan was surprised at the cold venom in her voice. Had never heard her sound that way before.
‘He was a bad guy,’ she said, as if feeling the need to explain her reaction.
‘I’ve seen my fair share. You don’t need to apologise for saying that.’
‘I know. It’s just…’
Neither of them knew what else to say.
3
Twenty-four hours later Logan embraced Ellie in the airport arrivals area until she started to squirm. He released her and hugged Sam Cahill briefly.
‘Everything okay?’ Sam asked, squinting at Logan. ‘I mean, you look a little pale.’
‘I’m fine. Jet lag.’
She didn’t look convinced. ‘And Alex?’
‘Said he’d be back in a couple of days.’
‘I know that, Logan. I meant, how is he?’
‘He’s, you know. He’s just Alex.’
Sam did some more squinting before turning and leading them towards the escalator up to the car park. Logan put an arm around Ellie and squeezed.
‘How was your holiday?’ he asked.
‘It was good.’
She sounded less than enthusiastic.
He stopped and turned her to face him.
‘What’s wrong?’
She blinked and he saw tears shining in her eyes. Sam Cahill watched from a distance.
‘Ellie?’ he said. ‘Tell me.’
‘It was fun, you know,’ she told him.
‘But?’
‘I didn’t know when you’d be back.’
‘You knew I was coming back though, right?’
She looked uncertain.
‘I’m not going anywhere any time soon,’ he said.
She smiled and hugged him as tight as she ever had. Sam Cahill smiled and turned her head away, bringing a hand up to her face. Logan hugged Ellie back.
In the car Sam explained that they were having dinner at her house and she wouldn’t entertain any debate on the subject. Logan was hungry after the long flight and didn’t argue.
It only occurred to Logan that the Cahill girls had not been with Sam at the airport and that someone must have been looking after them when he followed Sam into the living room of her house. Irvine stood up from the couch and beamed at him. He went forward and hugged her without hesitation. He pulled away from the embrace and looked at the ugly bruising still on her face.
‘Glad to be back?’ she asked.
It was Logan’s turn to beam. ‘Like you wouldn’t believe.’
She put her hands on his cheeks and kissed his mouth.
‘Get a room,’ Ellie said.
4
The house was a modest two-storey affair with a small front yard and a late model Toyota in the driveway. Cahill didn’t know Kansas City, but it looked like a good neighbourhood. He stood at the foot of the path leading to the front door and patted the rear pocket of his jeans, feeling the slim presence of the gift he had brought here.
The doorbell chimed inside when he pressed the button by the side of the door. After a few seconds a woman not much younger than his own wife answered the door. She put a hand up to her face to shield her eyes from the glare of the low sun.
She looked better than he had expected, though her face still bore the tell-tale signs of grief. Her hair was blond and cut short, shaped to her face. Her eyes were the palest blue he had ever seen.
‘Melanie,’ he said. ‘I’m Alex Cahill.’
Her hand dropped to her side. Cahill had no real expectation of how she would react to his presence. Her expression was neutral but she stepped back and told him to come in.
He waited on a couch in the living room while Melanie Stark made coffee in the nearby kitchen. She handed him a mug and sat in a chair by the window, watching him drink.
He felt self-conscious because she did not have a drink so he took two quick sips and set the mug down on the floor at his feet.
‘You must have seen the news reports?’ he said.
She nodded. ‘They didn’t mention Tim,’ she replied.
‘I know. But they will.’