“Oh, boy.”
“I think that’s unlikely, to be honest. Brendan was only the catalyst, although they’re being charged with kidnapping.”
“Did you find drugs?”
He shook his head. She could barely make out his face, since the porch light wasn’t on. “No. Illegal possession of weapons. A National Guard Armory worth of weapons.” He sounded grim. “Which opens a can of worms, of course. Where did they get the money to buy the weapons? The rumors had to be right. Sure as shooting—sorry, bad pun—someone in their organization is manufacturing meth, growing marijuana… Hell, who knows. Moving drugs one way or another.”
“Will it be your job to find out who and how?”
“Not sure yet. I’m hoping not. Chances are I’ll get absorbed in some operation back home long before anything active happens on this front. Or because of the weapons the ATF will take it over for now.”
The ATF? After a second, Lia translated: Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. Another arm of federal law enforcement.
Lia analyzed Conall’s tone. He sounded neutral. Almost…flat. As if he didn’t have strong feelings either way, or as if he was suppressing what he did feel. Did he want to pursue this one to the end and was disappointed about returning to Miami? Or was he glad to be done with this mess and everyone concerned?
“I see,” she said.
They sat in silence for seconds that crawled into a minute or more. Finally Conall asked how Brendan was, in her opinion.
“Okay, I think,” she said slowly. “He was pretty shaken up last night—well, this morning. But he didn’t have any nightmares that I know about. He’s on an adrenaline high—” she winced at the reminder of the conversation with Conall “—but, of course, it was scary and exciting, too.”
“Exciting?” He sounded incredulous. “I’ve never been so freaked in my life.”
“Really?”
“Don’t tell me you think it was exciting.”
“No. Heavens, no.” She wrapped her arms around herself to contain a shudder. “But me, I hate horror films and I don’t read anything meant to make me start listening for the creak of a footstep on the stairs. I’m a coward.”
“No.” His voice was a caress, astonishingly gentle. “That’s the last thing you are, Lia Woods. You have your own kind of courage. Loving these kids and letting them go, over and over.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it.”
Her eyes stung. So softly she wasn’t sure he heard, she whispered, “I don’t know how I do, either.”
There was a long, long pause. “You know we’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”
Thank God he wouldn’t be able to see the tears that now dripped down her face. “I figured,” she said steadily.
“I’ll…miss you.”
Lia had to swallow several times before she could tell him, “You know we’ll all miss you, too.” But me most of all.
“Yeah, listen. Would you mind if I stayed in touch? Maybe called the boys, sent them postcards? At least until—” His voice, already hoarse, seemed to break. “Until they’ve moved on? And, uh, I’d like to hear what happens with Sorrel. You know.”
“I know.” She couldn’t wipe the tears away without him knowing they were falling. “Of course. Of course you can stay in touch. They’d like that.”
This silence was appalling. A deep, dark abyss.
“God, Lia!” he said explosively.
Holding in the agony, she said, “Would you— If you wouldn’t mind, I think I’ll stay out here a little longer.”
He pushed himself away from the railing, stared down at her for a moment, then took a few steps across the porch without saying another word.
Until she opened her mouth, Lia hadn’t known she was going to do it or what she was going to say. “Conall.”
Even without turning she knew he’d stopped.
“My bedroom door will be open tonight.”
His exhalation was audible and might even have been painful.
“I get bedroom privileges again along with the bathroom?” he said with unmistakable bitterness, then kept going.