The Sixth Man (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 5)

“Yes and no. It’s hard to explain. Eddie can lose himself in his mind like few others. He did that as a child, too.”

“Because of his father?”

“Sometimes.”

“So now your brother has withdrawn into his own mind as a form of protection?”

“He’s afraid.”

“Well, if they convict him for those murders they can execute him. And what’s more dangerous than facing lethal injection?”

“Yes, but at least lethal injection is painless. The people we’re up against won’t be that generous. I can guarantee you that.”

CHAPTER

48

THE PLACE MURDOCK WANTED to meet at turned out to be a post office building set two miles off the main cut-through between Eastport and Machias. It was one-story, all brick and glass with an asphalt parking lot. In front of the building an American flag flapped in the breeze atop a thirty-foot stainless steel pole.

There was one car in the parking lot, next to the mailbox drop-off.

Even from a distance Michelle could see the man in the driver’s seat. As her headlights hit the car, she saw the government plates. And she saw the man stir in the front seat. She pulled up beside the car, killed her engine and lights, and got out.

She looked around, studying the topography. The building was on one acre of cleared land with some grass, poured concrete sidewalks and curbs, and good old American-made asphalt to park your wheels on. Besides that there was nothing but wilderness.

She wondered what position Dobkin had taken up. He had several to choose from. She would have posted to the left of the building right near the tree line. That provided for decent cover and optimal sight lines.

“Thanks for coming,” Murdock said, as he got out of his ride and joined her.

“You made it sound important.”

“It is.”

She leaned against her truck and folded her arms. “One preliminary question.”

Murdock frowned. “What?”

“Sean and I have pretty much been on your shit list from the moment you met us. Now, you want to work together?”

Murdock drew out a stick of gum and popped it in his mouth. “I flew off the handle. I tend to do that more than I probably should.”

“We’ve all been there.”

“This case is giving me ulcers.”

“You’re not alone on that.”

“Every time I think I’m close something else happens.”

“And something tells me none of us have really been close to solving this.”

“You’re probably right,” admitted Murdock.

“So your change in tactics? You said you couldn’t trust your own side?”

“Let’s just say I’m getting paranoid from the chatter on my own end. And you can also put it down to wanting to get results. I’ve got my boss screaming at me every five minutes. If I waste any more time fighting with you and King and don’t solve this thing, it won’t matter. I’ll be cradled around a cubicle buried in some Bureau outpost and wondering where the hell my career went.”

“Sean was right about you and national security, wasn’t he?”