

The Secrets

Of Ethan Falls

A Daryl Richardson Crime Mystery Novel

J.W. Lucas

THE SECRETS OF ETHAN FALLS

Copyright © 2017 by John W. Lucas

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

ISBN 978-0-692-95907-7

The Secrets of Ethan Falls is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental or intended only to provide local ambiance to the story setting.

Introduction

In the eyes of many Daryl Richardson has the almost perfect

life. A former police detective with a law degree he has recently transitioned from employment as an Assistant US Attorney into a criminal law consultant role with the Department of Justice, a move made possible by an inheritance.

When he gets a frantic phone call from a law school classmate that her husband, a judge, has been shot at his courthouse, he sets off to the New England village of Ethan Falls to help her find the answer why.

He learns the judge was reviewing the stalled police investigation of a murdered beautiful young woman on the brink of stardom as a singer.

What could he have discovered that would shock the community and almost cost him his life?

### Chapter One

The portrait was artistic and professionally done. She was beautiful. Young, slender, with long flowing golden hair, her freshness etched in the soft studio light. The subtle smile, tilt of her head, and the demure cast of her eyes had frozen in time her pure beauty.

The Honorable Forrest Moran, Senior Court Judge in Abbot County sighed and carefully placed the portrait back into the manila folder on the desk. His gaze moved to the stack of photos next to the folder, a chill coursed through him as he picked them up. His hand unsteady, he witnessed her pure beauty in death, captured by the police photographer in the woods where she had been found by a hiker. She had been badly beaten, to the point almost unrecognizable. Her hair was twisted and matted, with blood, leaves, and twigs smeared across her once pristine face.

"My God," he murmured aloud. "What evil could do this?"

The Judge laid the photos face down on the desk, leaned back in his oversized worn leather office chair and rubbed his eyes. Head in hands, a sense of depression swept over him as he listened to the crescendo of the early evening rain beating on the windows.

He stood up, turned off the desk lamp, stretched to relieve the ache in his back, and walked across the office for his raincoat and hat. As he slowly buttoned the coat and searched the pockets for his car keys, he stared at his desk.

He sighed heavily, and his thoughts shifted to the drive home, his waiting wife, a cocktail, and dinner. He turned off the office lights, locked the door and slowly walked down the creaking wooden stairs to the courthouse lobby.

"All done for the day Your Honor?" asked Billy Barnum, the courthouse superintendent as he stopped in mid grand-motion pushing his broom across the oak floor. Sweeping is a simple chore but somehow Billy orchestrated it as an art form, exaggerated perhaps to reinforce the importance of his role in the eyes of his Master.

"You're the last one to leave, as always, better put your collar up, the rain is coming down hard now. Oh, by the way, that young girl from the town paper was here to see you a little while ago. I know you're busy, so I told her you were in chambers and couldn't be disturbed."

Judge Moran looked at Billy. He was a strange looking little man,

with uncombed grey hair, a few days' stubble growth on his face, dressed in wrinkled denim coveralls, the cuffs crudely rolled up to compensate for them being at least one size too big for him. Pushing seventy, Billy was as much an institution at the courthouse as the cornerstone.

"Thank you, Billy I can always count on you."

"Any time Your Honor; I know you've got your hands full with that dead girl thing."

Judge Moran didn't answer and hastened his walk to the doorway. Anyone who knew Billy would agree that he was a talker. The last thing the judge wanted was to extend the depression he was already feeling. "Night Judge," said Billy.

He went through the doorway, adjusted his coat collar high onto the back of his neck and briskly walked across the parking lot. Halfway to his car, the last one in the lot, he felt a stinging sensation on his left shoulder that spun him around.

As he stumbled, he felt a searing blow to his lower back that dropped him like a stone onto the hard pavement. Gasping for breath, in shock and disbelief, not understanding what was happening, he jerked his head away from the pool of now red rainwater forming around his face and gagged. He tried to stand, but the pain was intense, his knees couldn't overcome the pain to support his weight and he fell again face first into the deepening puddle of water.

Confusion was fast setting in, trying to breathe but unable, his vision blurred. His last moment of conscious recollection was the red pond stealing his life's breath.

Chapter Two

I was enjoying a warm late afternoon on the terrace of the Heritage Inn in Stillwater Vermont, nipping from a small carafe of Martel cognac. A luxury family vacation spot, the place was teeming with activities. Private golf course, mini golf, tennis courts, hiking trails, a four-star restaurant, and, in my humble opinion, one of the best pubs in the entire Northeast.

Stillwater personifies what many would describe as nostalgic. Like a Norman Rockwell vignette, it has meticulously maintained brick sidewalks, coach lantern street lights, and a three-block-long stretch of vintage and contemporary clothing shops, bookstores, hand-crafted gift and furniture makers, a bevy of sidewalk cafes and yes, a wonderful variety of pubs. My kind of town.

As you may have surmised, my priorities in life are weighted toward indulgence. My current indulgence is watching the bevy of young women in and around the Olympic pool just under my terrace perch. They were mostly college age, with their moms and dads (or a combination of parental partners as is almost the norm among the affluent these days), celebrating a break from their educational adventures with a lavish vacation before they face the summers-end realities of everyday young adult life.

I foresee great things ahead for the twenty-something blonde green-bikini lass who is sunning herself while her mom and dad appear to be more involved with their smartphones than their progeny.

Sorry! I digress. Who am I you ask? My name is Daryl Richardson. I'm forty- two, single, and a former police detective with a law degree. My Great Aunt raised me after my parents died in a car accident when I was eight years old. I know, sounds like a sad story, but I was blessed.

My grandparents had passed, my parents had no siblings, and my Great Aunt Clarice Helseth, who lived in the Berkshires of Massachusetts on the edge of Stockbridge, was my only living direct relative and became my legal guardian.

Aunt Clarice was a widow. I can best describe her as being refined, almost Victorian in appearance and manners, but in her heart, a nurturing positive influence in my life. Childless, her late husband was a physicist who died about ten years before my parents. He and Aunt Clarice were born in Denmark and came to the US a few years before war broke out in Europe. She didn't speak of him often, other than to say he was a good man, brilliant, and always provided her with a comfortable life. As I grew older, I learned that he worked for the government, but doing exactly what Aunt Clarice never discussed. Over the years I've spent time researching my great uncle, Gustav Helseth, with little success. Perhaps someday I'll find answers to that mystery.

Did I mention that Aunt Clarice was a little wealthy? Well, wealth is a relative term, but in a monetary sense, her late husband had the foresight to invest in some 'blue chip' companies that generated a healthy cash flow for his widow, besides his government pension.

Over the years she took an interest in the stocks and quietly amassed a fortune on her own. I learned that her penchant for investments extended into real estate, and she had bought large tracts of land in northern Massachusetts and southern Vermont, selling them in later years at staggering profits to land developers in the tourism and ski industries.

I should tell you I lived comfortably growing up, but it wasn't all privileged life. Public schools, summer jobs for spending money when I was old enough, the first car from a used car lot.

In hindsight, I think Aunt Clarice was helping me find my identity and experience the successes and failures that life brings. I guess that was the matriarchal instinct in her. One of her favorite quotes was "strong oak only grows from strong roots."

After high school, and many long talks with Aunt Clarice about my future, I was accepted for a job as a police officer in Connecticut, against her pressing I attend an Ivy League school.

Being young and independent I chose my path, and she ultimately accepted my decision without further debate when I agreed to her insistence that I continue my education paid for with a trust fund, as if I had attended in her words, a real school. Her generosity got methrough college and law school at night.

When Aunt Clarice passed, my life had moved on. I had left the police department and was working for the US Attorney in Boston. As her only living relative, I inherited the estate she lived on and all her financial assets.

Her will provided for several generous endowments to charities and non-profits, as well as providing lifetime income for our housekeeper and her husband who maintained her property for years before I arrived on the scene. They've agreed to continue to stay on in their house that was left to them in my aunt's will and manage the estate grounds for me.

Now, my life has become almost surreal. Incredible wealth can have a dark side if one loses sight of their roots. Now I know what Aunt Clarice was trying to tell me. I've decided to use my new wealth to continue her philanthropic work and have agreed to work as a criminal law consultant to the Justice Department. The next chapter of my life is starting here in Stillwater, Vermont, or so I thought.

I looked to my left and saw a young woman from the inn staff approaching me. "Mr. Richardson?" she asked. "I'm so sorry to disturb you Sir, but we took a phone message for you from a Mrs. Moran. She asked that you call her as soon as possible She said it was an emergency."

"Mrs. Moran?" I quizzed, setting my glass on the terrace railing.

"Yes Sir. We have her phone number at the desk. I'm terribly sorry

to disturb you sir, but..."

"No, No, that's OK. I'll call right now. Thank you, Miss."

I left my perch and walked to the reception desk in the lobby. I waited only a few moments before the receptionist asked, "May I help you, Sir?"

"Yes, I was told that you have a phone message for Mr. Richardson?"

"Oh Yes, Sir," she responded. "The lady sounded very upset and kept saying it was an emergency and that she needed you to call right away." She handed me a card with a phone number and "Lindsey Moran' written next to it.

Lindsey Moran and I were in law school together, although her last name at the time was Leahy, and she was two years ahead of me in our studies. A beautiful girl with a wicked sense of humor, she was also very smart, graduating near the top of her class. She was a proctor in a few of my study groups, and I recalled that there were many late study nights when I would find my mind straying from the discussions and end up staring at her beautiful long brown hair, her soft brown eyes and, well, I'm sure you get the idea.

About three years ago I ran into Lindsey in Boston when she was in town for a law seminar where I was on the presenting panel. We met at the reception after the program and we caught up with each other's life stories. Lindsey told me she had married one of our law professors, Forrest Moran, and he accepted appointment as a judge in Vermont.They had bought a gentleman's farm, and she opened a law practice in the town they lived in. We exchanged phone numbers and addresses, but that was the last time I had any contact with her. I dialed the number on the message card and after four rings a woman's voice softly answered.

"Hello."

"Lindsey? It's Daryl."

Before I could say anything else, the voice cried out "Oh Daryl, thank God. I didn't know who else to call."

"Lindsey, what's wrong?"

"Oh God Daryl, Forrest got shot yesterday when he left the courthouse."

The voice on the other end was a torrent of sobs and short breaths,

trying to form the words, but they wouldn't come out.

"Lindsey, it will be OK, just take a few breaths, try to take it easy and tell me how I can help you."

After a pause, she said in a hushed voice, "Daryl, I don't know what... I don't know how this happened. Why? No one will tell me anything. The doctors, the police, nobody. _Daryl I_ 'm _so scared_ , as her voice trailed off.

"Lindsey, I'm in Vermont myself, about an hour away from Bellington. I'll drive down, where can I meet you?"

"I'm going over to the Medical Center. He's in the ICU. I want to stay there all night if they'll let me."

"OK, I can be on the road in about an hour. I'll meet you at the hospital."

"Oh God, thank you Daryl, thank you, thank you," she said as she broke down crying again.

"I'm on my way, Lindsey. It will be OK" I said. Another soft "Thank You," and the phone call ended.

I walked back to the terrace and poured myself two fingers to drain the carafe. I looked down to the pool and saw my green-bikini distraction looking up at me. She was standing, sensuously rubbing lotion on her stomach and thighs. Our eyes met, I raised my glass to her in a toast. I'm sure I caught a seductive smile from her before she quickly turned and wrapped a beach towel around her waist, returning to her beach chair. I poured the glass into a nearby planter.

"Just as well, I'm leaving anyway," I thought to myself and walked back to the lobby reception desk.

"Miss," I said to the attendant, "A business matter has come up and I'll be checking out in about an hour. Could you please have my bill closed out for me?"

"Of course, Mr. Richardson, we're so sorry to see you leave," she answered with a faux frown and a well-rehearsed tone as if she was losing her best friend. I started toward the elevator to go up to my room, stopped, and went back to the desk.

"Could you please have the valet bring my car to the front for me?" I asked, handing her the claim receipt.

"Of course, Mr. Richardson."

I went up to my room, changed out of my LL Bean khakis and shirt, took a shower and shaved. I had brought business casual slacks and dress shirts on the trip and selected a dark blue summer weight trouser and a blue checked long sleeve, suitable attire for what I expected to be a business visit to a hospital rather than a reunion with a college crush.

I packed my suitcase and hanger travel bag, looked around the room for anything I had forgotten, dropped a ten-dollar bill on the bedside table for the chambermaid and went down to the lobby. The receptionist had my room charges ready, gave me my copy and placed my car keys and valet ticket on the counter.

"Your car is out front. Have a safe trip we hope to see you again." I thanked her for her services, complimented the Inn's ambiance with a few adjectives, and walked out to the portico.

The young valet appeared out of nowhere and smiled. I saw my black Challenger on the curb and I handed him the claim ticket.

"I'll take those Sir," he said reaching for my suitcase and travel bag.

We walked to the car, I pressed the trunk release, and he placed my things neatly inside as I reached for my wallet.

"Sweet ride. NCIS all the way."

"Excuse me?" I said, looking at him for an explanation.

"You know, NCIS Los Angeles, Sam Hanna, Callan, HETTY!" he exclaimed, emphasizing each name stronger than the prior. "Right," I responded in acknowledgment of the popular TV show.

"Hope this baby doesn't end up with bullet holes in it like Sam's does every other week," he commented.

"So do I," I said as I handed him a five-dollar bill. "So do I."

"Thanks, have a safe trip," he responded as he shoved the bill into his shirt pocket.

I set the GPS for North Bellington, the system voice responded, "Turn left onto Route 4 West," and I headed out. The Challenger SRT was brand new and I sensed she was straining at the bit as we crawled through the tourist district and its 25-mph speed limit. In a few minutes we were on the open road and I eased her up to 55. The throaty sound of the exhaust was calming, as if saying it had the strength to get us out of anything that got in our way.

The ride across Route 4 was scenic, and I settled in for what I thought would be an hour on the road. An incoming call flashed on the Bluetooth touch screen and I saw it was from "Bernie" short for Bernadette Nichols, my housekeeper. I touched the accept icon and answered "Hello?"

"Daryl! are you OK?" She asked sounding breathless.

"Yeah, why? Is there a problem?" I asked.

"No, but I've been a nervous wreck for the past hour. I feel I may have done something terrible. Daryl, I'm so sorry but I called you before and you didn't answer, so I left a message. You didn't call back, and I thought something terrible had happened."

"Bernie, what's wrong?"

"I answered the house phone and a hysterical woman was on the line to speak with you right away," she said. "I tried to get information out of her, but she was going that someone had been shot and maybe going to die....it... it frightened me."

"Yes, I know what that was about," I explained, trying to calm her near hysteria.

"Daryl, she kept pressing me about reaching you and I blurted out where you were staying in Vermont. I'm so sorry."

"Bernie, it's OK, I know the woman. She called the inn, and I spoke with her."

"Oh, Daryl, after I hung up all I could think about, was that maybe she was part of those horrible criminals in Boston that you've been working on and they were out to get you."

"Bernie, Bernie," I said in as calm a tone that I could muster, "Her name is Lindsey, she's a friend. Her husband was badly injured at work and she needs some assistance. I'm on my way to meet her in Bellington.

"Oh, thank God, I thought I had set you up for something awful to happen."

To change the subject, I asked how things were at home and she said there was nothing I needed to concern myself with. After a minute or two of social chatter I fibbed and told her I was driving, and traffic was getting heavy, so I had to go.

"OK Daryl, thank God you're OK. Please keep your cell phone on and let me know where you are when you get settled. I've been a nervous wreck about you for the past few months and I was so happy when you said you were taking time off, and now this woman's call. Just be careful dear. Please check in with me when you can. I love you."

"I will Bernie, love you too," I said and pressed the end icon on the screen.

Aunt Clarice may have been my guardian, but truthfully, Bernie and her husband Erik regarded me as if I was their own son. She and her husband had twin daughters ten years older than me when I was taken in by Aunt Clarice, and I grew up with them as their little brother, bonded as strong as blood siblings. The twins had finished school and moved out to live in Albany. Bernie was a registered nurse in her younger days, a blessing when Aunt Clarice's health failed. Now that they're all gone, I guess I'm the filler for Bernie's empty nest.

As I drove, I realized that I hadn't asked Lindsey how she had tracked me down. It made sense now. Poor Bernie. Sometimes I think she's Aunt Clarice incarnate.

My mind back on driving I realized the Challenger had worked her way up into the seventies and I backed her down to the speed limit. My traffic fib to Bernie was becoming true as I saw the first directional sign for the Medical Center. I arrived in a few more minutes and followed the signs to visitor parking. From my experience in the city, I had learned that hospital parking can sometimes be as emotionally draining for visitors as treatment is for the patients.

Much to my surprise, I found a parking space at the end of the second level ramp, against the wall next to the elevators. In two minutes, I was in the lobby and paused to take in the impressive decor.

At the Information Desk, I informed the attendant I wished to visit Forrest Moran.

She typed the name into her computer, leaned over to take a closer look at the screen and said, "I need just a minute Sir" and walked to an older woman at the other end of the desk. The women conferred, looked over at me and had more discussion.

I looked up and took note of two conspicuous security cameras that viewed people on my side of the desk. I looked down the desk and saw that my receptionist was on the phone.

After a moment she returned and said, "A Supervisor will be with you in a moment Sir. Feel free to have a seat while you wait," motioning to a cluster of couches across the lobby. I took no offense from the delay; in fact, I was pleased to see that the staff was screening visitors. I took a seat as directed.

About ten minutes later I saw an officious-looking woman in a lab coat approach the receptionist, who pointed in my direction. As she walked over to me, I stood up to greet her.

"I'm the Nurse Administrator today, may I help you?" she queried with no expression of emotion.

"Yes, I would like to visit Forrest Moran."

"Are you an immediate family member?"

"No, I'm not. Mrs. Moran asked me to meet her here. I'm an attorney." (I thought by stating my occupation I would expedite the visitor admission process but was I ever wrong). The woman raised her eyebrows and struck an obvious defensive posture.

"I'm sorry Sir, attorneys conducting business at the hospital must be cleared by our legal department before visiting patients."

"Oh? I'm here to visit a friend, my business is not with the hospital," I countered in challenge to her position.

"I'm sorry sir, but our policies are very clear."

"With all due respect this isn't an issue about the clarity of your policies, it's about their legality," I said. She snapped her head back and her posture became ramrod stiff.

"Just a moment," she retorted firmly, as she briskly walked to the Information Desk and reached for a phone.

I sat back down on the couch and a few minutes later I saw two large uniformed young men approach the Administrator at the counter. They conferred, quickly glanced in my direction, and each moved to opposite ends of the counter, facing toward me. If they were security guards as I suspected, their recruitment for employment must have taken place on a football field.

The men made no effort to engage me in conversation, but rather stood their posts, occasionally talking into handheld radios.

I glanced at my watch and realized my visitor check-in was fifteen minutes in duration and counting. Well, I thought, at least they're trying to keep the judge safe.

"Hi," a woman said as she approached me, hand outstretched. "I'm Kaitlyn Mason, one of the hospital attorneys." Pointing to the young man in a business suit next to her, she said, "This is Tom Hines, our Security Manager. How may we help you?" I stood up and shook her hand and that of her associate. She was an attractive woman, smartly dressed presenting a professional appearance. I was tempted to go off on a tirade about the attitude of Nurse Ratchet the Administrator but thought better.

"Hi, I'm Daryl Richardson. I would like to visit Forrest Moran. His wife asked me to meet her here, but I can't seem to get approved to visit."

"I was informed you're an attorney, is that correct?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Are you local or ...?" she asked, pressing her inquiry.

"No, I work with the US Department of Justice."

"Oh?" She said with surprise as if not expecting my answer. "Do you have any identification?"

"Yes, of course," and I reached for my wallet and took out my Federal employee ID. She examined the card closely and returned it.

"As an attorney, I'm sure you're familiar with the Federal HIPPA privacy act. There are circumstances when a patient declines to allow us to acknowledge that they are admitted here, or, for safety reasons, the hospital can invoke visitor restrictions on its own initiative."

"I do understand, completely," I said in asknowledgement," and I appreciate the hospital's efforts to keep everyone safe. Mrs. Moran contacted me and told me of her husband's situation and asked me to meet her here for personal assistance, not legal."

"I understand," she said.

"If it would help, I can try to call Mrs. Moran on her cell phone," I offerred."

"That would be very helpful, yes, thank you," she said politely.

I found my call to Lindsey from earlier in the day and pressed re-dial. She answered on the second ring.

"Daryl? Where are you?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Hi Lindsey, I'm in the lobby but having trouble getting cleared to visit."

"WHAT?" she exclaimed, "I'll be right down! This is crazy," as the call ended abruptly.

"She'll be right down," I informed the hospital lawyer.

"Good, thank you." As we waited, she asked, "Forgive me, this is a little awkward, but your name seems familiar to me. Have we met before?"

"Isn't that usually the guy's line?" I asked with a smile. She laughed as I glanced down at her left hand and noticed the nice arrangement of diamonds.

"No, if we did meet before I certainly think I would remember," I said with a grin.

"Well thank You, Sir," she retorted with a smile. "Seriously, your name is familiar to me." I shrugged my shoulders, and the timing was perfect.

I saw Lindsey Moran step out of the elevator and she looked like a woman on a mission. Even from a distance, I could see that she was a wreck. She saw me and headed straight in our direction.

"What is going on here?" she demanded in anger to the hospital staff. "My husband is upstairs and may die, and the one person I called to help me isn't being allowed in here?" I interrupted her, sensing that Mount Moran was about to erupt.

"Lindsey, please... have a seat," I said motioning to the couch. "I think that this has just been a misunderstanding and..." I never got to finish.

"MISTUNDERSTANDING!?" she shouted, as others in the lobby turned to see the commotion.

I noticed the two security guards start to walk toward us and caught a glimpse of Kaitlyn shaking her head at them indicating "No," stopping them in their tracks

"Don't you know who this man is?" She asked loudly, gesturing toward me.

I gently took Lindsey's arm and tried to guide her to the couch, she pulled back and stood staring at the three of us in silence. I saw her swollen eyes well up and watched her glare turn to anguish as she buried her face in my shoulder and let loose with a flood of tears as she started to sag to the floor. Security Manager Hines sprang into action and helped me move her to the couch. "Do you want me to call for medical assistance?" he asked looking at the hospital lawyer.

Lindsey opened her eyes and said, "No." in a labored breath, "No, I just need a minute."

Kaitlyn Mason sat down next to her and took her hand. It looked like she was taking Lindsey's pulse and watching her breathing. Lindsey leaned her head back on the cushion and closed her eyes.

"Mrs. Moran why don't you let us take you to the ER to get checked out, you've been under a lot of stress and ...." Lindsey interrupted "NO! I want to be with my husband. I'll be alright, just give me a minute." She took a few deep breaths and looked as if she was regaining her composure. "Oh, my mouth is so dry," she complained.

"Should I get some ice water?" Tom Hines asked, directing his question to Kaitlyn. She nodded, and he headed for the coffee shop section of the lobby.

"Is she okay?" I asked, hoping for a positive answer.

"I think so. Her pulse is racing a bit, but not too bad" said Kaitlyn as she stood up. She looked at me and continued "I was a nurse before my legal career. I think she's just very tired and worn out."

Kaitlyn sat back down and talked very softly to her as she sipped from the cup that Tom brought to her.

As I turned to thank Tom, I saw he was walking over to the guards who after a moment nodded and walked off. Kaitlyn was still talking with Lindsey, whose color was looking better.

"Are those your people?" I asked Tom, pointing to the two young guys walking away.

"Yes."

"Big boys."

"Are your staff armed?" I asked.

"No, they're not. We've been fortunate we haven't had the type of violence that justifies carrying weapons." He was a young guy himself, but I sensed his maturity, and if I had to guess, I would say ex-military. I saw that Lindsey was sitting upright now.

"I'm feeling better now. I'd like to go back to my husband," dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, looking at Kaitlyn.

"I understand," said Kaitlyn, "Tom, please get an admin visitor pass from the desk and have Mr. Richardson's name entered into the system as being cleared for ICU access." Tom complied and returned a few minutes later with a clip-on badge which I attached to my shirt pocket. Lindsey stood and took a deep breath and exhaled. "You OK?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said turning to look at me.

"I'll walk with you if that's alright," Kaitlyn said. Lindsey nodded.

We took the elevator up to the eighth floor and exited into a nicely appointed waiting room.

"If you'll excuse me, I want to speak with the nurse manager," Kaitlyn said as she walked to the nearby sliding door marked ICU RESTRICTED AREA, swiped her ID badge and entered.

"She's nice," said Lindsey as we sat down on a couch.

"Yes, she is," I agreed. She reached over and took my hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "Daryl, I feel so much better knowing that you're here. Thank You.," accenting her gratitude by tightening her grip on my hand.

"You got here quick. What are you doing in Vermont?" she asked.

I gave her a quick rundown of my recent life changes and she

nodded as I spoke.

"I think you made the right choice to take a breather. I guess it's not easy being the sole heir to the Helseth fortune. That's how the newspapers described you, you know."

"Helseth fortune? What newspapers?" I asked in an incredulous tone. "What are you talking about?"

"Your Aunt's gift to this hospital. Five million dollars! Don't you remember that? It was just before Christmas last year."

I looked down to the floor and said," Truth be told, her will listed many bequests; I used a law firm in Boston to manage the distributions. They had tax people and CPAs who took care of all those things that I'm not versed in. I was deep into a case at work and couldn't deal with that and the estate issues. I'm embarrassed to say I didn't know about any newspaper articles."

"I have to ask you," I said trying to change the subject, "we haven't had much contact with each other over the years. What made you call me today?"

Lindsey looked straight into my eyes and said, "Over the years I saw news reports on your work in Boston, all criminal cases. I remember in law school you were usually quiet until we worked on criminal case law. It was like you turned on a switch and your personality changed into this go for the throat Bronx DA guy." We both let out a weak laugh.

"Last night when I got the call that Forrest had been shot, I just fell apart," her voice starting to break. I saw her eyes getting glassy again.

"It was a nightmare, and it was happening to me... for real. I've never had anything... I've never had to deal with something as awful as this. When the police came to my house, they said it was possibly a robbery gone bad or maybe a targeted shooting and started asking me all these questions about Forrest and his work, I got so scared. I just wanted to go to Forrest, and it took forever for me to make the detective drive my car to the hospital."

"On the way driving he was saying things like maybe it was an active shooter, or an assassination attempt and I was begging him to stop talking and drive faster. I just wanted to scream and wake up and find it was just a horrible nightmare."

I just listened as she continued "And when we got here, and I realized that Forrest might die, I...., I...., I just love him so much and was scared I was going to lose him," ehe explained, trailing off into soft sobbing. I leaned over, pulled her head to my chest and held her as she cried.

After a few minutes of my attempt at consolation, Kaitlyn Mason came out of the ICU with another woman in scrubs. Lindsey took notice, sat up and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue from the side table.

"I'm sorry," she said to all of us. Kaitlyn motioned it was not necessary to apologize, sat down next to Lindsey and spoke softly.

"Lindsey, I know you've met Karen our ICU nurse Manager," gesturing to the woman in scrubs "I've explained to her that Mr. Richardson is cleared to visit, and she assures me that she will make her staff aware of that."

"Thank You," Lindsey and I responded in unison. Kaitlyn continued, "I'll go down to the Information Desk and personally confirm that they understand Mr. Richardson's clearance."

I stood up and shook Kaitlin's hand and thanked her again for her assistance. She reached over and gently touched Lindsey's shoulder, smiled, and walked to the elevator. A class act I thought to myself as she stepped into the elevator and the door closed.

Chapter Three

Back in my detective days, I had many occasions to visit accident and crime victims in the hospital to follow up to their situations, but none of that prepared me for what I saw when we walked into Forrest Moran's room.

It had been ten or twelve years since I had last seen him at law school. I remembered him as having a patriarchal bearing as he stood in front of us on the stage in the lecture hall. Back then he was in his late fifties I guessed.

A handsome man, tall, with a full head of brown precisely cropped hair just greying, he was always impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit, handkerchief perfectly positioned in his breast pocket, shoes with a mirror shine. When he spoke, it was always in grammatically correct sentences, almost theatrical. Thinking back, I could see why Lindsey was drawn to him.

Now, as he lay in a hospital bed with IV tubes, wires, and sensors attached all over his body, the thick breathing tube taped to his mouth hissed in rhythm as his shallow chest rose and fell. I felt weak. He was on a ventilator to help him breathe, his body medicated into a relaxed state to help him heal. His skin was ashen, his hair askew, but he looked at peace in his deep sleep.

I looked over at Lindsey standing beside me and saw she was shaking, her eyes fixed on her husband's face. I didn't speak as I pulled a chair to his bedside for her and watched in silence as she sat and held his hand, her head bowed against his forearm.

I took a seat against the wall behind her, hoping she would find solace from being close to him. We didn't move for the next hour.

An intercom in the hallway announced that visiting hours were over. I looked at Lindsey, who stood up, leaned over and kissed her husband's forehead and walked toward the door without speaking.

I followed her to the elevator which responded quickly to our call button. We rode in silence to the Lobby and stepped out. As we walked across the lobby Lindsey spoke first. "Daryl I'm not sure I'm up to driving right now. I took a room at a hotel downtown for the next few days, it's nearby. Could you give me a ride, please?"

"Of course," I answered, and we walked to the garage and took the elevator to the second floor. We got out, and I pointed to my Challenger parked against the wall. I clicked the door release on the key and opened the passenger side for her. She looked at the car, smiled and said, "beautiful". She got in and I went around and got behind the wheel.

"This is you, she said as she rubbed the leather seat."

"What?" I asked, not understanding.

"The car. This is you."

I pulled out of the parking lot and following Lindsey's directions arrived at the hotel in five minutes. We walked in, and since I was going to be staying the night, I registered for a room. We agreed we would meet in the lobby at 9 AM. Lindsey gave me a kiss on the cheek and went up to her room. I went out to my car in the parking lot, gathered my luggage and went up to my room. After I unpascked, I realized I hadn't eaten since morning and went down to the main floor lounge.

The place was dark and quiet, three guys were at the bar bantering with a very attractive maiden bartender. I chose a table in a relatively secluded corner next to a massive stone fireplace. I thought this would be the place to be on a bitterly cold February night in Vermont. My waitress came right over, introduced herself as Tammy. I ordered a light beer on tap and asked if I could get a meal.

She dutifully informed me that the kitchen was busy with dinners, but she was sure they would make my order. She returned with the brew and a bar menu and I selected the slider plate with steak fries.

My mind drifted off as I waited for my food, musing how my day had gone from girl-watching by the pool to being braced by Nurse Ratchet, to watching a dear old friend dissolve into heartbreaking sadness. I noticed a newspaper on a sideboard; I got up to grab it and see what I had missed in the world.

The front page snapped me back to reality. Side by side were two articles, one headline read "Prominent Judge Shot at Court House" the other "Sheriff Responds No Comment in Woman's Murder Investigation."

The article on Judge Moran was short on details, reporting multiple wounds, rushed to the Medical Center in critical condition, no motive, and the obligatory paragraph on who responded, and praises of cooperation between police and EMS agencies.

The woman's murder case piqued my interest as it was the first time I had heard of it. The article said that Susan Peterson was a well-known singer with a popular local band and had just received an offer for a recording contract in Nashville. She was reported missing six weeks ago after she failed to return home after working as a volunteer at an immigrant resettlement charity. She was found dead in the woods two days later; the cause of death had been listed as homicide. The sheriff's "No Comment" was in response to the reporter pressing him for an explanation of the lack of communication to the public, citing in his words, "It's an active investigation." I put the paper aside as Tammy brought my meal and thought to myself, "What am I getting into here?"

I wolfed down the burgers and fries and must say that they were delicious. Tammy returned to my table and informed me that she was going off shift but Mandy the bartender would get me anything else. She presented me with the check, cleared away the plate and silverware and remarked that she would be back in a few minutes. The meal and beer came to fourteen dollars and change. I put a twenty in the check presenter and slid it across the table.

When I was promoted to detective many years ago, I bought a leather-bound pocket notebook that I used to record facts about my investigations. To this day the habit of always carrying the notebook and a pen stays with me.

I opened the notebook and wrote down the County Sheriff's name, 'J.B. Hunter', and the investigator, 'Capt. Johnny Carpa.' I saw that both men were also mentioned in the murder article, along with the County Medical Examiner, "Horace Greene MD", who was said to have performed an autopsy.

Tammy came to the table, I motioned to the check, told her I was all set and thanked her. She smiled sweetly and said, "Thank You!" I sat alone at my table staring at the paper and notebook wondering if there could be any connection between the two cases.

About ten minutes later, Mandy the bartender appeared at my table with a draft and said "On the house. Tammy is off shift now and you look like you aren't finished with your homework!" She glanced at the paper on the table and remarked, "That's awful," shaking her head.

"You a reporter?" she asked. "We've had a few staying here lately"

"No. The article just caught my eye," I answered.

"I knew her," Mandy offered. "She was a sweetheart. And talented? Wow! She could light up a room with her singing, and work a crowd? She was amazing."

I must have looked puzzled, because she said, "Oh I'm sorry, but this scares me. First Susan getting murdered and now a judge in my hometown getting shot. What's going on? This is Vermont, not New York or Chicago."

"I hear you," I said, not wanting to minimize her fear.

As she stood there, I realized that this was one exquisite young woman. Tight dark jeans, a crisp white top unbuttoned at the neck just enough to pique the interest of any guy. And she smelled nice! I don't know what the perfume was, but she wore it very well.

"Are you visiting ...or...?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm in town for a few days visiting friends. How did you know the murdered girl? Friend?"

"Her band played a lot of wedding receptions that we have here. Over the past couple of years, we got to know each other well and

became very close. I loved her. She just got a recording contract and the guys in her band are devastated. They want to find out who did this and kill him with their bare hands," she said.

She sat down in the chair across from me. "I used to love Vermont. The people, the leaves, the snow. Now we have drug addicts, ODs, gangs, militia nuts, my friends are being murdered. Did you know there had never been a murder in Ethan Falls for over 100 years?"

She stood up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go off like that, but I really loved Susan."

"I'm sorry for your loss," I offered, trying not to sound condescending. "It sounds like the police are working on it."

"That's a joke!" she snapped. "That Sheriff is a pompous, self-serving pig. I can't believe he isn't in jail himself for some things he's done."

"What do you mean?" I asked, taken aback by her sudden anger.

"Half of his deputies are related to him somehow, and they're creeps. Most of his guys think they're God's gift to the world. He has connections with all the politicians. I grew up in Ethan Falls, I know all about them."

Her venting brought a blush to her complexion, and as strange as it sounds, she looked even more attractive. I only had one beer, so I know it couldn't be the alcohol clouding my vision.

"Are you sure you're not a reporter?" she asked, managing a slight laugh.

"I'm sure," I answered with a grin without elaborating.

"Are you staying here at the hotel?" he asked.

"Yes, for a few days I think," I answered.

"Great.! I'm here tomorrow night. Stop in and have a drink," she said as she stood up from the chair.

"I will do that," I said as she walked back to the bar. Midway she stopped, turned, looked at me and smiled, before walking away. I liked the look.

I folded the newspaper, put my notebook away and finished the beer. I checked my watch and saw it was almost ten. It had been one hell of a day, and I was ready for a good night's sleep. As I left the lounge Mandy called out "Good Night, see you tomorrow."

Chapter Four

The alarm woke me at 7:00, and I rolled out of bed feeling rested. A quick shower, shave, and I dressed in a dark blue suit, white long-sleeve with an open collar. My plan for the day was to start poking around, hopefully with a visit to the courthouse where the judge worked.

I went down to the lobby and learned from the desk clerk that breakfast was available in the lounge. Walking in I was struck by the overnight transformation from a dark pub atmosphere to a bright and colorful café. I took the same table as I had the night before and ordered the sausage biscuit, melon medley, and coffee. The order came quickly; the coffee was robust, the fruit wa fresh and plentiful. I finished about 8:45, paid for the fare and walked back to the lobby.

Lindsey was sitting on a couch talking on her cell phone. As I approached, she motioned for me to sit and I took a chair across from her until she finished her call.

"Good Morning! Sleep well?" she asked. I noticed that she looked much more rested and composed than she was yesterday; her makeup and hair looked as if she was ready for a day in court.

"Yes, I did. And you look rested too."

"I did sleep, and I know I must have looked like hell yesterday. I'm so sorry that I was such a basket case, but I have some encouraging news this morning. I just got off the phone with the nurse manager. Forrest had a good night, his blood pressure is stable, and the plan is to take him off the respirator this morning," she said.

"That's great!" I responded in relief.

"And I have a meeting at 1:30 with the surgeon and I'd really like to have you there. Daryl, I can't tell you how relieved I am that I have your help."

"Of course, but medical talk isn't one of my strengths," I cautioned her.

"Me neither, but I need to know how serious his wounds are and how they're going to treat them. All I know is that he was shot in the shoulder and the back. Thank God no one has said anything about being paralyzed." She continued, taking a serious tone.

"Daryl, I would like to offer you a retainer you to find out who did this to Forrest."

Her last comment took me aback.

"Lindsey, I'll do anything I can to help you, but a retainer is out of the question. We're friends."

"Well thank you, but I do think that when you speak with Forrest, he will want some assurance that your conversations are under attorney- client privilege."

"I can understand his request for my confidence, but I'm puzzled. Why would the Judge need a lawyer?" I asked. "He's the victim,"

She paused for a moment and looked down before looking me in the eye. "Daryl, I don't know what Forrest was working on, but I do know that for the past two weeks he seemed very troubled. Maybe that's not the right word, he was withdrawn. That's not like him. We never talk about each other's work, we agreed to that before we were married. But about two weeks ago he said he had to make an overnight business trip to Montpellier and when he came back, he had a briefcase full of files and spent most of the day in his study with the door closed. That's not him. I asked if everything was all right and he said he had been asked to take on a very complex case. That's all he said."

"What type cases does he normally hear? I can't imagine that Ethan Falls is a hotbed of crime and passion," I asked with a smile.

"Don't underestimate the passion, my friend. New England isn't as puritanical as most people may think." There was a hint of radiance in her smile, something I hadn't seen in many years _._ "And to answer your question, complex civil litigation, trusts, land use, environmental issues, things like that."

"You took the New England Compact bar exam, didn't you?" she asked. "And you're licensed to practice in Vermont, right?"

"Yes, and yes.... But," I started to answer. She interrupted before I could finish.

"Then it's settled. We want to retain your legal services."

"Lindsey I'll certainly protect your legal interests, but I insist I do it as a pro-bono professional courtesy."

"Agreed," she said offering her hand, and we shook on it.

"Now that that's settled, where do you start?" she asked.

"I thought I'd visit the courthouse, see the layout, and talk to anyone who might have some information on who was at court that day, any problems or unusual things that may have happened before the shooting," I explained.

"Okay. I have a voicemail from Dan Petrone, he's the County Attorney assigned there. He asked about Forrest's condition and left me his cell number. I'll call him and let him know to expect you," she offered.

"That would be great. What can you tell me about the Sherriff, Huntley... Harper... something like that?" I asked.

"J.B. Hunter" she corrected me. "Good luck with him."

"What do you mean?"

"Picture an overweight, overbearing, dismissive Southern sheriff type. The locals, especially the kids, call him Porky," she answered with a laugh.

"Good to know. That bears out something that was said to me last night," I mused.

"Last night? What do you mean?" she asked with a look of confusion.

"Before I went to bed I went down to the bar and was reading a news story on the shooting. The barmaid saw what I was doing and struck up a conversation with me and talked about the Sheriff. She wasn't shy about her opinion of him or his department. She called him a pig," I explained.

"Pig... Porky... if the shoe fits," she said shruging her shoulders.

"And she also talked about her friend being murdered. A singer? Do you know anything about that?" I asked.

"Oh God yes. Susan Peterson. An absolute beauty. Her mother Sarah and I are in the garden club together. A wonderful family and they're devastated. She was an only child, a gifted entertainer. She just got a recording contract offer and...." her voice trailed off.

"I saw that in the paper. The article seemed like the police hadn't made any progress in finding the killer, or if they did, they were playing it very close to the chest," I said.

"Daryl, this has torn the town apart. There are so many rumors; drug-related, jilted lover, a sex crime, just awful crazy stuff. None of that was Susan's life. From what little I know the leading rumor is that it may have had something to do with her volunteer work with the immigrant resettlement program."

"I'm not familiar with any resettlement programs. What's that about?" I asked.

Lindsey explained. "We're a very civic-minded State. Some of our churches got involved with immigration issues right after Vietnam and things expanded when civil war broke out in Somalia. Now with the Middle East crisis, some refugees are seeking asylum in upper New England. We've taken the lead on that. In fact, we have a temporary shelter and resettlement village, and Susan was a volunteer caseworker for Abbot County. Oh Daryl, she was such a beautiful and giving young woman. To die so violently so young is just awful."

I looked at my watch and saw that it was a quarter past nine. "I'm sorry if I upset you talking about Susan," I offered in apology.

"No, that's okay. It's troubling to think that her murder and now Forrest being shot is so scary. Things like that just don't happen in Ethan Falls. They just don't happen.... but they did."

Before I could respond Lindsey leaned toward me and whispered in an excited hushed tone "Daryl, you don't think these two things are related, do you?"

"I don't know, but it should be considered," I said calmly, not wanting to frighten her.

"Oh my God! What if they are? Is Forrest in any danger in the hospital? Do they have guards? Can we get the police involved to protect him?" She asked as she suddenly reached over and grabbed my forearm. My comments had pushed Lindsey into panic mode and I thought quickly as to what to say to calm her fears.

"Lindsey, hopefully, I'll know more when I get back from Ethan Falls. Right now, let's concentrate on the Judge's recovery. Why don't you call the County Attorney and I'll head up there? I'll give you a ride to the Hospital first, you left your car there last night, remember?"

"I honestly forgot about that. Thank You," she said, as she dialed her phone.

I got my car and picked her up in front of the lobby. She didn't say anything during the short drive other than "Thank You," when I dropped her off. I thought that I didn't want to peek inside her mind right now.

It was a twenty-minute ride north on Route 7 to Ethan Falls. The Challenger took the curves well on the winding road, and I had to work on it to keep her speed below fifty-five.

As I came into the town, I saw neatly kept one-family homes, local merchant stores, a funeral home, a church, general store, post office, and a couple of gas stations that led to what looked like Main Street small town USA. A village green complete with a gazebo and a WWII artillery piece was the centerpiece. Classic New England I thought. I pulled into a gas station and filled up at the pump, went inside to pay and got directions to the courthouse.

When I arrived, it was a well maintained, two story brick building with a peeling gilded dome, just outside the town center. The parking lot was small, surrounded by a grove of pine trees. I parked and went up the stairs into the foyer and stood in line to be screened by a uniformed deputy. No metal detectors, the screening process seemed to be only a question-and-answer checkpoint.

"Do you have a case here today?" asked the deputy at the podium when it came to my turn for an inquiry. "No. I'm here to see the County Attorney."

"Is he expecting you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"OK, down the hall last door on the right," he directed me as he unhooked the velvet rope blocking my passage. I walked through and thought to myself "You've got to be kidding me. Two days ago, somebody shot one of your judges and you didn't ask me for ID, check me for weapons?"

I went into the County Attorney office and it was a flashback right out of a black and white fifties movie. An oak wooden floor with a row of folding chairs along the wall, there were about a half dozen lawyer types waiting to see the prosecutor, manila files on their laps, briefcases neatly lined up in front of them.

I stepped up to the clerk's counter, introduced myself and told the woman I had an appointment with Attorney Petrone. She nodded, pointed to the chairs, and told me to take a seat. Five minutes later a young woman came out of an office and said, "Mr. Richardson?" I raised my hand in acknowledgment.

"Come in please," she said, motioning me to come hither. As I went to her, I heard one of the lawyer types mutter "Christ," as he slapped his folder against his lap.

County Attorney Dan Petrone looked every bit the image of a seasoned prosecutor; grey pinstripe trousers, a white shirt, and dark blue tie were his trademark wardrobe. He greeted me with a firm handshake and I took a seat in front of his desk.

"I spoke with Lindsey this morning; she told me the Judge is holding his own. Any update?" he asked.

"I know what you probably know already. He apparently had a good night, and they were planning to take him off the respirator this morning," I explained.

"Yeah, she said that. She also said that you're with the Justice Department?"

"Yes, I was a Deputy US Attorney; currently I'm working with Justice as a consultant."

"And you know her and the judge from law school?"

I didn't expect a voir-dire but thought I best go with the flow. I nodded the affirmative.

"After she called me this morning, I must admit that I Googled you," he continued, "You've been a busy man. That human trafficking case you did in Boston got a lot of publicity." Thirteen arrests I think I read, white collar, blue collar, street hustlers. Man, that was some fine work."

"I also read that you recently came into a lot of money," he said as an aside. I shifted in my chair but didn't answer as I nodded my head in the affirmative. Damn Google!

"Sorry, I don't mean to give you the third degree," he said. "Judge Moran is a highly respected jurist and has been a mentor to me. We're a little laid back here in Vermont, especially in this County. What happened to him is a shock to all of us. Lindsey said she has retained you, but I'm not sure why."

He left his question open-ended, and I waited a moment before I responded.

"Lindsey is very frightened Dan, and she feels she isn't getting any answers from anyone about who could have shot him and why. I know it's only been two days, but she feels that the local sheriff may be out of his league on this one."

"I have to agree with her on that. The man is an ass," he said bluntly.

"That seems to be what I'm hearing Dan. Let's stop the dance and tell me straight up. What the hell is happening in Ethan Falls?"

He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on the desk, not speaking. After a few moments, he looked up and said "We're a District court here Daryl. I have two assistants who work part-time. We have two judges on the circuit who sit three days a week. We do traffic cases on Mondays and Thursdays, arraignments, and a few dozen criminal trials a year. Serious felony cases are bound over to the Superior Court. The public is very committed to maintaining its independence from the State whenever possible."

He continued, "We're unique in that the towns in the County got together and established a Business Manager position to coordinate our matters with the State. In truth, he's a lobbyist but has self proclaimed his title as the County Executive. I won't lie to you; he brings a lot of politics and his ego into our lives."

"Judge Moran is a Senior State judge," Dan explained. "He referees complex civil litigation cases. I don't track his docket, but I can tell you he stays busy and steers clear of the local politics. Ethan Falls is out of the way, but the Attorney General thinks that it's a better venue for the lawyers in contentious matters to get them into a calmer environment to work out their differences, you know, get them away from their home turf so to speak. That's why they provide space here for the Judge."

I nodded my understanding.

"The Judge getting shot is a shock to all of us. The girls in the Clerk's office are scared to death. They don't feel safe coming to work here. I called the Sheriff and asked for more support here, but he didn't want to hear it." I sensed Dan's frustration with his situation.

"I have one deputy screening people and one bailiff who doesn't even carry a gun! What the hell is wrong with that man?" he said angrily.

"How can that be in this day and age?" I asked incredulously.

"He cries Budget cuts! Budget cuts my ass. He's a controlling son-of-a-bitch who thinks he owns this County, and no one will dare challenge him," he said, raising his voice.

If nothing else I had managed to raise County Attorney Dan Petrone's blood pressure to the ceiling.

"Dan, have you brought your concerns to the County Exec?" I asked.

"Sure, I have. And you know what? He tells me that the Sheriff complains to him that I'm not supporting his arrests with a stronger prosecution. Hell, Hunter says he's leading his department in a war on drugs in the community and on the highway, but most of his department's drug arrests are borderline civil rights violations. They're doing raids, seizing drugs, money, and cars for what he calls drug trafficking, and then screams at me when I won't support his forfeitures."

"He's been by-passing my review of the search warrant applications and from what I've seen of them after the fact he must be putting pressure on the Judges to issue them because most of them are pure bullshit probable cause. That's one of the problems with the system.

"Problems? I don't understand," I said, shaking my head.

"District Judges are appointed, so am I. The Sheriff is elected, and our so-called County Exec is too," he explained. "Campaigns are expensive. The Sheriff and his business associates are heavy contributors to the candidates he feels he can work with, especially the Exec."

"What do you mean business associates?" I pressed.

"The Sheriff reportedly has interests in car and equipment dealerships, towing companies, and owns a piece of a survivalist school just outside the town limits. Personally, I think it's a front. They're all heavy contributors in the campaigns."

"Dan, you said you're an appointed official, and that campaigns are expensive. Are you one of the Sheriff's preferred people?" It was a pointed question, and I hoped that he wouldn't reach across the desk and take a swing at me.

"No way in Hell would I associate myself with those people!" he answered as his face reddened. "I'm in my sixteenth year as the District Attorney, and my supporters are the everyday people that live in the county. I go out and talk to people. I don't need to spend money on TV, radio, and newspapers. I've been very successful sticking to my beliefs in pursuing the interests of justice, and hopefully my re-appointment next Fall will carry me over to my twenty-year retirement. The bottom line is that I won't be a party to violating anyone's civil rights. Hunter is an ass."

I had a lot more questions, especially about the qualifications of the judges, but my visit to the Court was to try to find out what happened to the Judge. I needed the conversation to get back on track.

"Dan, what happened the other evening?"

"From what I was told the Judge was the last to leave, a little after six. That's his routine. Billy Barnum, he's the building superintendent, was in the lobby. He and the Judge chatted briefly, and the Judge went out to his car. Billy told me he locked up and left about ten minutes later. He lives just down the street, so he walks to work. When he went outside, he saw the Judge on the ground and thought he had fallen. He ran over to him and saw he was bleeding, ran inside called 911, and went out again to wait for the ambulance."

"Did anything unusual happen during the day? Anyone with anger issues?" I asked.

"No, it actually was a light docket and I was able to get out of here a little early for a change. I left about three."

"Have you been interviewed by the police, Dan?"

"No, I got a call at home from one of the ambulance crew and they told me what happened. I drove back here but by the time I got back everyone was gone except two deputies who were in a cruiser. It was pouring out and I got soaked when I went over to talk to them. They said the Judge was alive when they put him in the ambulance. That's all they knew."

"Do you know if they did a search, look for witnesses, suspects; cars in the area?" I was fishing to see what efforts the police had made.

"I don't know that," he answered. "As I said it was pouring rain and the two deputies were in one of their cars drinking coffee when I got here."

"Have the police been back to follow up?" I asked,

"I don't know what happened that night. I came back here to the office and called the Sheriff's Department. The dispatcher told me the Sheriff wasn't in and put me through to his phone mail. I left a message for him to call me as soon as possible and left my cell number. I didn't hear back after about a half hour, so I called the Department again and got the runaround. I told the dispatcher it was urgent the Sheriff calls me, and she said she would try to track him down. After that, I went home."

"Did he get back to you?"

"Yeah, about nine o'clock. He said he was aware of the shooting and that Johnny Carpa was heading up the investigation. He's the Detective Captain."

"Is he any good?" I pressed.

"He's the Sheriff's cousin. Read between the lines. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Isn't Carpa investigating the murder of the young girl a few weeks ago?"

My question startled him. "You know about that?"

"Yeah, I saw an article in the local paper. It sounded like the case was stalled. Not much information coming out of the Sheriff's Department," I explained.

Dan Petrone thought for a moment before he spoke "Daryl, this isn't Boston. Susan Peterson's murder was the first ever in Ethan Falls since they started keeping records in the late 1800s. From the start, I was pushing Carpa to share his progress with me so that I could have a foundation to build a prosecution on when they made an arrest."

"And?" I asked.

"Nothing. The more I pressed the more he brushed me off onto the Sheriff. I asked about autopsy results, forensics, DNA. I've received nothing. It got to the point the Sheriff said I was obstructing the investigation and if I didn't back off and let his department do their job, he would file a complaint with the Exec."

I leaned back in my chair and shook my head. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

After a minute I spoke, carefully choosing my words "Dan, I'm shocked to hear of this disconnect between your office and the Sheriff's Department. I didn't come here to get in the middle of a turf war, or to take sides. My job is to try to get some answers for Forrest and Lindsey Moran."

"I understand Daryl, and I can appreciate your position. But I hope you can see my side of this. I'm at wit's end; I have an unsolved murder and now an attempted murder. I can use all the support I can get."

"Dan, did you bring your concerns about the Sheriff to Judge Moran?"

"I did. He listened and said he understood and confided in me that he also had concerns. I asked him if he thought we should push for the State Police to take over the Peterson murder."

"And?" I asked,

"He said he had a visit from the Peterson girl's father, Eddie. He's a decorated war veteran. Vietnam, a Marine, a couple of Purple Hearts, Silver Star from what I've been told. Apparently, Eddie is on the brink of snapping over the lack of progress and was pressing for the State or FBI to step in."

"Did the Judge say how he responded?"

"He told me he believed something had to be done, that he had spoken with the County Executive, but he said he couldn't disclose anything further."

I thought back on what Lindsey had said about the Judge seeming to be out of sorts lately. "Dan, can you remember when you spoke with the Judge?"

He thought for a moment and answered, "About two, maybe three weeks ago, why?"

"Um nothing, I'm just trying to put a timeline together in my mind."

I looked at my watch and reminded myself that I had to be back at the hospital by one-thirty.

I stood up and said, "Dan, I've taken up enough of your time, and when I came in, I saw the lineup out there waiting to speak with you."

"They can cool their heels. Today is our pre-trial docket. Plea bargains to keep the wheels of justice spinning," he said with a resigned smile.

We shook hands and stepped out into the waiting room. Two young lawyers leaped to their feet, the female half of the pair looked like she was ready to rumble.

"Mr. Petrone! We've been waiting almost an hour, this is unacceptable," she said in an accusatory tone. Before she could finish Dan Petrone turned and snapped at her.

"Miss, this Court has many pressing matters before it, and if you're inclined to negotiate some consideration for your client, you'll sit down and conduct yourself in the proper manner I expect from an officer of the Court."

Her young male cohort tugged on her sleeve and pulled her back into her chair. Two more senior looking attorneys in the lineup looked at each other and exchanged wry grins. I walked out to the parking lot thinking I really wanted to speak with the building superintendent, but it would have to wait until tomorrow.

I glanced around and couldn't see any trace that a violent crime had taken place. I'm used to seeing discarded crime scene tape, medical supply wrappings, remnants of burned out road flares. Not here though. Mr. Billy Barnum certainly kept a clean yard.

I fired up the Challenger and made my way back onto Main Street. Toward the end of the village green, a sign on a sidewalk vendor's cart caught my eye, "Chez Dog." I couldn't remember the last time I had a hot dog and pulled into a parking space to grab a quick lunch.

A Sabrett skinless beef dog, a generous ribbon of Grey Poupon topped with sauerkraut, and a Coke was a culinary masterpiece for seven dollars. I took a seat at a nearby café table on the sidewalk and noshed, with nary a drop of mustard or sliver of kraut staining my shirt. Thirty minutes later I was on the road heading back to the Medical Center.

As I drove out of town, I thought I hadn't made much progress for my clients on my first day. Then it dawned on me, I never had a real client before! I laughed at myself and glanced in the rearview mirror to see a dark colored late model Taurus coming up fast behind me. The tinted windshield and fender mounted antenna gave it away. An unmarked police car. It closed to about ten feet on my tail and backed off.

I glanced at the speedometer, saw I was doing forty, checked the mirror again and saw the Taurus make a quick right turn onto a side road. "Son-of-a-bitch," I thought. He grabbed my plate number.

The Challenger is registered in my name; the address is a condo that I had bought in Boston.

Working for the government as I do, especially in the criminal division which is heavy into undercover work, all our work and personal cars are entered into the motor vehicle database and programmed to alert our office and identify the date, time and agency that may run our plate. I suspected that my Taurus encounter was with the Abbot County Sheriff's Department.

Thirty minutes later I pulled into the Medical Center parking garage and to my luck, I found a parking space with ease. A few minutes later I was sitting in the lobby with some time to kill, enjoying a melody from the computerized baby grand.

Chapter Five

Lindsey came walking toward me across the lobby and I couldn't help but notice how energized she looked.

"Hello, my friend," she said as she bounced onto a couch across from me. "I just left Forrest, he's conscious and recognized me right away. He's weak, but he put his hand out to me and squeezed mine. He really can't talk much yet and seems to drift off to sleep a lot, but he's breathing on his own."

"That's great progress Lindsey. Not out of the woods, but it sounds like he's on the right path."

"I think he is. How did you make out with Dan Petrone?"

I looked at her and knew that I had to choose my words carefully so as not to dampen her spirits. "Dan was very accommodating, and he asked me to tell you that you and the Judge are in his thoughts." I fibbed on that one, but figured Dan had that on his mind but was too distracted to speak the words.

"Thanks, Dan is one of the good guys."

"He is. He really didn't have much information for me, told me that the building super, a Billy Barnum, found the judge in the lot and called 911 after he saw he was hurt."

"Billy is a character, and he's been there forever. Thank God he did what he did."

I nodded and continued, "Dan said he spoke with the Sherriff and learned that the Captain, Carpa I think his name is, was assigned the case."

Lindsey gave me a blank stare and said "Oh! I was hoping he was going to say that the State Police were taking over the investigation since a judge was involved."

"Well, at this point it's still a County matter due to some political issues, but that may change."

"What do you mean?" she asked, not understanding.

"Just that Dan said some things about his working relationship with the Sheriff's Department, and his thinking is the Judge getting shot and the Peterson girl's murder might be too overwhelming for the Sheriffs to manage."

"What he was saying Daryl is that they don't know what they're doing," she said seeing through my veil of diplomacy, "and a murderer is loose in the County and he may be the person that shot my husband."

I thought for a moment how to respond but was rescued by a voice that called out, "Oh Mrs. Moran, there you are!" A man dressed in green scrubs and a surgical cap walked up and nodded hello.

"Daryl, this is Dr. Mongello, He's the surgeon who operated on Forrest. Doctor, this is our dear friend Daryl Richardson."

I recalled that I once heard that surgeons don't shake hands, to protect their tools of the trade. I was also glad Lindsey didn't tell him I was a lawyer. That's the last thing a doctor would probably want to hear. I nodded as cordial a greeting as I could muster.

"Mr. Richardson nice to meet you. Mrs.Moran, let's go into the family room and talk about your husband's treatment plan," he said pointing across the lobby.

"Doctor if you don't object, I'd like Daryl to sit in with us."

"No objection at all, this way please," he said guiding us into a small room with a sofa, recliner and coffee table. He closed the door and took a seat in the recliner. He put on his professional face.

"Mrs. Moran, your husband's injuries were very serious. He had two bullet wounds, left shoulder, and his back."

"He was lucky that his spine and vital organs weren't catastrophically damaged. I removed both bullets and quite frankly I was surprised that there weren't exit wounds."

"What?" I blurted out as Lindsey and the doc turned and looked at me. "I'm sorry doctor; did you say neither bullet exited his body?"

"Correct no exit wounds. But that's not all that surprised me."

Lindsey and I looked at each other again and turned our attention back to the doctor. If he was baiting us, he was doing a great job.

"I removed the shoulder bullet first; it looks like a nine-millimeter from my experience. It was lodged in his scapula. There were some bone chips but miraculously no significant damage."

He continued. "The back wound was more severe, there was a slight injury to his left kidney that caused some internal bleeding, but I was able to repair it and we gave him several transfusions,"

I looked over at Lindsey and saw that her complexion was ashen white, and her eyes looked glassy.

"Mrs. Moran, I don't mean to upset you, but I'm telling you all this because despite the trauma your husband sustained, he came through the surgery without any significant complications. He was put on the ventilator for twenty-four hours, his body tolerated it, he's breathing on his own now and I'm optimistic."

"Doctor, you mentioned that something else surprised you other than no exit wounds?"

"Right. Yes. The bullet I took out of his back was much larger, looked like a 308 caliber, or a hunting rifle bullet. I'm not a forensic expert, but I'm sure the police can identify it."

Lindsey looked at me and I stared back in stunned silence. I could see that she was processing what the doctor had just said, as was I.

"There's one more thing, neither bullet was copper jacketed, both were soft lead. Very unusual."

"Doctor," Lindsey slowly asked, "are you telling us that two people shot my husband?"

The surgeon didn't respond, just shrugged his shoulders. "Or one person with two weapons" I opined.

"What? How could that be?" Lindsey asked in disbelief.

"Doctor, did you turn the bullets over to the police?" I queried.

"No. The OR team followed hospital protocols. Photographed them, filled out the chain of custody and sealed them in separate containers. They were turned over to Security," he answered.

"Doctor, what happens now with my husband's treatment?" Lindsey asked.

"We'll keep him in ICU for a few days so that we can closely monitor him for any signs of infection. So far, his labs look as I would expect them to post-surgery. He's still groggy but I expect that will improve over the next forty-eight hours. His blood pressure is stable, and as I said he's breathing on his own. He'll stay on oxygen for a while and will be getting his IV meds. For the time being, he needs to rest and let his body start the healing process."

I sat back as Lindsey asked about any permanent disability, physical rehab, special diet down the road but I was distracted from it all as I was still processing how the Judge could have been shot with two separate caliber high-velocity weapons without exit wounds and live. And soft lead bullets. Reloads? I thought to myself.

Dr. Mongello stood up, excused himself saying he had to start patient rounds, and encouraged Lindsey to call his office if she had any other questions. I stood up, thanked the doc and as he left the room and sank back down it the sofa. Neither of us spoke.

After a minute or two, Lindsey turned to me. "Daryl, what does all this mean? This is a nightmare. Why would two people want to shoot my husband? What possibly could he have done to them?"

"I don't know. I don't know But I'll do my best to find out."

Lindsey stood up and said she was going back up to the ICU. She asked if I wanted to go, but I declined. What I really wanted was a drink. I started across the lobby and saw Security Manager Tom Hines and waved to get his attention.

"Hey Mr. Richardson!" he greeted me with hand extended. We shook, and he asked, "How's Mrs. Moran doing?"

"Better today. Tom, thanks for all of your help yesterday, it meant a lot to her."

"I really didn't do anything. Kaitlyn had the lead on that."

"Yeah, she was great. Tom, Mrs. Moran and I just met with her husband's surgeon and he mentioned that he removed two bullets and turned them over to Security. What's the hospital protocol for handling police evidence?"

Without hesitation, he answered. "The OR calls Security to take possession of the bullets and we check to make sure the chain of custody is filled out and that the envelope they're in is sealed, taped closed, and initialed across the tape. We log the envelope into the safe."

I was ready to ask what happens next, but he continued. "The OR notifies Legal by email that they've taken possession of possible crime evidence. Legal notifies Security by email, but Kaitlyn also calls me, and I call the police department and tell them we have the evidence."

So far so good I thought. He continued, "Legal won't let us release it without the police getting a search warrant. When they show up Legal, usually Kaitlyn, reviews the warrant and if she says it's OK, we release the envelope.

"What would we ever do without Kaitlyn?" I said with a smile.

"Tom, have the police picked up the bullets?"

"No, I looked at the daily inventory sheet this morning and the envelope is still in the safe."

"Thanks, Tom, sounds like you have a good handle on things."

"Mr. Richardson, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"At our morning safety briefing Nursing brought up their concern that we have a shooting victim in ICU, a high-profile patient as they described him, and the police haven't made an arrest. The staff is saying they're worried about their safety and want to know what the hospital is doing to protect them."

"I'm not surprised with the times we're living in. How did you handle it?" I asked.

"Not very well I'm afraid, given the looks I got from some of the Nursing staff. We're doing extra security rounds, I've briefed the reception desk staff to be extra careful screening visitors, but that's about all I can do."

"Tom, you've probably had shooting victims here before, how have you handled them?"

"We have, usually the local or State PDs are involved and they're great to work with. They fill me in on any concerns that they have, but Mr. Moran's case is different. I'm dealing with the County Sheriffs."

"Have you spoken to anyone up there?" I asked.

"I called the Department and explained why I was calling. The Operator put me through to some Captain's phone mail. He hasn't called me back."

"Captain Carpa?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's the name. So far nothing back from him."

"Well Tom, I don't know what to tell you. Sounds like you're doing your best. If I learn anything that might suggest that the hospital is in danger, I assure you, I'll let you know right away."

We shook hands, and I went out to the garage and drove out thinking that I really could use that drink. I couldn't get it out of my mind: two different weapons, soft lead bullets. One shooter? Two? I pulled into the hotel lot and parked. Almost three in the afternoon isn't too early for an adult beverage I convinced myself without internal debate and headed into the lounge.

It was empty except for my bar maiden friend from last night. She had her back to me taking inventory of the bottles on the glass shelves. Today she had on white jeans that nicely accented her curves. She turned as she heard me walk up to the bar.

"Hey!" she said with a smile. "You're early, what a nice surprise!"

"Hey! It's after noon so I guess it's OK" I responded with equal cheer.

"You can come visit me anytime you want," she said, looking straight into my eyes with a coy smile. I hadn't noticed last night, but she had piercing blue eyes. If I had to guess she was mid-thirties, and I caught the seductive scent of that perfume.

"Draft?" she asked as she reached to grab a frosted mug.

"No, I think I'd like a double Martel, over ice, one cube please."

"Ooooh! Cognac. I like it! Shall that be stirred not shaken Sir?" she asked with a grin as she turned to grab the bottle from the top shelf.

"Stirred is fine." I answered and nodded

She quickly poured what looked like a triple, delicately placed one ice cube, stirred with a flourish, and placed the glass on the bar.

"There's nobody here, sit at the bar and talk to me," she said in an inviting lilt that no red-blooded American male could refuse. I noticed she didn't wear a diamond or wedding band.

"By the way, you know my name, but I didn't catch yours last night," she said.

"I didn't throw it, but it's Daryl."

She reached out and took my hand "Daryl, I'm Mandy, so very nice to meet you!" Soft hands. She was running up points quickly on my scorecard.

"You're here early," I commented.

"So are you! Today's my twelve-hour shift; a second bartender comes on at seven. The hotel is booked heavy and we'll probably have a nice after dinner crowd."

"Soooo... my new friend Daryl, last night you said you weren't a reporter," she said playfully.

"No, I'm not a reporter."

"Do you remember the three guys sitting at the bar when you were in here last night? They're deputies in Abbot County. Regulars here, not favorites of mine. They were checking you out," she said.

"Checking me out? When they had you in front of them? How dare them!" I responded with faux indignation. Or did I secretly mean it?

She let out a laugh. "No silly, they said you looked like a cop. They were debating it and said they didn't recognize you, and they know all the cops around here."

'So, who won the debate?" I asked.

"They decided you were FBI. Are you?"

"Nope," I answered.

She leaned over the bar close to my face and said with a tease in her voice, "OK Mr. Daryl, who are you really?" Today her blue blouse was open two buttons south of the collar and I tried not to stare.

"I'm a lawyer Mandy."

"Oh! How cool! Wait till I tell those guys when I see them that they were so wrong," she said excitedly.

"You know what? Why don't we let that be our little secret and keep them guessing? That way you'll really be one up on them," I said, trying to curb her enthusiasm and maintaining the low profile I wanted to keep.

She thought a moment and said "I like it. Deal!" extending her hand for another soft handshake.

I took a sip of the Martel and set the glass on the bar. The warm feeling as I swallowed was just what I needed

I watched her as she went back to her inventory chores and couldn't help but see that her moves were more sensuous than when I came in. She could work a crowd herself, even a crowd of one.

I thought about the three deputies and hoped that she was as trustworthy keeping a secret as she was beautiful. From what I had heard about the Abbot Sheriffs the past two days, and my encounter with the unmarked Taurus, I had to keep a look over my shoulder. I thought I'd left that feeling in Boston.

I felt the vibration from the cell phone in my shirt pocket. I looked and saw it was an incoming call from "Chief." It was my ex-boss, US Attorney Damian Costigan in Boston. I got up from the bar and walked to a corner table and sat down as I pressed the accept icon.

"Hello, Boss."

"DARYL! What the hell are you up to in Abbot County Vermont? I thought you said you were going home for a few weeks."

"That was the plan, but I decided to check out an inn I read about."

"Well, you caught the interest of the local gendarmes up there. They ran your plate, and the computer alerted us. You weren't tearing up their roads with your new car, were you?"

Before I could respond he added "And I got a message to return a call to some County Executive up there. Hell, I don't know any county execs. Are you in trouble?"

"No, nothing like that." I paused and said, "You have a few minutes Boss?" I asked. My serious tone caught his attention.

"Of course, I do. Talk to me."

I gave him a quick rundown on the Judge getting shot, my relationship to him and Lindsey, the surgeon who operated on the Judge reporting two different caliber bullets, my one shooter or two conundrum, the recent unsolved murder of Susan Peterson and what I had learned from Dan Petrone about the County and State political rift.

He listened without interrupting, and when I finished, he let out a long " _Jesus."_

"Daryl, I don't like how this sounds. The Boston paper had a small article about a judge getting shot, but it didn't say anything about an unsolved murder in the same town. Jesus! Why hasn't the State stepped in? For Christ's sake, it was a judge that got shot, one of their own. Is he going to make it?" he asked.

I told him that the doctor was optimistic, but it was going to be a day-to-day process. I looked up and saw Mandy bringing my glass to the table. She put her finger to her lips to let me know she was respecting my privacy and went back to the bar.

"Daryl, you do know that you don't have any jurisdiction up there? It's not a Federal case."

"I know that. I'm just trying to gather some information on what happened to the Judge that maybe will help the County Attorney get enough leverage for the State guys to get involved."

"I hear you, but I still don't like it. I know you. And I know how you can dig into things. You did some great work for me these past two years and I'm grateful for how much recognition you brought to my office. But my first concern is your safety."

"Well, thanks. I appreciate that, but I just can't walk away from this," I said in gratitude for his thoughts of my well being.

The Boss paused for a few moments. "OK, I understand. Now I'm curious about what this County Exec wants with me. I'm going to call him right now and I'll call you back."

"Thanks, Boss, I appreciate that."

"Just be damn careful Daryl. You have a lot to live for."

"Understood," and I pressed the end icon. I sat at the table for a few minutes to think. I was right. That son-of-a-bitch Taurus ran my plate. Why? All I did was stop at the Courthouse, speak with Dan Petrone, and eat a hotdog and left. I was only in town for an hour and a half. I didn't speed; I put my empty soda can in the recycling bin. Why?

I got up and went back to my stool at the bar. Mandy turned and leaned over, cradling her face in her hands.

"The little woman tracking down her MIA husband?" she asked.

I shook my head no.

"Mistress?"

I cracked a smile and shook my head no.

"Girlfriend?" she squeaked.

"None of the above!" I answered and thought to myself yes, this girl liked to play.

"Good, but you did look like there was trouble in Paradise," she said.

"My office. A business matter, nothing to fret about," I assured her.

"Well I don't like seeing you like that," she commented with a pout. I guess I must have missed the quantum leap our relationship had taken for her to say that. Strangely, I was becoming fascinated by her. I wonder how she would react if she knew who I really was. She continued her storekeeping, and we didn't talk.

I drank about half the glass of Martel and noticed my tab face down on the bar. $7.50 was the tariff, and I dropped a ten on the bar. I stood up; she turned and said with a laugh "Leaving so soon? We were just starting to get along so well!" I laughed in return and answered that I wanted to get changed and cleaned up.

"Will I see you tonight?" Her tone sounded hopeful. Obviously, I'm the eternal optimist.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." She gifted me with her sweetest smile and I went up to my room.

I saw that the maid had cleaned up, the bed was made, fresh towels in the bathroom. I went in, took off my shirt and rinsed my face with cold water. It felt good, and I decided to lie down and rest before I grabbed some dinner. The mattress was soft, a welcome departure from the rock- hard granite slab bedding you often find in a hotel.

I must have fallen asleep and was jolted awake when I heard my phone vibrating on the bedside table. I glanced at the clock radio and saw it was 4:40. I grabbed the phone, saw "Chief," and answered.

"Hello?" It was Damien.

"Daryl, you OK? I called about an hour ago, but you didn't pick up."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm at the hotel, I must have dozed off.

"You alone?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I have some information for you. You're not on speaker, are you?"

"No. What's going on, Boss?"

"I spoke with the County Exec and he's mad as hell that you're poking around in his backyard. Sounds like you've stepped into a mine- field, my friend."

I didn't like what he was saying but, didn't respond. "You have something to write on?" he asked.

"Yeah, just a minute." I sat up, pulled the notebook and pen out from my suit coat pocket and sat down at the dresser desk.

"OK, go ahead."

"His name is Warren Donnelly. He told me that he got wind that you were questioning his County Attorney about the Judge getting shot and the lack of progress in finding the girl's murderer. He said that he has full confidence in his Sheriff, a guy named Hunter, and he doesn't appreciate the Federal government sticking our noses into his County business."

"His Sheriff" His County? Who the hell does this guy think he is? From what I've heard, some of the locals describe the Sheriff as a pig and a son of a bitch." I said.

"Well, Donnelly certainly came off to me as an arrogant S.O.B himself." Damian said." He went off about having to deal with enough interference in his job without the Feds. He said he got an anonymous letter in the mail that accuses of the Sheriff's Department of sham arrests, seizures of cars and trucks without following through with the paperwork, no accountability for the dope and money that they're seizing and even drug dealing themselves."

I sat there shaking my head. What the hell had I gotten into here?

Damian continued, "He said he was outraged that the writer said he also sent the letter to the Governor, Attorney General, and the US Attorney up there. He was livid. He said it was political muckraking, trying to derail his political career. He said he had made his first public statement that he had formed an exploratory committee for a run at the Governor's office and received the letter three days later."

"Boss wait a minute. How did he know what Dan Petrone and I had talked about? We were in a private office, and Dan didn't have anything good to say about the Sheriff or the Executive." I believed him when he said there's no love lost between him and the Exec, and if you were there, you would have too."

"Beats the hell out of me. You don't think the place is bugged, do you?" he asked.

"It better not be" I answered, trying to contain my growing anger.

He continued. "Well, at any rate, he went on that the letter was three pages long and accuses the cops of protecting some fringe militia types, supplying them with money, automatic weapons, vehicles, training."

"You'll be interested in this part. He told me that the letter said that the Peterson girl, the singer you told me about, was murdered because she stumbled across some information that someone in the Sheriff's

Department was giving drugs to a couple of teenage Middle East refugees she was working with. Apparently, she was a volunteer with some church group helping these families and was going to go to the State Police with her information."

I sat in stunned silence. "Daryl, you still there?"

"Yeah Boss....yeah, I'm here, sorry."

"I have one more thing for you. Are you sitting down?"

"Yeah."

"He said that about two weeks ago Judge Moran visited him and said he had been requested by the Attorney General to look into the accusations in the letter He said they argued after he told the Judge that this was a classic case of the State intruding on the sovereign rights of his County and was in retribution for his announcement that he was considering a run for Governor."

"Sovereign rights of his County? Is this guy out of his mind?" I asked in disbelief.

"I didn't debate the legal issues with him," the Boss continued, "but he started in with a campaign speech and I cut him short. I asked him to explain what the problems were with the girl's murder case, that perhaps we could offer some Federal assistance."

"With all due respect Boss, are you out of your mind?"

"He went ballistic! He went on and on that this was a personal attack on him and his Sheriff, and that his rights were being violated by the writer. I told him if he wanted to make a formal civil rights violation complaint that I could connect him with the proper authorities."

"You are a brave soul, Sir," I said with a laugh.

Damian laughed. "He said the Feds can't even control the flood of foreign terrorists and drug dealers coming into our country, why would he believe that we would help a true patriot like himself."

"True patriot? How in Hell can someone like this get elected to office?" I asked.

"Money and television can work wonders, Daryl."

"You know Boss, he told you he and the Judge argued, and that could go to motive."

"Well, I'm sure you know that's a stretch, Daryl. People argue every day. I don't know how the Judge left it with him, hopefully, he can recover enough for you to interview him and find that out."

"Did Donnelly say anything else?" I asked.

"He did. I told him that I would love to see the letter he got, for future reference I told him, in case the writer was a terrorist, and that it might be helpful in identifying him."

"Clever," I said, acknowledging the ploy.

"Well, that was the right button to push. He said he would mail me a copy, and I asked if I could have someone pick it up in person instead. I said it would be you. We didn't want to run the risk that someone opposed to his political aspirations might be monitoring his mail I told him, and he bought it."

"That's brilliant! Play into his paranoia," I said in admiration.

"Daryl, I need a favor from you, I need to know more and want to run this by the bosses at Justice in Washington. You can help me. Meet with Donnelly and get a copy of the letter. I suggested that to him and he said he would enjoy meeting you face to face."

I thought for a few seconds. "Condier it done!" I said. "Did you tell him to be careful what he wished for?" I asked.

"No, I thought I'd leave that to you," he answered with a laugh.

"Okay, I'll do it. When and where?"

The Boss told me that Donnelly owned an office building in North Bellington, and he had his County office there. He gave me the address and said Donnelly would receive me between ten and noon.

"Boss, did he really say, he would 'receive' me?"

"Indeed. he did my friend! Good luck and be careful."

I went into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. I stared at myself in the mirror and said out loud, "You look like hell." I grabbed a towel and heard my cell ring and vibrate on the desk. I picked it up and saw it was Lindsey.

"Hey, my friend! What are you up to?" Her voice sounded cheerful, a welcome difference from a few hours ago.

"Not much. I'm in my room getting cleaned up. How's the Judge?"

"He seems to be getting stronger by the hour. He's talking more, but he still drops off to sleep now and then. The nurse says it's the medicines. They're trying to keep him sedated so that he doesn't move around on the bed."

"That's great news. Every little step is a step in the right direction."

"Hey! What are you doing for dinner?" she asked.

"I don't know, I hadn't thought about it."

"I was talking with one of the nurses and told her where I was staying. She said they have a great dining room at the hotel and suggested that I give it a try. You up for a dinner date?"

"Sure, love to. What time are you thinking?"

"How about seven-thirty? I want to go back to the room and change. My clothes smell antiseptic. Ugh!"

"OK, seven-thirty in the lobby, see you then, Bye," I said.

Speaking of clothes, I looked at my shirt draped over a chair and saw it wasn't too wrinkled. It would pass muster for dinner. I had only brought a few changes when I went to Stillwater and only planned to stay for three or four days. I'd have to find a store tomorrow morning and pick up some things to get me through the rest of the week.

I jumped into the shower, got dressed and a little while later went down to the lobby to wait for Lindsey. I took a seat in a comfortable wing back. I was watching the comings and goings in the lobby and thought Mandy was right. It looked like they had a full house. It was a mix of business types, older couples, and a few families with kids.

I sensed the familiar fragrance of perfume and heard a voice whisper, "Are you lost little boy, or are you stalking me?" It was Mandy, leaning over close to my ear, her breasts pressed against my shoulder. My fate was inevitable. She had my undivided attention.

"Oh, Hi! Neither. The husband of the couple I'm visiting had some surgery and will be in the hospital for a few days. I'm having dinner with his wife in your dining room. I heard it's very good," I explained.

"It is. Try the chicken Francese, it's out of this world," she suggested.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

"And after dinner stop by for a drink. I'd love to meet her."

"We might do that, what are you up to?" I asked.

"Paperwork, ordering inventory. I can't always be laughs and giggles behind the bar."

I saw Lindsey step out of the elevator and I waved to acknowledge

her. Mandy looked up at her, stood up and smiled. She whispered, "Bye! See you later" and headed back to the lounge.

"Who's your friend?" Lindsey asked looking toward the lounge.

"That's Mandy, my new personal bartender," I proudly proclaimed.

"That is one beautiful young woman my friend. Does she know who you are?" she asked.

"She knows I'm a lawyer, that's it. Hungry?"

"Starved! Let's eat," she answered as she linked her arm around mine.

The dining room was crowded, but we were shown to a table for two along the wall. A minute later our waiter arrived, filled the water glasses, placed our menus and asked if we wished to order a drink, sliding a wine menu in front of Lindsey.

She selected the house Chardonnay, and I ordered a VO and coke. A few minutes later he returned with our drinks and said he'd give us a few minutes to select our orders.

Lindsey raised her glass, as did I, and we sipped our respective aperitifs. "Ummmm. That's nice." She settled on the grilled salmon marsala and I followed Mandy's suggestion for the Francese. Our waiter returned, took our order, and cleared away the menus.

"Lindsey, it's so nice to see you more relaxed. You've had a rough go of it."

"It's been a nightmare, but this afternoon Forrest whispered I love you to me, and as funny as it sounds, I felt peaceful again. He has a fight ahead of him, but in my heart, I'm sure he knows he's not alone."

"He's a very lucky man," I told her, as I thought to myself, I should be so lucky.

"I told him that I had called you and that you're here. He said, 'good girl!' Have you thought any more about what the doctor told us?" she asked." I'm scared thinking there are two people out there that wanted Forrest dead."

I thought for a moment before I answered. I didn't want to scare Lindsey more than she already was, but I also wanted to offer some encouragement that I'd find the answers we were looking for.

"I had a phone call today, a colleague, my former boss in Boston, and we think there must be some link between the Judge and the Peterson girl's case." I purposely avoided the use of the word "murder," and thankfully I didn't sense that what I said had altered her optimistic mood.

"I appreciate all that you're doing, but I know that there is someone out there that can shed some light on what happened. I really want to know what was bothering Forrest the last couple of weeks, but now's not the right time. I'm hoping that in a day or two you can speak with him directly. He has the answers, I know it," she said.

We sipped on our drinks, and a short while later the waiter and a busboy appeared with our meals. We both sampled our choices and agreed they were excellent. Lindsey's order came with a crisp summer salad; I had selected the linguini with marinara sauce side.

I made a mental note not to spill anything on my last semi-clean dress shirt. I joked with Lindsey about my laundry concerns; she suggested that I visit the Mall in the morning. I pulled out my notebook and wrote down the driving directions she gave me.

"So, Daryl, tell me about your personal bartender. Any wedding plans yet?" she asked playfully.

I laughed and gave her the short version of my two visits to the bar. She smiled and asked, "Seriously, is there anyone special in your life?"

"No, no one serious." I told her that I had dated a few great ladies over the years, but careers, discussions about having kids, where we would want to live, and things like that just didn't jell with any of them. I'd been flying solo for the past two years, and I really didn't want to get into my personal life. Besides, Google seemed to have that market cornered!

She raised her glass and held it there, striking a pensive pose. "You have a lot at stake now in your life. My wish is that you find a wonderful person who can be your lover and companion for all of time. That's what I found in Forrest." She raised her glass in a toast and I respoded in kind, nodding my gratitude for her wishes.

The waiter returned and offered dessert menus which we both declined. We sat for a few minutes, and he returned with the check and placed it in front of me. Lindsey reached for it, but I intercepted her.

"I've got this Lindsey."

"No, I insist, you've done so much already," she protested.

"No! Am I not your lawyer?" I asked. She looked at me and I saw her smile start to form. "Then it's my professional opinion that I take care of the check," I proclaimed to put the discussion to rest.

"Thank you very much, kind Sir!" she said, accepting my decision.

I paid with cash as I had withdrawn quite a bit from the bank before my trip up North. I have a great credit card, but I try to minimize putting my no-limit account number out into the cyber-world. The waiter came, took the cash and thanked us for visiting. We sat at the table for about ten minutes enjoying some idle conversation

"Well?" Lindsey asked.

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to invite me to the bar for an after-dinner drink?

"If you'd like," I offered in response.

"You think I'd miss out on a chance to check out your personal bartender up close and personal? Not on your life Counselor!" she said as she jumped to her feet. "Let's go, Buster," crossing the dining room with the broadest grin yet I'd seen on her.

The lounge was busy, but there were a few small tables open and we took one across the room in front of a window. Our waitress came over promptly; it was Tammy from the night before.

"Oh! Hi again!" she said looking at me with a broad smile and wide eyes. She turned to Lindsey and asked, "What can I get you?"

Lindsey ordered another Chardonnay. Turning to me Tammy asked, "Light beer on tap?"

"No, I think I'd like a VO and Coke."

"OK, I'll be right back," she said as she scurried off.

Lindsey leaned over to me and said quietly, "Hi again? Looks like you've been a busy boy! Building a harem, are you?" I offered a weak laugh and looked up at the bar.

Mandy was busy but had help in the form of a very large clean-cut young guy. I guessed he was a college student, and this was his spending money gig. I gathered from the four young coed types sitting across the bar from him that he was very popular with the ladies. There were a lot of laughs coming from that end of the bar.

Mandy seemed to have her own audience. Six guys were at her end, including the three from last night.

Tammy brought our drinks; Lindsey and I toasted and drank without talking. I hoped that this wasn't the calm before a storm. She looked at me, smiled, and said with a laugh, "Relax, I won't embarrass you."

About ten minutes later I saw Mandy walking across the room toward our table. She approached, looked at me and said, "Hi Again!" Offering her hand to Lindsey she said cheerfully, "Hi, I'm Mandy."

"Hi! I'm Lindsey," as she returned a polite handshake.

"Did you folks enjoy your dinners?" Mandy asked.

"Excellent," said Lindsey.

Turning to me she smiled and asked, "Did you try the chicken francese?"

"I did, it was great. Thanks for recommending it. You seem very busy tonight," I commented, looking at her section of the bar.

"We are, the boys in blue are in town again," she said with a frown, motioning with her head. "Just what I needed, those creeps."

I saw that the oldest of the three from last night had turned on his stool and was looking straight at us. I saw a badge and a gun under his windbreaker and he didn't seem to be trying to conceal them.

"I'd better get back to work." Turning to Lindsey, "It was very nice meeting you, enjoy your evening."

She turned to me, lingered with her smile, and said, "Enjoy!"

I watched her cross the room to the bar, walking in front of Pistol Pete. He didn't take his eyes off our table.

I've prosecuted cases where the hardcore defendant tried to intimidate me with their stare. I learned not to back down but rather challenge their bravado with equal fixation. After about twenty seconds he swiveled his stool and returned to the task of intoxicating himself.

"Is everything alright?" Lindsey asked.

"Yeah, just a guy at the bar seemed to be very interested in us."

'The older guy at the end. Brown windbreaker?" she asked without turning around.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Savage."

"What?"

"Mark Savage. He's an Abbot Deputy. I saw him when we walked in," she explained.

"Do you know him?" I asked, amazed that she knew who I was referring to.

"Sure do. I represented his wife in a domestic violence case against him. He agreed to anger management counseling, and she dropped the charges. He got suspended from work until he completed the program. He's lucky he still has his job. She divorced him about a year ago and moved away. I didn't represent her in that. She said he was terribly abusive, and his drinking had left him impotent for the last few years."

"Should I be concerned for you?" I asked,

"No," she said draining her glass, "he's afraid of me. When you're finished, I think we should leave."

In a few minutes, I finished my drink, got Tammy's attention and gave her a twenty for our drinks.

We walked past Deputy Savage on the way out, but he avoided our passage. I managed a quick wink to Mandy, and she smiled back. We didn't talk until we got into the elevator.

"She's a beautiful girl. I sense something special about her," Lindey said.

"Who?"

"Mandy. She's very taken by you. I could see it in her smile, in her eyes. Woman's intuition."

I didn't know if Lindsey's two Chardonnays were one over her legal limit, and I was still wondering about her "he's afraid of me" remark, so I asked, "Hey, you OK?"

"Yeah. Suddenly I just feel tired. Nothing that a good night's sleep won't fix."

The elevator stopped on the second floor and she paused before she stepped out. "Thank You for a nice dinner and for everything you're doing for us," she said, giving me a hug.

Chapter Six

The sounds of sirens getting closer and closer crept into my dream, whatever it was. The screech of tires and more sirens woke me, and I realized this wasn't a dream. I looked over at the window drapes and could see a flashing red glow. I glanced at the clock and saw it was 12:20. I got up, looked through the corner of the window and could see four police cars near the hotel entrance, the crackling of their radios penetrating the night air. I wondered what could be going on and suddenly thought of Lindsey. She seemed a little off when she went to her room and the thought raced through my mind that something had happened to her.

I got dressed as quickly as I could, went to the bathroom and combed my bed head, grabbed my wallet and room key and went down the hall to the elevator. The door opened quickly, and I pressed the button for the second floor to check on Lindsey. It opened, and I peered up and down the hall. Everything looked quiet.

I rode down to the lobby and as the door opened, I saw a group of about ten people outside the lounge doorway. The crowd was excitedly chattering amongst themselves and I moved closer to see what was going on.

I heard a voice call out, "DARYL!" and I saw Mandy running toward me. "I'm so glad you're here," she cried out as she grabbed me with a hug. She was shaking like a leaf, and I wrapped my arm around her.

I could see four uniformed officers inside the lounge talking with two separate groups near the bar. The college girls were surrounding the young guy bartender who was being interviewed by an officer.

Two of the Abbot Deputies were being interviewed by a second officer, but I didn't see Deputy Savage. "What happened Mandy?" I asked. She was still shaking, and I took her hand and held it firmly. Her eyes were teary, and I could see she was fighting them off. I guided her over to a wingback chair and sat her down. I kneeled alongside her and calmly asked her again what happened.

"Savage was drunk," she explained, her voice shaking. "He was loud and banging his mug on the bar, demanding another beer. My partner Davey came right over, and I told the guy I couldn't serve him anymore. He swore at me, called me a .... well, a filthy word, and threw the mug at me. Davey blocked his arm, so I didn't get hit. One of Savage's buddies tried to pull him off the bar and Savage punched him and pulled out a gun. He tried to climb over the bar that's when Davey decked him."

I glanced back toward the lounge to locate Davey, but my view was blocked by an older man wearing a tuxedo vest. His name tag read that he was the night manager. He touched my arm. "Sir, there's nothing to see here. If you're a guest, I would appreciate it if you could go back to your room. Thank you for your concern."

Mandy cried out, "NO!" putting her hand on my arm. I stood up and did something that I hadn't done in a very long time. I pulled out my credentials. "I'm a Federal Officer," flipping it open to display my ID which displayed in the very conspicuous words US DEPT OF JUSTICE US ATTORNEY. The impressive gold seal resembles a badge. As a consultant, I had retained my credentials.

I heard Mandy weakly exclaim "What?"

The poor man was stunned and began to apologize profusely. I waved him off, said it was alright, and asked him to give us a moment. I swear he sprinted to get back to the registration desk. I kneeled next to Mandy and took her hand.

"You're a Federal Officer? You told me you're a lawyer," she said.

"I am a lawyer Mandy; I'm an attorney with the Federal Department of Justice.

"You're, you're a Federal Officer?" she asked, not comprehending.

"Yes. But that's not important right now. I need you to pull yourself together. Everything is over, you're OK."

"I hope so," she said, between short breaths. "In my three years working here, I've never had anything this bad happen. We get drunks in here occasionally, but we can always get them out of here quietly. Nobody ever pulled a gun on me before."

"Well, I'm pretty confident Deputy Savage won't be pulling a gun out on anyone else for a very long time," I said to comfort her fear.

"Thank you, I needed to hear that," she said as she squeezed my hand.

The night manager returned with a cup of water and a box of tissues for her and apologized to me again. She thanked him and seemed to be calming down.

I heard someone ask, "Sir?" and looked up to see a young police officer. "Did you say you're a Federal Officer?"

"Yes," I answered and showed him my ID. I read his mind and said, "I'm staying here at the hotel and Mandy is a friend of mine. I heard the commotion and stopped to check on her well-being."

"Oh, OK, thanks, we appreciate your help." Turning to Mandy he asked, "You OK Miss? You did the right thing and were very brave." I saw that he was doing his best to charm her with his broad smile. She wasn't buying it tonight.

"Officer," I asked, "what's the status of the guy who started this?"

"He's under arrest for assault, possession of a firearm while intoxicated, disorderly conduct. He's in a lot of trouble."

"Will he get released tonight?" Mandy asked, "I don't want him coming back here."

"No, they took him to the hospital to be checked out. Your partner really clocked him; he may have a broken jaw."

"Well, I hope it really hurts him. Is Davey in trouble?" she asked.

"No, not at all. He was very brave too and did what he had to do." The officer turned to me and said, "Nice to meet you, Sir."

Davey came out of the lounge followed by his coed entourage and came over to give Mandy a hug. She kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for stepping in to help her. He had a little bounce in his step as his admirers escorted him arm in arm out the door.

"He's a sweet boy," she remarked.

The night manager came over and told Mandy to go home that she shouldn't worry about cleaning up. She thanked him and asked me to wait for her to gather her things and walk her to her car.

As we walked across the parking lot, she took my hand and said: "Daryl, I don't even know your last name."

"Richardson," I answered. "That's a nice name," she responded.

She pointed out her car, a newer Jeep Cherokee, and clicked the remote starter. She turned and faced me, taking both my hands in hers.

"Tomorrow's my day off. Any chance I could see you?"

I surprised myself with how quickly I answered.

"I have some business matters tomorrow, but I should be back here in the afternoon." I reached for my wallet and gave her my business card that had my cell number. I handed it to her and said, "If you feel up to it, give me a call about three. I would very much like to see you tomorrow."

She looked at the card, gave me a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank You for your kindness Daryl Richardson. I will call you."

I opened the driver's door for her and she settled in behind the wheel.

"Simmons," she said.

"What?"

"You never asked. My last name is Simmons."

"That's a nice name," I said as I closed her door.

Chapter Seven

The clock radio woke me at seven to Trisha Yearwood singing 'The Song Remembers When.' I was groggy and laid my head back on the pillow enjoying the sweetness of her voice. I wondered if Susan Peterson had that same gift. The world would never know

I sat up in bed as her voice faded out to the local weather and traffic, and I thought Willie Nelson's 'On The Road Again' would have been a more appropriate reveille for my day's planned activities. I hit the shower, and that helped clear the cobwebs.

As I was shaving, I ran down my agenda; breakfast with Lindsey, a trip to the Mall, and I would have my meeting with the County Exec. As I wiped the leftover shaving cream from my face, I stared into the mirror. What am I going to say to him to get my investigation going?

I got dressed, selecting a grey trouser and took the shirt off the chair. I held it up and couldn't see any obvious stains, just a few wrinkles. I only needed a couple of hours service from my faithful Oxford before I dispatched it to a dry cleaner. It would have to do.

I fixed the bedcovers into some semblance of decorum and draped the damp towels across the tub door. I didn't want my chambermaid to think that I was an unkempt transient.

I watched the local TV news for a few minutes to kill time before I had to meet Lindsey for breakfast. There was no mention of the hotel bar ruckus a few hours earlier. I was sure that those storm clouds were still forming.

I went down to the lobby and found Lindsey in a chair reading the morning paper. "Hi!" she said with a smile. She looked rested; her hair pulled back, her makeup highlighted her high cheekbones.

"I heard some people talking, I guess there was a little trouble in the bar last night?" She asked. "I slept like a log. I didn't hear anything, did you?"

"Actually, I did. Come on, I'll explain it over breakfast."

We went into the lounge, it was crowded but we were shown to a table. We ordered, and Lindsey asked," Well? What happened last night?"

I gave her a quick rundown of my being awakened, checking on her, going down and talking with Mandy about the trouble that Deputy Savage had caused. She shuddered when I told her that Savage had pulled his gun on her, I thought she was going to spill her coffee.

"My God," she exclaimed. "Is she OK?"

I assured her that she was scared out of her wits but, had calmed down by the time she went home.

"That poor girl. Daryl, what's going on with all this violence? This is getting bad, really bad. I hope you're going to check on her this morning. She seems like such a sweetheart."

"I gave her my cell number, and she said she'll call me. Today's her day off and I'd like to take her to dinner tonight."

"That's really nice of you. What about that bastard Savage?" I was taken aback by the language coming from her pretty lips and I glanced around to see if anyone else had heard her.

"Sorry," she whispered, "I have a few dirtier names I could call him."

I told her how the young bartender kid had decked him and when I said the cops thought he may have a broken jaw, she let out an emphatic "YES! I hope it is broken. They arrested him. didn't they?" she asked. I told her they did, and the charges.

"The firearm while intoxicated carries a minimum mandatory jail sentence, I think. I hope they throw the book at him," she said.

"Enough about that," I said. "Any update on the Judge?"

"I called early this morning. He had an uneventful night. He's awake and talking a little more. I'm going over to the hospital after we finish here," she explained.

"What are your plans?" she asked, and I reminded her of my clothing dilemma. She suggested that I pick out some shirts with color, "especially if I was going on a date."

I laughed and assured her I would try to find something appropriate. I didn't mention the investigation plans I had or my meeting with the County Exec.

The waitress came with the check, Lindsey insisted on paying and I didn't argue. I told her I would touch base with her in the afternoon and we parted company.

I went into the lobby and Googled the mall on my phone, learning that it opened at ten. The drive took me a little more than fifteen minutes.

The Mall was impressive in its size, not too crowded yet, which was a good thing for me. I couldn't waste any time if I was going to meet with the County Exec by noon, so I headed to the store directory.

You'd think that a man of considerable means like me could afford a personal shopper. Something to consider I thought.

Men's clothing offerings were limited, so I headed to Old Navy. I was in and out within twenty minutes. Two short sleeve dress shirts, a nice pale green long sleeve to humor Lindsey, two ties, a pair of jeans, underwear and a summer weight dark blue blazer. I clipped the tags off the blazer and figured it would go well with my pants as I didn't have the time to drive back to the hotel and change. Check clothes shopping off my list.

Damien had told me that the County Exec had an office in a building that he owned downtown and gave me the address. I entered it into the GPS and arrived a few minutes later. An impressive building, it looked almost brand new.

I was challenged for ID by the lobby receptionist. More security here that at the Ethan Falls courthouse, I thought. I presented my credentials and was directed to his office on the third floor. I checked in with the receptionist and took a seat in the waiting room. A few minutes later I was escorted to meet Warren Donnelly.

He greeted me cordially as he came around from behind his desk. If Armani had a men's fashion calendar, he would have a month all to himself. He was dressed as if his next appointment was to address a joint session of Congress. I took a seat in a very comfortable leather chair in front of his massive desk.

He spoke first. "Mr. Richardson, it is a great privilege to meet you, Sir. I've read of your work in Boston. Truly impressive."

"Well thank You Sir, but please call me Daryl."

"Daryl, it is." He paused for a few seconds, "Daryl, I believe I may have a problem in Abbot County." I sensed that he was winding up for a campaign speech and I wasn't going to sit there passively. I decided to pump things up right out of the gate.

"With all due respect, Mr. Donnelly not may have, you do have a problem. A very serious problem."

"Excuse me, Sir?" he said peering over his gold rim glasses. I decided to start pushing his buttons to see what made him tick.

"In just two days of visits to Ethan Falls I've heard complaints that Sheriff Hunter's department is rife with abuse, neglect, infringement of rights and outright incompetence in its leadership. That's consistent with what's in the letter you received, is it not?"

I thought the poor man was going to have a heart attack right there. His face flushed red and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. If he broke out in , I would call 911, but I was on a roll and ready to shift into second gear.

"And Sir, the alleged outrageous conduct of that Department is casting you under a spotlight of scrutiny," I said.

"Mr. Richardson, I mean Daryl, I think we're getting off on the wrong foot here," he said forcing a weak smile.

"That's not my intent Sir. I'm here for the benefit of Judge Forrest Moran, a revered jurist, and his loving wife Lindsey and the grieving

parents of a beautiful young woman who was brutally murdered and abandoned in the woods of Ethan Falls." He didn't respond, but I noticed that his attention to me was sharper now. My last comment struck a chord, and I didn't want to engage in a verbal chess match and lose.

"A first-year law student would suspect very quickly that there is a nexus between the murder case and the attempted assassination of the Judge. I'm not a first-year law student Sir. I am an experienced Department of Justice Attorney," I explained.

The Exec had slouched back in his chair, and I thought my dismantling of his political largess was effective. I was using all the right trigger words, now I had to put him back together.

"What are you suggesting Sir?" he asked weakly. I didn't respond immediately, I wanted to make sure that I had achieved checkmate.

"Mr. Donnelly, the anonymous letter that you received is also in the hands of State and Federal officials. There must be an investigation to validate or dismiss the claims, and if possible, identify the writer."

"Now wait just a minute Sir! I will not stand idly by while the State and Federal governments destroy the reputations of the good people in our fine Sheriff's Department and myself," he said in anger, adding, "This is my County and I am the elected executive leader."

"No Sir, I disagree. This isn't YOUR County, it belongs to the good people of Vermont who live here as your neighbors and elected you."

"I've been told that the letter contains seemingly outrageous claims. We need to know the truth as soon as possible," I explained.

I told him that it would be helpful for me to have a copy to study, and he reached into a desk drawer, pulled out the three pages and brusquely slid them across to me. He also produced the envelope it was sent in. I noticed it was postmarked, Rutland.

"No one here has seen that except me," he said as he got up, fed the pages into a printer on his credenza and gave me a copy.

Checkmate! I would bet my inheritance he wasn't a lawyer.

Without offering his hand he said, "My time is very valuable, we are finished here." He struck a defiant posture and glared at me.

I stood, folded the copies and put them in my blazer pocket. "No, we're done here, but you and I Mr. Donnelly aren't finished with each other."

I slid behind the wheel of the Challenger and fired her up. The flow from the air conditioner felt good, and so did I.

I pulled out of the lot and as I turned onto State Street a storefront displaying men's suits caught my eye. Lady Luck was with me as I saw an empty parking space right in front. I pulled in, dropped a few quarters in the meter, and went inside.

I was impressed with the assortment of men's clothing and an hour later and almost five hundred dollars lighter I walked out with two nice business suit separates, and three pastel colored long sleeves on hangers. Lindsey would be very proud of me. In a few minutes, I was headed back to the hotel.

My thoughts switched to Mandy, and I was tempted to try to find her number and call her but thought better of it. I'm forty-two years old and I didn't want to come across to her as a sixteen-year-old in puppy love or a dirty old man stalker. I admit though, I really wanted her to call me. A few minutes later the console display flashed an incoming call message, but it wasn't Mandy. The caller ID read Medical Center, and I touched the accept icon.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Richardson, Daryl, Hi, it's Kaitlyn Mason at the Medical Center. Lindsey Moran gave me your number, I hope you don't mind. Am I catching you at a bad time?"

"No, not at all, is everything all right? Are Lindsey and Judge Moran OK?"

"Oh Yes, she is, and her husband is doing well. I wanted to touch base with you on an issue we had late this morning."

"What's that?" I asked.

"We had a visit from two detectives with the Abbot Sheriff's Department, a Captain Carpa and Detective Manning. They came to visit one of their employees who is a patient, a man named Savage. He's under arrest and is being guarded by two local policemen."

I saw a store parking lot coming up ahead, and I pulled in and parked to give the call my full attention.

"Yeah," I said, "I'm aware that he caused a disturbance in a bar last night and pulled a gun on someone."

"Oh? At any rate, the Information Desk called the floor and the police officers agreed to the visit. I'm not sure what happened other than I was told that the Sheriffs got into some sort of argument with the officers and there was some pushing and shoving and a lot of cursing. The nurse called Security, and they went up with the Nursing Director. You met her the other day, Connie Ferris."

"How could I forget!" I acknowledged the name with a laugh.

Kaitlyn herself couldn't hide a little laugh and continued. "Well, Connie tried to mediate the dispute and Mr. Carpa threatened to arrest her for interfering."

I didn't respond for a few moments. "Are you still there Daryl?"

I wanted to say something like "And he's still alive to talk about it?" but thought better. "Yeah, I'm here. You're not calling to ask me to post her bail, are you?"

"No," she answered this time not trying to stifle her laugh.

"Do you know what the argument was about?" I asked.

"I wasn't up there but Tom Hines our Security Manager told me that it had something to do with the local police refusing to turn over the patient's gun to them. Tom said they were holding onto it for evidence. Now that you told me why he was arrested that makes sense."

"How was everything resolved?" I asked.

"Well, Connie ordered the detectives to leave and after some arguing on their part, they were escorted down to the lobby by Security. I was told that they were very vocal, continued with a lot of vulgar language and rudeness on their part. They really caused quite a scene."

"Well Kaitlyn, I can tell you that I'm sorry you folks had to deal with their abuse, but off the record, I'm not surprised about their behavior. Tom seems like he knows what he's doing."

"Well, it gets more interesting. When they got to the lobby Mr. Carpa demanded that Tom turn over to him the bullets that were removed during Mr. Moran's surgery. Tom said he couldn't do that without a search warrant, and the detectives, Mr. Carpa especially, became really angry and demanded to see the hospital President."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Nope, I'm not kidding! Tom called me, and I went down to the lobby and tried to explain the warrant requirement to the detectives and Mr. Carpa went off on me, accusing me of interfering with an investigation and obstruction. He threatened to arrest me!"

"You, I would post bail for," I interjected, and I heard her laugh. "I'm dying to know how this story ends," I said.

"Well, the officers guarding the patient must have called their police headquarters because Danny Monroe, he's the Chief of Detectives here in town, showed up and in five minutes he had the Sheriffs out the door. Danny is great; I frequently work with him when they have matters with us."

"That's good to hear," I responded.

"Unfortunately, just before Danny got here Mrs. Moran stepped out of an elevator and Mr. Carpa got in her face and yelled something to the effect that if she was interested in finding out who shot her husband, she had better warn the hospital to stay out of his way. His language to her was very vulgar. The poor woman was shocked, I thought she was going to faint."

"Is Lindsey alright?" I asked, my concern evident in my tone.

"Yes, I brought her into the coffee shop and got her some tea. We spent about an hour talking. She's a remarkable woman. She told me who you are. I knew I recognized your name when we first met."

"Are we still friends?" I asked, trying to minimize my prior evasiveness with her.

"Mr. Richardson, I would like to think that we're good friends. Thank you for everything you're doing for the Morans and thank you for your generosity to our hospital."

"I don't deserve any thanks. My Aunt was very grateful for the care you folks gave her over the years. Her gift to the hospital was in her will."

"Is Lindsey still at the hospital? Maybe I should call her," I asked.

"No, she said she was going back to the hotel to lie down. She said she was coming back to visit her husband at dinner time. She just asked that I call you and let you know what happened with the detectives. Daryl? are we in any danger with Mr. Moran being here?"

I thought for a minute before I responded. I didn't want to scare her.

"Kaitlyn, I don't have any information to suggest that anyone would come to the hospital to hurt the Judge. But I give you my word if I get the slightest inkling of any threat, you'll be the first to know."

"Thank You, Daryl, I appreciate that, and I believe you. I Googled you. You're quite the detective from what I read! Bye!"

I stayed in the parking lot for about five minutes, leaning back in the seat. I put what Kaitlyn had just told me to the back of my mind.

Today was Thursday, and I really hadn't had any time to enjoy myself since I got Lindsey's call on Tuesday. I thought about Mandy and hoped she'd call as she promised. I wanted to know more about her. Her physical beauty was evident, but I wanted to get to know the person inside that great body.

I drove to the hotel, unloaded my purchases, and went up to my room and hung them on the closet rack.

I had just sat down to watch some TV when my phone beeped and vibrated. I looked at my watch and saw it was 2:55. I didn't recognize the number, but it was the local area code. I answered and heard a soft voice.

" Hi, Daryl Richardson!"

"Hi Mandy Simmons, how are you feeling?" I answered.

"Better now that I hear your voice."

"That's nice of you to say. Did you sleep okay last night?" I asked.

"I tossed and turned for a while. I couldn't get that creep Savage out of my mind. I fell asleep finally and didn't wake up until almost ten o'clock this morning. Were you able to take care of your business?"

"Yeah, I got back here to the hotel a little while ago. Feel up to me taking you out to dinner tonight?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"That I am," I said hopefully.

"The hotel has a policy that prohibits employees dating guests. I don't want to lose my job."

I thought for a minute "Does the hotel have a policy against guests dating employees?"

There was a pause, and she answered with a drawn-out "Noooo!"

"Well then, how about dinner together? Someplace nice. Your choice, since I'm the stranger in town."

"I guess you really are a lawyer," she said with a giggle. "And a Federal officer, and a famous prosecutor."

I didn't know how to respond.

"And, according to Google, a millionaire. That makes me very, very nervous."

"Nervous? I don't understand," I told her.

"Daryl, I've only known you a few days, but I'm really attracted to you. You're very nice, but also very mysterious. We have all this violence we've never seen before and suddenly you show up."

"I don't understand Mandy. Mysterious?" I was confused why she thought that.

"The friend you were with last night, is she the wife of the Judge who got shot?" she asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Before the fight broke out last night, I heard the Abbot cops talking about you. They put two and two together when they saw you and your friend, and I heard them say that you were the boss of some undercover police team. They don't like you, Daryl. They're afraid of you. They were talking about you being in a shootout with a gang in Boston, going after a crime ring, syndicate I think they said. They think you're in town to take over Susan's murder and the shooting cases. They said something about the Feds sneaking in you and your guys. They're really worried about that and I don't understand why. That scares me, Daryl. Is any of that true?"

I was at a loss for words. I really liked this girl, but I was beginning to think that I would never get to know her better. I was concerned with what she was saying she heard from the deputies. I didn't want to lie to her, but truth be told, they weren't too far off point. I had to say something, but what?

"Daryl," she continued, "I'm just a simple county girl from Vermont. I'm not used to all this violence. I'm afraid seeing a gun pointed in my face last night has left its mark on me."

I thought for a moment before I responded. "Mandy, I'm just a simple country boy from Berkshire County Massachusetts. Yes, my life's work has involved investigating serious crimes and holding people accountable for their actions. Sometimes the process of doing that requires the use of force; sometimes extreme force." I took a deep breath.

"But I've chosen to try to make this a better world. When I see good people like Lindsey Moran and Susan Peterson's family suffer the horror caused by others, I get angry. And the fact that someone pointed a gun at your beautiful face last night makes me even more committed to making sure that never happens to you again. That's why I've shown up on your doorstep."

I don't know where those words came from. Her silence was deafening.

Finally, she spoke. "Daryl Richardson, my doorstep is 123 Fairlawn Avenue #4; it's a condo, end unit. Show up at 6:30. I'll be wearing a dress." The call ended.

Chapter Eight

I watched TV for a while and then laid out my wardrobe for tonight's date and I must admit that I was nervous. I'd been in a few nice relationships; all the women I knew well before getting involved. Mandy was different. I had only known her for a scant few days, but it seemed like a lifetime. Yes, her physical beauty is incredible, and her personality and wit are young and exciting, but I felt something more about her that I can't put into words.

I've been very careful who I allowed into my life, mainly because I had the habit of frequently finding myself in pitched battles against the dregs of society both in and out of a courtroom. Some of them got messy, and I couldn't live with myself if any of my romantic interests got hurt because of me.

Now that Aunt Clarice is gone, I have a new set of problems to work around. Everyone should have such problems you're probably thinking. I don't mean to dismiss the incredible numbers you'll find in my net worth statement, and I'm grateful to Aunt Clarice for her affection for me and her generosity to those people and places that she cared about. I just don't want to make a mistake because I was blinded going into a relationship by sheer physical beauty and raging hormones.

I decided on the new dark blue suit and light tan shirt with an open collar. I slid a maroon tie into the jacket pocket in case our dinner location required such an accouterment. I tried on all the other long sleeves to see how they matched before realizing that my first instinct was the best.

Me, nervous? Ha! Let's just say I was ready to set out for the rendezvous at 123 Fairlawn Drive #4 a full hour before departure time. I occupied my time online finding directions to Mandy's house and checking the news.

I called Lindsey, and she answered right away. She said the Judge had a good day, despite complaining of pain. She said the nurses were medicating him for it, and he slept on and off most of the day.

I told her that Kaitlyn had called me and told me what happened at the hospital with Captain Carpa.

"I hate that man. How is Mandy?" she asked.

"Better today, she called me this afternoon, and we talked. We're having dinner together in a little while," I explained.

"Oh, that makes me so happy. Please tell her I know what happened to her last night and I'm thinking of her. Where are you going for dinner?"

I told her I didn't know, I was picking her up at six-thirty and left the restaurant choice to her.

"What are you going to wear? Not a black suit I hope," she said with a laugh.

"No, I bought a nice new dark blue one."

"And what about shirts, did you get any?"

"Yes, Mother" I shot back. "A nice beige. And I have a tie in my pocket in case it's required."

"Estote parate," she said in a dramatic tone.

"I am prepared my friend, I was a Boy Scout." Her reference to their motto surprised me.

"Seriously, relax and have fun. She's a beautiful girl and I think she's good for you. You need to start thinking about the rest of your life, my friend. It's not easy going it alone, I'm finding that out."

"You're not alone Lindsey, I'm here if you need anything."

"Thank You. I don't know who's luckier, Mandy or me. Have some fun and call me tomorrow and tell me all about it!"

"I will. Do you need anything?"

"No, but I'm thinking of going home tomorrow afternoon and sleeping at the house. I need to grab some clothes and run a couple of errands. I'll let you know tomorrow what I'm going to do."

"OK, get some rest."

"I will, you have fun," and the phone clicked off.

I still had some time, so I went down to the lobby to extend my stay at the hotel for another week.

The hotel manager from last night appeared to be coming on duty and stepped in front of the desk clerk to help me. I told him of my intentions and he brought my information up on his computer. "Oh," he said, "This is a nice credit account" referencing my no limit card.

"Very nice Sir, very nice. You're all set, he said handing me the card." Did you ever meet someone and instantly sense mistrust? I just did.

I pulled into the parking lot of 123 Fairlawn Avenue at six twenty-five. It was a small complex, several buildings of four units each. They were two stories, nicely trimmed in a white vinyl siding. I walked to the door of number four and rang the bell. I heard the click of a deadbolt and the door opened.

Remember, I said a little while ago that Mandy's physical beauty was incredible? Well, folks that was the understatement of the year! She stood in the doorway wearing a dark maroon summer dress and heels. The dress hugged her curves and swept across her breasts and around her neck, leaving her arms and back exposed. Her hair was brushed down the sides of her eyes, her skin was flawless. The haunting slight fragrance of her perfume almost put me in a trance.

"Hi Daryl Richardson, C'mon in"

"Hi Mandy" I responded as she closed the door. "You look absolutely stunning."

She turned and stood in front of me, not saying a word. She looked up into my eyes, leaned in and gave me a long and wet kiss on the lips.

As she leaned harder and wrapped her arms around my neck, I thought my legs were going to buckle. She was soft, curvy, and all woman.

Stepping back, she whispered, "I thought we should answer the question of whether to kiss on the first date. Are you okay with that?"

"Yes," I croaked. I honestly don't know how I got the word out.

"Good, please sit down, I just need to get my purse and a sweater in case I need one."

I took a seat on the loveseat and sank down into the cushion. Her place was decorated beautifully; the furniture in the room was contemporary, yet cozy.

"Your place is beautiful Mandy," I said in admiration of her décor.

"Thank You," she responded. "I thought we would have dinner at Haberstrohs," she said as she came down from the second floor. "It's very nice inside, and their specialties are German and Swiss. They have steaks, prime rib, and seafood too, but I just love their sauerbraten. The owners are friends of my parents and I haven't been there for quite a while. It's about a fifteen- minute drive from here."

"That sounds great. Are you ready?" I asked.

"Ready! Let's go have some fun Daryl Richardson," she said as we went outside, and she locked the deadbolt. "This is a nice neighborhood, but you never know."

As we walked to my car, she held my hand and stood close to my side, swinging our arms as if we were two little best friends walking to school on the first day of kindergarten. What struck me was something that I didn't notice about her before. She was petite. I'm over six feet tall and in heels, the top of her head was just even with my shoulders.

We started the drive to the restaurant, with Mandy as navigator. About ten minutes into the trip an incoming call flashed on the screen and read "Chief." This was very unusual for him to call in the evening.

"Sorry Mandy, I have to take this call." I said. She nodded as I pressed the accept icon, and I saw she was staring at the screen.

"Yes, Boss."

"Daryl, can you talk?"

"I'm in the car with a friend; we're on our way to dinner."

Mandy smiled.

"Sorry to disturb you but, wanted you to know that I spoke with Washington and you're cleared to go forward. They are very interested. Very."

"Thanks, Boss, same on this end. I'll fill you in on Monday," and pressed the end icon.

I looked over at Mandy and smiled. "Sorry, business," I said.

"That's OK," she answered, but I sensed she was uneasy. I followed her directions, and she said little else as I drove.

We pulled into the parking lot and I remarked, "Wow! Nice place. Really looks Alpine."

"I think you're going to love it. It's beautiful inside, and the food is out of this world."

Her energy seemed to have returned, and I parked and went around to her side of the car to get her door, but she was quicker. I locked the car, and she took my hand in hers, this time intertwining our fingers. If the Boss's phone call had upset her, she was hiding it well. As we approached the entrance, she looked at me and said, "Thank You for this," and we stepped inside.

We were barely through the door when I heard the older man standing behind the podium cry out "MANDY!" as he rushed over and swept her up into a bear hug. He was rotund, and his barrel chest was straining the confines of his leather vest. His wavy grey hair hung in curls around his ears, and the rosy tint of his jowls hinted his identity. He looked like a life-size Hummel! This must be Mr. Haberstroh.

Mandy stepped back from his enthusiastic embrace and kissed him on the cheek. He looked up at me and she introduced me as her dear friend Daryl. I offered my hand and started to say, "Nice to meet you," but the old man grabbed me and gave me a bear hug and two hearty smacks on the back of my shoulders. I hadn't even eaten yet, and he was performing the Heimlich.

"We are honored to have you as our guest Daryl." I offered a weak "Thanks," and fought back the urge to cough from his blows.

"Enjoy," he said as he motioned to the hostess to escort us to a table.

Mandy was right, the décor was an Alpine-European mix of furniture and artwork giving it the atmosphere of what I imagined a Gasthaus in Munich looked like.

The place was crowded, and as we walked to our table, I couldn't help but notice that we turned some heads. It was obvious from the expressions on the faces of the males in the room they weren't gaping at me.

As I told you, Mandy wasn't tall, but in that tight dress and heels, her legs were to die for. I pulled my stomach in and wasn't shy with my smiles of acknowledgment to the guys.

At the table, I pulled out her chair and Mandy took a seat. I flashed a smile at the two elderly women at the table next to us, sensing their smiles and nods to me were in recognition of my chivalry. Or perhaps, they too were taken in by Mandy's beauty and suffered a flashback to their younger days.

Our waiter approached, introduced himself, and asked if we would like a drink before dinner. We nodded yes, and Mandy quickly read the wine list and selected a glass of a Spätburgunder blend _._ I ordered a VO and Coke. The waiter left to get our drinks and Mandy said, "I really don't drink, so don't be offended if that lasts me all night."

_" No problem, I just want you to be comfortable."_

_" I know, you're thinking she's a bartender, and she doesn't drink. But after seeing what alcohol does to some people, I hope you can understand," she offered as an explanation._

_" I do understand. Obviously, I like an occasional drink, but when I think about it, if I didn't drink, I never would have met you!" I said._

_" You're right! I didn't think about it like that either, but seriously, you don't drink to excess, and I like that," she said and laughed._

_" You certainly like a variety of spirits though!" she said with a heartier laugh. "Draft beer, cognac, VO and coke!"_

_" I was raised to be an equal opportunity person," I proffered in my defense and drew another laugh. So far so good I thought to myself._

_The waiter brought our drinks, and an assistant placed a basket bearing a generous assortment of warm soft rolls. What I really liked was the tub shaped like a wide mouth beer stein of what turned out to be sweet butter._

_I raised my glass in a toast, Mandy touched it with hers and our first date was officially underway. She set her glass down and reached over and took my hand._

_" Daryl, I have a question I have to ask you." Her look was suddenly very serious._

_I nodded and held my breath. I didn't want to get into discussing the murder and shooting._

_" How old are you?" she asked._

_I breathed a sigh of relief and answered, "Forty-two._

_She seemed to be taking that in and I took a chance on breaking etiquette by asking "And can I assume that you are at least twenty-one?"_

_She let out a laugh and said, "Yes I am, and thank you for that. I'm thirty-five." Before I could say anything, she added with a serious look, "Do you think that's too big a gap between us?"_

_" No, I think that's just perfect." This time her smile was saying "All right!"_

_We munched on the rolls and butter, and she asked about my childhood and I about hers. I gave her my short version, and she looked sad. I assured her that I was well cared for and believed that the experience had made me who I was today._

_Mandy said she was also an only child and grew up in Ethan Falls. When she told me that she had graduated from Bennington College with a degree in Finance, I guess the surprise showed on my face. When she said she was almost finished with her Masters' through an online program, I was floored. I knew she was very intelligent, but I would never have guessed she was so focused on her education._

_" Mandy, I mean this sincerely. What you just told me is absolutely wonderful. I'm so very proud of you," I said._

_For the first time, I saw her blush. "Other than my parents, no one has ever said that to me," she said softly. I gently squeezed her hand and felt her palm was sweaty._

_The waiter came and asked for our orders, and to be honest, I hadn't even looked at the menu.; I don't think I had taken my eyes off Mandy's face for one minute. This is crazy I thought to myself. It's only been three days since we met, and I'm fixated on how beautiful she is._

_Mandy piped up, "I will have the sauerbraten please."_

_" And you Sir"?_

_" I shall have the same," I answered, trusting Mandy's decision._

_He collected the menus and left. Mandy said, "You're going to love_

_it."_

_We chatted about typical first date things while we waited; When were our birthdays? What foods did we like? Had we traveled? We were doing well with each other I thought._

_She told me that her mom and dad had moved up to Stowe three years ago and had bought a cute little chalet house on a small lot. She called her parents Hansel and Gretel because of their new lifestyle and told me her mom was a homemaker all her life, Hansel had retired as a highway engineer for the State._

_She said that she drove up to see them for three-day weekends once a month except during the winter, when the weather made it hit or miss. From how she described them, she came from a home that had a lot of love._

_Mandy told me that when she was fifteen, she was very sick, early stages of "cancer of her woman's organs" as she described it. She had surgery knowing she would never be able to bear children. She said that was hard for her to accept at first, but she was grateful that she was alive and cancer free for the past twenty years. Her dream was to help children who weren't as fortunate to have the family love that she was raised on. I must admit, I felt sad as I listened, and all I could think of saying when she finished was to tell her that her wish was beautiful._

_Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a large woman headed quickly to our table. I don't mean to insult her personal appearance or describe her approach as gregarious, but even absent six large overflowing beer steins in each hand she looked like the proverbial kellnerin plowing her way through a drunken crowd in a beer hall during Oktoberfest. Obviously, this had to be The Mrs. Haberstroh._

_From a distance of ten feet she called out, "Mandy mein liebchen," and almost lifted her off her chair as she hugged her and gave her a wet kiss on the cheek. Mandy squirmed a little; honestly, I think it was to protect herself from the woman accidentally breaking her neck. I hoped they didn't notice my wince._

_Mandy introduced me, and the woman didn't hesitate to plant an even wetter kiss on my cheek. It had taken her only one stride to cross from Mandy's side of the table to mine. She asked Mandy about her parents, said how much she missed them, and at just the right moment our meals arrived to save us. Mrs. H. told us to enjoy, although her tone almost made it sound like an order and left us, parting with the comment, "I'll see you before you leave."_

_I could hardly wait for that and looked around to see if there was a back door._

_The meal was beyond fantastic. After we finished, the busboy cleared the table, and the waiter presented the dessert menu. I passed, but Mandy selected something I had never heard of, 'sort of like strawberry shortcake," she described it, and an extra plate and fork. "We can share." And we did, it was great! Even with the two of us picking at it we couldn't clean the plate._ The waiter came with the check and I left cash in the folder, I felt a generous tip was in order and the C-Note covered it.

Mr. and Mrs. H were at the podium and I prepared myself for the back-thumping and lip shower. To my surprise, we were lightly hugged, hands held, told what a cute couple we were and directed to give their fond regards to Mandy's parents. We made it out the door unscathed. As we stepped out, Mandy leaned over and gave me a thank you kiss. It was a little past nine, and I asked if she wanted to go somewhere for a drink.

"No, why don't we go back to my place. I'd just like to sit and talk with you." As we drove out of the lot she remarked, "I love this car." I followed her directions and in about fifteen minutes we were back at her place. Once inside she said, "I just want to get out of this dress and these heels. I'll be just a minute; I picked up a six pack of light beer for you. It's in the fridge, glasses are in the cabinet next to the sink." She went up the stairs to her bedroom.

I grabbed a beer and glass and settled onto the living room couch. I admit to you that I was nervous. I breathed a sigh of relief, (admittedly with a dash of disappointment) when she came bounding barefoot down the stairs wearing grey gym shorts, and a matching midriff length top. Even that outfit stirred my libido. It must have been those satin smooth legs. She bounced onto the couch next to me and curled her feet under her.

"Daryl, I had a wonderful time tonight, I was nervous about it, but you made it seem so natural. Thank You." She gave me a kiss on the lips and leaned back.

"Can we talk? I have a million questions for you, but I don't want to upset you." she asked.

"Sure, you won't upset me. What do you want to know?"

"That phone call you got on the way to the restaurant, 'Chief' it said. Who was that?"

"That was my boss in Boston; he's the US Attorney there."

"He said something about Washington saying that you were cleared to go forward. Are you investigating me?" she asked with a hint of nervousness.

I thought for a few seconds and answered, "Yes. I'm investigating how in only three days Mandy Simmons has managed to capture my heart." She leaned over and gave me a long passionate kiss; her body pressed against mine was tempting my no one-night-stand policy to wave a white flag.

She leaned back and asked, "Do you have to go to Washington?"

"No, why would you think that?"

"I don't know, it's just that you don't talk about why you're here. That phone call was pretty mysterious for an eavesdropper to hear!"

"You know why I'm here; my friend from law school needs my help. Her husband was shot, and she thought my background could help find out who did it," I explained.

"Lindsey, right? I only saw her for a minute, but she's a beautiful woman. Were you lovers in law school?"

I almost blurted out "I wish," but caught myself.

"No, we weren't lovers, just really good friends. She helped a group of us with our studies. She's very smart." Before she could continue her interview of me, I added, "I told her what happened to you at the lounge and she was shocked and angry with the cops. She asked me to be sure that I told you that she was thinking of you. And she also said that you were one pretty woman yourself."

"I like her already. Is she doing okay with her husband getting shot?" she asked.

"Yeah, as well as can be expected. She really loves him and is just scared to think that someone tried to kill him."

"Have they been married long?"

I had to think for a minute. I had never thought about it but, I did some quick math in my head and answered, "About ten years or so I think. Judge Moran is much older than Lindsey."

"Oh? How much older?"

"About twenty years I think."

"Twenty years!" she exclaimed. "Well, I guess that makes us really okay."

"We're really OK," I answered, and leaned over and kissed her.

She leaned back and said, "That's the first time you've kissed me. Thank You! Do you think whoever murdered Susan shot the Judge?"

"My gut is telling me the two crimes are related. Can I ask you some questions?"

"Uh huh," she said grabbing a pillow from the couch and plopping it onto my lap. She laid her head down, looked up at me and said with a devilish giggle, "Interrogate me Daryl Richardson," wiggling her feet to settle in. Interrogating her wasn't what was on my mind as I brushed her hair away from her face.

"What do you know about Susan's father?"

"Mr. Peterson? Susan said he was a Marine in Vietnam. He was a war hero, but he never talked about it. He got some medals for bravery, but I don't know exactly what he did. She said he was one of those guys that would climb into tunnels and look for the enemy."

"Ugh!" she said with a shudder. "Who would do that? Snakes, spiders. Ugh!" she said, shaking her body just thinking about that.

"A very brave man," I answered.

"But he was just a boy then. I was at their house and Susan showed me some pictures of him in his den. He was handsome in his uniform, but he looked so young," she said.

"Have you talked to him or her mother since she died?" I asked.

"Oh yeah. I went to her funeral with some friends and then to their house afterward. Her parents were devastated. I heard she was badly beaten and strangled. Maybe raped. Thank God, they didn't have a wake or open casket. I wouldn't have been able to handle that."

"Actually," she added, "I saw them only a few weeks ago at the supermarket. I didn't know what to say to them, but I could tell from their eyes that seeing me made them sad."

"Have you seen any pictures of Susan? She was gorgeous, so full of life, funny... "She trailed off but didn't speak. I could see she was getting choked up.

"I'm sorry Mandy, I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, it's okay. It's just that she was such a good friend and now she's gone." She reached up and took my hand and placed it on her waist." Daryl, just hold me for a minute?"

I did as I was told, for more than a minute to be honest. Her eyes closed, and she was purring.

"Daryl, if you find out that the same guy that shot your friend killed Susan, will you kill him?" she asked softly.

I didn't respond right away. "I can't answer that Mandy. I would hope that he could be arrested and face a trial." I stopped petting her and saw she was looking at me straight in my eyes.

"If you do get the chance to kill him, please make him suffer first."

She rolled onto her side closer to me and said, "Don't stop, please rub my back." I did as I was told.

We didn't talk for a while unless you consider her purring a form of speech. She finally said "The HR manager for the hotel called me today to see how I was doing. I told her I was okay, just a little shaky. She said they wanted me to take next week off and they would pay me. She said that if I needed to talk to a doctor about what happened they would pay for that to. She was really nice on the phone."

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"I think I'll just take a few days off, maybe go back on Wednesday. I can't let this ruin my life. I thought that I would go see Hansel and Gretel, but then thought if I said anything to them about what happened they would get really upset. I don't want that. And then I thought that if I did go up there, I wouldn't be able to see you."

I didn't say anything. She sat up on her knees and said, "You may think I'm crazy, but when I'm with you I feel safe. But I need to get away from here for a few days, clear my head. Do you know what I'm saying?"

"Mandy", I said," I do understand. Tomorrow's Friday, and I need to go down to Stockbridge, I have some things I need to attend to at my house and thought I would spend the weekend. Why don't you come with me? I just had the place renovated, a lot of work's been done actually, and I haven't seen it since it's been finished."

"Me, go to your house?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's an hour drive from here; we can make it a long weekend." I have three bedrooms and just had the guest suites renovated. You can have complete privacy and I think you'll enjoy the place."

She thought for a minute and said" Daryl, I haven't been with a guy in a long, long time. I want it to be just perfect. Can I ask you a question?"

"What's that?" I asked, my heart beating with excitement, and honestly, with a little trepidation for what was coming next.

"You live in Stockbridge?"

"Yes."

"Can we have dinner at the Red Lion? I've read about it in magazines."

"Absolutely!" I said with enthusiasm.

"Hooray!" she yelled," I would love to spend a long weekend with you." We sealed the deal with a kiss.

It was almost eleven. "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, say about eleven, is that okay? I'm just going to wear some jeans, so bring what you think is right for a casual weekend," I said.

"Make it ten," she said as she walked me to the door.

We kissed, and I started to leave. She tugged on my sleeve and said in that soft voice, "Daryl, I don't think I'll be using the guest suite this weekend."

"I don't think so either. Good night, I'll see you at ten," I said quietly.

I drove back to the hotel thinking this has been a dream. I had to call Bernie first thing in the morning to tell her I would be arriving around noon with a guest for the weekend. That will be an interesting call.

I also had to call Lindsey to check on the Judge and let her know where I'll be. I couldn't wait to make that call either.

I got back to my room, got undressed and was in bed by eleven-thirty. Sweet dreams had suddenly taken on a whole new meaning.

Chapter Nine

I woke up at seven-thirty and was showered and dressed in half an hour. I gathered up my laundry and filled the bag that I had brought. It was too early for my phone calls, so I went down to the lounge for a light breakfast, grabbing a newspaper in the lobby. After I ordered my food, I scanned through the paper until I came to the police news section.

The disturbance in the lounge two nights earlier was described as an intoxicated man arrested for a weapons violation. It listed his name as Mark Savage but didn't mention that he was an Abbot Deputy. It went on to say that he was treated for a head injury and held for observation in the hospital. He was charged with disorderly conduct, assault, and the felony charge of possession of a firearm while intoxicated. It reported that his five-thousand-dollar bond was posted at the hospital by Freedom Bail Services, and he was released for a court appearance in two weeks.

I read the last sentence twice. It was the first time I had ever seen the bondsman's business name listed in a newspaper arrest report.

There were three other unrelated arrests in Abbot County that required bonds for release, and Freedom posted them as well. Odd I thought.

I finished breakfast and went back up to my room and called Bernie on her cell. I told her that I would be at the house around noon and I would be having a guest staying with me.

"Are you bringing a woman home for the weekend?"

"Yes, her name is Mandy," I answered.

"Oh, that's nice. I'll run down to the store and pick up some groceries for you. Do you want me to pick up some meat for you?"

"Well, don't go overboard, and thank you. We'll be going back up to Vermont Sunday or Monday," I explained.

"Oh? Did you meet her in Vermont?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. There was a long pause before she responded, "I can't wait to meet her. See you at noon."

I called Lindsey, and she answered, "Well Good Morning Romeo, I was going to wait until nine to call you. How was your date?"

"It was great. The restaurant was really nice, and the food was excellent."

"And?" she asked.

"And, after dinner, we went back to her place and spent the evening talking about a lot of things. She has a degree in Finance and is almost finished with her Masters."

"And?" She asked again, this time with a bit of a song in her voice.

"And no to the question that you're dying to ask!" I answered.

"Why Daryl, whatever do you mean?" she said with a laugh.

"Remember when I said to you that I couldn't believe that Ethan Falls was a hotbed of crime and passion?" I said. "Well, I was wrong on both counts. Mandy's coming home with me for a long weekend. That's why I'm calling. I think I'll be back at the hotel late Monday afternoon."

"Daryl, I'm so happy for you. I think she's the one, my friend."

I hesitated for a moment "You may be right. Any update on the Judge?"

"He's holding his own, every day he seems a little stronger. He's talking more and sleeping less. He still has some pain, but they're working on that."

"That's great news. Are you going home for the weekend?" I asked.

"Yes, I'll sleep there tonight and come back to the hospital in the afternoon. I think I'll be able to spend my nights at home next week.

"Okay, if anything comes up, and I mean anything, call me on my cell. I'll only be an hour away," I told her.

"I will. Have a great weekend my friend. And promise you'll tell me all about it when I see you."

"Well, you don't really mean all, do you?" I asked with a laugh.

"Good Bye Lover Boy!" she said as I ended the call.

I still had an hour to kill, so I sat at the desk and made some notes to start my inquiries next week. I wanted to interview Billy Barnum and visit the doctor who reportedly did Susan's autopsy.

That procedure is usually done in a hospital, and I was curious what evidence he obtained, and get my hands on any post-mortem lab reports.

I also wrote down the name of the bail bondsman that Deputy Savage used. That bothered me, but I couldn't put my finger on why.

I jotted down 'ambulance crew' as a reminder to try and touch base with them to see if they could provide any leads.

County Attorney Petrone mentioned he was concerned with many of the Sheriff's drug arrests. I needed to look at some arrest reports to see how they were making these seizures.

The most important, straight to the heart of the matter, was for me to learn more about the immigrant resettlement program. Were there really drug dependent kids there?

I pulled the three-page letter that Donnelly gave me out of my blazer jacket pocket and re-read it. There were some serious allegations in there and I had to find a way to identify who could have written it. Supplying a militia with weapons and vehicles is a high threat accusation. I needed to know more about any extremist activity in Vermont, if it existed at all.

I pulled into Mandy's condo lot at quarter to ten and rang the bell. I heard the deadbolt click and was greeted with a hug and a kiss. She stepped back and said, "I've never seen you in jeans before. You look so young!"

"Are you insinuating that when I wear a suit I look old?"

"No silly, you look great," she said. I noticed that she had two small suitcases and a garment bag by the door.

"I'm a little early, sorry," I apologized.

"Don't be sorry. I've been ready for an hour! I'm so excited to spend some time with you," she said with a broad smile.

"Me too." I said. She locked her front door, and I carried her suitcases to the car. She carefully placed the garment bag in the trunk.

"I know you said a casual weekend, and that's great, but I brought a couple dresses just in case," she explained. I opened her door for her and she slid into the seat. In two minutes, we were on our way.

Our ride down Route 7 was relaxed. She asked me about my house, the housekeeper and her husband's names, where they lived, generally just idle conversation. I did my best to be vague with my answers. After about twenty minutes she said, "Did you by chance see this morning's paper?" I said I did and asked why.

"Did you see in the police blotter? It reported Savage getting arrested," she said.

"I did. I was surprised because it said a bondsman bailed him out at the hospital, and they listed the company's name. That's unusual."

"Hmmm," she murmured, but didn't elaborate.

"Freedom Bail Services, have you ever heard of them?" I asked.

"I've seen their ads in the paper and they have a sign near the county jail."

I hadn't given a thought to a county jail and asked, "Where's the jail, in Ethan Falls?"

No, it's in Hamilton, two towns over. The Sheriff's Department runs it and from what I've heard it's a hell hole," she said.

"Oh? What have you heard?" I asked. Now I was very curious.

"That the guards are animals. They beat up the prisoners; they abuse the women that are in there."

"They hold women prisoners there?" I asked.

"Yeah, they have a couple of women guards. Real beasts I was told."

"How do you know all this?" I asked, trying not to show my doubt of the accuracy of her description of the jail.

"I have a girlfriend whose boyfriend got arrested for drunk driving. He deserved to get arrested for that, but the cops beat him up and said he resisted arrest. We all knew that was a lie, he wouldn't hurt a fly. They towed his car and his parents had to come up with a thousand dollars cash to bail him out. They didn't have it, so they had to call the Freedom people. They said it would cost $2000 but they would accept payments. They had to put up their house as collateral."

She continued, "And then he had to pay a couple of hundred dollars to get his car back. His parents went crazy because they found out that the tow truck people were relatives of the Sheriff. I wouldn't be surprised if he owns the Freedom Company too."

"How did he make out in Court?" I asked.

"The judge fined him $100 for the drunk driving and they dropped the other charges," she answered.

"Wow, that's crazy," I said. Silently I was saying, "Thank you, Mandy." I would have to do some research on Freedom Bail Services.

As I drove Mandy played with the radio and told me about a half-dozen times how much she loved my car. I was silently glad when she settled on a sixties soft rock station on the Sirius.

Right after we crossed over into Massachusetts she asked if I saw a gas station could I stop so she could use the restroom. No emergency she said, but I stepped up my speed, anyway. Five minutes later I pulled up to the pumps at a station.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to grab something to munch on. Would you like anything?" she said as she got out of the car. I told her no thanks.

I filled up the Challenger and Mandy came into the store as I was paying. She selected a drink and an energy bar, I paid for us and we left. "I have to say, that's the cleanest gas station bathroom that I've ever been in," she said with a laugh.

She was quiet during the ride, occasionally humming or singing to the tunes on the radio. After she had her snack, she reached over and held my hand.

She asked me some more questions about my house. "Was it big? Did it have a nice yard? How far from town was it?" She said she pictured it as a white Victorian, with rose bushes and flowers in front. I told I thought she'd like it, but I wanted her to be surprised.

I told you that I never knew my great uncle, but apparently, he was in love with Frank Lloyd Wright's prairie house school of design.

The house was built in the early fifties and was four thousand square feet all on one level. It featured two guest en-suite bedrooms, as well as a large master with an oversize bathroom. It had a family room and a sunken living room with two-story glass along the full length of the back wall. Both rooms had huge stone fireplaces.

In the year and a half since Aunt Clarice passed, I had all new windows installed, the outside was clad in cedar, upgraded all the mechanicals and bought new appliances and some furniture.

Bernie and Erik's house sits on two acres off to the left as you pull into my driveway, and both houses enjoyed privacy from each other. To their credit, they handled all the contractors and upgrades pretty much by themselves since I was in Boston and could only be home on some weekends. They wouldn't take a penny from me for their efforts, saying my Great Aunt had left them and their daughters financially set for life.

The last of the work was finished a week ago, and I myself hadn't seen its completed look. This should be fun.

We pulled into my road at noon and Mandy saw the bronze sign embedded in the front stone wall.

"What's Stonegarden?" she asked pointing at the sign.

"That's the name of the estate."

"Estate?" She looked to my left and pointed to Bernie and Erik's Cape." Is that your house?" she asked.

"Nope," I answered.

As we rounded a slight curve to the right, she saw the full expanse of the front of my house. The lawn was freshly mowed, the flowers were in full bloom, and yes, there were roses.

"This is my house," I said as I crept the Challenger up the driveway.

"Oh My God!" she exclaimed," this can't be real; this has to be a dream!"

"No dream, this is where I live." I stopped at the entrance to the barn garage." I hope you like it."

"I'm speechless!" she said, fumbling to release her seatbelt.

I had no sooner shifted into park and she was outside the car holding her head in her hands. "This is gorgeous; I can't believe you live here." I crossed over to her, and she hugged me hard.

"Thank You! Thank You! I've never seen a house like this in my life. At least not in person."

I popped the trunk, grabbed her suitcases and my dirty laundry bag and handed her the garment bag."

"Come in and let's see what you think about the inside," I said.

Now, I could have gone into the house through the kitchen, but in all honesty, I wanted Mandy to go through the front door for the full visual effect. I don't think I'm a vain person, but I wanted to see her excitement. After everything that had happened to her this week, I wanted her to be happy.

I unlocked the double front doors, and we stepped into the foyer. The slate floor was polished to a gloss shine, straight across were an ultra-wide doorway and the three carpeted steps leading down into the Grand Room, as I had named the living room. I set the bags down on the floor.

"Should I take my shoes off?" she asked in almost a whisper. She sounded like a little kid.

"Of course not, and you don't have to whisper. This is my house, come in and check it out."

When she saw the piano in front of the massive glass wall, I thought she was going to faint.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "A baby grand! Do you play?" She quickly walked across the room and gently touched the rosewood case. A thought flashed through my mind that she looked like a little kid rushing to see her presents under the tree on Christmas morning.

"No, I don't. My Aunt did, but it hasn't been played for many years. I had it tuned but I wouldn't know if it was done right. It's actually very old."

"Oh my God, it looks brand new. I play a little, may I try it?"

"Of course!"

She sat down, and I heard the soft melody of Moonlight Sonata as if

I was in Carnegie Hall.

After about three minutes she stopped, looked up, and said, "The tone is excellent, the pitch is perfect, and the keys feel like they've never been touched."

"I haven't seen how the rest of the work came out," I said and took her hand. "We have some exploring to do," I led her down the hall to the kitchen, dining room, and two guest suites.

Everywhere we looked she said, "Oh My God!" I must admit all the new appliances looked great, Bernie had made up the guest suites in a perfect combination of color and fabric, and the tile work in the bathrooms was exquisite. My money was well spent I thought.

"Where's our bedroom?" she asked, wrapping her arm around my waist and leaning into my chest.

"It's at the other end of the house, past the Grand Room. I started the tour in the wrong direction! Let's go, I'll show you."

When we crossed into the master, we were both in awe. With the sunlight streaming through the windows, the new furniture, the curtains, drapes, and colors made it look like a five-star hotel room. The master bath with its marble tile, raised Jacuzzi double soaking tub, and walk-in steam shower was over the top. Even I was starting to think that I didn't really live here! Did I need all this?

Mandy turned to me and took my hands. "Daryl Richardson, you are a man of many surprises. Thank you for bringing me here. Her kiss was soft and long, and I liked that.

"C'mon, let's get you unpacked, and I'll show you around outside." I told her to make herself at home and I went back out to the kitchen.

I heard a tapping at the outside kitchen door and saw it was Bernie and Erik. I unlocked it and welcomed them in.

After a hug and handshake, Bernie said, "We don't want to intrude, and we'll only stay a minute, but I wanted to see if you and your friend needed anything."

I looked at Erik and he rolled his eyes.

"That's okay," I said and went halfway down the hall to the master bedroom and called out to Mandy. I told her I wanted her to meet some folks and as she entered the kitchen, I couldn't help but see Bernie and Erik's eyes get big as they both broke out into smiles.

"Mandy, these are my dear friends, no, my extended family, Bernie and Erik Nichols."

Mandy offered her hand to Bernie and said, "I'm pleased to meet you," but Bernie pulled her close in a gentle hug and said," No dear, we're pleased to meet You! You're beautiful, are you a model?"

Mandy blushed and softly said no. Bernie followed up with, "Well you should be." Erik, the gentleman that he is, offered his hand in greeting. We chatted for only a few minutes, they said they would go so we could get settled. As they left, Bernie showed Mandy the direct dial button on the house phone linked to her cell and told her if she needed anything or couldn't find anything in the house to just call.

"They're very nice. They remind me of Hansel and Gretel. Cute," she said as I closed and locked the kitchen door.

"Hey! I want to show you the yard," I said and walked her outside onto the deck through the sliders in the family room. It overlooked a large meadow, and you could see the Berkshires in the skyline.

"This is magnificent," she said," like a postcard. How big is your yard?"

"I have seventy acres."

"WHAT?" She exclaimed. SEVENTY ACRES? Who mows the lawn?"

I laughed and told her that Erik maintains about four acres around the house, that there are a couple of dairy farms still working in the area and I let them harvest the hay from the meadows, and that the rest was forest land. We went back into the kitchen.

I asked her if she was hungry and she said no. As for dinner, she said, "let's just stay in." Bernie had brought in some soft rolls, cold cuts and left us a small lasagna. Mandy checked the refrigerator and saw there were greens and other vegetables for a salad.

She asked if she could soak in the tub and I told her absolutely and made her promise that she would do whatever she wanted without asking my permission. She saluted me and headed down the hall, pulling her top over her head as she walked.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge and looked at the pile of mail that Bernie had left for me. I went through the envelopes and saw that most of it were from my lawyer and accountants. My monthly income and payment distributions summaries I suspected. They could wait.

I sunk down into a recliner in the family room and switched on the new flat screen. I forget how big it is, but the more I looked at it I thought it may be too much for comfortable viewing. I guess I'll have to give it a chance.

I sat there for about an hour switching through the channels when my cell phone beeped and vibrated. I saw it was Lindsey calling, and I answered quickly.

"Hello, Lindsey, anything wrong? Are you and the Judge OK?"

"Daryl, hi, no, we're okay, but something happened that I think you should know about. Mark Savage is dead."

"WHAT?" I asked incredulously.

"He's dead. He was at the Sheriff's sub-station in town and there was a shooting and they killed him."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Lindsey, when did this happen?"

"This morning, about two hours ago. Sarah Peterson, Susan's mother, just called and told me. Daryl, I'm scared. Why is all of this happening? What's going on? Now I'm really scared for Forrest in the hospital. I'm at the hotel and have the TV on. The Rutland station is live at the scene. Wait a minute. They're saying something about the State Police just arriving in town. Thank God they're finally getting involved."

"Lindsey, when I was in Ethan Falls I didn't see any Sheriff's office, where is it?"

"It's on Main Street, a storefront actually. It's easy to miss. The Sheriff's main headquarters is in Hamilton, next to the jail. I'm sorry to have to call you like this but I thought it was important for you to know about."

"That's very important. Thanks for letting me know. What are your plans for today?" I asked.

"I was just ready to leave for the hospital when Sarah called. I'm going over there now to stay with Forrest through dinner. I'll be back home tonight around eight."

"Okay, if I can't get the Rutland station on cable down here, I'll follow the coverage online."

"Daryl, I feel absolutely awful calling you over this. I know how much you wanted to have a romantic weekend with Mandy. Does she like your place?"

"She loves it, she's a little overwhelmed with everything, but I think she's having fun. She's in the Jacuzzi right now."

"Jacuzzi? Lucky girl. You'll have to invite Forrest and me down some weekend. We'd love to see your place."

"I promise I will. I think we'll be staying here through Sunday; I plan on driving up to the hotel Monday afternoon. Please call me if you need anything."

"I won't call you. I'm worried that I've already spoiled your weekend and I feel terrible."

"No! I'm your lawyer, remember? Call me if you need anything. I'm not kidding," I told her.

"I will. Are you going to tell Mandy what's happened?" she asked.

"I don't know what I'm going to do. I need to think what to say. She seems so happy right now and I don't want to take that from her."

"I don't know what to tell you, just again that I'm sorry if I've spoiled your weekend. Have you told her that you're in love with her?" she asked.

"No," I answered quietly.

"I think you should, I know you are. It's written all over your face. I'll try not to bother you again. See you Monday. Bye."

I went over to my office set-up in the corner of the room and brought the laptop over to the recliner. I Googled TV news stations in Rutland and clicked on a breaking news website and the action at the Sheriff's office came right up. I grabbed the remote and with the Bluetooth menu, I was able to bring up the computer on the flat screen.

The scene looked chaotic, with police cars, uniformed cops, fire trucks and an ambulance. The reporter was talking about the State Police arriving on the scene as the cameraman zoomed in on what looked like a heated argument between two men. The reporter described the scene:

"Ladies and gentlemen, to bring you up to date on this breaking news, almost three hours ago there was a shooting inside the Abbot County Sheriff's Department sub-station here in Ethan Falls. We've learned that a lone gunman entered the building and was shot dead by Deputies during an altercation. Police have identified the gunman as Mark Savage, age 46, a member of the Department."

"We've learned from sources that Deputy Savage was under suspension from his duties after he was arrested two nights ago in North Bellington following an alleged bar fight. He was free on bond and reportedly was just discharged from the hospital after treatment of a head injury he sustained."

"The State Police have arrived here, and you can see as the camera pans around about a dozen trooper cars."

"There is a heated discussion going on between what appears to be several troopers and Sheriff J.B. Hunter and his deputies.

"I can't tell from my vantage point what the argument is about, but it looks like the Sheriff is physically blocking the troopers' entry into the building. Traffic has come to a standstill here on Main Street."

From the video, it was easy for me to distinguish Sheriff Porky Hunter. The man lived up to the descriptions I had been given, both his appearance and his behavior.

The reporter continued, "Police have not yet identified the Deputy who shot the suspect, and we've just learned from our newsroom that County Executive Warren Donnelly is on his way here for a press conference. We will be going back to our normal programming but will break in and bring you Mr. Donnelly's comments on this developing story live as it happens."

I was so engrossed in the TV that I hadn't noticed that Mandy was standing in the doorway.

She was wearing a short white robe and slippers and was drying her hair with a towel. I didn't know how long she had been standing there, but from the look on her face apparently long enough to have heard what happened. She was looking at me and didn't speak.

"Mandy come sit down," I beckoned, and she settled into the leather couch. I got up from the recliner and sat next to her.

"Savage is dead?" she asked quietly.

"Yes."

She folded her hands and looked down at them and said in a hushed voice, "Please don't think less of me, but I'm not sorry he's dead. I haven't said anything to you, but I've been scared that I would have to testify at a trial. I had a dream, no, a nightmare the other night, that he got sent to jail and said that he would get me when he got out."

I saw that she was shaking and put my arm around her, she leaned her head against me and I said, "Honey why didn't you say something about that to me?"

"You've been so nice and in just a few days I've been drawn so close to you. I didn't want you to think I was weak."

"You're not weak. Just human, it's normal to feel as you do. He's gone now, and he can't hurt you." She nodded her head and I could feel that she was softly crying. The tears slowly running down her cheeks confirmed it.

"Hey"! Don't cry over him. He brought this on himself."

She looked up at me and said," I'm not crying for him, these tears are for you, for us. I think I know now why you came to Ethan Falls. I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"In case you haven't figured it out Daryl, I've fallen in love with you. Crazy I know, it's only been a few days, but I have. I feel like Cinderella. It's not your job, your money or this house. It's You!"

Our kiss was short, but our embrace was long and sincere. "I love you too Mandy," I whispered.

After a minute or two she sat up and said, "I'm sorry, I must look like a drowned rat. I have to go dry my hair and get dressed" as she wiped away her tears with the towel. "Where's your laundry room? I have some wet towels and things I want to dry."

She followed me into the kitchen and I opened the door leading to the laundry. The washer and dryer were brand new, and I hadn't been home long enough to figure out how they worked.

"I never would have guessed that was the laundry. I thought maybe it was a pantry."

"No that's over here," I said as I opened another built-in cabinet door that revealed a large walk-in. The shelves were bare, but they were new and ready.

"Daryl Richardson, you are just full of surprises. Didn't you bring some laundry from the hotel? I can wash it for you."

"That would be great, but you don't have to."

"Oh, hush. Where is it?" I told her the green drawstring canvas bag was in the master bedroom closet.

I kept an eye on the TV as I wanted to catch Donnelly's press conference. I saw Mandy coming down the hall with our laundry and noticed that she had changed into jeans and a white top. She had her hair down like it was last night. I was behind the bar dumping the now warm beer I had neglected and started to fix myself a drink. I heard the washer startup and the door to the room close.

"Hey mister, are you trying to take over my territory?" she said as she came into the family room. "I can fix your drink; I have some experience you know."

"I've heard that. Would you like something? I have a wine refrigerator back here." I asked.

"Hmmm, you know, I think I would," she said as she came behind the bar and gave me a playful bump with her hip to move me out of the way. She smelled nice, not that haunting perfume, but more like fruity shampoo. I liked it.

"Wow, where did you get all of this wine. I didn't know you were a wine drinker."

"I'm not. Almost all of them were gifts; they've been in there for a while. I hope they're still good."

"Wine rarely goes bad, especially if it's stored like this. It gets better with age. Boy... I have a lot to teach you."

"I hope so," I said, as the words just slipped out. She gave me an exaggerated wink, and I squeezed past her and went over to the couch just in time to see that regular programming was being interrupted and was switching to the arrival at the Sheriffs' Department of County Executive Warren Donnelly. I was struck that he got out of the backseat of a chauffeur-driven new Lincoln. "Where the hell does he think he is, DC?" I thought to myself.

Mandy came over and set our glasses down on the coffee table. Without my asking she had made me a VO and Coke, she had selected a red wine for herself; don't ask me what it was.

I turned the volume up in time to hear the commentator bringing viewers up to date.

"It's been a violent two months in Abbot County, and all eyes are on the village of Ethan Falls. Violence reared its ugly head again earlier today when Abbot County Deputy Sheriff Mark Savage stormed this small, police sub-station. We have exclusively learned that Savage was shot and killed by Abbot County Detective Captain John Carpa and Detective Roger Manning, the only two Sheriffs who were in the building. Both were uninjured".

"Although no motive has been released, there is speculation that Savage, who was arrested earlier this week after a bar fight in North Bellington may have been a suspect in the rape and murder of rising star singer Susan Peterson whose body was found in the woods of Ethan Falls almost two months ago, and this week's shooting of Judge Forrest Moran, who remains in critical condition at a local hospital."

"We are now switching live to Ethan Falls, where County Executive Warren Donnelly is expected to begin a press conference in just a few minutes. Our reporter Fran Connolly is on the scene. Fran are you there?"

Mandy reached over, grabbed my arm and squeezed it. "What did he say about Savage being a suspect in Susan's murder? And shooting the Judge?"

"I don't think Savage did either of those things, Mandy. Let's listen."

"Yes Peter, I'm here, and as you can see Mr. Donnelly is conferring with Sheriff Hunter and we expect his comments in a few minutes. There's still no official word about an apparent dispute over jurisdiction that resulted in an earlier heated exchange between the Sheriff's Department and the State Police, but as you can see there is still a strong presence from both agencies here at the scene."

"In recent weeks Sheriff Hunter has come under fire for the apparent lack of progress to arrest the murderer, and sentiment has been growing for the State Police to step in. But even with the shooting earlier this week of Judge Forrest Moran in Ethan Falls, County Executive Donnelly has firmly stood behind his Sheriff's Department."

"It looks like they're ready to start Peter, let's listen to Abbot County Executive Warren Donnelly:"

"Ladies and gentlemen today is another dark day in Ethan Falls."

"By the grace of God, and the swift and professional response by my Sheriff's Department, a horrific active shooter incident was thwarted, and the man who intended to kill or maim others lies dead. The fact that he was one of their own compounds the sadness."

"As a community, we have been shocked by the recent violence we've seen; the loss of a young woman's life and the attempted murder of one of our most revered jurists. We aren't used to this way of life in Abbot County, and as your elected leader I am doing everything in my power to ensure that all of you and your families are safe in your homes and on our streets."

"I think that what happened here today will close the book on this sad chapter of our County's history and restore peace here in Ethan Falls. I appreciate the offers of assistance from the State, but want to make it clear to all that we have long been independent of State involvement in our affairs, and in fact our record of reducing crime, fiscal stability, controlled commercial development of our land, and the Sheriff's Department's crackdown on illegal drugs coming through our communities is cause for the State to take notice of how good government should be run. I will not accept any questions from the press today, nor shall the Sheriff, as today's incident, as well as the recent cases, are continuing investigations. Thank you, and may God Bless Abbot County."

I shut down the computer and TV and saw that Mandy was looking at me with a worried look.

"Are you really going to help that man look like a hero?"

I hesitated a moment. "No, I think he's trying to challenge me."

I got up from the couch, went out onto the deck and stared at the hills in the distance. I couldn't believe what had happened in the past few hours. From what little I had learned about the crimes in Ethan Falls, it seemed like the Sheriff's Department hadn't done much to solve them. If the speculation the reporter mentioned was correct, Mark Savage would be blamed for both. His history of abuse of his ex-wife could explain the violence in Susan's murder, but how would that tie into Judge Moran?

If the Sheriff was to come out and report that Savage had made an admission before he was killed, how would I know if that was what really happened? And why was he so protective of the crime scene that he wouldn't let the State Police through the door?

And why were the two detectives the ones that killed him? Why was Savage there? Had they called him in for questioning? If he had a gun, what caliber was it? What bullets were in it? Too many questions, not enough answers. My gut was telling me this could be an almost perfect frame-up. Almost.

I heard the slider open behind me and Mandy came over and put both her arms around my waist.

"Are you OK Hon?" she softly asked.

"Yeah. I just need some time to think."

"Why don't you just walk away from all of this Daryl? I can see that all this stress is killing you. Savage is dead. If they're right that he killed Susan and shot the Judge, it's done. There won't be any trial, and after time people will put this to rest and get on with their lives. You have so much to live for now, this house, and hopefully me, us."

"Mandy, I know it's crazy like you said, and I do love you. A lot. And I want to see where that love will take us, but..."

"But what?" she asked.

"Savage didn't do it, but I think I know who did."

"But how do you know?" she asked as she stepped in to face me.

"I just sense it. I'll be alright; I just need some time to think this through.

"Daryl are you really that good at what you do?" she asked.

"Google seems to think so," I said, offering a weak smile.

"I love you!" she said squeezing me. "It's about four-thirty, what time do you want to eat?"

"Are you cooking?"

"If making sandwiches and salads count as cooking, Yes Sir I am!"

"How about five-thirty?"

She stood erect, saluted, headed back inside, but stopped.

"Hey," she said, and I turned and looked at her," I know where that love you spoke about is taking us tonight. That's something to live for, isn't it?"

"That's everything to live for Mandy."

"Just checking," and she went back into the house.

Dinner at five-thirty was served on the deck, as it was warm out and we still had a few hours of daylight.

My pastrami on rye with mustard and a small tossed salad weren't in the same league as Haberstroh's _sauerbraten, but it sure tasted good._

_Mandy had made herself a chef's salad, pulled a piece of lettuce from it and tasted it. "Yummy, this is really fresh."_

_" Oops, I forgot something to drink. Would you like a beer?_

_" No, I'd like water please," and she came back with the bottles._

_" To us," she said cheerfully as we raised our plastic in a toast. We finished dinner over some light conversation and neither of us spoke of the problems in Ethan Falls._

_" Daryl, I had to move that pile of mail in the kitchen while I was making dinner and couldn't help but see it looks like a couple of weeks worth. Don't you read your mail?"_

_" I've been up in Boston and I really haven't had time to look at it when I've been here on the weekends. It's nothing really; I get statements every month from my lawyers and accountant. They handle all of my bills for me."_

_" But don't you want to know that they're doing a good job for you?" she asked._

_" Yeah, of course, but I haven't had any problems that I know of. The renovations here were expensive, but Erik stayed on top of the contractors to make sure I wasn't getting taken. Bernie kept a ledger and sent the invoices to the accountants. Do you know that she hounded them to make sure that all the construction bills were paid within ten days of receipt? My lawyer called me and begged me to talk with her to stop beating up his people on the phone! He said they're used to net thirty payments, not ten days. I give her a lot of credit. She said they were all local small businesses and cash flow was critical to them. That's Bernie! She's always thinking of others."_

_" So that's where you get it from, huh?" Mandy asked._

_" What's that?"_

_" Always thinking of others," she answered._

_" It's not that bad. Hey! I just had a thought why don't you go through the mail and see if there's anything in there that I should look at?"_

_" Oh Daryl, I'd feel funny looking at your personal business."_

_" Please, you have a degree in finance, I don't. Maybe I have been too trusting. Please, it would help me a lot for you to look at things."_

_" All right, if you think it will help you."_

_" It will and thank you. If you need anything just holler."_

_" I will as long as you promise that in this big house, you'll answer by the third echo!" she said with a laugh as she headed to the kitchen with our plates._

_I walked down the stairs from the deck and thought I would walk around the yard to see how the gardens looked. I heard my phone beep and felt it vibrate. I looked at the screen and saw 'Chief.'_

_Now what? I thought as I answered._

_" Daryl, not interrupting dinner, am I?" he asked._

_" No, we just finished. What's up?"_

_" We?" he asked._

_" Yeah, I'm home in Stockbridge. A friend of mine is spending the weekend with me."_

_" Good, you're relaxing; I've been worried about you. You say that you're in Stockbridge? That's perfect."_

_" What do you mean?"_

_" I had a crazy busy day at the office today. We couldn't talk last night, but remember when I said that Washington was very interested in your Vermont case?"_

_" Yeah."_

_" Well, late this afternoon I had a call from one of the Assistant US attorneys in Vermont. Apparently, their office received a long letter alleging widespread corruption in that Sheriff's Department you're looking into. The letter accused them of murdering that singer girl you told me about, drug dealing, arms dealing, supporting some off the wall militia group," he explained._

_" Yeah, that sounds like the same letter that the County Exec told you about. He gave me a copy," I answered._

_" Well speaking of him, the attorney told me about one of the cops going on a rampage up there this morning and he was killed by the Sheriff's men. What the hell is going on up there Daryl?"_

_" Yeah, a TV station up there had a live broadcast as it was going down and I watched it. Something doesn't look right to me boss," I explained._

_" Well, apparently that Donnelly guy made some statements on TV that sounded like a campaign speech," he said._

_" Yeah, I watched him. He'sthink he's trying to play me, Boss."_

_" Daryl, Maggie and I are actually heading down to Kent, Connecticut tomorrow for her niece's wedding. It's an evening ceremony and get this, outdoors at a rest area just off the Appalachian Trail. The crazy girl and her fiancée have been hiking it from Georgia on up North. Anyway, Kent is on Route7 and it doesn't look too far from Stockbridge. Maybe we can meet somewhere and talk when I get down near you. I have to stop anyway before we get there; Maggie still is a little uncomfortable on long car rides."_

_" How is Maggie doing?" I asked._

_" Pretty good now, thanks for asking. She's finished with the radiation treatments and doesn't need more chemo. The last scan they did looks like they caught the cancer early. Thank God, she didn't need a mastectomy. The poor girl has been so weak the past few months, I was afraid I was going to lose her."_

_" Well, that's good news, please give her my regards. I know Kent well; it's a little more than an hour south of here. It's nice, kind of like a mini-Stockbridge. Where are you staying down there?" I asked._

_" Something drum, Fiddle & Drum?" he said._

_" Oh, Fife and Drum," I corrected him "Nice place, great food."_

_" That's it!" he said. "Christ, I hope those kids take a bath or shower before the ceremony."_

_" I'm sure it will be nice. Why don't you stop at my place on the way down, we can talk, and Maggie can rest for a while," I offered._

_" You know, that might work. I told the Vermont attorney I would follow up with him Monday morning," he said._

_" OK," I said, sounds great. Give me a few minutes and I'll text you the directions to my place from the center of Stockbridge. It's not hard to find."_

_" OK, thanks, see you tomorrow a little before noon." He said, and the call ended._

_" Daryl? Daryl?" I heard Mandy call from the deck." Where are you?"_

_" I'm down here in the yard," I called out._

_" What are you doing? Are you alright?"_

_" I'm OK, just looking at the gardens. I had a phone call, business. Nothing to worry about."_

_She came down the stairs and took my hand. "The flowers are beautiful. Can I pick some for the kitchen?"_

_I must have given her a look because she corrected herself. "I mean I'm going to pick some flowers for the kitchen!"_

_I smiled and said, "Mandy, like I said, relax, be yourself, you can do anything you want."_

_" You may live to regret that Sir!" she said with a laugh. "I have a question."_

_" Fire away," I told her._

_" What is the Stonegarden Foundation?" she asked._

_" It's a charitable fund that I asked my lawyer to look into setting up for me. I've made some donations over the past few months and he suggested that I consider a Foundation for tax purposes."_

_" Hmmmm," she said. "That explains it. Do you know that about a month ago your lawyer sent you some legal papers to set one up? They need your signature and you didn't even open the envelope."_

_" No, I guess I missed that," I said sheepishly._

_" Do you know there's a difference between Foundations and charitable trusts?_

_" No, is there one?" I asked._

_" Yeah! My Master's thesis is about that difference! Didn't your lawyer explain that to you?_

_" Not really, or he may have, but I probably wasn't listening," I said quietly._

_" Daryl Richardson, I swear, sometimes you're like a little boy, but I love you anyway," she said as she kissed me on the cheek._

_" C'mon, little boy, let's pick some flowers. Do you have a knife on_

_you?"_

_" No, but I can cut them with the edge of a key," I said as I reached into my pocket._

_" I can see that I have my work cut out with you Mr. Richardson," she said turning her eyes to Heaven as she took my key ring and started her collection._

_As she worked, I told her I had a call from Damian Costigan, and that he and his wife were going down to Connecticut for a wedding and would be stopping in around noon. I mentioned that his wife Maggie had been undergoing treatments for breast cancer and was still a little weak. A break in their travel would help her get some rest._

_She stopped working and turned to me with a distant look in her eyes; she didn't say anything and went back to her chores. I texted Damian with the directions to my house as I had promised him._

_After a few minutes, she held up a nice mixed bouquet and said, "Let's go inside. I have to put these in a vase and you can help."_

_It took a little searching, but we found some vases in a high cabinet and I watched fascinated as she arranged the cuttings into a display. She stood back from her work and admired it. Placing the vase on the end of the island she said, "Now this looks like a home."_

_I nodded my approval and told her I was going to take a shower._

_She responded with, "OK," and I saw her start moving the vase on the island. I guessed the positioning didn't suit her artistic eye._

_I went into the master bath, undressed, and stepped into the shower. It was brand new, and I hadn't used it yet, it took me a minute or two to balance the temperature._

_After ten minutes I gave into my curiosity and moved the selector to the steam position and was amazed at how quickly the enclosure filled with a warm foggy haze. I must say, it felt good, like a sauna._

_I didn't hear the shower door open and was startled when I turned and saw Mandy standing there in the mist._

_" I read somewhere that we need to conserve our water resources," she said softly. "I hope you don't mind if we share the shower. She was beautiful, and as she stepped into me for a long kiss, I knew that she was the one_

### Chapter Ten

_" Hey sleepy head, it's seven thirty in the morning! We survived our first night together! I love you Daryl Richardson," she said as she rolled over and gave me a kiss._

_" If we have company coming in a few hours I'd like to go to a store and pick some things up. Can you drive me? I saw a market in Stockbridge that looked pretty nice from the outside."_

_" Why don't you take my car?" I offered._

_" Oh no, I'd be afraid to drive it."_

_" Don't be silly," I said, but she insisted no._

_" All right, but listen, I have another car in the garage, and you can take that," I said._

_" You what? How many cars do you have?" she asked._

_" Two."_

_" Oh, OK, are you sure?"_

_" Yup", I said as I rolled over and hugged the pillow._

_" I'm going to take a ten-minute shower, get dressed and put the coffee on. Do you want eggs for breakfast?"_

_" No, I'll just have some toast and juice," I answered._

_She got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Looking at her, I was the luckiest man on earth._

_I got up, put on my jeans and a clean tee shirt, and found the second car keys in my dresser drawer. I would take my shower and shave while she was gone._

_I went out to the garage, punched in the door code and pulled the covering tarp from the car. Mandy was going to be surprised._

_Six months earlier I had bought a new Camaro LT, dark silver with_

_a white interior. I thought it was beautiful until a few months later when I saw the Challenger on a lot. I think the Camaro had less than five thousand miles on it when I parked it._

_We had our quick breakfast, Mandy grabbed her purse, and I handed her the keys. I walked her out to the driveway, and she stopped dead in her tracks._

_" Oh my God! Daryl, I can't take that, it's too gorgeous!"_

_" Yeah, it's pretty, it's an automatic, and you should be okay. Have your phone in case you get lost?"_

_" Yes, and I won't get lost! I paid attention as you drove from town to here," she said._

_I pulled out my wallet, but she waved me off. "No, I have money."_

_I gave her some cash anyway despite her protests. "In case you need bail money," I said._

_I went inside, showered, shaved and found a nice pullover. I went out to the kitchen and saw that Mandy had sorted out my mail, separate stacks for the lawyers and accountants. I noticed a stack that she had labeled "investments" with a sticky note. She sure was more organized than I was._

_I was sitting on the deck drinking a coffee and reading the news on-line when I heard her coming through the kitchen door. I got up and asked if she needed help, she said she was fine. I asked how she liked the car; she said it drove like a dream and that a couple of teenage guys in the market lot were checking her out._

_" Daryl, why does that car have Connecticut license plates?_

_" Because that's where it's registered."_

_" But you live in Massachusetts."_

_" Yes, but I own a condo in Connecticut. I've owned it for a long time and used to live there. When I moved up to Boston, I rented it out. I still maintain that as an address and will change the plates over when they expire."_

_" Let me get this straight. You own three houses and have two cars. Any other surprises for me?"_

_" Yes, I'd like to take you to dinner tonight at the Red Lion."_

_" Oh boy Red Lion!" she whispered" Yeah!!"_

_She put the groceries away and said she was going to change before our guests arrived. A little before noon I heard a car pull into the drive and went to the front door as Damien and Maggie were getting out of their car. I stepped out and Damien spoke first._

_" So, this is how the rich and famous live? It's beautiful man!"_

_" Hi Maggie," I said as I kissed her on the cheek and gave her a gentle hug. "Daryl, your place is magnificent, and I love all the flowers and the roses," she said as I brought them inside._

_Mandy was standing in the kitchen; she had changed into a peach colored long summer dress and looked like something out of a fashion magazine. I introduced the Costigans, and Mandy asked Maggie if she would like to see the rest of the house. "I'd love to," she said without a moment's hesitation. As they walked toward the master, Damian touched my arm and whispered, "Man, she is absolutely gorgeous. Where did you find her?"_

_" In a bar," I answered._

_" What?" He exclaimed. I didn't respond, just nodded. I asked if he wanted a drink, he said coffee was fine._

_I drew up two in the Keurig, we fixed our own and I ushered him into the family room. He sat down and took it all in._

_" Man, you are living large. Why the hell would you want to leave all of this and do the kind of work we do?" I just shrugged my shoulders._

_" So, tell me, what the hell is going on in Ethan Falls?" he asked._

_It took about ten minutes, but I briefed him on my conversation with the County Attorney and gave him my take on his political largess. I told him about the incident with Carpa and his partner Manning at the hospital and the troubling report of the surgeon. I summed it up by saying, "I don't think that they've done any investigations at all. I think that Savage screwing up the other night in the bar fight gave them the perfect out. He was a drunk, but I don't think he was a murderer. They're going to frame him now that he's dead."_

_" Well, the letter does suggest a cop killed the girl. Do you believe that?" he asked._

_" Yes, and I think that her murder is the keystone that will cause everything else to collapse. You said that I should focus on the Sheriffs, cut off the head of the snake you said, and I think you were spot on. Getting the evidence to identify Susan's murderer will unravel the whole thing. That's where I need to focus."_

_He was silent for a few moments. "Okay, I get it," he said._

_" I need a favor Boss, some paper trail research."_

_" We have a new group of interns that just came into the office. All of them have law degrees but no experience. This would be good training for them. What do you need?" he asked._

_" See if they can do some research on Freedom Bail Services. Officers, key personnel, whether they're a corporation. Trace it all the way down if they find that it's a subsidiary. Also, what insurance companies are they bond agents for?" I said. "And, in their spare time, see if they can research who owns Donnelly's office building in North Bellington. It seems odd to me that he's the exec in Abbot County but doesn't maintain an office there."_

_" OK, but where does the bail bond company fit it?" he asked._

_" I'm not sure, just a hunch. I heard a story that they have the market cornered in Abbot County and they may be violating the extortionate extension of credit statute. If they did, and it's an out-of-state company that they bond for that could be a Federal case. That could justify our involvement and get our foot in the door." That could be the edge I need to solve the murder case. Once I have that, it will lead to who shot Judge Moran," I explained._

_" OK, that's the plan, but I didn't write anything down. You'll have to write it up and send me an email," he said._

_" You'll have it Sunday night"_

_" Great, now tell me about Mandy," he said, switching subjects._

_I laughed and said, "She has a degree in finance from Bennington College and is finishing up her MBA. She was the bartender that Deputy Savage pulled a gun on."_

_" Daryl, she is absolutely beautiful. You're a lucky man and knowing you as I do, I think that you could use a money manager!"_

_" There is truth in that," I agreed with a laugh._

_The women came into the room and Maggie told me that she was in awe of everything. I thanked her, and Mandy excused herself to get some refreshments for us to have on the deck._

_" Need any help?" I asked as she turned to leave._

_" No, all set, thank you," she answered cheerfully._

_" Daryl, she is absolutely stunning, and such a sweetheart," said Maggie." If you let this girl get away from you, you're a very foolish man."_

_In a few minutes, Mandy summoned us to the deck where she had spread out some delicious looking hors d'oeuvres, pastries and lemonade and iced tea. We sat and talked for a couple hours, and I cringed a few times when Damian spoke of some of my exploits working for him. After a while, we were all talked out, and at three pm we bid them goodbye._

_" Well, how did I do?" Mandy asked after they left._

_" You were perfect," I answered, and kissed her on the cheek._

_" Well thank you, kind Sir, but all of this company tired me out. I think we need a nap before we go out for dinner." She reached out and took my hand and led me to the bedroom. We didn't nap._

`

Chapter Eleven

_We decided on an early dinner and left the house a little after six. Mandy had on a dark blue long summer dress and sandals, looking every bit the country girl from Vermont. I obviously didn't have her sartorial finesse, with my tan khakis and a white-short sleeve. She does have her work cut out with me, I thought._

_The restaurant was crowded, but our wait for a table in the main dining room was short. After we were seated, I looked around and it struck me that I often visited the Red Lion on my weekend's home, but rarely had eaten here. I always got sidetracked by Widow Binghman's Tavern, and a fine establishment it is!_

_Mandy ordered Chablis, and I my old reliable VO and coke. The menu had many tempting selections; she opted for the gazpacho appetizer and the grilled organic salmon. I decided that prime rib was my preference and passed on an appetizer as they were mostly seafood. I'm deathly allergic to shellfish, and never really acquired a taste for fish in general. I figured that lobsters and fish shared the same ocean, thus my health precautions were based on scientific fact, not paranoia._

_As we waited for dinner, Mandy said "Maggie Costigan told me about her battle with breast cancer. She's a brave woman with everything she's going through. Thank You for not telling her about my cancer."_

_" Mandy, that's very personal, and I would never tell anyone about that."_

_" I wanted to tell her, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It still haunts me that after all these years I'm alive and healthy now, and a woman like Maggie every day the past few months has had to live in fear of dying."_

_" Do they have children?" she asked._

_" Yes, Wayne and Catherine. They're both married now," I said._

_She didn't respond, and for an instant, I caught that distant look in her eyes again. "Tomorrow's Sunday, can we stay down here until Monday afternoon?"_

_" Of course. Is there anything special that you want to do?" I asked._

_" Just spend the day with you, just the two of us. I know this is crazy, but I feel like we're on our honeymoon. I don't want this to end."_

_" Well, let's not let it end, especially our naps!" I said with a grin._

_She laughed and blushed. "Yeah, I absolutely love our naps!"_

_" But Daryl, I think I know what you're going to do next week, and I'm scared for you. I understand that you can't tell me about police and lawyer things, but I want to help you find who killed Susan."_

_" Mandy, I need to learn more about Susan, her life, her friends, and most importantly her work with the refugee resettlement center."_

_" Well, I was one of her best friends. Why can't I help you?"_

_I thought I had bought a reprieve from where the conversation was going when her appetizer arrived, and I told her that I didn't want my work to take away from our time together at dinner._

_" Daryl, I want to talk about it, I need to. And I need to show you that I can help you in your life, whether it's your job, your house, or your money management, which by the way my Love, could use a lot of improvement._

_" What do you mean?" I asked._

_" I did as you asked and went through your mail in the kitchen. I don't know if you noticed, I sorted it by content."_

_" I saw that. I noticed the sticky note with investments written on it. Pretty cute!" I said trying to minimize my lack of attention to my finances._

_She put her fork down and wiped her mouth before she reached over and took my hand into both of hers._

_In a whisper, she said, "Daryl, this isn't going to come out right no matter how I say it, but little boy, do you even know how much money you have?"_

_I wasn't sure why the whisper, but as the room was crowded, I was grateful._

_" Yeah, with the bank accounts and some stocks I think it's about twenty-five or thirty million."_

_" Honey, I didn't have time to go through the whole list of investment holdings that your lawyer sent you, but you have two hundred shares of Berkshire Hathaway Class A, and three thousand shares each of Amazon and Google. And there are about twenty-five more stocks on the list."_

_" That's good, right?"_

_" Yes, that's pretty good I guess._ _Daryl just those three stocks at Friday's market close are worth close to sixty million dollars_ _!"_

_" No...., that can't be right," I said incredulously._

_" Well, your lawyer and your broker's statement say that's what you own!" she answered._

_I was stunned. I knew Aunt Clarice had left me enough money to never have to worry about anything in my lifetime, and as I told you earlier I wanted to put most of that money to continue her work of helping others, but if Mandy's math is right, and she has a degree in that remember, where the hell has my head been the past year and a half? I was quiet for a minute trying to fathom what she had told me. She spoke first._

_" Now can you understand why I'm nervous about you? What are people going to think about me? That in less than a week I'm sleeping with you for your money?"_

_" Mandy honestly, I don't understand. What people? Google? I really don't have any close friends, and Bernie and Erik, Maggie and Damien, and remotely even Lindsey are closest to me, and they've all told me if I let you get away from me, I'm the biggest fool on earth. I trust them, and I know they're right. And I'm not a fool."_

_She didn't have an answer for me._

_" I'm sorry my Love, but I'm afraid you're stuck with me. As they say, for richer or poorer, for us it's richer. That's the reality of my life. I didn't ask for any of this," I offered as my defense._

_As the waiter and busboy brought our dinners, she whispered," I do love you Daryl Richardson. And you're stuck with Me!"_

_Our dinners were superb, and as we ate Mandy again brought up wanting to help me in my investigation._

_" Daryl, you said you want to know more about the immigrant resettlement program. It's run by one of our churches. I know the woman pretty well who oversees it."_

_" You do? Do you think that you could arrange for me to speak with her?"_

_" I can try," she said._

_" And also, I need to speak with Susan's father, preferably at his house."_

_" I can try that too, but what do I tell them about you? They're going to want to know why you want to meet them."_

_I thought for a minute. "You can tell them that I'm with the Federal Government, the Justice Department, and that we have an interest in finding out why there hasn't been any progress in the investigation of Susan's death."_

_" But Daryl, you do know that people up here really don't want State or Federal interference in their lives, don't you? And now with Savage getting killed by the cops, everyone is going to think that he killed her and shot the Judge. In their minds, the cases are closed."_

_" If they bring that up you can tell them that the Federal authorities are very concerned with the circumstances of Savage's death, and until we see further evidence to connect him to the crimes we're getting actively involved in the investigations."_

_I knew I was going out on a limb with this, but Washington did say that they were very interested._

_" Okay, I'm not sure that I really understand how you're going to pull that off, but I'll just have to trust you," she said in resignation._

_We ate our dinner with some light conversation and passed on dessert. While we waited for the check Mandy asked, "Daryl, why do you want to talk with Susan's father at his house?" This girl had a keen mind for detail I was learning._

_" Mandy, I can't get into that right now, but I think I'll need to tell you some more tomorrow. How about a picnic just you and me? I promise that I'll fill you in on what I've learned about Susan's death, and you can tell me what you think."_

_" I'd love a picnic, where will we go?"_

_" There's a section of the property at home where the land is pretty high. It's not a mountain or anything like that, but there's a small lake with a waterfall. We can go up there. It's nice and private. I think you'll like it."_

_" Ooooh! That sounds beautiful. But no skinny dipping! I'm not a good swimmer," she said with a laugh._

_" Deal! We'll just have to stick with our old steam shower I guess."I said._

_" I guess," she answered with an exaggerated frown. "It's not easy being rich, is it?_

_" Nope!" I said._

_On the ride home, I asked Mandy if we needed anything for our picnic, if we did the market in town might still be open. She said she didn't think so; Bernie had brought in plenty of rolls and cold cuts. Tomorrow would be a repeat of last night's dinner._

_We were about ten minutes from the house when she said, "Daryl when we go back to North Bellington Monday, I don't want you to stay at the hotel. I want you to stay at my place." I was surprised by her proposal._

_" Are you sure? I don't want to put you out or anything."_

_" I'm positive. I don't want this honeymoon to end."_

_" Thank You, Mandy, and yes, I want to stay with you, too."_

Chapter Twelve

I didn't hear Mandy get up, and after I showered, shaved and dressed I went out to the kitchen and found her and Bernie putting together our picnic lunch.

Mandy greeted me with a kiss and Bernie with a hug. "You look like you're having fun." she said with a smile camouflaging a knowing look. I didn't respond.

Mandy said, "I looked around and couldn't find any picnic stuff, so I called Bernie. She brought us this basket and a blanket and a small ice chest."

"Mandy said you're going up to the lake" Bernie chimed in. "I told Erik to put gas in the Gator for you. It's too far to walk."

"Thanks, I was thinking that would be better than walking." I looked out the kitchen window and saw that Erik had brought the ATV out into the yard, and I grabbed a coffee for the both of us and went outside.

"Thanks," he said as he took his mug. "Looks like a nice day for a picnic. I put a twelve gauge in the baggage compartment and a box of shells. There's one in the chamber and four in the magazine. We've heard reports of a black bear family roaming around the area, but I was up in the woods during the week and I didn't see any signs of them. Better safe than sorry."

"Thanks, I hadn't thought about that. I haven't seen any bears roaming the streets of downtown Boston lately!"

I went back into the house and enjoyed a light breakfast.

"Daryl, I've been thinking about what the hotel HR woman said to me about taking some time off. I've decided that I'm going to tell her that I want to take a leave of absence," Mandy said. I didn't answer.

"I've been able to save some money, my condo is paid off, and I really don't have any expenses pressing me."

"That's great that you don't have a mortgage."

"Yes, I'm very lucky. When Hansel and Gretel sold their property in Ethan Falls, they paid off my mortgage and bought my Jeep for me. They said I shouldn't have to wait until they were dead to enjoy my inheritance!"

"They must love you very much."

"They do, and I love them. I can't wait to tell them about you, but I'm afraid to. I don't know how to explain how in one week my whole life has been turned upside down with you."

"Just tell them to Google me. Everybody else has!"

"You're crazy, you know it?"

"I've been told that more than once my Dear."

"What time are we going on our picnic?"

"About eleven-thirty, why?"

"Bernie invited me down to her house for coffee and I'd really like to go."

"Absolutely! Just don't believe any of the dumb things that she

might tell you I did as a kid."

"Boo hoo! I can't wait to hear about them," she said with a laugh.

Mandy cleaned up after breakfast and walked down to Bernie and Erik's. I went over to my office in the family room and brought up my friends at Google on the laptop. I wanted to get some background on Captain Carpa and Detective Manning.

I couldn't find any articles for a police officer named John Carpa, other than a few describing his involvement in Susan Peterson's murder case, and the very recent shooting of Deputy Savage. Interesting.

County Attorney Dan Petrone had said that Carpa and Porky Hunter were cousins.

Another small article caught my eye about a police officer in Fort Lee, New Jersey. It read that about six years ago Detective Giovanni Carpanara had resigned from the force when he and a few other cops were under investigation for alleged shakedowns of drug dealers in the city, and allegations of dealing drugs themselves. I searched for a while but couldn't find anything that referenced the outcome.

Giovanni Americanized is" John." Drop a few letters off the last name and you have "Carpa" A stretch I know, but something to file in the back of my mind.

I searched for Det. Roger Manning articles and was taken aback when I found one that read about five years ago, he was sworn in as a Deputy in Abbot County, citing prior police service in Newark, New Jersey. I didn't find anything else on him.

Odd I thought. Could two Jersey boys be the Abbot County Detective Bureau?

Articles about Sheriff J.B. Hunter were another story. There were many, and the content bore out Lindsey's description of him as a dismissive, Southern Sheriff type.

J. B. Hunter was legally known as Jason Beauford Hunter. He was apparently a defiant firebrand, anti-just about everything and anyone who wasn't native-born American, Caucasian and a patriot for State's rights.

I heard Mandy come into the house through the kitchen door. She came into the family room and I asked about her visit with Bernie.

"She is so nice, and a lot of fun. She talked about your Aunt Clarice, and some of the mischief that you and her twins got into growing up."

"Tattletale!" I offered in my defense.

She came over to me and gave me a hug. "And what mischief did you get in while I was off learning about the life and times of Daryl Richardson?"

"I was doing some research on a couple of the Abbot Deputies, Carpa and Manning."

"And?" she asked.

"It seems that they both came into their jobs out of the blue"

"I don't understand, what do you mean out of the blue?"

"Well, usually when a cop is hired the newspapers, at least the local ones, do a write-up welcoming them to the community and providing some background. That doesn't seem to have happened with those two."

"Does Google get info from small hometown papers like the Ethan Falls Eagle?" she asked.

"I don't know. I did find something though that makes me think that they both came up to Vermont from New Jersey."

"Weird! Hey! Shouldn't we get going on our picnic? I want to see your private lake, and you promised that we could talk about Susan's murder and how I can help you," she said, dropping the subject.

"I did, didn't I? Okay, let's get our lunch and I'll take you for a ride on the Gator!" I hadn't driven the ATV very much, and it took some doing to get it going smoothly. Erik had created a path along the edge of the lawn that crossed the meadow into the woods. It was well established, not too many bone-rattling bumps, and in a few minutes, we pulled up to the small lake.

"Daryl, this is absolutely beautiful! And the waterfall is higher than I imagined it would be."

"Yeah, I used to come up here a lot as a kid and go fishing."

"There's fish in there?" she asked pointing to the water?

"Sure! Erik is a great fisherman and over the years he would catch fish in larger ponds and relocate them up here. Mostly large and small- mouth bass. That was his hobby."

"You sure had an amazing life growing up Mr. Richardson."

"That I did my Dear."

We set up the blanket and dined on our sandwiches and drinks.

"Daryl, you said that you would tell me why you wanted to talk to Susan's father at their house. That has me puzzled."

I thought for a minute if I should fill Mandy in from the beginning. It's never been my habit to share my work with civilians, but in this case, I was the fish out of water and Mandy very well could guide me in the direction that I needed to go.

"Mandy, what I'm going to tell you is absolutely confidential, and you have to promise me that you won't discuss with anyone what I'm going to tell you."

She looked solemn and said," I promise," making the sign of the cross.

I started the briefing by telling Mandy about the surgeon's report to Lindsey and me, and I saw a look of surprise on her face as she picked up on the two different caliber bullets.

I told her about the anonymous letter and the accusations it had made.

I could see that when I told her the letter said Susan had been killed because she had learned that the Sheriffs were dealing drugs and a couple of the refugee kids she was working with had become drug dependent, her look wasn't one of surprise. It was anger.

"I think I may know something about that Daryl," she said quietly. "Probably something I shouldn't know about. I don't want to get in any trouble."

"I'm not sure I'm following you, Mandy," I said.

"About five or six months ago Susan asked me if I knew anything about Dr. Greene's assistant, Farhan. I don't know his last name but he's Middle Eastern, I don't know if he's a doctor or a nurse, she said."

"What about him?" I asked, intrigued by this new information.

"Susan said that some of the teenage boys she was working with had been traumatized by the war over there and some of them needed medical treatment for injuries they got from the bombing and fighting. Her relief group was taking them to Dr. Greene for treatment, and Farhan spoke Arabic, so he worked with the doctor examining the kids."

"So? They were fortunate that they could communicate in their own language," I said not knowing where she was going with this.

"Yeah, but Susan said a lot of the time during the exams she or the other women caseworkers would have to leave Farhan and the kids alone while he examined them. She said it was a cultural thing that they had to respect. Farhan would report his exam findings to Dr. Greene and Farhan would order painkillers, strong stuff. Susan was worried that he was exaggerating their pain."

"Was she thinking that the medical care had made them drug dependent?" I asked, hoping my theory was wrong.

"I don't know, but she told me that she thought it was odd that Farhan gave his patients a lot of pills, there were never any written prescriptions."

"Didn't they think that something was wrong? Shouldn't they be the ones holding the meds? Don't they have a nurse assigned to their project?" I asked, thinking this would be negligent if they didn't.

"I don't know those answers, Daryl. You would have to ask Linda Sturgis, she runs the program for the church group. Susan told me about one of her favorite kids, a seventeen-year-old orphan. She called him "Yo-Yo." I don't know why if that was a nickname or something. She said he was autistic, but a savant when it came to art, you know, drawings, paintings. She told me that if he saw something just once he could draw it like it was a photograph."

"Was that why he was seeing Dr. Greene?" I asked.

"I don't know that. But Susan told me the staff found a lot of pain- killer pills in his room and some needles. When they questioned him, she said it was hard because he speaks broken English and is very withdrawn. All he said was he got them from Farhan's friend."

I gave what I had just heard some thought. Another name for the cast of characters to be checked out.

Mandy continued, explaining that the staff apparently pressed Yo-Yo as much as they could about Farhan's friend, but he became catatonic. They ended up calling an ambulance, and he was in the hospital for about two weeks.

"The Medical Center in Bellington?" I asked.

"Yes, I think so."

"Do you know what he was treated for?"

"No, I don't. Daryl? Am I in any trouble for what Susan told me?"

"No honey, you're not in trouble, come here." She leaned over, and I gave her a hug, I felt her trembling.

"Were you a patient of Dr. Greene, or do you know anything about this Farhan guy?" I didn't want to pry about her cancer experience, but I had to know more.

"No. When I got sick when I was young Dr. Greene examined me and said I was suffering from menstrual cramps. He wasn't even close. I had early stage ovarian cancer. Thank God, my parents got a second opinion. I haven't set foot in his office since that day twenty years ago," she said angrily. "I don't know this Farhan guy."

"Daryl, why did you say you wanted to talk to Susan's father at his house?" she asked.

"I told you that one of Judge Moran's wounds was thought to have been from a rifle. I've heard that Susan's dad was a combat veteran, obviously familiar with guns. I wanted to see if he had any high- powered rifles in the house, or anything to see if he has any leanings toward this militia group that I've heard about."

"If you're thinking he shot the judge, you're very wrong," she said defiantly. "When they opened up the so-called survivalist camp, they built a shooting range. Susan's house was close to the camp and her father had complained about the traffic, the noise; that the shooting range was too close to neighboring properties. He said he knew from experience what damage those bullets could do. I think that he and some neighbors sued the owners of the property, and if I remember correctly, Judge Moran was involved, and he worked out a compromise between the owners and the neighbors. That was about a year ago I think."

"Thanks, Mandy, that's very helpful." I made a mental note to check the Court records to see who owned the camp property.

"Daryl, if you want me to help you I will. I'll stop by Susan's parent's house and I'll call Linda Sturgis for you."

"Thanks, honey that would be a huge help."

We spent the next two hours sitting on the edge of the lake throwing rocks into the water, exploring the top of the waterfall, picking some wildflowers and genuinely just enjoying being with each other. My decision to bring Mandy into the work part of my life was proving to be the right thing to do. But I reminded myself that this was probably going to get nasty before it was over, and I couldn't do anything to risk her getting hurt. I had plans in my life for Mandy Simmons.

We got back to the house around four-thirty. Mandy took our picnic supplies into the house and I parked the Gator in the garage. We both agreed that we'd skip dinner and munched on the leftover hors- d'oeuvres.

After we ate Mandy went into the Great Room and I enjoyed her playing the piano for the next hour. She is an amazing woman, and for the first time in years, I felt like I finally had a home.

Chapter Thirteen

On Monday morning we both slept late. Suffice to say that our night had given the word togetherness a whole new meaning, Mandy cooked some bacon and scrambled eggs, and we had our breakfast on the deck.

"Daryl, what time are we heading back to Vermont?"

"About two I guess, why?"

"Is it okay if I take your mail home with me? I want to sort out all the things that you need to respond to, and I want to set up a spreadsheet for your investments so that you'll know what your holdings are. Is that alright or am I pressuring you?"

"Mandy that's great and thank you. I know that I need to get a better grip on my finances, and as soon as I finish up in Ethan Falls, I promise we can talk about the Foundation or trust as you suggested. And no, you're not pressuring me. In fact, I've been thinking about asking you to help me on the charitable end of things, you know, the legal considerations, and things like that. I thought I could ask Lindsey to talk with you to see what we need to do to set something up."

"You would trust me with that? I don't know what to say. You've only known me for a week! And me and Lindsey? I really don't know her."

"Yeah, but in that time, we've gotten to know each other very well, don't you think?" I said in defense of my suggestion.

"Daryl, being well acquainted in the bedroom doesn't equate to setting up a Foundation!"

"Well, maybe you can figure out a way to write off our nap times as a business expense."

"You know, sometimes I think you really are crazy! Don't you take anything seriously?

"Mandy," I said as I took her hands in mine," I'm afraid that you're going to see the serious side of me sooner than I want you to."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Mark Savage didn't kill Susan or shoot Judge Moran. I can feel it in my gut. Whoever did those things is a cold-blooded killer. Putting a stop to him, or them isn't going to be pretty."

"Oh God Daryl, now I'm really scared for you. Please don't do anything to get hurt. I love You!" she said as she got up and sat on my lap, and her tears started again. I held her for a long time and promised that everything would work out.

After a while, she stood up and wiped her eyes with a napkin. "I think I've done more crying in the week I've known you than I have in my whole life! I'm so embarrassed. How long do you think your work in Ethan Falls will take?" She asked.

"I honestly don't know. I want to outline a plan this morning and get it on paper. When will you be able to set up my meetings with the Petersons and the re-settlement woman?"

"I'll call Linda Sturgis this evening and drop in on the Petersons tomorrow morning."

I spent the morning writing the upcoming week's itinerary in my notebook. I would need to call Damien first thing in the morning to run by him the idea of the Vermont US Attorney convening a Grand Jury to investigate the Abbot County Sheriff's Office. I needed subpoena powers to get access to arrest and investigation reports, evidence inventories, and asset forfeiture and disposition documents. If the Sheriffs were seizing the quantities of narcotics that they claimed, what happened to the drugs?

I expected to get pushback from Sheriff Porky Hunter and was laying out in my mind what I would need to obtain search warrants if he didn't honor the subpoenas.

What I needed more than anything was some help. I thought that a Joint Federal / State investigation wouldn't ruffle any jurisdiction feathers other than the County's, and I needed buy-in at the highest levels to pull that off. That was Damien's strength, and I needed his muscle right out of the gate to get some manpower to help me.

I spent some time on Google trying to get information on Dr. Greene's assistant Farhan. Working with only one name I used several search modifiers all relating to healthcare but drew a blank. Maybe that wasn't his name, or I was spelling it wrong. Google doesn't miss very often.

I also made a note to ask Damien if I could borrow the electronic experts he has assigned to his office. I had heard that they were a little off the wall with their personalities but were brilliant in their work. I was troubled about how the County Exec knew what Dan Petrone and I talked about in Dan's office. I would have to figure out how to get the techs into the building to do a sweep for eavesdropping equipment without attracting attention, and I had hopes that Dan would buy into that.

I learned from Google that Vermont has a prescription monitoring system for practitioners. I needed to know if we needed to, how we could access the database to see what Dr. Greene had been prescribing.

I needed Damien's interns to do a thorough background on Captain Carpa to see if they would have more luck than I did through Google. If Carpa was Carpanara, as I suspected, what was the disposition of the internal affairs probe? And could they verify that Carpa was, in fact, Porky Hunter's cousin?

Det. Roger Manning was the wildcard in the deck. Who was he? If he was from a Jersey PD, how did he end up in Vermont? Perhaps the FBI Newark office could get access to his Jersey PD file.

I made a note to ask Dan Petrone about any bail bond forfeitures that Freedom Bail Services had suffered. What was the money flow? Was collection managed by the Court clerks?

I thought Dan would know what grace period a bondsman would have to locate the non-appearing suspect before they would have to pay up.

I also made a note to ask Damian if he could help me get a Vermont Federal prosecutor assigned to me as a liaison. A priority is to get a search warrant for the bullets that were removed from Judge Moran.

I Googled the State of Vermont Forensics Lab and learned that they had a firearms examination unit. I needed to know if the bullets could help identify the types of weapons used.

I needed to interview Dr. Horace Greene to see what his autopsy of Susan Peterson had found. My gut instinct was telling me that he hadn't done an autopsy, but only a cursory post-mortem exam, if that.

I would like to have a search warrant in hand when I did the interview, but I was a missing a lot of information to justify a Judge approving a warrant.

I needed to know more about Farhan. I had a hunch that he was going to be a key player in all of this.

My most important interview I felt was going to be Susan's refugee friend, Yo-Yo. That was going to be the hardest task.

I leaned back in my desk chair and heard what sounded like a vacuum running. "What the heck is she up to?" I asked out loud. I found her in the master bedroom vacuuming the carpet. "You don't have to do that Hon, Bernie has a cleaning service that comes in and does that for me."

"I don't mind, you looked so busy and I wanted something to do. Are you finished with your homework?"

"Yeah, I have a lot to do this week and I need to sort out the tasks a little better, but I think I have a plan."

"Can I see it?" she asked.

I looked at her for a long minute and I don't know what possessed me, but I said, "Sure," and handed her my notebook.

"Ah! Daryl Richardson's famous little black book!" she said with a wicked laugh.

"My notes are on the last pages," I said, reaching over to turn pages for her. She waved me off.

She sat on the edge of the bed reading and didn't say a word. When she finished, she handed it back. "I would never have thought of all of these things. You've been planning this for a while, haven't you? And I think that I've been a distraction to you this weekend. I'm sorry".

"Mandy, you can distract me anytime you want" I answered easing her down onto the bed.

"Mr. Richardson, you're being naughty again."

"Yes, Ms. Simmons, I am."

We started packing up around one-thirty. Mandy caught a glimpse of me in my closet opening the gun safe and asked, "What's that?"

"It's a firearms storage locker," I answered as I removed my Sig-Sauer P226, tactical holster, and two extra loaded magazines.

"Isn't it illegal to carry a gun in Massachusetts?" she asked.

"Mandy, I have a Federal firearms license to carry a concealed weapon, it's sometimes part of my job." I placed the gun and accessories in my suitcase. She didn't say anything, but I could see that the reality of my life finally had caught up to her.

She called Bernie just before we left and thanked her for helping her this weekend and gave her cell number to her. I locked up the house, and we headed out.

We drove for almost an hour with little conversation. Finally, Mandy spoke her piece.

"You seem different now Daryl."

"What do you mean?"

"We had so much fun together this weekend, and everything was perfect, but I realize now that's something that can't go on forever."

"Says who?" I asked.

"Daryl, I can see that your life belongs to others, not me."

I took her hand and said, "Mandy, you have become my life, don't doubt that or me for one second. I love you, and when this is all over, I want nothing more. Just you."

Our drive to her house took a little over an hour and as we got closer to North Bellington she seemed to be back to herself. "Are we going to live together?"

"Yes, I would like that a lot."

"It will be at your house, right?"

"I would hope that you'd call it our house."

"I'd like that, but I don't know what I would do with my condo. My parents bought it for me and I don't want them to be hurt if I sell it."

"Then don't. Let's just take things a day at a time and you'll know what the right thing is for you to do."

"This is going to sound absolutely crazy after only being together a week, but would you want to be married to me?"

I knew that I couldn't hesitate on this answer, and honestly, I didn't want to. "Yes, that would make my life complete."

"I love you Daryl, but let's not talk about marriage for at least a year."

I didn't know what significance a year had, but I knew that was a road I didn't want to go down with her. "Whatever makes you happy Mandy, we will do."

She turned the radio up and we pulled into her condo complex a little before five. We took our things from the car and went upstairs to unpack.

"I'm sorry; the bed is a Queen size, not a King like at your house."

"You mean our house, don't you?" I said as she pulled me onto her bed.

"Yes, that's what I meant. She said. The drive made me tired, we need a nap."

I got settled into Mandy's condo and I was watching TV in the living room when she came in and said, "I just got off the phone with Linda Sturgis."

"And?" I asked.

"She was very hesitant to speak with you at first, and I had to convince her that I think that the Sheriff's Department is covering up Susan's murder and that her immigrant families could be in real danger."

"How did she handle that?" I asked.

She agreed to meet with you Wednesday afternoon but she's very hesitant to let you speak with Yo-Yo, which by the way is his nickname, they think."

"They think?" I asked. What kind of staff do they have running this place I wondered to myself?

"Yeah! They really don't know much about him other than he's an orphan and was taken in about a year ago by one of their immigrant families in Iraq before they arrived here. They're the ones that call him Yo-Yo. By the way, she refers to all of them as her clients," she explained."

"That's good to know," I said.

Mandy continued. "Remember I told you that Yo-Yo is autistic? Well, he seems very frightened of men he doesn't know. Linda doesn't think he'll respond to you, and she's worried he may become hysterical and slip into a catatonic state again."

"You know, he sounds like some of the kids I met in my human trafficking investigation," I answered, remembering how traumatized they were by their experiences.

"Daryl, I think anyone who victimizes a child with mental illness is a repulsive human being who doesn't deserve to live on this Earth."

"I agree. But you said that Susan seemed to be able to break through to him," I challenged.

"I did say that. But Susan was very beautiful and had a certain gentleness about her. I think that she was able to connect with him as a mother or sister surrogate. You know, someone he felt safe with."

"I understand, but it's critical that I get to meet with him. I have something in mind to help him communicate with us," I said.

"Us?"

"Yeah. I would really like you there. I think that he could relate to you like he did with Susan."

"Daryl, I don't know if I could do that. I mean, I want to help you but I'm afraid that I might do or say something that will hurt him. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something like that happened."

"You won't hurt him. Just believe that we're trying to make his life better by his helping us."

"How can he help us?" she asked.

"Mandy, don't you think it's important to find out who was supplying him and maybe some of the other kids with drugs? Do you want him to spend the rest of his life being victimized like that?"

"No of course not" she snapped back.

"Well, just think about what I'm saying. You may be able to change his life forever, to a better one than he has today. You just must have some faith in yourself. I think that Yo-Yo needs to believe that he has people who care about him, and his incredible artistic talent can help us. I think he can tell us who gave him the drugs he had."

"I understand Daryl, but there's a problem."

"What?"

"Linda said that before he went to the hospital, he destroyed all of his art supplies. The paper, charcoal, paints, brushes, everything. They tried to sedate him to control his rage, but he went catatonic. She said the supplies weren't all that good to start with, they were donated by some of the church families, but they were the only thing that he seemed to feel belonged to him. And he destroyed them."

"Does he know that Susan is dead?" I asked.

"I don't know. You would have to ask Linda."

"Mandy, I know I'm asking a lot of you, but I need a huge favor."

"What?"

"I'm sure there must be a quality art supply store in the area.

"Not around here, maybe Rutland," she answered.

I want to give you some money tomorrow morning and I'd like you to get him the best assortment of art supplies that you can find. I don't care how much it costs. `

"Yes, I can do that," she said with a perplexed look on her face.

"Great, thank you. Are you hungry?" I asked.

"Not really. I think I want a drink though. I have some wine, but I don't have any hard liquor. Would you like a beer?"

"Sure. I don't feel like eating either," I said.

She came back from the kitchen with a glass of wine and my beer.

"Let's go to bed early tonight and sleep!" I said." I'm not sure that I can keep up our honeymoon pace anymore today!"

"Yeah, I think our nap this afternoon did me in too," she said as she curled up on the couch with her head on my lap. "But it was soooo nice!"

We finished our drinks and went to bed at seven-thirty. For a change, we slept through the night.

Chapter Fourteen

I woke up a little before eight and after a shower and shave I went downstairs to find Mandy in the kitchen fixing a full breakfast.

"Good Morning sleepy-head!" she said after a kiss. "I was up at 6:30; I hope my shower didn't wake you."

"No, I slept soundly. What are you going to do after breakfast?" she asked as she presented me with a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, orange juice, and coffee.

"Wow, I could get used to this. Thank You!" I said eyeing the banquet she had prepared.

"I want to check in with Lindsey and see how the Judge is doing," I answered. "Then I'm going to give Damien a call and see how we can set something up to work with the Vermont authorities."

"OK," she said, "I looked online a little while ago and saw that there's a good art supply shop up in Rutland. It's a bit of a drive, but I don't mind doing it if you still want me to get some supplies for Yo-Yo."

"That would be great, thanks," I said.

I finished breakfast, gave Mandy some money for the art supplies and called Lindsey.

"Well, Good Morning! And how was your weekend? I'm dying to know," she asked with a hint of a giggle.

"It was great. You were right. Mandy's the one."

"I knew it!" She said almost shouting. "I am so happy for the both of you. My women's intuition was right!"

"How's the Judge progressing?" I asked.

"He seems stronger every day. They're moving him from ICU into a private room this morning, and he walked a little yesterday, which is really encouraging. My hope is that he'll be strong enough by the end of the week to be discharged and get out-patient treatment."

"Are you going to be able to manage him at home?" I asked.

"His case worker is setting me up with the Visiting Nurses and if need be, I'll hire a private duty nurse for the first few days and see how things go."

"Great. If you need any help, please let me know."

"And what are your plans Daryl?"

I told her about my meeting with Damien Costigan and our plan to work with the Vermont authorities in the investigation of the Sheriff's Department. She was quiet for a minute.

"Are you sure you know what you're getting into?" she asked.

"Yes, I have a plan that I think will lead us to who killed Susan Peterson and shot your husband," I explained.

"Oh My God Daryl, please, please, be very careful with those people. After everything that has happened this week, I'm n really scared for all of us."

"You just concentrate on your husband Lindsey, and I'll deal with the rest. By the way, do you think the Judge is up to a visit from me this afternoon?"

"I'll ask him first thing this morning. I think so, he asked about you yesterday and I told him you went home for the weekend. I didn't tell him about Mark Savage getting killed and I also didn't tell him about your Mandy."

"Well, looks like the Judge and I have a lot to talk about. Please call me if he feels up to my visit."

"I will, talk to you later," she said and hung up.

I called Damien and luckily caught him at his desk. "Good Morning, Boss, how was the wedding?" I asked.

"Hi! It was actually very nice. The kids cleaned up good, and the inn gets four stars in my book. Really nice and exceptionally accommodating. By the way, Kent is a pretty little town, and your Mandy is a doll. Maggie couldn't stop talking about her and you as a couple all weekend!"

"It is a nice town and thank Maggie for her kind thoughts. I think Mandy's very special" I said.

"Boss, I have a few more things to run by you." I said changing the subject.

"Fire away my boy!"

I briefed him on the idea of a Federal Grand Jury and he readily agreed to work on that with the Vermont Federal Court. He said he could have two of his technology agents available to me with eight hours' notice. I offered to foot the bill for their overnight stay and meals and after a little pushback from him, he agreed. My ulterior motive was to have them stay at my hotel in the thought that if the Abbot Deputies returned to their favorite haunt in the bar it wouldn't take long for them to suspect that they were Feds. I wanted to start applying pressure on the Sheriffs.

He told me that he had assigned three of his interns to do the research I wanted, and I told him I also needed profiles of Captain Carpa, Detective Manning, and Sheriff Hunter's and County Exec Donnelly. I asked him to make it a priority to have the Vermont US Attorney assign an assistant to contact me to work on getting the search warrants I had in mind.

"Anything else I can do for you my boy since you apparently think Boston doesn't have any crime problems of its own?" he asked sarcastically.

"Hey, I'm sorry Boss; I know I'm asking a lot of you."

"I'm just kidding Daryl. I owe you a lot. I'll get right on this and check in with you late this afternoon. In the meantime, you just be damn careful up there."

"I will, and thanks," I said and ended the call.

I called County Attorney Petrone and his secretary put me through to his office.

"Daryl! I'm sure you heard about Mark Savage getting killed."

"I did Dan."

"And what do you think about Donnelly insinuating that Mark Savage killed the girl and shot Judge Moran?"

"He didn't do it, Dan. They're framing him."

After a pause, he responded, "I agree. Do you have any thoughts on who did?"

"I do Dan, we need to talk. Outside of your office."

"When and where?" he asked after a few moments of hesitation. "I'll drive up and can be there in about an hour. Give me your cell number and I'll call you to meet me in the parking lot," I said.

He agreed and gave me his number. I hung up just as Mandy said she was ready to leave. She gave me her spare key to the deadbolt on the front door and asked me to lock up when I left.

"Daryl, please be very careful today and come home to me in one piece," she said as she gave me a long kiss. "On my way back from Rutland I'm going to stop at Susan's parent's house. Wish me luck."

"You'll do great. Just call me if you need anything," I said.

I went upstairs, strapped the Sig Sauer and clips on my belt, grabbed my suit coat and headed out to Ethan Falls. I arrived at the courthouse and called Dan. He came outside about five minutes later.

"What's with all the cloak and dagger Daryl?" he asked as he slid into the seat.

"Dan, I think your office may be bugged. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the whole place isn't wired," I explained as I pulled out of the lot. I expected him to act shocked, or at least surprised, but he wasn't.

"What makes you think that?" he asked.

I told him about the County Exec's comment to me that he seemed to know what we had talked about during our meeting at the court house.

"You didn't tell Donnelly about my visit, did you, Dan?"

"Hell no, of course not!" He exclaimed in anger. "I can't stand that self-serving son-of-a-bitch."

"I knew that Dan. I just needed to hear it from you." I told him that the only logical way anyone would have known what we talked about was electronic eavesdropping and not just the phones being tapped.

After a minute to consider that, he spoke. "You know, I've had an uneasy feeling the past few months. It seems that Hunter and Donnelly knew as much about my cases as I did. And I must tell you, I've come into work in the morning and noticed that some of the files on my desk weren't as I remembered leaving them."

I asked him who had keys to his office. "Just me, my secretary Amy, and of course Billy Barnum. As the building Super he has master keys. Even my assistant attorneys don't have a key to my private office, and I religiously lock it every night when I leave."

I asked him to show me where Dr. Greene's office was, and I drove following his directions.

I filled him in on my theory that one or more of the Sheriffs were involved in Susan's murder and the shooting of Judge Moran, and now the death of Deputy Savage. I asked him about the Sheriff's reported large drug seizures and the disposition of the evidence.

"I honestly don't have a clue, Daryl. I have four cases sitting on my desk, all reporting seizures of heroin, fentanyl, and methamphetamine. All the cases were transferred to the Superior Court; all the accused are from out-of-state and were out on bonds. All of them failed to appear for their next Court date."

"Have you been in contact with the State prosecutors on that?"

"They contacted me and asked what the hell was going on. Two of the four were Spanish speaking and gave addresses in Brooklyn and the other two gave addresses in Jersey."

"What bonds were they out on?"

"Prior to arraignment all were set at fifty-thousand, and they posted them."

"And let me guess, Freedom Bail Services was the bond agent."

"How did you know that?" he asked.

"Just a hunch. Are there any other bond agencies in the County?"

"Yeah. Federated Bail Services, that's a national company, and Bob Allen, he's a local independent," he explained. "Why?"

"Are they doing much business with the Sheriff's arrests?" I asked.

"Some. But now that I think of it, I can't recall any drug arrests when Freedom wasn't the bondsman."

"How are bond forfeitures handled? I mean if the case is bound over to the Superior Court and there's a non-appearance the Court will issue a re-arrest won't it?"

"Sure. But as it turns out the Sheriff's Office manages the bond forfeitures by submitting them to the County for collection after ninety-days of non-appearance or re-arrest."

"You mean to tell me that the County supposedly files for the forfeiture actions?" I asked incredulously.

I continued, "And let me guess again. None of those were Freedom Bail Services."

"That's right. How did you know that?" he said. I didn't answer.

"Do you know anything about the Freedom people? Are they national, state-wide or what?" I asked.

"You know, I'm not sure. I've only seen cases that they've had in Abbott County."

I didn't pursue the bondsman issue and after a few minutes of silence Dan asked, "What's your interest in Dr. Greene?"

"I read in the newspaper that Greene allegedly did an autopsy on the girl. Apparently, he's the County Medical Examiner?"

"He is. I know he's made some death pronouncements over the years, but I can't recall him ever doing any autopsies. The old man can hardly see! There's no way he did an autopsy on Susan Peterson," he said with a dismissive laugh.

"What do you know about his assistant, a Middle Eastern guy, I think his name is Farhan?" I asked.

"Not much. I recall about a year or so ago there was an article in the local paper that he relocated from Iraq. I think he was either a doctor or medical student, but his educational background couldn't be verified, so he couldn't be certified in this country as a physician. It said he joined Dr. Greene as a medical assistant. I do know that he's been involved with the refugee resettlement program that our churches run."

"That's Greene's office right there," he said, pointing to a large Victorian house about a mile from the village green. I pulled over and took a few photos with my cell phone.

"What's that for?" he asked, obviously surprised at what I was doing.

"I need a premises description for a search warrant affidavit."

"A search warrant for what?" he asked, raising his voice.

"Any records of a post-mortem exam that he may have done on Susan Peterson, and records of prescriptions or dispensing of controlled drugs given to patients who were clients of the refugee resettlement program," I explained.

"Are you out of your mind? Do you think that an Abbot County judge will sign a search warrant for Horace Greene's office?" he asked as he laughed.

"Who said anything about a County search warrant?" I countered.

"Obviously Daryl I've underestimated you. Level with me. On what authority are you acting?" I waited a few seconds before I answered.

"A Federal Grand Jury."

Dan Petrone was dead silent as we drove back toward the Court House. I pulled over to the curb in the village green in front of a storefront that displayed the Abbot County Sheriff's Department sign and took two more pictures with my cell phone. He finally spoke. "Not there too?"

"Yeah, I need some more info first, whether they have surveillance cameras, and if they keep case records there."

"I honestly don't know Daryl. I think they have some cameras, but I doubt that they keep records there. How are you going to find out what they have?"

"If we must, we're going to ask Sheriff Porky Hunter," I said with a grin.

As we neared the courthouse, I asked him to point out building superintendent Billy Barnum's house.

"There, the small cottage on the hill," he said pointing to my right. Billy's house overlooked the Courthouse grounds and was situated next to what looked like a small park. I couldn't help but notice the large radio tower and antenna on the side of his property.

"What's with the tower?" I asked, craning my neck to get a better view.

"That's Billy's. He's a ham radio guy. He was an electrician's mate in the Navy and he once told me that's when he got interested in radios. A few years ago, he invited me up to his house to see his station, shack I think he called it. Well, it wasn't a shack! He had a half-dozen radios, some computers, tape recorders, it looked like NASA Central, but it was all Greek to me. He said that he had talked with stations all over the world and the walls in the room were covered with postcards he said verified his contacts. He's a wizard when it comes to electronics." I pulled to the side of the road and stared at the antenna. I don't know much about radios, but what I was seeing was impressive.

"Dan has Billy ever done any electrical or phone work at the Courthouse?" I asked.

"Sure. We installed new phone system about six or seven months ago and Billy worked with the installers every night for about a week. Why do you ask?" I didn't answer, but it only took Dan a few seconds to read my mind.

"Daryl, you don't think Billy......?"

"I don't know Dan, but we need to get some electronics techs to look at the building when no one's around."

"Daryl, I wouldn't know who to call to do that, and I don't know how we could get Billy out of the building during the day."

"I have some people we can use, and we would be going in late at night."

"Oh no! Do you mean those Federal black bag guys exist?"

"Yeah, they're real and they're very good. You'll help me with that, right Dan?"

"Of course. But we can't let Donnelly know what we're doing, he said raising his hands in a slowing motion."

"No! Donnelly's not to know anything," I said emphatically as I pulled into the courthouse lot and dropped him off.

"I'll be in touch Dan as soon as I can formalize a plan."

I drove out of the courthouse lot, turned into the small park next to Billy's house, go out and looked at the tower.

The main antenna was huge, and I noticed about three feet under it was a smaller antenna pointing at the court house. It looked like the microwave antennas that I'd seen all over Boston, especially on the high-rise office buildings. I zoomed in on the antenna with my cell phone and snapped a couple pictures. I looked down to the courthouse and my eye caught a similar antenna tucked in a corner eave of the roof. The line of sight between the two was straight and unobstructed. I zoomed in and photographed it. "Damn!" I said out loud. If this was a microwave link as I thought it was, this was sophisticated. I made a mental note to ask the FBI techs what we would need to learn if my suspicions were correct. I drove back through the center of the village and pulled to the curb just before the Sheriff's sub-station. There was no activity and no one on the street. I didn't see any surveillance cameras on the front of the building.

I pulled away from the curb and saw a self-service gas station across the street. I made a U-turn and pulled up to the pumps.

As I was filling the Challenger, I saw that there were four cameras looking toward the pumps, and it looked like two of them would view the entrance to the Sheriff's office across the street in the background. I pulled out of the station and was headed back to North Bellington when I saw Lindsey's incoming call and I answered it.

"Hi Daryl, I'm at the hospital with Forrest. He's doing much better today and said he wants to see you as soon as you can come here."

"Okay, I'm just leaving Ethan Falls; I can be there in about half-an-hour."

"Great! See you when you get here. Bye," she said and hung up.

I arrived at the hospital, had no problem registering for my visit at the desk, and learned that the Judge had been moved to a private room on the sixth floor. I found him sitting in a chair, with Lindsey at his side. He looked a lot better than the last time I'd seen him. Amazing, I thought.

"Daryl Richardson," he said as he reached out his hand. I moved closer and took it as I saw he was straining his IV tubing.

"It's been a long time, thank you for coming to our aid," he said.

"I'm glad to help; hopefully you're on the road to recovery."

Lindsey interrupted, "Gentlemen, I'll leave you two alone to talk. I want to get some tea. Daryl, I'll be in the lobby, she said as she got up and left the room."

"Sit down Daryl, tell me what you've learned," Judge Moran directed, motioning to Lindsey's vacant chair.

It took me about ten minutes to present my case, and my mind raced to say things with some semblance of order. I didn't want the Master to think that he had educated a dunce. When I finished, he spoke.

"You learned your lessons well Daryl. What can I do to help you?"

"Judge tell me what you remember about leaving the courthouse the night you were shot."

He told me how he locked up his office, spoke with Billy Barnum in the lobby, and was walking to his car when he was shot.

I interrupted. "Do you remember if Billy said anything unusual that night? I mean, I've heard he's a talker."

"No, he was sweeping, and it was raining hard outside and he told me to turn up my collar. He said something about a reporter stopping by to see me, but he told her I was unavailable. He's pretty good that way after court closes."

"Do you know who the reporter was? Or what they possibly wanted to see you about?"

"No, but now that I think about it I remember Billy said something odd to me just as I left,"

"What was that?"

"That he knew I was busy with the dead girl's case or something like that. Daryl, no one knew what I was working on. Why did he say that?"

"Judge, I have a strong suspicion that the courthouse offices and possibly the phones are wired for eavesdropping."

"What?" he said, and I could see that this upset him.

"That's unbelievable! Who would do that? And how?"

"I'm not sure yet Sir, but I have a theory and I'm working on it. Tell me about your meeting with County Executive Donnelly."

He sipped some ice water from a paper cup before he spoke. "You said you've seen the anonymous letter. I was summoned to Montpelier by the Attorney General and he showed it to me. He told me that Donnelly and the Abbot Sheriff's activities have raised some concerns."

"What do you mean by concerns?" I asked.

"Apparently the Sheriff is claiming his deputies have made some large drug seizures of shipments coming in from out-of-state. There seems to be a lack of documentation for the arrests, seizures, and handling of the evidence. Very recently four of the defendants were released on bond and failed to appear. The State is quietly suspecting that the Sheriffs are complicit in drug trafficking and using sham arrests to distract attention from their activities. I met with Warren Donnelly and confronted him with the suspicion that his unwavering support of the Sheriff implied that he was also suspect of being complicit."

"How did he take that news?" I asked.

"He was outraged, very disrespectful and profane to me. He railed about the accusations being a political conspiracy, a violation of his rights and an assault on his integrity. I refused to allow him to berate me and my position as a jurist, and I left him yelling about how he felt that the entire State government was corrupt, including the judicial branch."

"Judge did Donnelly make any threats against you?"

"No, he did not."

"Sir were you looking into the Sheriff's investigation of Susan Peterson's murder?" I asked.

"Yes, the AG requested I make a demand for the Sheriff to produce any and all documents to date that he had on the investigation. The apparent lack of progress in the case heightened the State's concerns, and that's what really prompted this whole inquiry."

"And did you make the demand?"

"Yes, I issued an administrative court order and sent it by certified letter with the caveat that if production wasn't honored expeditiously, I would move for a contempt action."

"And did the Sheriff respond?"

"On Monday morning a courier dropped off a packet of crime scene photos, and a portrait photo of Susan Peterson. Nothing else."

"Where are those photos, Your Honor?"

"I left them on my desk when I locked up. Daryl, I would like to ask you some questions," he said as he shifted in his wheelchair.

"What is your authority? Are you acting officially?

"Yes Sir, as we speak, I believe that efforts are underway to convene a Grand Jury probe of the Abbot Sheriffs. I should have confirmation on that this afternoon as well as a reading on what course the Federal government will take."

"You do know Daryl that the State and County are very sensitive to what may be perceived as Federal interference in their affairs?"

I explained. "The structure of the probe as I understand it will be a joint Federal/State task force, using the resources of both. I'm involved as a consultant to the Justice Department, but the investigation will be led by the US Attorney's office."

Judge Moran thought on that for a moment.

"I understand," he said. "I know that Lindsey doesn't think that I'm aware, but I did learn on the news about Deputy Savage being killed. And it sounds like Warren Donnelly has concluded that Savage killed Susan and shot me."

"That's what it looks like Sir, but I don't believe it. Off the record, I want to steer the investigation toward the Sheriff, his Detective Captain Carpa, and a detective named Manning."

"I understand. Daryl, I've seen reports on your work in Boston and must say that you've achieved great prominence in the field of criminal investigation and prosecution. Lindsey told me of your Aunt's passing, and you have my sympathies." He paused and took another drink of ice water.

"She also said that your aunt left you financially secure, and you have resigned your US Attorney assignment to act as a consultant to Justice. You've been extremely supportive of Lindsey and me, but I would understand completely if you choose to step back and let the law enforcement authorities continue this investigation."

"That's not going to happen Judge Moran. I have a vested interest in finding out who murdered Susan Peterson and why. And I believe that will identify the person or persons who shot you."

"Daryl, thank you. By the way, could that vested interest be a young woman named Mandy?" he asked with a straight face.

"She told you, didn't she?" I asked with a sheepish grin.

"Yes, this morning. Daryl, I'm saying this not as a judge but as a friend. Please be extremely careful and don't hesitate to step back if you sense things are getting out of your control."

"I will Sir," I said as I stood up and shook his hand. "Please get better soon so that you can get out of here and go home!"

I went down to the lobby and found Lindsey sitting near the piano. I told her that the Judge and I had a good discussion but, I didn't go into any detail.

"What's your next move Counselor?" she asked.

"I'm waiting for a call from Damien Costigan and I have an appointment to visit the refugee resettlement program tomorrow."

"Do you still think that its related to all of this?" she asked.

I answered, "Yes, I think that's the heart of this. By the way, I'm not staying at the hotel, I'll be at Mandy's place and I need to start putting the investigation down on paper. Call me if you need anything."

"You and Mandy seem to be moving pretty fast, don't you think?"

"Yes. And Lindsey, it all feels so right."

I got up, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and told her I would check in with her later. I drove back to Mandy's condo and grabbed my laptop from the trunk. She wasn't back from her errands yet, so I set up my office in the living room.

I typed up a statement of probable cause that could be inserted into search warrant applications for the bullets the hospital was holding, and Dr. Greene's records and any evidence he had obtained.

I drew up a second affidavit to get a search warrant for the court- house electronics sweep, and a third document as a Hail Mary shot to justify a court order to intercept any electronic transmissions between Billy Barnum's house and the courthouse if we found that was occurring.

It was a little after five and I finished just before I heard Mandy at the door. She came in juggling a large shopping bag and a pizza box. I got up to help, and I took the shopping bag. It was heavy.

"Looks like you had a busy day," I said motioning to the bag.

"I did, and it was productive. I stopped on the way home and got us a pizza for dinner. I hope that's all right."

"Ummmm... smells great! What's in the bag?" I asked.

"I got Yo-Yo's art supplies, and that was an adventure!" she answered with a laugh.

I took the bag over to the sofa and opened it to find a large wooden art travel case. It was perfect; water and oil paints, chalks, charcoals, colored pencils and a generous assortment of papers. I couldn't have asked for anything better.

"Mandy this is absolutely perfect," I said and gave her a kiss on the cheek as she sat down next to me.

"Thanks, and what have you been up to?" she asked pointing to the laptop.

"I've been documenting some of the information I've learned."

Okay, if you're done let's eat while the pizza's still hot. Do you want a beer with it?" she asked as she stood up.

"Yes please," I said as I cleared the laptop from the coffee table and she set up our dinner. The pizza was delicious, and we didn't talk while we ate. Finally, she spoke.

"On the way back from Rutland I stopped and talked with Susan's parents." She said.

"How did that go?"

She wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked over at me. I could see that her eyes were getting glassy. "Daryl, sitting with her parents talking about Susan being dead was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life."

I pulled her close and let the tears run their course. God, I'm so sorry." She said, wiping her eyes with a napkin. "I'm always crying when I'm around you. I don't know how you do what you do. I mean, control your emotions when you're dealing with all this violence and death. I don't know if I can ever get used to that."

"Nobody gets used to it Mandy, you just have to be strong and manage your emotions. How did it go with the Petersons?"

"It was hard Daryl. I told them about you, who you were, who you worked with. I told them that you believe that the Sheriffs are hiding the truth and that they haven't done anything to find out who killed Susan and shot Judge Moran."

"How did they respond to that?" I asked.

"Susan's mother, Sarah, just sat there quietly crying, her father stared at me, almost glaring. Daryl, I begged them to let you help us, that I believe you're strong enough and smart enough to get the truth once and for all, and that you have people who will help you."

"And?" I asked, subconciously fearing that Susan's parents would view me as intruding into their private lives.

"Mr. Peterson stormed out of the room and went to sit outside. Sarah told me that for the past two weeks late at night he's been going out for hours, and he takes his Army gun and doesn't say anything when he comes back. She said that he's out every night looking for Susan's Jeep."

"Susan's Jeep? What do you mean?" I asked raising my voice.

"I didn't know, it wasn't in the papers, but Sarah said when they found her body they didn't find her car. It's a red Jeep Wrangler, a pretty new one. Sarah said the last people to see Susan were the staff at the re-settlement center when she left late that last afternoon driving her Jeep."

"Christ," I said and leaned back into the sofa cushion. How could something as important as this be overlooked?

"Is that important Daryl?"

"Yeah! That's very important Mandy. Did the Petersons say that they would talk with me?"

"Yes, Sarah went out in the backyard and talked with Susan's father. I could see from the window that she was mad at him, and then I saw him start to cry and she hugged him for a long time."

"Mandy I'm so sorry that I got you into this."

"No! It's all right. Don't apologize. I want to help," she said wiping her eyes. "They came back inside, and Mr. Peterson gave me a hug. He said we can come over tomorrow around noon and we could have lunch and talk."

"Before I left, I told them to Google you about Boston crime cases. I thought that would help them to get to know you."

"Let's hope Google speaks kindly," I said.

We finished the pizza just in time for me to get an incoming call from Damian Costigan. Six-thirty was late for him to be in the office.

Chapter Fifteen

"Hey Boss, you're working late."

# "That I am my Boy. Thanks to you!"

# "I'm sorry Boss; I didn't see all this coming."

# "It's all right Daryl. I was on a long conference call this morning with the US Attorney in Vermont and the Captain in charge of the State Police Major Crimes Unit. The paperwork was filed and a Federal Judge has authorized a Grand Jury probe of the Abbot County Sheriff's Department."

"That's great. Thank you, Boss."

"You're welcome. But there are some ground rules."

"I'm listening."

"The State Police are forming a task force to include six FBI agents. Capt. Jack Merrill, he's the State Police boss, will run the show. Their focus will be the shooting of Deputy Savage. If they find there was a violation of his civil rights or he was murdered by them, the evidence will go to the US Attorney to decide whether the State of the Fed will prosecute. Any evidence that might be found to prove that the Sheriffs' were involved in drug trafficking will be turned over to the State for prosecution. Any evidence of weapons trafficking will be forwarded to Homeland Security."

# "That's better than I had hoped for Boss. Was it hard to get a compromise out of everybody?"

# "No, that was the easy part. I was worried that the hard part would be to get them to agree to let you run a third task force focusing on the girl's murder and the shooting of Judge Moran."

# "And?"

# "Daryl, your reputation is stronger than you may think. It only took a little convincing. Both agencies are going to provide you with people to help. Your main contact will be a State Police Sergeant, Jon Michaels. He's one of their top undercover guys from what they told me. A little rough around the edges they said, but he's highly respected in the State and a bull when things get rough. I'm comfortable knowing that he's got your back."

# "Thanks, that's a relief," I answered in gratitude.

# "I gave Capt. Merrill your cell number to give to the others. Michaels will call you around nine tomorrow morning. Also, they lined you up with a Justice consultant, Jacob Meisner. He's a senior lawyer and regarded as an expert in search and seizure, especially healthcare evidence and records. He'll be calling you tomorrow at ten. His job will be to get you the search warrants that you'll need. Any additional manpower you'll need for warrant execution or surveillance will be arranged by Michaels. "

# "Wow!" I'm impressed Boss, I can't thank you enough."

# "Daryl, there's a lot of interest in what you've stumbled into. And the way things are in Washington, and the head-banging that's been going on between the Feds and State agencies, this is an opportunity for all of us to work together. The media will eat up anything they can get on government corruption so all the Grand Jury records are being sealed. Be damn careful with your information."

# "I will Boss. I have one other thing I need to tell you."

# "Sure, why not? I'm already an hour late for my cocktail hour!"

# "Sorry," I apologized. I told him about my suspicions that the court superintendent might be the source of the eavesdropping, and about his ham radio and microwave tower.

# "Man! These Green Mountain boys sound very sophisticated, don't they?"

# "I don't know, but if my hunch is correct, the criminals behind all of this are from Jersey," I explained.

# "Damn, I almost wish I was up there with you. Okay, you'll need a search warrant for my techs to sweep the courthouse. I'll tell them that there may be a microwave component to this, in case they'll need some additional equipment."

# "You read my mind, but I'm afraid my need for your techs will be on short notice next week," I said.

# "I'll handle that. All right, let me go, I'm tired and thirsty. Call me with an update tomorrow."

# "Will do, and thanks again Boss."

# Mandy looked over at me and asked, "Is everything all right Daryl? That was a long call."

# "Yeah, actually everything seems to be coming together. I'm getting all the help that I said I needed. Tomorrow morning I'll be getting some important phone calls, and I'll need to set up a meeting with the people I'll be working with."

# "Are these people you can trust?" she asked.

# "Yeah, I'm sure they'll be fine."

# "Okay, but don't forget we're meeting with Linda Sturgis at the re-settlement village at two-thirty tomorrow."

# "I won't forget. Let's have another cocktail and go to bed. It's been a long day for both of us."

# "Does beer count as a cocktail? I'll have to get you some VO and coke this week," she asked with a grin.

# "For tonight my dear, beer will suffice, as well as a good night's sleep.

# Sgt. Jon Michaels called at nine-fifteen in the morning "Daryl Richardson? Jon Michaels here. Can you talk?"

# "Yeah Jon, thanks for calling. Have you been briefed on this case?" "Yeah, Capt. Merrill filled me in. This is a pleasure. I've been chomping at the bit to get a piece of that bastard Porky Hunter. He's as corrupt as they come. I've been saying that for years. Friend, you must have some pull to finally get this case moving. What do you need from me?" he asked.

# "Jon, my boss in Boston spoke with your boss and our work will focus on getting a search warrant for the County ME's office. He reportedly did an autopsy of the murdered Peterson girl, and there are allegations that his medical assistant may be dealing drugs."

# "Okay, who's your warrant man?" the Sergeant asked.

# "A Federal attorney, Jacob Meisner. Ever hear of him?"

# "Have I? He's almost a legend! I took some warrant classes he taught, he's the best there is! Damn man, you have some pull. Who's this medical assistant?" he queried.

# "Some guy named Farhan; I don't know his last name. From what I've been told he's from the Middle East."

# "Farhan Hussein by chance?" he immediately asked.

# "I don't know the last name, Jon."

# "Huh! I have an informant that mentioned an Arabic guy who supposedly has been cooking up crystal meth and mixing heroin and fentanyl for street sales. He said his name is Hussein. My guys have been working on trying to get a better ID on him for weeks, but we've come up dry. You say this Farhan guy is a medical assistant?"

# "That's what I was told. He may have been trained as a physician over there but he can't practice in this country," I answered.

# "Hmmm," he said, "our source tells us that this Hussein guy entered the country through Canada."

# "Jon, we're also going for a warrant to seize the bullets that were removed from Judge Moran. The Medical Center is holding them."

# "Bullets? Was he shot more than once? I read he's alive, how's he doing?" he asked.

# "Yeah, two bullets, different calibers. The judge is on the mend."

# "Two shooters?" he asked. I could hear the surprise in his voice. "I don't know Jon."

# "Okay, when will you have the warrants?" he asked.

# "I'm hoping by late Thursday afternoon. Meisner is supposed to call me later this morning," I explained.

# "Okay. Where are you now? I'm home and live a little southwest of Rutland, can we meet up somewhere today?" he asked.

# I told him of my planned interview at the resettlement village and its connection to the case. He said he could get down to Bellington around four thirty and we agreed to meet in my hotel bar.

# I hung up and waited for my next call.

# At precisely ten AM Attorney Jacob Meisner called me."Daryl Richardson? Meisner here. I understand you need my assistance."

# I thanked him for calling and explained my need for search warrants for Dr. Greene's office, the hospital, and the courthouse for the eavesdropping sweep.

# "Hey Richardson, that's a lot. Don't you know how to write a warrant affidavit?"

# "I do Mr. Meisner, but I was told that you are an expert at that. And I'm pressed for time on this. I'd better explain," I said.

# It took me about five minutes to lay out the whole scenario. When I finished there was silence on the phone. "You still there Mr. Meisner?"

# "I am. Okay, I get it. I was told to give you whatever you needed as soon as possible without question. I need from you though, descriptions of where you'll be searching and what you're looking for."

# "I've written up some drafts that lay out the basic probable cause, but you'll need to flesh them out. I'll send you the property and item descriptions by email, I just need your address," I explained.

# "Richardson, the tough one will be the courthouse. Do you really think that the place is bugged?" he asked.

# "I do Sir, but I think when you read the affidavit you'll find we have the bare minimum threshold of cause for the search. Hopefully you'll find a liberal judge to review the applications."

# "Leave the judges to me Richardson; I haven't been turned down yet." He gave me his email address and I wrote it in my notebook.

# "That's re-assuring Mr. Meisner, but I have to be honest. The court house search is critical to all of this."

# "I'll get you your warrants. And when I do, you owe me a drink," he said.

# "Get the warrant Sir, and I'll buy you the whole bottle!"

# Mandy came down into the living room and I saw that she had dressed as if she was going to work. She looked great!

# "Are you done with your phone calls?" she asked.

# "I am," I answered, "but I need your help with something."

# I explained that we needed to drive by Dr. Greene's office and the Medical Center and for her to type up descriptions of the properties as I drove.

# "Okay, but I don't understand any legal things. What do I have to do?" she asked. I sensed she was nervous.

# I told her that we would bring my laptop and I would tell her what to write, and that I would explain search warrants to her as we drove. We put Yo-Yo's art supplies in the shopping bag, put it in the Challenger's trunk and were on the road fifteen minutes later. As we drove I explained search warrants and the need to establish probable cause to search, and to be specific in what we would be searching for.

# "I think I understand, but just tell me what to type." I pulled to the curb just before Dr. Greene's office and dictated the description. When I asked her to type the phrase "and appurtenances," she said she couldn't spell a word she had never heard before.

# "Do you see those out-buildings behind his house?" I asked. "One looks like a shed, the other like a cottage. Those are out-buildings. In law, they're called appurtenances."

# "Geez, why don't you just say out-buildings. Lawyers, ugh! Thank God for spell check," she said as she slowly pecked the laptop keys sounding out the word. As I drove, I gave her a list of items that we would be searching for and she finished typing everything within ten minutes.

# "How on earth can you think of these things so fast?" she asked shaking her head.

# "Experience" I answered, "lots of experience."

# The description of the Medical Center was easy, and after I dictated descriptions of the bullets, she finished typing. I pulled into the parking lot and stopped. I took the laptop from her and copied the two documents in an email and sent it to Jacob Meisner, along with photos I had taken of the doctor's house and courthouse. As we headed up to Ethan Falls, she was quiet for a long time.

# "Nervous?" I asked, looking over to her.

# "I am, I'm sorry, but I am. I don't want us to upset Susan's parents, and I'm really nervous about meeting Yo-Yo." "

# "Just try to relax. I know that all of this is new to you, but I really need you to be strong. I can't do this without you."

# "Do you really mean that Daryl?"she asked quietly.

# "I do. I really need you." I answered. She reached over and held my hand until we arrived at the Peterson's house.

# Their house was a cute Cape, well maintained on about two acres. The flower gardens were beautiful. As we pulled into the driveway Eddie Peterson looked every bit the Marine combat veteran I envisioned him to be. Pushing seventy, he wasn't tall but solid like a pit bull. The crew-cut, square jaw, and Marine Corps tattoo on his forearm sealed his identity. I had never met a war hero before.

# As we got out of the car Mandy went up to him and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Mr. Peterson, I would like you to meet my friend, Daryl Richardson"

# "Pleased to me you Sir," I said as I reached out to shake his hand. His grip was short-lived but like a vise.

# "Call me Eddie."

# "Eddie it is. I'm Daryl." He nodded and motioned us to the side door. Sarah Peterson was in the kitchen, and I was struck by how attractive she was for a woman her age. Now I could see where her daughter's beauty came from. Mandy introduced us and we sat at the table. Eddie spoke first. "Daryl, Mandy says that you're here to help us. We're grateful for that."

# "Eddie, Mrs. Peterson, there aren't any right words to express my sympathies for your loss, but I want you to know that I will do my best to find the person that took Susan away from you. Mandy reached under the table and pressed her hand against my thigh. I could feel her tremor.

# Our lunch was sandwiches, tasty chicken and tuna salads, washed down with sweet homemade lemonade. The Peterson's talked about Susan and her career. Music was her life, and I learned that she had spent a summer at Berklee College of Music in Boston polishing her vocal skills.

# They said her work with her band had drawn the attention of some music talent scouts and she had been offered a recording contract in Nashville. She could sing any genre of music, but modern country was her passion. As they talked I could see the sadness creeping into their faces.

# I looked over to Mandy and saw that her eyes were glassy, but she fought off the tears. I could see that Susan Peterson was loved and missed by all.

# "Daryl, we Googled you as Mandy suggested," Eddie said, "and I have to say that you've had a remarkable life."

# "I have Eddie, and that's why I'm here. I think that my experience as an investigator can help give you the closure that you're seeking, and the time to heal the wounds of your loss. I know Susan will always be in your hearts."

# The second I finished speaking, I wished that I hadn't said what I did. The three of them at the table broke into tears. I gave them a few moments.

# "Eddie, why don't you and I go outside and talk, I need your help with something," I said. We excused ourselves and went out to the backyard and sat at a picnic table.

# "Daryl, do you know that some people think Susan was killed by the Sheriffs?" he said as he wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. "I do Eddie," and told him about the anonymous letter. "I wish I could find the person who wrote it. If there's any truth to the allegations that person could help to find her killer."

# I looked into his face and searched for any sign that he may have written it, but it wasn't there. I learned long ago that an absence of evidence can sometimes be as incriminating as evidence itself. He didn't respond to my probe, but I sensed there was something else there.

# "Eddie, I was told that you paid a visit to Judge Moran. Why did you do that?"

# "I went there because I wasn't getting any answers from the Sheriffs. The day they found her body they came here and told us she was dead and questioned us about any ex-boyfriends, did she use drugs, and did she drink. I was outraged with the accusations that they were making." Before I could interject he continued. "They went up to her room and ransacked the place. They said they were searching for drugs that she may have been trying to hide from us. I went nuts, and I grabbed them and pushed them downstairs and out of my house. I wanted to kill them for the things that they were saying about my daughter."

# "Who from the Sheriff's Department did that?"

# "Carpa, a couple of the deputies I had never met before. I told them to get out and never set foot on my property again," he said banging his fist on the table. I could see that his rage was about to explode. "Eddie, do you know if in fact an autopsy was performed?"

# "No. I tried to have one done. I went through the funeral director because they wouldn't put my calls through to the Sheriff, and he was told that it was a police matter and that the family had no say in anything. I was going to go down to the police station to settle this once and for all, but my wife begged me not to. She was so destroyed by losing Susan that I had to listen to her and honor her request, so I never went there."

# "A couple of weeks later with still no answers, I went to see Judge Moran in hopes that he could help get the State Police or FBI to investigate. He's a fair man in my book, and he listened and talked with me for a long time. He said he would try to help me. Then a few days later I heard he got shot. "Why? Why?" he yelled, pounding his fist on the table. He cradled his head in his hands, and I sat there and watched a true war hero cry over the loss of his daughter. I felt sick. I was sitting with my back to the kitchen door and I sensed someone or something behind me.

# I turned and saw Sarah Peterson and Mandy standing there, shaking from holding back their tears, their hands clenched to their mouths. I don't know how long they were there, but I was afraid it was long enough to watch Eddie Peterson become a broken man. Both women rushed over and hugged Eddie for a long time. I got up and walked away from the table. I was angry with myself for hurting this family.

# Mandy came over to me and gave me a hug. Taking my hand, she led me back to the table.

# "Daryl, I'm so sorry that happened," Eddie offered as an apology. "I've been holding that rage back for a long time and it finally came out on you. Please forgive me."

# "Eddie," I said, "forgiveness isn't necessary. Please help me find who did this to your daughter. I promise you, they will suffer for what they did." He looked at me and reached over and took my hand into his grip.

# "Thank You Daryl; you're a God-send. What can I do?"

# The four of us sat at the table and I asked Eddie about his nighttime forays to look for Susan's car. He looked over at his wife and shook his head.

# "The first I heard her car was missing was yesterday," I told him. "Haven't the Sheriffs talked to you about where it is?"

# "No, not a word. There's a lot of hunting camps up in the woods where she was found, a lot of dirt roads, cabins, shacks, old barns. The property butts up against that damned survivalist camp."

# "What was your thought going up there?" I asked.

# "We were never told the car was stolen, or found. I had it in my head that it was hidden in one of those buildings up there. I was searching through them," he explained.

# Mandy looked over at me and I discretely shook my head to let her know that I wasn't going to betray Eddie's secret. Any man who crawled into tunnels in the jungle looking for Viet Cong would think checking out old Vermont barns in the dead of night was a walk in the park.

# "Eddie, obviously you didn't find her car. Have you searched every building up there?" I asked.

# "All but one. Most of the buildings have been abandoned, I don't even know if there are records to show who owns them, but most of that property seems to be owned by the survivalist camp. The one old barn has a dirt trail that runs through the camp. I haven't been able to get a close look at it but I can see ruts in the road. You know, like something has recently been driven on it."

# "Eddie, who owns the survivalist camp?" I asked.

# "Good question. A few of us neighbors sued them because of their damn firing range being so close to our properties, and that damn shooting into the late hours of the night was a nightmare for all of us. I know what a machine gun sounds like, and they were getting a lot of practice with them."

# "But who owns the camp? Who answered the lawsuit?" I pressed

# "I don't know. They had a couple of lawyers from New York or New Jersey show up at Court. There was never a trial; Judge Moran worked out a compromise."

#

# I sat up straight and thought to myself, here's the Jersey connection again. Before I could ask another question, Mandy interrupted and reminded me that we had an appointment with Linda Sturgis. I thanked the Petersons for their time and just before we left I pulled Eddie aside. "Eddie, if I could work it out would you be willing to guide me and a couple of my associates up to that barn some night in the next week?" He looked at me for a moment and said, "Not dressed like that," nodding to my suit. I smiled."No, I assure you that we would be dressed appropriately for a covert mission."

# "Were you ever in the service Daryl? Any combat experiences?"

# "Does the Roxbury neighborhood in Boston count?" I asked.

# He laughed and shook his head. "I'll have to think about it."

# Mandy and Sarah came out into the yard and we said our goodbyes.

# As I started up the Challenger Eddie tapped on the window and I lowered it. He leaned in and asked quietly, "What would we be searching that barn for?"

# "Susan's car," I whispered.

# He nodded. "Yes. Let me know when." Mandy and I headed out to the resettlement center.

# We were about five minutes away from the Petersons when an incoming call identified as "GOVTRESTRICTED" flashed on the console screen. I didn't recognize the ID but pressed the accept icon, anyway.

# "Richardson? Meisner here."

# "Yeah, I'm here. What's up?" I answered, my curiosity peaking.

# "I got your email. Where did you go to law school Richardson?"

# The question surprised me, but I answered. "UCONN, why?"

# "I read your affidavit drafts."

# "And?"

# "I have to say, not bad! I had to flesh them out as you said, but I think they're strong enough to get the warrants. I have a meeting with a Judge tomorrow at nine. I'll call you when the warrants are issued.

# I must admit, I was pleased with myself, but I was dying to know something. "Mr. Meisner, out of curiosity, where did you go to law school?"

# "Yale of course! I'll call you tomorrow."

# "What was that all about?" Mandy asked with a puzzled look.

# "A little professional rivalry, I think, that's all"

# "I don't think I'll ever understand you lawyer people," she said, shaking her head.

# We pulled into the resettlement village at two-fifteen. My first impression was it reminded me of Boy Scout summer camp.

Chapter Sixteen

We met Linda Sturgis in her office. She was a matronly looking woman, her desk was piled with paperwork, the office sparsely furnished. Mandy introduced me, and Linda motioned for us to sit in the two old wooden chairs across from her desk.

"Mr. Richardson, Mandy tells me that you're a Federal lawyer, is that right?"

"Yes, I'm a former Assistant US Attorney; I'm currently a consulting attorney with the Department of Justice in Washington." Linda spoke with a stern tone. "I need to clear something up right up front. We are an ecumenical non-profit community-based charity that was formed to assist refugees from oppressed countries. All of our clients are in this country legally; we are not a sanctuary organization, per se."

"I understand Ms. Sturgis, and I assure you that I'm not here to question your client's immigration status."

"Then why are you here Mr. Richardson?" she asked in an obvious challenging tone.

I glanced at Mandy and saw that she was visibly uncomfortable. "I've been asked to make inquiries into the murder of Susan Peterson and the shooting of Judge Forrest Moran," I explained.

"And what possibly could be of Federal interest in that?" she asked.

"Violation of civil rights, obstruction of justice, governmental corruption," I answered tersely, and let that sink in with her.

"And how can those things possibly be connected to our program?" she asked, her tone not surrendering any sharpness.

"The Federal government has received information that alleges Susan Peterson's murder was related to her work at this center. The source alleges that one or more of your clients have become or are drug dependent, without your knowledge. It's reported that Susan became aware of this and learned the identity of the drug dealers. I'm investigating to determine if in fact that was the case, and more importantly, I'm here to offer my assistance in keeping your clients safe from more harm." I could see that Linda was not giving any ground, despite my attempt at sincerity.

"I'd like to believe you Mr. Richardson, but with everything that's happened in Ethan Falls the past few weeks I don't know who to trust or what to believe anymore." Before I could respond, Mandy spoke up. "Linda, Daryl has explained to me far more information about all of this than he can tell you. I'm scared by what I've learned. And I'm devastated to think that Susan was murdered by a drug dealer. We're here to help, and I mean that. But you need to show us some cooperation because I honestly believe that your clients and your whole program are at great risk. I mean it Linda; you're headed for a nightmare if you don't help us."

I don't know if I was more shocked or surprised by Mandy's moxie, but I had no doubts about her sincerity. "What do you want from me, Mandy?" She asked bluntly.

"I want to see Yo-Yo; I want to talk to him about Susan." "Absolutely not! He's very fragile Mandy," Linda sharply rebuked the request." You know that he just got out of the hospital."

"Yes, I know Linda, but if he's so fragile why would you want to stop us from trying to help him? You and I both know that he was drug dependent, and we both know that the source of those drugs was probably Farhan. So, who are you protecting, Linda? Yo-Yo, or yourself and this program." This time I was shocked. This was a side of Mandy that I didn't see coming, and she wasn't about to stop. I sensed there was no love lost between the women, but I hadn't a clue why.

Mandy wouldn't let the issue drop. "I want you to know that Daryl just finished leading an investigation of human trafficking in Boston. His work led to the arrest of many important and wealthy people who were victimizing the mentally handicapped or homeless or drug-addicted children to satisfy their sexual fantasies. Those people are wretched and evil, and that same kind is targeting your young clients with their drugs. Now damn it, face reality and let us help you!"

She had raised her voice and was almost yelling, and I don't know whose breath was taken away more by Mandy's outburst, Linda Sturgis' or mine

"All right! All Right!" Linda said loudly, announcing her surrender. "You can see Yo-Yo, but I warn you, if anything happens to him, I am holding the two of your responsible."

"Linda," Mandy said firmly, "I want you to show Daryl some of the pictures that Yo-Yo has drawn. Do you have any? Linda paused for a moment; I could see that she looked pale from Mandy's dressing down.

She answered softly. "Yo-Yo destroyed everything when we confronted him about using drugs. The only picture he didn't was the one he drew of Susan."

"Do you have it?" Mandy asked, not backing off woth her assertive tone.

Linda got up from her desk and pulled a folder out of an old filing cabinet. She opened it and took out the picture and handed it to Mandy. I was stunned not only by how truly beautiful Susan was but by the quality of the artwork. I saw that Mandy's hand had a tremor, and I took the picture and put it down on Linda's desk.

"Absolutely brilliant work," I said with honest admiration of his talent.

"He drew that in less than fifteen minutes," Linda said. "As I told you, he destroyed all of his art supplies. Now, all we've been able to scrape up is a few colored pencils and some copier paper. It's really sad." Mandy stood up.

"We have a gift for Yo-Yo. Daryl let's go outside and get it. Linda, please tell Yo-Yo that he has visitors," Mandy instructed. Linda and I did as we were told. We went out to the Challenger, and I opened the trunk.

"Are you angry with me?" Mandy asked, turning to me.

"No, I'm surprised but grateful that you spoke up. I was drowning. You were pretty hard on your friend though."

"Friend? Hah! I told you I knew her pretty well; I didn't say that I liked her."

"What do you mean?" I asked. She shook her head and said "No, some other time," and we walked back into the Center. As we got to the door I stopped and asked her, "Nervous?"

She looked me in the eye, took a deep breath and said, "No, I've got this."

We went into Linda's office and Mandy asked her for the drawing of Susan. She gave it to her and led us to what looked like a day room. Yo-Yo was sitting quietly at a small wooden table and didn't look up to acknowledge us. I was told that he was seventeen, but he was small and frail. I would have guessed he was only twelve or thirteen. Mandy took the shopping bag from me and went over to the table and pulled a chair up close to him. I sat in a chair against the wall nest to Lina's chair my eyes fixed on the boy.

"Yo-Yo," Mandy softly said," my name is Mandy. Your friend Susan was my friend too." He didn't acknowledge her.

"Yo-Yo, I know that you speak English, and I know you can understand me." No acknowledgment.

"Susan is gone, she's in Heaven. You know that, don't you?"

I noticed a slight stirring in the boy and he looked to the side to avoid Mandy.

"Yo-Yo, before Susan went to Heaven she asked me to give you a present. I have it in this bag. I want you to have it." The boy looked up and over at the bag at Mandy's feet. She took the box out of the bag and laid it on the table in front of him. He put his hand on top of the wooden box but still wouldn't look at her.

"This is yours now. You make beautiful pictures. Susan wants you to make more beautiful pictures for her." Mandy reached over and unlatched the lid, opening the box. Yo-Yo's eyes widened as he saw the art supplies, and he softly placed his hands on the pencils and chalks.

"Yo-Yo, I want you to see something," Mandy said as she picked up his drawing of Susan and put it on the desk. I glanced over to Linda Sturgis next to me and she looked like she was hardly breathing.

"You made this picture of our Susan. She was beautiful. You put her beautiful face on this paper." Yo-Yo gently placed his hand on Susan's face. I looked over and I could see a tear running down Linda Sturgis cheek.

"Yo-Yo, please draw a picture of me. I want you to make me beautiful like Susan." For the first time, the boy acknowledged her. He looked at her face and I saw a small smile start to form. He stared at Mandy for at least thirty seconds, and from my angle it seemed like he was looking through her. He slowly reached into the box and took out a large sketch pad and a thick pencil.

Mandy moved her chair back from the table until she was facing him at an angle and sat up straight in the chair. She swept her hair away from her face and formed a perfect seductive smile.

We watched as Yo-Yo began to draw, slowly at first, then faster and faster. From my distant vantage point I could see that he was drawing Mandy's portrait. His pace increased, and he dropped the large pencil and I could see that he was using the chalks. I must tell you, what I was seeing was incredible. Not once did he look back up at Mandy's face. Yo-Yo worked up to a feverish pace for about ten minutes and then abruptly stopped. He sat back in the chair and looked down at his lap. Mandy stood up, picked up the picture and brought it over to Linda and me.

It was a surreal moment. Yo-Yo had made Mandy's portrait incredibly three dimensional and lifelike.

Mandy went back to the table, pulled her chair close to Yo-Yo and reached over to his hand. He flinched at first and then relaxed. "Thank You Yo-Yo, you made me look beautiful," she softly said. For the first time, he looked up to her face and smiled. I heard Linda Sturgis gasp as she saw how he was responding to Mandy.

"Yo-Yo, before Susan went to heaven a man hurt her. I think that man is the man that gave you those needles in your room." Mandy softly said.

The boy pulled his hand away from Mandy's and hunched over in a sullen pose.

"It's okay, it's okay," she comforted him. "That man made you very sick. And he hurt our Susan. I want to find him, but I don't know what he looks like." Yo-Yo looked up to Mandy's face.

"Did Farhan's friend give you the needles?" He slowly moved his head up and down.

"Yo-Yo, I need you to help me. Please make me a picture of Farhan's friend, the man who gave you the needles."

The boy didn't move for a full minute and never shifted his gaze away from Mandy. I don't know where she found the strength to wait him out, but she did. Suddenly, he picked up the large pad and began drawing, this time his pace was furious. I could hear Mandy softly encouraging him as he drew. He reached for colored pencils and chalks, and when he finished with one, he threw it down and grabbed another. After about ten minutes he abruptly stopped again and sat back in the chair, his eyes looking to his lap.

Mandy took the picture from the desk, looked at it and said, "Yo-Yo, is this Farhan's friend?" I saw him nod his head yes.

"Yo-Yo, is this the man that gave you the needles?" Again, he nodded yes. Mandy got up, leaned over and helped Yo-Yo put his supplies back in the box.

She put the sketch pad in front of him and said, "This is yours now. You can draw pictures of anything you want. Thank You for my beautiful pictures."

I saw Yo-Yo gently touch the box, and he looked up and smiled at Mandy. I heard murmuring and looked over and saw that Linda Sturgis was quietly praying. Mandy walked across the room and handed me the drawing of Farhan's friend. It honestly looked like a photograph.

"That's Sheriff's Department Detective Manning. I recognize him from the hotel bar." The look on her face was pure anger, and she walked out of the room without speaking. Linda Sturgis and I stood up; she turned to me and said, "What we just saw was a miracle. I am so sorry that I doubted you and Mandy."

She walked over to Yo-Yo's table, sat down and put her arm around him. I walked out to the hallway and could see Mandy standing by our car; her gaze was to the heavens. I went outside to her and said thank you and kissed her on the cheek. I put the drawing of her and "Farhan's friend" in the trunk. She didn't say anything as we got into the car and drove off.

We were about ten minutes into the drive back to North Bellington when she finally spoke.

"Did that help, Daryl?"

"Absolutely. You were incredible with that boy."

"Before you saw the drawing, did you think that Manning killed Susan?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered. "Now we're one step closer to proving it." "Good." She said. "When you arrest him, please make him suffer." She was silent for the rest of the ride.

As we got about ten minutes from the hotel, I told Mandy that I had a four-thirty meeting, and she asked me to drop her off at her condo. I parked in the lot and reached over for her hand. Her palm was sweaty, and she looked drained.

"Are you okay? I can change my meeting if you want me to stay with you" I asked.

"No, go to your meeting. I'm going to go lie down for a while. I'll see you when you get home." She got out of the car and I watched until she went inside the house. As I drove away, I thought that I may have pushed her too hard, but what she had done with Yo-Yo was incredible, beyond belief.

I arrived at the hotel right at four-thirty and went into the lounge.

Sitting at the bar, Sgt. Jon Michaels wasn't hard to recognize. He was built like a pro-wrestler, his long dark hair and five o'clock shadow gave him a biker look. He was dressed decently enough for the hotel bar, but I couldn't picture him ever wearing a business suit, or for that matter, a Trooper's uniform. I approached him and asked, "Jon?"

"Yeah, Daryl?" I nodded, and we shook hands. His grip was

stronger than Eddie Petersons. "Grab your beer and let's sit at a table,"

I said. We sat down and almost immediately my waitress friend Tammy appeared. "Light beer or VO and Coke?" I told her the beer.

Jon Michaels started our conversation, "Okay, let me tell you who I am." He was a wealth of information. Over the course of a few beers he filled me in on drug trafficking in upper New England, the dramatic increase in deaths from opiate overdoses, and an alarming rise in the manufacture, sale, and use of methamphetamine. With ten years under his belt working undercover narcotics case, he said his team's efforts were hardly putting a dent into the flow of drugs, and now they were seeing a flood of opiate pills hitting the streets. He told me that he had been given an overview of our case.

"So, Daryl, what's your plan?" he asked. "I have a squad of six undercovers that we can use; all of them are solid, lots of experience." I told him that our job was to work on Susan Peterson's murder and the shooting of Judge Moran.

"It makes sense that there could be a connection, have you spoken

to the Judge?" he asked.

I told him about my interview at the hospital, and the Judge being assigned to investigate the lack of progress in Susan's case. I explained the anonymous letter and the allegations that it contained, and my meeting with County Exec Donnelly.

"That man's as dirty as they come." He responded, with a sour look on his face.

"How so Jon?"

"You said the letter mentioned the survivalist camp? That's a front.

They're a radical militia group that Donnelly and Hunter are supporting. My take is that they're going to use them to disrupt the Governor's campaign for re-election," he explained, and continued.

"Two of my undercovers busted a militia guy a few months ago on possession with intent ot sell narcotics. He was facing ten years in prison and wanted to make a deal. He said he was only living at the camp for a month, but he was squealing like a pig, talking about the automatic weapons they have, training on causing civil disturbances, trying to stir up trouble to make the State look bad. Rumor is that Hunter gave them the automatic weapons and some jeeps and four by fours that he got with Federal grants."

"Anything come of that Jon?"

"I passed the info up the chain," he answered. I got a call from a Captain in our Intelligence Unit two days later, and he said the guy was so strung out that they didn't find him credible."

"Still, I would think that would be worth some follow-up," I said.

"I don't know what happened, but it doesn't matter. About a week

later I got word that the guy hung himself in the Abbot County Jail." "WHAT? What was he doing locked up there?" I asked in disbelief. "Awaiting trial," he said. "The State system is overcrowded, sometimes prisoners are held in the County Jails."

I didn't know what to say, but my brain was telling me that there

was a strong probability that this wasn't a suicide. "Was there an investigation, Jon?" I asked.

"Yeah, I heard that the Abbot detectives did one. They said it was

suicide, case closed." I made a mental note to ask Dan Petrone if he was involved in the death investigation.

"Daryl, we're spinning our wheels here, what's your plan?" he asked bluntly.

I told him that as soon as we get the search warrants, I wanted to get into Dr. Greene's office and then the Courthouse.

"Good I want to get a look at his helper. He could be the meth cook that we heard about, Hussein."

"Jon, I want to execute the Courthouse warrant late at night. I could use some support to make sure that the parking lot is secure. It would blow everything if an Abbot Deputy on rounds found us in there."

"Okay, I can have a couple of my guys park in the lot. If a Deputy comes along, they can tell him they're working a case. I'll go inside with you."

"Perfect, thanks," I wanted a strong backup if my plan was discovered, and Sgt. John Michael seemed more than willing, adding, "a couple of Abbott deputies hassled some of my guys working surveillance a few weeks back. There's a lot of bad blood between our departments, but don't sweat it. We'll make it work."

"Jon, if we find that the Courthouse is bugged like I think it is, we'll need a search warrant for the Building Sup's house, Billy Barnum. Ever hear of him? His house is next door to the Courthouse." "The old ham radio guy? You know who he is, don't you Daryl?" he asked.

"No, I haven't had a chance to talk with him yet. He found Judge Moran after he was shot and called 911."

"You need to know Daryl that the guy's rich. He owns the property that the militia camp is using, and the surrounding land. It was in his family for generations, and he's reportedly the last of his family still alive."

"What? I didn't know that! If he owns the militia land, is he involved?" I asked. Now my mind was racing.

"I don't know, maybe he's leasing it out. I know all this because of a case I did two years ago. There's a lot of old camps and barns on that property, and we found a grow operation and stash house up there. Weed. They had about two acres of crop growing. High quality, hydroponics, the whole works. That was a great case," he said and took a long swig of his beer in remembrance of the case.

"Christ Jon, how the hell can all of this stuff be going on up here?" I asked.

"Plain and simple Daryl. A corrupt Sheriff's Department. It's been like that ever since Hunter took over and brought his buddies in from Jersey."

"You mean Carpa and Manning?"

"That's two of them, there's a few more, Carpa is supposedly related to Hunter, I don't have much on Manning, just some stories that he got tagged in a corruption case while he was on the job on Jersey. By the way, these are the guys who are making the reported big drug busts."

My brain was in overdrive, the cast of characters all seemed to be stepping into the spotlight.

"Jon, I've got to get going, thanks for the education. I'm just waiting to hear back from Meisner that he got the warrants, and I want to try to coordinate our work with the team that's working on Savage's death so that we don't trip over each other."

"Okay, sounds like we're talking about early next week. I'll give Capt. Merrill a call. I know that his team was working on search warrants for the Sheriff's headquarters in Hamilton and the Ethan Falls substation for some reports, records, and evidence. He's going after them big time. I'll call you when I know more," he said in agreement. We shook hands, I dropped cash on the table for our beers, and I headed back to Mandy's condo. I was worried about her and hoped that her talk with Yo-Yo this afternoon hadn't upset her too much. I pulled into the condo lot and unlocked the door with the key Mandy had given me. I was surprised as soon as I walked in; the smell of something good was cooking in the kitchen. Mandy came into the living room and gave me a kiss.

"How'd your meeting go?" she asked. I told her that it was productive, and that I was pleased with the support I was getting. I asked her how she was doing, she took my hand and we sat on the couch.

"I was upset about Yo-Yo, not what he did for us, but about what is going to happen to him. I'm worried that you're going to drag him into all of this, and that makes me wish that I had never gotten him involved."

"Mandy, I promise you that Yo-Yo won't be dragged into this. I would never hurt him. I needed him to tell us, or rather show us, who gave him the drugs and needles. He's obviously impaired, but he's truly gifted. I've never witnessed such artistic beauty in my life. And to see him draw like that is something that I'll never forget."

"Thank You Daryl, I knew in my heart that you would protect him, just like you're protecting me. I love you."

"I love you too Hon. Hey! Is that something boiling over on the stove?" I asked, pointing to the kitchen.

"Oh Jeez!" she said as she jumped up. "The potatoes are boiling."

She ran into the kitchen and I heard her holler; "I made us a pork roast, and we'll have mashed potatoes and a salad." I went into the kitchen and saw that she had set a table, complete with candles in the small dining room.

"I wanted to show you that I can cook too," she said with a laugh. "Boiling over onto the stove isn't a good first impression! Have a beer; we'll be eating in about fifteen minutes."

Dinner was delicious, and when we finished and cleaned up, we sat in the living room to watch TV. We were quiet together for about an hour when my cell phone beeped. I looked and saw it was from the Medical Center. It was almost eight o'clock.

"Daryl? It's Kaitlyn. We've had a problem and I think you need to be aware of it." Kaitlyn Mason sounded scared.

"Are the Judge and Lindsey all right?"

"Yes, they're safe. But we had a very serious security breach. Two men tried to visit Mr. Moran and when they were turned away at the Information Desk, they somehow managed to get into the employee parking area of the garage. Security noticed them on the camera and some guards went out there to find them. When they got there, they were gone. A short while later they showed up in the ICU waiting room and tried to get the nurse's station to buzz them in. When they refused one of the guys tried to pry the door open. Security saw what was happening on their cameras and sent some guards up there."

"Did they get the guys?" I asked.

"Just one," she answered. "When the emergency code was announced on the overhead pager, they ran down the stairwell. One of the guys made it outside, Security caught up with the other one at a basement exit. He pulled a gun on them but thank God; the guys tackled him and got the gun away from him before he could shoot. The guards got a little banged up, but the intruder got the worst of it. The police are here now, and they've arrested him."

"Do you know who the guy is?" I asked.

"No, but Danny Monroe is here with one of his detectives and he said the guy is from New Jersey. They're treating him in the ER for some cuts and bruises and then they're taking him to jail. Daryl, one of the guards said his gun has a silencer on it."

"Kaitlyn, I'm shocked, but I'm grateful for the great work by your security people. Is Dan Monroe with you? I'd like to speak with him."

"No, he's in the ER and I'm in my office. I can give him your number and ask him to call you."

"Thank You Kaitlyn; please do, as soon as you can."

"I will. Daryl, I'm worried. A gun with a silencer? That's something that you see on TV. Our staff is really scared now and I'm very worried. I'll go find Danny and give him your message."

"By the way, it's late. Are you still working?" I asked.

"I did a presentation for a medical group and I was just getting ready to leave when all this happened."

"Oh, I'm sorry you had to deal with this. Thank you for being there," I said with as much gratitude I could muster.

"I'm glad too I was here! Talk to you soon," she said and ended the call.

"Everything all right?" Mandy asked, sensing that I seemed dazed by the call.

"No, everything is all wrong." I explained to her what Kaitlyn had told me, and I saw the fear in her eyes. This was starting to get out of control, and I was worried that there was more violence to come.

"Daryl, get out of this. Let the FBI or the State Police deal with this. I'm scared. I want to go back to Stockbridge with you. I feel safe there." My girl was falling apart and honestly, I couldn't blame her.

"I can't stop Mandy. This is my job. But yes, we can go down to Stockbridge, tonight if you want to."

"No, not tonight, it's too late. But let's go there tomorrow."

"Okay, I'm expecting one more call. I don't want it to upset you even more, I can go into the other room if you want," I offered.

"No, I'm going to bed. You should get some sleep when you're done with your call," she said as she got up and started up the stairs. "And please check that the front deadbolt is locked."

Det. Chief Dan Monroe called about twenty minutes later.

"Mr. Richardson, Dan Monroe."

"Thanks for calling so quickly Dan, please call me Daryl. Thank you and your men for your quick response to the hospital."

"You're welcome. But the real thanks go to the security people. They had a lot of guts to subdue the guy with the gun and hold him for us," he said.

"I agree, Kaitlyn said the gun had a silencer."

"Yeah, it did."

"Any ID on the guy?" He paused for a moment and said "No."

"No ID? No license or wallet?" I asked.

"Daryl, you're asking a lot of questions. I have questions for you. Lots of them. We need to meet and talk."

"Tell me when and where?" I responded.

"Tomorrow morning, eight-thirty, police headquarters."

"I'll be there," I said and heard the phone call click off on Dan's end. It was obvious that at the moment Dan Monroe was not a happy man.

I checked the front door lock and went upstairs to bed. Mandy was

sleeping, and I did my best not to wake her, but she did.

"Daryl, I'm sorry I'm so scared, but I am. Please just hold me and let's go home tomorrow," she said as I sat on the edge of the bed.

"We will. Just get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning. I have to be at the police station here in North Bellington tomorrow at eight-thirty for a short meeting," I said as I laid down beside her.

"Okay, I'll wake you at seven," she said as she curled up against me. It took me a long time to turn off my brain and fall asleep. On Thursday morning I woke at seven and after a light breakfast with Mandy, I drove to the police station. I informed the Desk Officer of my meeting with Dan Monroe, he asked for some identification and I slid my Federal ID under the bulletproof glass divider. He gave it the once over and slid it back, I saw him make a phone call and he said the Chief would be with me in a few minutes.

Dan Monroe came into the lobby and I was surprised to see that he was a big man, at least six-feet-four with an athlete's build. We shook hands, and he led me into a small interview room.

"Daryl, Kaitlyn filled me in on what she found out about your background on Google. I'm impressed, but I'm not sure I understand your connection to the Morans." I told him I knew the Morans from law school and about Lindsey's call to me after the judge was shot.

"I understand that you're a criminal law consultant to the Department of Justice. Are you up here on official business?" I had just met Dan, but Kaitlyn Mason said he was great to work with, and I thought that he could be trusted.

I explained how my initial inquiry into Judge Moran's shooting suggested a connection with the unsolved murder of Susan Peterson and the anonymous letter the government authorities had received. Judge Moran had been assigned to look at all of it, and his being shot had led to a Federal Grand Jury probe.

"It's about time someone took a hard look at Hunter's operation," he said.

"Dan, my role in the joint Federal-State investigation is to see if there's a connection between the Peterson girl's murder and Judge Moran being shot and try to identify a suspect. After hearing about the intruder with the gun at the hospital yesterday, I'm concerned that this was a hit attempt, and I'm wondering if these guys were trying to fix the failure of the first time somebody tried to kill the judge."

He looked at me for a few seconds and said, "Daryl, the guy we have under arrest had no ID on him, no wallet, but he had a little over five-grand in cash in his pockets. I got a lead that he was from Jersey when the ER doctor who was cleaning him up after the fight with the hospital guards noticed that he had two large scars on his chest. He told the doc that he had been shot in New Jersey about ten years ago." "After we booked him, we scanned his prints to Washington, and we got a hit on him. He has a lengthy rap sheet with arrests for attempted murder, loan sharking, extortion, aggravated assault, narcotics, and gambling offenses in his resume. Apparently, he's a pro, Daryl. I think you're right. This was an attempted hit on Judge Moran."

"Who is this guy Dan?" I asked.

"His name is Pasquale 'Patsy' Carpanara. He's fifty-three years old. His arrests are primarily in Newark and Jersey City, and he's done about eleven years in prison off and on. His last release from custody was about a year ago. He's on parole."

I leaned back in my chair. "Dan, there's something you need to know." I learned that a Jersey Officer, Giovanni Carpanara, was involved in a corruption scandal." I explained the manipulation of names to how I thought he was John Carpa.

"Daryl, I think you've stumbled onto something here. I did some research myself last night after one of my detectives mentioned that he knew about my going over to the hospital when Carpa caused the disturbance. He told me that Carpa is supposedly Sheriff Hunter's cousin. I found out that JB Hunter's mother's maiden name is Carpanara, and that Hunter grew up in Jersey. The dots seem to connect on this, don't you think?" he asked.

I couldn't believe that the pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, but we were still a long way from completing the picture. "Dan, I was told there were two intruders at the hospital. Any leads on the other guy?"

"No, he got away clean. Hospital Security went through their camera footage of the parking lots, but we couldn't tell if he left on foot, or what car he may have been driving. They do have some still shots of the two guys from the footage at the employee entrance and the ICU door, but the second guy's face isn't visible. Security's going to go through the other cameras' footage to see if they picked these guys up as they were moving around."

"Dan, I need to tell you that Judge Moran was shot twice, two different caliber bullets. According to the surgeon who removed them, one looks like a nine-millimeter, the other possibly a three-o-eight." "Two bullets, two shooters," he mused, "could be our two guys from yesterday tried the first hit."

"Could be, but the real question is why Judge Moran? What did they or whoever hired them think the Judge knows?"

Detective Captain Danny Monroe didn't have the answer, and neither did I.

I told him that the Abbot Sheriffs hadn't done a search warrant to get the bullets from the hospital and that I expected to have a Federal warrant to seize them within the next twenty-four hours.

"Dan, with all that's happened, what can you do to protect Judge Moran at the hospital?" I asked.

"We've had a uniformed officer stationed outside of his room since last night. Kaitlyn and the Security Manager Tom Hines said they would hire private duty officers to guard him until he's discharged. Kaitlyn said that may happen as soon as Saturday."

"That's great Dan, thanks for that. I have one more question. The gun that Carpanara had last night, you said it was a nine-millimeter?"

"Yeah, an older model Browning. Nice piece. The serial number has been filed off."

"What kind of bullets were in it?"

"Copper jackets. Hollow points. Why?"

"Judge Moran's surgeon told me that he thought it was odd that the two bullets he removed were both soft lead, not copper jackets." "Hmm, that is a little strange. Not exactly a hit man's preferred bullet."

I didn't comment, stood up and thanked Dan for his time. I told him that the Grand Jury probe had a few other areas of interest that I couldn't disclose to him, but I assured him that I had made him aware of everything that had some involvement with his department. He said he understood and thanked me, and we exchanged business cards with our cell numbers.

"Daryl, you seem like you have a handle on this. If I can help you with anything, give me a call. I'll keep you posted on what we find out about Carpanara's partner." I thanked him again and went out to the parking lot. As I got into the Challenger, I felt my phone vibrate and I saw the incoming call was Lindsey.

"Daryl, I've been trying to reach you for an hour. Kaitlyn told me she called you last night after those two guys tried to get at Forrest. Daryl, I am scared out of my mind. Please, please, help us!" Lindsey Moran was in full panic mode.

"I will Lindsey, I promise. Where are you now?"

"I'm at the hospital with Forrest. He wants to get out of here, and they're talking about him being discharged Saturday morning. Daryl, I'm scared to take him home. There are two policemen outside his room now, but he won't have anyone to protect him in Ethan Falls. What are we going to do?"

"We'll figure something out Lindsey. I'm on my way to pick up Mandy. She wants to go down to my house in Stockbridge. Is it all right if I bring her to the hospital?"

"Of course! When can you get here?"

"I'll be there in about an hour. I'll see you then." Lindsey thanked me, and we ended the call.

I leaned back in the seat and felt like my head was going to explode. I was trying to juggle too many things, and I didn't want to make any mistakes. Mandy needed me, Lindsey and Judge Moran needed me, I committed myself to Damian, the Justice Department, and Susan Peterson's parents. In the last twenty-four hours so much had happened, but I sensed it was all coming together. It sounds selfish, but right now I really wanted to solve the secrets of Ethan Falls more than anything. I had it in my head that If I did, the rest of the pieces of my life would fall into place.

I drove back to Mandy's condo thinking that I needed to revise my plans. When I arrived, I saw that she had her suitcases and two garment bags inside the door. I gave her a kiss and told her about Lindsey's call.

"Oh my God Daryl, I bet Lindsey is scared out of her mind. Can you help her?" she asked.

"Mandy, as I was driving over here, I had the thought that maybe we should bring Lindsey and the Judge down to Stockbridge with us until this is over. We can move them into the master bedroom suite and you and I can sleep in one of the guest rooms. That way the Judge could use the whirlpool tub and steam shower, he can sit out on the deck in the sun and rest. I told you that Bernie was a registered nurse, she could help the visiting nurses and Lindsey with his care, and I'll have the most important people in my life together in a safe place."

She didn't respond for a minute. "Daryl, do you think that's the best thing to do?"

"Yeah, I honestly do. I think being together, you and the Morans will both feel safer than you do now."

"Then that's what we'll do. Did Lindsey agree?" she asked.

"I haven't told her yet. I want you to go with me to the hospital and help me convince her that this is the right thing to do."

"Okay, I'll try. I packed your suitcase and garment bag for you, they're upstairs. I also did your laundry. I'm ready to leave anytime that you are."

As we drove to the hospital, Mandy said that her mother had called her. She was worried after she and Hansel saw the news on TV that Deputy Savage had been killed.

"I told her about us. Everything."

"And?" I asked with trepidation.

"She's worried. She said that I hardly know you and thinks I'm rushing into things."

"And?"

"I told her that I'm deeply in love with you and want to be with you for the rest of my life. I have no doubts about you, that you'll give me a good, happy, and safe life."

"How did she take that?" I asked, trying not to cringe from my fear of her forthcoming answer.

"She started to challenge my judgment, so I told her that I had to go out and that she should just Google you and see what a good man you are. And Daryl, let's not talk anymore about this, okay?"

We arrived at the hospital and as Mandy and I registered at the Information Desk for our visit we were approached by Tom Hines. I introduced Mandy and thanked Tom for the excellent work his officers had done subduing the gunman. "Yeah, they did a great job. They got a little banged up, but the intruder got the worst of it."

"Tom, I'd like to do something for your staff, maybe buy them their meals as a thank you," I said, and reached for my wallet and took out a hundred-dollar bill.

"Mr. Richardson, that's not necessary. I appreciate your generosity, but...." Tom Hines never finished the sentence. I heard Kaitlyn Mason's voice. "Are you bribing the local police Counselor?" I turned and saw her standing behind me, grinning."

"Hi Kaitlyn!" Turning to Mandy I said," this is my girlfriend, Mandy Simmons." The two women smiled at each other and shook hands. "I want to thank Tom's staff for their excellent work yesterday and I thought the best way to do it was to buy their meals today."

"That's very thoughtful Daryl." Turning to Tom she said, "It's okay Tom, I know how much your big guys like to eat!" He took the cash and thanked me with a handshake.

"Are you visiting Mr. Moran?" Kaitlyn asked. "I heard that he may be discharged on Saturday."

"Kaitlyn, we may need your help with that. Do you have a minute?" I asked.

"Of course. Let's sit down and you can tell me how I can help."

I told her of Lindsey's safety concerns when the judge was discharged, and my suggestion that they stay at my place in Stockbridge with Mandy until things settled down. She said she thought that was a great idea and agreed to go up to the Judges room with us. We took the elevator upstairs, and when we walked into Judge Moran's room, we could see the surprise on his face. I introduced Mandy and Kaitlyn to the Judge, and Lindsey gave Mandy a long hug. I heard her whisper "I'm so happy for the both of you. I knew it the first night I met you."

Judge Moran spoke first as the women sat down in the three chairs.

"Daryl, I'm aware of the incident last evening. Do you think that the intruders were coming after me to finish the job?"

"I do Sir, and I'm concerned for your safety when you're discharged from here."

"Yes, Lindsey and I were just discussing that, but I can't seem to get her to believe that we will be alright."

"Sir I have a suggestion. I'd like you and Lindsey and Mandy to stay at my place in Stockbridge for a little while until things settle down. It's a big house, all on one level and I assure you that you'll all have complete privacy. My housekeeper is a registered nurse and she and her husband live next door."

Judge Moran thought for a moment, looked at Lindsey and said,

"Daryl, that's very generous of you, but that's a great imposition on you and Mandy."

"No Sir, not at all. I must be honest with all of you. I had a meeting this morning with the local Detective Captain and he and I agree that there's evidence to indicate that last night's incident was a deliberate attempt to harm you." The women looked stunned, but Judge Moran remained calm.

"Daryl, that's what I was afraid of. Tell me straight out. Was that an attempt at a professional hit?" I could see from their faces that the women were now shocked.

"Yes Sir, there's strong evidence to believe that." I saw Lindsey look at Mandy, and I could see the fear on her face, and the tears staring to form. Judge Moran didn't respond to my statement.

Mandy stood up, approached his bedside and took his hand. "Sir, you don't know me, and we just met, but I want you to know I'm scared to death as much as Lindsey is after everything that's happened. Daryl has promised me that he'll keep me safe, and I believe him. And I believe him when he says that the three of us should go down to his house and help each other feel safe. I would like you and Lindsey to stay with me until this is over."

For a girl who told me last week that she wasn't a good swimmer, once again she was a lifesaver when I started to drown. Judge Moran looked into her eyes, shifted his gaze to Lindsey, and then back to Mandy.

"Young lady, you make a strong case. I admire your honesty." He looked over to Lindsey, "Dear, I think that Daryl's offer is in our best interests right now."

Lindsey stood up and gave Mandy a hug, and then it was my turn. Kaitlyn spoke up and said that she would work with the case manager to set up the visiting nurses and order that any medical supplies be sent to Stockbridge. Lindsey made another round of hugs that ended with a kiss to her husband.

"Now, just get me out of here as soon as possible!" Judge Moran quipped, and we all shared a laugh.

Mandy and Lindsey exchanged cell numbers, and I gave Kaitlyn and Lindsey my home address and Bernie Nichols name and number. We said our goodbyes, and Kaitlyn rode the elevator down to the lobby with Mandy and me.

Once in the lobby, Mandy asked where the ladies' room was, and Kaitlyn pointed it out. She excused herself and I thanked Kaitlyn for her help, once again.

"You're welcome. And by the way, your Mandy is stunning, and so sweet. Girlfriend you called her? If I were you Mr. Richardson, I would make her a fiancée pretty quickly."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Without question," she answered. Mandy came back into the lobby, hugged Kaitlyn goodbye, and we left for Stockbridge.

We took our time driving back, and I asked Mandy to let me know if she saw any banks with ATMs as we went, as I wanted to withdraw some cash for her to buy some food and whatever she needed for her stay at the house.

"You don't have to do that. I have some money in my account" she said. I politely ignored her, and pulled into a bank lot drive up ATM, withdrew five hundred and gave it to her. About twenty minutes later I saw another bank and used the ATM for another five hundred.

"Daryl, what on earth are you doing?" she asked in a raised voice. "I told you, I want you to have some cash on hand in case you need anything."

"Please stop it! If I need any help, I'll let you know."

"Okay, but listen, when you and Lindsey have some time maybe you can talk with her about setting up a Foundation or trust, whatever you two think is best. I'd like it to be something that you can manage with me. I'll mention it to her after they get settled in and I head back up to North Bellington."

"Aren't you going to stay with us at the house?" she asked.

"I will when I can, but I'll have at least two search warrants, one that needs to be executed at night. I'm still paying for my room at the hotel, so I'll stay there rather than be driving back here late at night."

"Why are you paying for a hotel room? You can stay at the condo."

"There's going to be a few agents coming in from Boston to help me. They'll be staying at the hotel, and that's convenient for us to keep tabs on each other and our progress."

"Sounds a little like a frat house outing to me," she said.

"Ah, the good old days that I never lived!" I said with a grin.

"Gee, I thought that you and I were enjoying the good old days the past two weeks!" she said.

"No, my Love, those days are yet to come!"

"Ummm." she said as she reached over and held my hand, "I like it when you talk like that."

We pulled into Stonegarden and I saw that Bernie and Erik were pruning the roses in the front yard. "Well, what a nice surprise," Bernie said as she greeted us with a hug.

I told them that something had come up and Mandy would be staying at the house for a while. I explained what happened at the hospital with the attempt on Judge Moran's life and that when he was discharged on Saturday, he and Lindsey would be coming down to stay with Mandy. Bernie and Erik didn't respond, but I saw that I especially had Erik's attention. He motioned me aside.

"Daryl, any extra security measures I need to take?"

"No, not right now Erik, but thanks. Just be on the lookout for any strange cars or anything out of the normal. If you think it's something that needs to be checked out, call the Police Department. I'm friendly with the Chief and I'll pay him a visit to let him know what we're doing. I'm sure you'll get immediate help if you need it."

Erik nodded that he understood. He and I went into the house and found Bernie and Mandy in the kitchen.

"Bernie, Judge Moran, Forrest is his first name, is recovering from surgery after he was shot. The VNA will be coming to the house to look in on him, but if anything comes up, I would hope that you'd be able to help Mandy and his wife Lindsey. She's a lawyer by the way, and Judge Moran was one of our law professors."

Bernie took in what I said and answered "Of course Dear, whatever they need. It will be nice to see some signs of life around the house."

With that settled, Mandy got unpacked, and I told her that I wanted to drive into town and speak with the Police Chief. I asked if she wanted to go, she said no, that she was going to pick some flowers and make some arrangements for the house.

I pulled into the Police Department and was shown into the Chief's office. We hadn't seen each other in about six months and we spent about ten minutes catching up.

I told him of my assignment in Ethan Falls, and as it turns out he had been following the Peterson girl's murder and Judge Moran being shot in the newspapers. He raised his eyebrows when I told him about yesterday's incident at the hospital, and my plan to have the Morans stay at my house with my girlfriend.

He assured me that his department would respond immediately to any calls at the house and that he would personally call the County Sheriff and fill him in for backup. I thanked him and headed home. As I was driving my phone beeped and I saw on the display, it was Damian Costigan calling. "Daryl, can you talk?" he asked when I answered.

"Yeah, Boss I'm just pulling into my house in Stockbridge."

"Okay. My interns did the research that you wanted. They're sure that Capt. John Carpa is, in fact, Giovanni Carpanara. The FBI Newark office came up with a photo of Carpanara that's about seven years old. I'll have the intern email it to you to show you the similarities in appearance. They found out that he was up on departmental charges for corruption. The PD was investigating complaints that he and some of his buddies on the night shift were rousting drug dealers, shaking them down for protection money and ripping them off for their drugs. He quit the day after the PD suspended him and he vanished. Three of his cop buddies got arrested and ended up doing jail time. None of them would rat out Carpanara, so he's listed in the internal affairs report as an unindicted suspect."

"I knew he was dirty," I said.

"It gets better. He got hired by Sheriff Hunter about seven years ago as a Lieutenant in charge of the Sheriff's detectives. There's no record of him ever being certified by the Vermont Police Standards Board and that raises the question of whether his powers of arrest are valid. He legally changed his name to John Carpa in the Abbot County Court, and the social security number he gave on his petition is the same as Giovanni Carpanara's."

Damian continued. "One of the interns, a gal who's really sharp by the way, traced down Carpa's lineage and he is Sheriff Hunter's cousin on his mother's side. Here's where it gets interesting. Carpa has a brother, Pasquale Carpanara who's got a rap sheet a mile long. He's a validated organized crime enforcer, and some of the PDs intelligence units have him suspect in three unsolved contract murders.

"Stop right there, Boss," I said. "Pasquale Carpanara was arrested last night in North Bellington for an attempted hit on Judge Moran at the hospital. The hospital security staff intercepted him and subdued him after a fight. He had a nine-millimeter with a silencer when they grabbed him. He had another guy with him, but he got away."

"Jesus Daryl, what the hell is going on up there?" he exclaimed.

He continued. "You asked me about Freedom Bail Services? Well my friend, your suspicions were spot on. They appeared on the scene about five years ago as bond agents for National Federated Surety. That's a legitimate company. Corporate records show that at least four times Freedom's filings were changed to show different a different management company as the business holder. Warren Donnelly's name appears on all the filings, and JB Hunter is listed as the Managing Director of all of them. These guys set up their own bail bond company, but no one would ever know that unless they waded through the paper trail of name changes."

"How's that for a conflict of interest?" I asked.

"Well my friend, it gets better. My intern called the Compliance Officer at National Federated and he said that Freedom stopped paying their premiums two years ago. As far as they're concerned, they aren't Freedom's bond insurer, and my intern can't find any records in Vermont that Freedom switched to another insurer. He said he's willing to give us a sworn statement."

"Sweet, huh?" I asked, with the satisfaction my inititial hunch was correct.

"Daryl, if you can get your hands on a bond agreement that they executed in the last two years, and the paperwork lists National Federated as the bond insurer, I think you have Donnelly and Hunter for insurance fraud," he said.

"I'm starting to love this Boss."

"You asked about County Exec Donnelly's Office building not being in Abbot County? We confirmed that he has an office in a bank on Main Street in Hamilton, that's the next town over from Ethan Falls, but it looks like the phone is forwarded to an answering service. Donnelly's building in North Bellington is mortgage free. There are a couple of deeds on file, but the last one shows it was quit-claimed to Donnelly for one dollar by a William Barnum."

"Boss, that's Billy Barnum! he's the Courthouse Super in Ethan Falls! His house is the one next to the Court where I think the eavesdropped conversations are being transmitted over a microwave network." Jesus, this is unbelievable," I said with excitement.

"If you're right Daryl, these guys are all in this together, and they're very sophisticated. Didn't you tell me that the Building Sup found the Judge after he was shot?"

"Yeah Boss, he did. This is a wealth of information; I can't thank you and your interns enough."

"Well my friend, I have one more present for you. My interns researched that Survivalist camp you told me about. Apparently, this Barnum guy owns that land too. A local lawyer filed some paperwork with the State that shows that something called the Patriot Foundation leases the land, two hundred acres."

"They filed for a tax exemption on the basis they were a non-profit. We can't find any filings in Vermont that they are, other than a tax- exempt certificate in Abbot County that was signed off by Warren Donnelly. Daryl, Donnelly is listed as a managing director for the Foundation, but nothing appears to have been filed on the State level. We're checking with IRS because non-profits have to be registered with the State."

"Jesus, Boss, this seems like so much white-collar crime stuff. My interest is a girl's murder and a judge getting shot."

"I hear you Daryl, but the way this Grand Jury is structured the others can investigate the insurance fraud and possible tax fraud. Where do you stand on your end?" he asked.

I told Damian that I was waiting to hear from Jacob Meisner with the search warrants I needed. Everything hinges on them. I told him that I was bringing Mandy and Judge and Lindsey Moran down to Stockbridge for a couple weeks for their safety, considering what had happened.

"Daryl, with all that you've gotten yourself into up there, how the hell do you sleep at night?"

"I don't Boss. You've seen Mandy. Do I need to say anything more?"

"Ah...to be young again, I remember those days. Just don't screw things up by getting yourself killed. It's really starting to sound like Chicago up there. Call me when you're ready for my techs to help you."

"I will Boss, thanks." I said and ended the call.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mandy coming up to the car. I got out, and she hugged me. "I saw you in the car for a long time and I was getting worried, then I saw you were on the phone. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, that was Damian. He gave me some information that I needed. Everything is fine, in fact coming together faster than I had hoped."

"Good. What do you want to do about dinner? I could use a nice meal. What do you want me to cook for you?"

"Why don't we go to the Shaker Barn Tavern for dinner instead? It's a family place, and the food is excellent. We can plan to eat around six-thirty."

"That sounds great. Hey! Let's go inside my love, I'm feeling like we need a nap."

"Yes, Ma'am I'm right behind you!" I said, not hiding my enthusiasm.

When we went inside, I saw that Mandy had fashioned three beautiful arrangements, and the aroma made the house feel like a home. We shared a steam shower and took our nap. Sure, we did!

#

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### Chapter 17

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Mandy and I slept late Friday morning, and we decided to have

breakfast at the Red Lion. She was in the shower when I took a phone call from Jacob Meisner.

"Richardson? Meisner here. I have your Federal search warrants. All of them; The doctor's office, the bullets at the hospital, and the courthouse."

"That's great Mr. Meisner. Can you get the originals Fed-X'd to me overnight?"

"I can do better than that. I spoke with Capt. Merrill in Major Crimes; he wants to get the warrants into your hands as soon as possible. He said he'll assign a trooper to drive down and hand deliver them to you."

"Thanks, that would be great. One problem though, I'm down at my house in Stockbridge Mass." Meisner was quiet for a moment.

"Well, that's not a problem. I'm sure a Vermont State Trooper can find Massachusetts. Give me your address and I'll pass it up to headquarters." I gave him the address and asked him to give my cell number to the trooper who would be assigned.

"I will. I'll have my paralegal also make up two certified copies of the warrants in case you need them."

"Excellent, thank you, Sir." I said.

"Richardson, I also got search warrants for the Sheriff's sub-station in Ethan Falls and his main headquarters in Hamilton. Capt. Merrill is assembling warrant teams to execute them early next week. You may want to give him a call to coordinate your work. That should get the attention of those County guys."

"Great thought. I have State Sgt. Jon Michaels assigned to me. He'll be coordinating my warrant team and bringing in some of his people. I'll ask him to touch base with Capt. Merrill." I explained.  
"Oh? Michaels is a good man. Tough as they come if things get nasty. You know Richardson, don't let it go to your head, but after reading the warrant affidavits, you've put together a hell of a case in record time. On a personal note, just find who killed the girl. I Googled her Facebook page and saw that she was a beautiful and amazing young woman. I have a granddaughter about her age, so this is hitting home with me. Just be careful and good luck."

"I will Mr. Meisner, and thanks for all of your efforts on this." Attorney Jacob Meisner didn't respond, he just hung up.

Mandy and I had brunch at the Red Lion, and after we ate, I drove her to a local market to stock up on groceries. I learned that Ms. Mandy Simmons had a strong domestic side to her. Her choice of meats and vegetables were heavy on the healthy side as were the ten large grocery bags that we took home with us. I didn't have the nerve to ask her if she knew how to cook world class meatloaf and beef stews like I could. In case you're wondering, yes, I would occasionally cook meals at my Boston condo. I told her that a Vermont State Trooper would be driving down with some important paper that I needed for Monday. She looked at me but didn't seem fazed by that. "Oh, nice. If he's hungry after his drive I can make him something to eat before he goes back," she said nonchalantly. "Do you have to work this weekend?" I told her no, that our plans hinged on Judge Moran being discharged on Saturday.

"Hey Daryl, if you were thinking we would drive up to the hospital and help Lindsey with getting him discharged, I'd like to pick up my car and drive it down here."

"You don't like the Camaro?"

"I love it but I'm afraid to drive it! I don't know how long we'll be staying down here, and I don't want to leave my Jeep sitting in the condo lot."

"Okay, Hon, whatever you want we'll do it." I went outside to the garage and saw that Erik was working on the lawn tractor. We chatted for a while, and I took a 'restricted' in-coming call. It was Vermont State Trooper Rick Anderson telling me that he was picking up the search warrants and that he expected to be in Stockbridge between two and three this afternoon. I gave him directions from the center of Stockbridge to the house, and he said he'd find it. When I got off the phone Erik asked, "Daryl? Are you planning to keep doing the government work that you're doing?"

"Yeah, I really haven't given any thought to doing anything else, why?" He thought before he spoke.

"It's just that after meeting Mandy, Bernie and I were hoping that she's the girl for you. You, know, settle down, maybe start a family, and enjoy everything that your aunt has provided you."

"I do think Mandy's the girl for me, Erik. No, not think, I know it. But she asked me to wait for about a year before we talk about anything permanent between us."

"Smart girl."

"How so?"

He put down his wrench and wiped his hands with a rag. "Daryl, you've only known Mandy for what, a couple weeks? And in that time, you're involved with murder cases, hit men, and lord knows what else. Are you sure that she can handle those things in your life?"

"I don't know Erik, but I hope so. I guess we'll just have to see how this all plays out." He didn't pursue the conversation and went back to his work. I walked around the house and went inside to the family room. Mandy was sitting out on the deck taking in the sun. I went over to my office set-up and thought I would write up a report of my recent activities. When I sat down, it struck me that it worked fine for one person, but when I had all the renovations done, I hadn't thought about a formal home office, something that could accommodate two people. I could convert one of the guest suites I thought, but quickly talked myself out of it. I found a contractor's tape measure in a kitchen drawer and went out to the deck. I stood there looking around and started to measure the length of the deck

I saw Mandy look at me over her sunglasses. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but now what?"

I told her that I was thinking that we needed a formal home office and thought maybe we could enclose part of the deck and cut an entry into the house somewhere.

"Don't you ever rest, Daryl Richardson?" "Sometimes. I like to take naps!"

"That I know, but seriously, do you really want a home office?"

I told her, yes, and we spent the next two hours looking around, measuring and bouncing ideas off each other. About two-thirty I saw an unmarked police car coming up the driveway, and we greeted Trooper Anderson. This man was big! At least six-four, wide shoulders, in his crisply pressed uniform and hat he looked like a recruiting poster. I introduced myself and Mandy and invited him into the family room. He wasn't shy about telling us how much he loved the house.

Mandy insisted on making him a sandwich, and while she was in the kitchen, it gave the Trooper and I some time to talk.

"Daryl," he said, "these Abbot County cops are a rough crew. The word around our barracks is that you Feds are going to take down the whole department."

"Well, that's an exaggeration Rick, but I think that their leadership may have some issues we'd like to talk to them about."

"You know," he said, "they have some good young cops down there. But the Sheriff gives them the least active patrol areas. What a waste of their talents. A lot of those guys are putting in for jobs in my department."

"Do you know Sheriff Hunter?" I asked

"Porky? I've been on the job for twenty-one years and yes, he and I have banged heads a few times over jurisdictional and cooperation issues. I don't know exactly what you're looking at him for, but I will tell you, the guy is dirty. And his two detectives, Carpa and Manning, I wouldn't trust them as far as I can throw them. They're snakes. Just watch your back with those two."

"Thanks for the heads up," I said as Mandy came into the room with some sandwiches and drinks on a tray. "It's nice outside, let's eat on the deck."

We enjoyed our late lunch with some light conversation. Trooper Anderson had a lot of questions about the house, and he and Mandy talked about each other's backgrounds. When we finished, he asked to use a bathroom and excused himself. After he went inside Mandy whispered, "Daryl, he is huge! Can you get him to work on your team? Nobody is going to mess with that guy."

The Trooper came back to the family room, thanked Mandy for his lunch, and he and I exchanged business cards.

"Daryl," if you find that you need some more manpower assistance from my department, please keep me in mind." I assured him that I absolutely would, and we saw him on his way. Mandy and I went back onto the deck, had a drink and spent the afternoon relaxing. About seven thirty in the evening I got a phone call from Bellington Detective Captain Dan Monroe.

"Daryl, not interrupting dinner, am I?"

"No Dan, what's up?" I asked as I got up and walked into the kitchen.

"I just got a call from the County Jail where we were holding Carpanara before his arraignment on Monday. A lawyer and a bondsman showed up trying to post his bail.

"I charged him with attempted murder, possession of a firearm by a convicted felon, and possession of a silencer. I asked for no bond, but the bail commissioner set it at seven hundred fifty thousand dollars, cash or surety. I did my best to get it cash only, but the Ccommissioner wouldn't go for it, he said that would be punitive and unreasonable. "Dan, didn't you say he was on parole? Can't you detain him for violating that?"

"His on-line jail release record says parole, but there's no warrant information. When my detectives got notified that he was trying to post his bond they made phone calls to the Jersey authorities but were told no one was available to verify his status. We tried to get the name of his parole officer, but there's nothing on file they said. The State Parole office number goes to phone mail."

"I can't believe this Dan. Did you notify the FBI? They could prefer Federal firearms violation charges." I said.

"Too late Daryl. After two hours of trying to stall the lawyer, he went ballistic and threatened to wake up a Judge and demand his client's immediate release on bond. The Shift Commander at the jail was contacted, and he allowed the bondsman to post the bail."

"Dan, tell me that's not so! What bail bond company was it?" "Freedom Bail Services. But it wasn't a guy the jail normally deals with, and the lawyer is from out-of-state, but he produced documents to show he's licensed in Vermont. I just got off the phone with the jail Shift Commander, he said his officers made copies of both guy's IDs. We ran them, they're both fake IDs."

"Dan, I received word late yesterday that the US Attorney's office in Boston has evidence that Freedom is a sham company. Their bonds aren't backed by an insurance company."

"Dammit, Daryl, how were we supposed to know that? Freedom has been doing bond business up here for years. Damn, Damn, Damn!" "You wouldn't have any way of knowing Dan. The US attorney is working with the FBI to get a statement from the insurance company that appears on the paperwork Freedom filed with the State to prove that they've been uninsured for the last couple of years."

"Well, Daryl, the damage is done. Carpanara's gone. This is a huge screw-up!"

I was almost ready to let loose with a rage of vile words, but I caught a glimpse of Mandy standing at the kitchen entrance. My raised voice had scared her.

"Okay Dan, thanks for the info. I need to think this through. Maybe I can quickly apply for a Federal warrant. I'll call you tomorrow." "I'm really sorry Daryl, I'm sick over this, and I'm worried that these sons-of-bitches may try and hit the Judge again."

"I am too, Dan, but hopefully we'll be moving the Judge to a safe place tomorrow. I'll let you know. I just need some time to think. Good night."

I went back into the family room and sat down in the recliner. Why didn't the jail get on the internet and verify the lawyer's credentials with the State's on-line database? And why was the Shift Commander so intimidated by the threat to wake up a Judge? It would take hours to draw up a writ demanding release on bail, and I couldn't imagine any

Judge signing off on it without a hearing. Damn!

Mandy sat down on my lap and laid her head on my chest.

"Daryl, I don't want to know what's wrong. I just want this nightmare to end, and I want you out of all of this." I sat there without talking, brushing her hair with my hand. She was right, this was a nightmare, and I brought her into it. Once again, I wasn't too happy with myself.

She got up, and I went over to my laptop and started typing up an affidavit to obtain a fugitive warrant for Pasquale Carpanara. I lost track of everything around me until I felt her hand on my back. "This is something bad, isn't it?" she asked. I nodded.

"Yes, but I'm going to make it better," I said, and went back to my typing. She kissed the top of my head and said that she was going to bed. I turned and watched as she walked from the room. I really hated myself for dragging her into this.

I typed until almost one in the morning. I read the affidavit a half-dozen times and made edits until I was satisfied that it was brief, concise and flowed smoothly. I just needed probable cause, not a book. I would call Dan Monroe tomorrow and get the names of the lawyer and bondsman who had been at the jail. All I had to do was insert them into the narrative and I was done. I wondered to myself if Mr. Yale Law Jacob Meisner had any moments like this. I went to bed and prayed that Judge Moran's discharge in the morning would go off without another nightmare.

Saturday morning Mandy and I got up early, had breakfast, and I called Lindsey. She said that she had already been on the phone with the Judge's surgeon and the attending doc, and they were signing off on his discharge. She said they were trying to get him ready for eleven AM, and I told her that I'd meet her at the hospital about 10:30. Mandy grabbed her empty suitcases, and we headed up to North Bellington.

She didn't talk much on the ride, other than some chatter about what clothes she wanted to pack. The New England weather starts to cool off quickly in early September, and she wanted to be ready.

I dropped her off at the condo and she said she was all set and didn't need any help with her luggage. She gave me a kiss goodbye, and I headed over to the Medical Center.

When I got to the Judge's room, I was surprised to see that both Kaitlyn and Captain Dan Monroe were inside with Lindsey. I greeted them and asked, "Hey folks, everything okay?"

"Hi Daryl, yes, all is well,' Kaitlyn said." Dan and I wanted to see the Judge off and make sure that there weren't any last-minute discharge glitches. We're just waiting for some paperwork." I shook hands with Dan and pulled him aside and thanked him for being here.

"After yesterday's screw up at the jail it's the least I can do. Two of my detectives are in an unmarked car outside; they're going to follow you down to the Mass border. I don't want to take any chances with something going wrong. We don't know if those two hit men are still up here in Vermont."

"I appreciate that Dan, but I'm thinking that they're long gone. I wrote up a Federal arrest warrant application last night, but I need the phony names that the lawyer and bondsman used at the jail. If we can come up with their real names, we can plug them into the warrant application and have warrants issued. I'd like the FBI to take over the case, if that's okay with you."

"Sure, that will work. I'll call my office right now and get the phony names for you." I went over to Lindsey and gave her a hug. "Daryl, thanks for being here. I won't be able to relax until we get Forrest down to your place. Where's Mandy?" she asked. I told her that I dropped her at the condo to get some more clothes, and she wanted to drive her car down to the house.

"Are you sure you'll have room in the driveway for all of our cars? I don't want our being there to inconvenience you," she asked. I assured her I had room, and thought to myself, she was going to be surprised when she got there.

Lindsey had her car out in front of the hospital, and I told her that when we left, I would drive ahead of her and that Capt. Monroe would have an unmarked car follow us to the State line. I could sense she was nervous. At 12:15 an orderly showed up with a wheelchair for the Judge and we were whisked down to the lobby in a service elevator, accompanied by Lindsey, Dan, the uniformed police officer who had been guarding the room, and one of the hospital guards. Dan Monroe wrote the names I had asked for on a business card and gave it to me. Once inside the elevator Judge Moran finally spoke "I didn't want all this fuss but thank you all."

We got the Judge comfortably settled in Lindsey's car, a Nissan Murano, and I couldn't help but notice the back was loaded with suitcases and garment bags. We were on the road a little after twelve thirty.

Our ride down Route 7 was uneventful. After we crossed over into Massachusetts, I saw in my rearview mirror that the unmarked car backed off. We were on our own. As we pulled into my driveway, I was surprised to see that Mandy was already there standing outside by the garage talking with Bernie and Erik. I parked, and I got out to help the Judge from the car.

"Daryl, this is a magnificent property," he said. I introduced Bernie and Erik, and Lindsey took a walker out of the car. The Judge waved it off and asked for the cane he had been given at the hospital. We went inside and got him settled in the family room. Lindsey came up to me and gave me a long hug.

"Daryl, I had no idea your house was this beautiful. It's huge!" I could see Mandy was standing in the background, and she had a smile and look of contentment.

"Lindsey, let me show you the house, and where your bedroom is," she said and led her through the kitchen toward the master. Bernie had already switched on her nursing persona and was getting the Judge situated in a recliner, complete with an afghan in case he got a chill. She offered him some juice or tea, and he commented that he could use a good cup of coffee. "Coming right up," she said cheerfully, as she switched on the TV and handed him the remote.

Mandy and Lindsey came back to the kitchen and Lindsey gushed about how beautiful everything was and thanked me again for allowing the Judge and her stay with us. Mandy, Erik and I helped Lindsey bring her luggage into the master and about forty-five minutes later the Morans were settled in.

Bernie had cooked us a roast to be re-heated in gravy for dinner, and the three women chatted in the kitchen. I went in and sat down across from the Judge and asked if we could talk. I took the TV remote, turned the volume down, and sat down in the couch across from him.

I told him of the fiasco at the jail, and that the intruder's whereabouts were now unknown. He didn't comment, just shook his head in disbelief. I told him I was helping to apply for a Federal arrest warrant and expected that the US Attorney's office would pursue identifying the true identity of the imposter lawyer and file charges if they were successful. He nodded his understanding.

"Judge, Lindsey told me that when you came back from Montpelier you brought home some files, and that she sensed that whatever they contained concerned you."

He looked at me and didn't speak. "Your Honor, I need to know. What was troubling you?" I asked. He looked around to see that no one was listening,

"Daryl, the Attorney General's Office received intelligence from an undercover agent who has infiltrated the group at that so-called survival camp, and he's reporting that they're planning some large-scale acts of domestic terrorism to upset the coming election. When I say terrorism, I mean pipe bombs and drive-by shootings, not protest rallies. They're aligned with Warren Donnelly and Sheriff Hunter and some of his underlings. The informant has been wearing a wire on and off and learned that Hunter and his detectives are leading the financing of their plans with the sale of drugs. He's provided the AG with recordings that indicate they have a chemist who's lacing heroin with doses of fentanyl, and they plan to saturate the street sales market to drive up the overdose deaths and then capitalize on the State's failure to stem the tide of deaths. This all came to light after Susan Peterson was murdered. The informant thinks that Susan somehow stumbled onto their plans and they thought she was going to the State Police or FBI with her suspicions."

"Does the informant have any ideas on who murdered her?"

"Not from what I've learned."

"Sir, with what you've told me about their terrorism plans, why haven't the FBI and Homeland Security been brought in? Terrorism is their game."

"Apparently this information is very fresh, and the State didn't have the recordings from the wire until three days before I was shot."

"The plan was to bring in the Federal authorities, but I have to suspect that some of the delay in doing that had some political considerations at play. The informant reported that Hunter had received a shipment of automatic weapons, riot control chemicals, and body armor through some Federal grants. They were supposed to be intended for his deputies, but the undercover agent said they were taken up to the camp. I had made some phone calls from my office to the General Accounting Office in Washington. I wanted documents on any Federal grants that the Abbot Sheriffs had been awarded, and I pressed them to send me the documents as soon as possible."

I sat back in the couch and thought about what he had just told me.

"But Judge, why would they target you?" I asked.

"Daryl, that question had been haunting me while I was in the

hospital. Then it dawned on me when you told me you thought my office may be wiretapped."

"Okay, I think I follow you," I said. "If your calls were intercepted, they knew you were trying to get some hard evidence to bring to the FBI."

"Exactly. Now I realize why the civil suit was brought by the surrounding neighbors. I was assigned to referee the case that complained that the camp had built a firearms facility and were using automatic weapons. There was no proof of automatic weapons at the time, no tape recordings of gunfire or anything like that. I was able to get the parties to agree on a limitation on the hours the firing range could be used."

I paused for a moment to process what he had told me when Mandy came into the room. "Lindsey and I are going to have some wine before dinner; can I make you gentlemen anything to drink? It's reported that I have some experience in that field!"

The Judge and I laughed, and he said, "Mandy if you promise not to tell my wife, I would love a Scotch on the rocks, light on the rocks." "Judge Moran, a bartender is a lot like a lawyer. Our conversation is privileged!" Mandy delivered a Scotch for the Judge and my VO and coke. She grabbed a bottle of wine and glasses and went back to the kitchen. I saw the Judge watch her walk out the room and he turned back to me.

"Daryl, Mandy is an exceptionally beautiful and sweet young woman, I truly hope that you have plans to marry her."

I took a sip of my drink and told him that we had only known each other for a short time, but I sensed that Mandy would be in my future.

"Forrest Moran what are you drinking?" asked Lindsey with a grin as she came into the room. "I leave you alone for a few minutes and look what mischief you've gotten into. Is Scotch on your diet?"

"If it isn't my Dear, we should call the doctor immediately and insist that he add it," he quipped as he took a sip.

"Seriously my husband, don't overdo it. You're still shaky on your feet as it is."

"Yes Dear," he acknowledged her sheepishly.

"Daryl, I can't tell you enough how beautiful your house is, I saw the master bath; it's like a spa in there," Lindsey commented.

"Thank you. I want you and Judge Moran to make yourselves at home. Please feel free to enjoy the place." She said they would and went back into the kitchen.

"Judge, I need to ask you, at the time of the lawsuit who owned the camp property?"

"As I recall it was owned by a holding company, and the agent for service was a law firm in New Jersey. One of their lawyers appeared in Court with an attorney from Rutland. I allowed the out-of-state attorney to participate just to move the case along. I must say that the two of them were never students of mine."

"What do you mean?"

"The New Jersey fellow, I'm drawing a blank on his name, started out to be rude and belligerent. He was wearing a thousand-dollar suit and had an air about him that he thought I should be impressed with his presence. I was sure he wasn't from one of New Jersey's premier firms. I cut him short in quick order, and made it clear he was in my court room as a courtesy, and that he had no legal standing in Vermont. Daryl, I want to ask you, what is your next step on this case? As beautiful as your house is, there's no place like home."

"I understand Sir. I have some support from the State Police and am planning to execute some search warrants on Monday, possibly into Tuesday."

I told him that I would seize the bullets that they removed from him during surgery and submit them for analysis by the crime lab. Hopefully we could learn the type and make of the weapons used.

I explained that some Federal electronics experts were coming in to do a sweep of the court house for eavesdropping equipment.

"And if you find that evidence?" I hesitated to answer, but felt I owed him full disclosure.

"I stumbled across what I think is a microwave transmission link between the courthouse and the house next door. I think the intercepted conversations are being transmitted to that house."

"But that's Billy Barnum's house. Do you mean to tell me that you think Billy...?"

"Yes, Billy is a strong suspect."

The Judge drew a deep breath and sighed heavily. "And if you find such equipment, what will you do? Remove it?"

"I'm not sure. I'm toying with the idea to leave it place and set up a sting operation. You know, stage a conversation and see if we get a response from Billy or anyone he may be working with. I suspect that he's part of this case, but he's not the mastermind. Are you aware that Billy is reportedly wealthy?"

"I'm aware that his family had extensive land holdings in the County, and over the year his relatives have died off. I believe that he's the last of the Barnum family."

"Well, although the land records are clouded with some property transfers and quit claims, the land the survivalist camp is on, two hundred acres, was owned by Billy and he leased it out and later transferred the title."

"I wasn't aware of that. Who did he transfer the land to?" "Something called the Patriot Foundation.The Foundation filed some papers with the State that document Warren Donnelly and Sheriff Hunter as the managing entity."

"That's incredible!" Judge Moran said in complete disbelief.

"It gets better," I continued. "Donnelly's new office building in North Bellington was owned by Billy Barnum who transferred the title to Warren Donnelly for one dollar!"

"That's even more incredible! Daryl, do you have the documents to back all this up?" Judge Moran was getting excited. And angry.

"Yes, the US Attorney's office in Boston did the research for me. It's all there."

"Daryl, are there any secrets left in the village of Ethan Falls? It sounds like you've found them all."

"Not all, your honor. I still need to prove who killed Susan and shot you."

Lindsey came into the room and asked the Judge if he would be able to eat some dinner around seven. He said he was a little tired and thought he should lie down a bit. Lindsey and I helped him to the bedroom, and I left them for her to get him settled. About ten minutes later she came out to the kitchen where I was helping Mandy make a salad. "You know Daryl; I think your talk with Forrest wore him out. He needs to eat, but I'm afraid he'll be asleep in a few minutes."

"I was afraid of that Lindsey. I'm sorry if I upset his routine. Why don't you let him sleep? Later we can fix him a plate. I think we still have the hospital bedside table we used when my Aunt was sick, I'll call Bernie to see where she put it."

"I do think that he needs to be using his walker and put his arm back in the sling too. Sometimes he can be so stubborn!" she said.

I left the women in the kitchen and sat out on the deck for a while. A little before seven Mandy came out and told me that dinner was almost ready. Judge Moran was sound asleep, so the three of us dined on Bernie's re-heated roast, and Mandy's whipped potatoes, salad, and brown and serve rolls.

I must say, both women knew how to get to a man's heart. After we ate, I tried to help clear the table, but the women banished me from the kitchen.

Bernie and Erik knocked on the kitchen door and I saw they were bringing in the hospital bedside table. "Erik wrapped it in plastic and stored it in the garage," Bernie said. "I think Judge Moran needs bed rest, so try to encourage him to sleep when he feels tired, and not to worry about eating in the bedroom." Lindsey thanked them and moved the table to the bedroom.

Our night was uneventful, Lindsey fixed her husband a dinner plate around eight and bid us goodnight as she delivered it. Mandy and I settled into the family room.

She asked if she and I could take a ride in the morning as it would be Sunday and the Morans could have some privacy. I agreed and in the morning after breakfast, we drove into Lennox, visited some shops and had lunch. We had a fun day, and I felt rested. We got back to the house and Lindsey told us that the Judge spent most of the day sleeping or sitting on the couch in the bedroom watching TV.

A little after eight I got a phone call from State Police Sgt. Jon Michaels.

"Daryl, sorry to call you late on a Sunday night, but I just got off the phone with Captain Merrill in Major Crimes. He said his warrant team is going to hit the Sheriff's offices in Hamilton and Ethan Falls at ten AM sharp Tuesday morning. He has some FBI agents and six of his detectives for that, but he needs Monday to set things up. He wants us to hit the doctor's office Tuesday exactly at ten. We'll have two FBI agents, and two of my guys. Merrill said we can execute the warrant for the bullets the hospital's holding later in the afternoon. You okay with that?"

This wasn't my plan, but I must admit that I was impressed with the organization of these Green Mountain cops!

"That works for me, Jon. Do you think you could round up another two or three people for us to go into the courthouse around one AM Wednesday morning? I think I can get the electronics techs up here from Boston Tuesday afternoon. I want them to look at the antenna setup I described to them while there's still daylight."

"Okay, that's our plan then. I'll text Merrill and tell him it's a go. My team will meet you in your hotel parking lot at nine Tuesday morning. See you then."

Mandy was in the family room on the computer, and I interrupted her and told her that I didn't have to go up to Bellington until Tuesday morning. She was happy and said we'd find something to do. We rested and watched TV until we went to bed around ten.

Monday morning came, and Judge Moran ate a good breakfast and sat out on the deck. The Visiting Nurse arrived, and Mandy called Bernie, who came up to the house to help with the Judge's bandage changes.

I spent some time roughing out a search warrant application for Billy Barnum's house in the event my hunch that he was intercepting courthouse conversations was correct.

Around noon Mandy came into the family room and told me that she got an email with some great news.

"My Master's thesis was accepted, and I've earned my MBA! She said excitedly. "HOORAY! Finally, after all that work, I DID IT!!"

"Honey I am so proud of you Congratulations! We'll have to do something special to celebrate. What would you like?"

"Daryl, I don't want anything special. I just want you to finish up your work in Ethan Falls and come home safe to me. I just want our life together to move on."

"I promise that I'll do everything I can to finish my work as quickly as possible. I'm tired, and I just want to be with you and relax." She gave me a soft kiss and said "I love you Daryl Richardson. I pray that you'll be safe. That's all I want."

I went out to the deck and told Judge Moran and Lindsey about Mandy's good news, and that I wanted to do something special for her."

"Why don't you buy her a diamond?" Lindsey offered, "I know it's only been a couple of weeks that you've been with her, but it's like you two are a married couple already!"

"I don't know about that Lindsey. Mandy made a comment to me that she wanted to wait a year before we talked about anything permanent," I explained.

Lindsey spoke up. "I can almost understand what she's saying Daryl, but that girl really loves you. Maybe you need to take charge of your personal life instead of work,"

Judge Moran cautioned his wife. "Lindsey, some things between a man and a woman are very private. I'm confident that Daryl will know what to do." She looked at her husband and accepted his benign rebuke.

"I know Dear, but I just want Daryl and Mandy to be together, to share their lives. They have such opportunities open to them."

"We do Lindsey," I said. "And to your point, Mandy and I have talked a little about her helping me set up a Foundation or trust for some philanthropic donations. I was hoping that you would help her with that."

"Of course, I'll help her. I'll have to do some research, but I'm sure we can write something up. Do you have any idea what you want to call it?"

"Yes, the Stonegarden Foundation," I answered.

"And I hate to ask such a personal question, but how much would you be funding it with?" I hesitated a moment but thought that if Lindsey was going to do the legal work, she needed to know my net worth.

"Mandy took a look at my stock holdings last week and told me that the portfolio is worth about sixty million dollars." "WHAT? SIXTY MILLION DOLLARS? How is that possible, I mean, did you know that you were worth that much?" she was shocked.

"Honestly I didn't. My lawyers in Boston manage Aunt Clarice's estate and I haven't paid as much attention as I should have. I thought it was around thirty million between the house, bank accounts and stocks. Judge Moran and Lindsey were shocked and looked at each other. Lindsey regained her composure and said, "Daryl when you get a minute please write down the name of your lawyer's firm. And it would help me if you could call them and explain that I'll be working to set up your Foundation. I'm sure that they've been billing you a lot to manage your funds, and they're not going to be very happy about losing that business."

"You know, that's what Mandy talked to me about. I guess it is time for me to take back control of my life like you both are saying. I'll call them this afternoon. Now if you'll excuse me, I have something I want to do for Mandy."

I went looking for Mandy and found her in the Great Room sitting on the piano bench. She had been on the phone and I saw her end the call as I walked in. She had a worried look on her face.

"Hey, Hon, are you okay? You look sad."

"That was my mother on the phone. I called her to tell them my good news, and she's happy for me, but then she told me they saw something on the news about two men trying to kill Judge Moran at the hospital and now she and Hansel are scared out of their minds that you're involved in all of that. They want me to go up to Stowe and stay with them."

I didn't know what to say, I didn't see this coming. Before I could speak, Mandy took charge.

"Daryl, I'm staying here with you and the Morans, where I'm safe. I'm thirty-five years old, single, I just got my MBA, and in three short weeks, I know that I've met the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I love my parents, but it's time that they faced reality and deal with it."

"Mandy, I know a lot of people will think we're crazy, but I feel the same way. I believe that we were meant to meet like this. Maybe if your parents see how we are together, they would understand."

"I don't know about that. They've always been super protective of me," she said.

"Okay, why don't we invite them down here then? They can stay with you and the Morans until this is over. We have another guest suite."

"OH NO!! Are you crazy? You think I want my parents in the room next to me when I'm in bed with my boyfriend of three weeks? No way Jose!"

"Okay. Then why don't I book them a suite at the Red Lion? I'll pay for everything."

"NO!" she said "They would never go for that. That's like trying to buy them." I thought fast, that's what I'm supposed to be good at! "Okay then, tell them I want to host a dinner reception for you to celebrate your MBA. I'll ask Bernie and Erik, and if the Judge is up to it, him and Lindsey. You can tell your parents that we've booked a room for them at the Red Lion for as long as they want to visit, and during the day they can come here and spend time with you." "You would do that for me?" she asked.

"Of course! We're going to celebrate your accomplishment regardless, but I'd love to meet your parents and have them share in that." She thought for a minute. "I'll call them and see what they think. When would we do all of this?"

"As soon as we can. Ask them if they can come down on Wednesday, we'll go out to dinner on Saturday."

"But you'll be working in Ethan Falls."

"I will, but the way things are working out I should be back here on Thursday, Friday at the latest."

"And by the way, you'll be a busy girl. I talked to Lindsey about her helping you to set up the Foundation and she's agreed to be our legal representative. I'm going to call my lawyer in Boston right now and break the news to him."

"Are you going to fire him?" she asked.

"No, I'm just going to put the brakes on his gravy train. It's about time I put my personal life before my work. And while I'm at it, we need to go into Stockbridge, there's something I want to do." "Wow! Where did all this new Daryl Richardson come from? And why the mystery?"

"You'll see! First let me call my lawyer."

I made the call and as I expected, he was shocked, disappointed, argumentative, counseling and damned frustrated when I told him that I wanted a complete statement of my net worth, stock holdings and where my money was invested. To be honest, it felt pretty good to be in control.

I drove Mandy into Stockbridge and we pulled into my bank. "Oh, Lord! You're not going to rob it, are you?" she asked in a deadpan voice.

"No, no withdrawal, just moving some funds around and I'll need you in there." As we sat and waited for the bank manager, I told Mandy that I was opening an account in her name. She started to question my sanity and believe me; this girl could be feisty when she wanted to be. I won't bore you, but I won out, and she walked out of there with ten thousand dollars in her new account and a debit card issued on the spot. After about ten minutes into our drive home, she finally spoke. "Daryl Richardson, I don't know whether to slap you in the back of the head or make you take a nap."

"Consider it a graduation gift. My preference is the nap, but let's wait until tonight."

When we got back to the house, I placed a phone call to Kaitlyn Mason at the Medical Center. I told her that I had a Federal search warrant for the bullets that were removed from Judge Moran.

"A Federal search warrant?" she asked for clarity.

I told her yes, that I couldn't go into details, but asked that she contact her security department to make them aware that I'd be in with the warrant tomorrow afternoon. She agreed.

I called Damian and told him I needed his electronics techs to be in Bellington early Wednesday afternoon. He said he'd make the arrangements for them to meet me at my hotel. I reminded him that I would pay for their rooms and this time he didn't argue with me.

We had dinner around six-thirty, and to my surprise, Judge Moran said he felt up to joining us in the dining room. Lindsey and Mandy had cooked a turkey breast, homemade gravy, mashed potatoes, carrots and fresh biscuits. The meal was excellent, and I thought to myself that I'd been eating better with Mandy in my life than I had been for the past two years.

After we ate the ladies cleaned up, and the Morans retired to the master suite for the Judge to rest and watch TV. Mandy and I had an after-dinner drink in the family room. A little after nine Mandy turned to me and said, "Daryl, you were acting a little weird today, talking about taking control of your personal life, giving me all that money. Do you have a premonition that something bad is going to happen to you?"

"No, it just dawned on me after what you said about your parents being worried about you. I want them to get to know me, know that you're safe, and see that we're happy and content with each other."

"I love you Daryl, but somehow I think your mind is in Ethan Falls. Just promise me that you'll be careful."

"I promise, let's go to bed." As we walked to our bedroom, I must admit that in my mind I was already introducing myself to Horace Greene MD and his helper Farhan.

### Chapter Eighteen

On Tuesday morning I was up at six, and by quarter to seven was in the kitchen having coffee and toast with Mandy. She was quiet, and I knew she was worried. I was ready to leave the house after a long hug and kiss from my girl. Her eyes were moist, and the tears were building, but she held them back.

"Hey! Everything will be fine Honey. This is how I make my living," I said in as convincing a tone that I could muster.

"But it doesn't have to be," she responded, and this time her hug was begging me not to go. I told her that I would call her when we're finished with the warrant service, kissed her on her forehead, and headed out the door.

I drove to the hotel and dropped my luggage in my room and went down to the lobby and booked two adjacent rooms for Damian's techs. The desk clerk didn't ask any questions and made the arrangements quickly.

I went out to the parking lot at eight-thirty and about ten minutes later I saw three cars pull up, led by Jon Michaels. His two drug agents looked like I thought they would; jeans, long hair, scruffy beards, and muscles upon muscles. The third car brought the FBI support. Jon introduced the two FBI agents, and the lead Agent, Tommy Barden, asked to see the warrant for the doctor's office. After a quick once over he said that because they were Federal warrants, his boss wanted him to lead the raid as he called it. I agreed, and we headed out with Jon riding with me.

"On our way up here, we drove through Hamilton and saw Capt. Merrill and his team staging about a mile out of town," he said. "And Daryl, there were another five or six Trooper cars and the Emergency Services Unit van on the side of the road before that. It looks like they're anticipating a war."

Michaels continued. "Daryl, the word is that your Federal office in Boston emailed some documents over to our US Attorney on Monday. One of my undercovers heard that Jacob Meisner and his team of lawyers were typing up arrest warrant applications all day, something to do with the jail and a bail bond company. You know anything about that?"

"No Jon, I don't. That's a surprise. My boss in Boston did some research for me and found out that a bail bond company up here, Freedom Bail Services, is a sham. They're not licensed or backed by an insurance company. I wonder if that's what this is all about." Damian Costigan hadn't said anything to me about giving info to the Vermont office, I thought, and I was more than surprised.

"I don't know. We should ask the agents with us if they know anything." I said.

Our three-car motorcade pulled up in front of Dr. Greene's office a little before ten. I pulled Agent Barden aside and asked him if he knew anything about arrest warrants being issued for any of the Sheriffs.

"I can't discuss any Bureau business Mr. Richardson, you know that," he said flatly.

"Yeah, but we're on the same team, aren't we?"

He looked at me and answered, "Look, my orders are to execute these search warrants for evidence in a murder case and for possible wiretapping at the Courthouse. That's all I know. You ready to do this or what?"

I didn't bother to argue his point, and with him and his partner, I went into the doctor's office precisely at ten AM. Jon Michaels said he and his detectives would cover the back of the building.

The waiting room was empty, a nurse, and a secretary were at desks behind a counter. Agent Tommy Barden's attitude didn't surprise me; he was direct and authoritative when he announced that we were there with a Federal search warrant. The women looked shocked, and after a moment the nurse said, "I'll get Dr. Greene."

We watched her go down a hallway and a moment later Dr. Greene appeared. He was a small man, and obviously very old as he shuffled his feet slowly, with his shoulders hunched over. His large thick eyeglasses were out of scale to the rest of his body.

"You Dr. Greene?" Agent Barden queried. "We're here with a Federal search warrant to seize any and all records of your post-mortem exam of Susan Peterson and any evidence from said exam that you may be holding." He was reading directly from the warrant when a woman with two small kids came through the front door. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Agent Barden suddenly turn and start to reach for his gun inside his suit coat. I grabbed his arm to stop him and he pulled his hand away.

"It's okay Ma'am, just a little police matter, nothing to worry about," Barden's partner said. "We'll be just a few minutes, please, have a seat." Barden glared at me and my disgust with his drama was written all over my face.

Suddenly, one of Jon Michaels' undercovers burst through the front door and said "Mr. Richardson, we need you out back right now! You need to see this." Before I could move, Agent Barden stepped in front of me and said "Richardson, you stay here with the Doctor," and he walked quickly outside. His partner looked at me and shook his head. "I'm sorry Mr. Richardson, that's how he is," he said in apology.

I asked Dr. Greene if we could speak privately and he escorted us to his small cluttered office. I explained that the Federal government had entered the Peterson murder case and that I was told that he had done an autopsy on Susan.

"No," he said, "I haven't done an autopsy in almost fifty years!" I was taken aback by his answer, and asked, "Doctor, did you do any kind of post-mortem exam of Susan?"

"I did. The funeral home and police brought her here and Detective Manning had me undress her so that he could take photos of her injuries."

I looked over at Agent Barden's partner and I could see that his mind and mine were on the same track. "Doctor," the Agent asked, "can you describe her injuries to us?"

"I can do better than that, Son. After the police left, I took my own photos and did a thorough post-mortem exam. Let me get her chart." He called the front desk on the intercom and a few minutes later his nurse came into the office with a manila folder and a small sealed cardboard box labeled "Sexual Assault Evidence." The Agent and I both stared at the box. Dr. Greene produced six color photos of Susan's body, three of which depicted her head and neck.

"As you can see, she was beaten and strangled, but the cause of death was a broken neck. It's all here in her chart," he said as he slid the manila folder across his desk.

The typed report looked very professional and after a quick glance I saw the heading "Specimens." Dr. Greene had drawn Susan's blood, performed anatomical swabs and fingernail scrapings. He may be an old- school doctor I thought, but he performed the exam by the book. I handed the folder to the Agent.

"Dr. Greene are the specimens you collected in this box?" I asked.

"Yes, I called Detective Manning and told him I had some items he might want to have, but he never came and took it."

"Doctor, did you speak personally with Manning or leave a message for him?"

"Oh yes! We spoke about this being the first murder that I could recall in my fifty years in Ethan Falls. He said not to worry about it that he would stop by when he was in the area."

I heard the Agent's cell phone ring, and he quickly answered. A few seconds later he exclaimed "WHAT!?" I looked at him and he motioned for me to lean over to him.

"Barden said they found a load of drugs and some pipe bombs in the house out back," he whispered. "The State guys have someone under arrest and Barden's calling for the bomb squad."

"WHAT?" I asked, speaking louder than I had meant to. I told the Agent to go out and make an assessment and let me know what was going on."

"What's happening?" Dr. Greene asked, "This is all very upsetting to me."

"Doctor Greene, do you have an assistant, a man named Farhan?" "Yes, why?"

"Do you know where he is right now?"

"Probably in his apartment out back. He lives there."

"What's Farhan's last name?"

"Hussein," he answered. "Farhan Hussein. Is something wrong? Is he all right?"

"Doctor, our search warrant includes the buildings on your property. My associates are telling me that they've found Farhan with some drugs and explosive materials back there. He's been placed under arrest."

Dr. Horace Greene buried his face in his hands and shook his head. "This is a nightmare. I knew something wasn't right the past few months, he hasn't been himself. He comes into the office looking like he hasn't slept. He told me that he's been staying up at night studying."

"Studying what?" I asked.

"For the medical boards. He was a physician in Iraq, and our country won't recognize his degree because he lost his documents in the fighting over there. The man is brilliant, he told me he has two degrees, one in medicine and one in electrical engineering."

"And you believed him, Doctor?"

"Of course. I interviewed him extensively. His knowledge of medicine is incredible. He's been a blessing for me with my care, especially the people in the resettlement village. He speaks Arabic."

"How did you meet him?" I asked.

"He just showed up one day. He told me that he had fled his country because of the war and found asylum in Canada. He immigrated to this country and needed work and a place to stay. I felt sorry for him and hired him as my medical assistant."

"Doctor, did he show you any credentials to verify his story?" "All he had was a passport and a picture of him when he was a medical student in Iraq. Have I done something wrong?" he asked.

I didn't answer and was literally saved by the bell when my cell phone beeped and vibrated. I saw it was Jon Michaels calling me from out back.

"Daryl, we've got a few hundred bags of heroin, about a half-pound of what's field testing as fentanyl, scales, glassine bags, and what looks and smells like a meth lab in a workshop next door. We found six assembled pipe bombs and bags of gunpowder, nails and nuts and bolts. This guy is the one we've been looking for! Not only is he running a drug factory, he's a bomb maker! This son-of-a-bitch is a terrorist Daryl!"

"Okay Jon, I understand. I think that you should call Captain Merrill and fill him in. Let me know what he wants to do." "Detective, or whatever I should call you, am I in trouble?" Dr. Greene asked.

"I apologize Dr. Greene. My name is Daryl Richardson. I'm an attorney with the US Department of Justice. And to answer your question, I'm not sure. I have information that your assistant Farhan was giving narcotics to some of your patients at the resettlement center. Were you prescribing narcotic painkillers for them?"

"Of course not! The most I've ever written for them has been Tylenol with codeine. I don't believe what you're telling me. This must be a mistake. I don't want to answer any more of your questions until I call a lawyer. I've done nothing wrong," he said excitedly.

"Doctor, I understand. The warrant authorizes me to take possession of the original copy of Susan's medical record as well as the specimens you collected."

"You can't do that," he protested. "Those are privileged physician- patient records."

"You're mistaken Sir," I said as I gave him a certified copy of the search warrant. "This was issued by a Federal judge and lists what may be seized. I'm taking the original file, but I'll let your nurse make a copy for your files as long as I watch her doing it."

He studied the warrant for a few minutes and said, "Okay, I'll have the nurse make copies, but then I would like you to leave. I have patients to see."

"I don't think that's going to happen today Doctor. Very shortly you're going to have bomb squad and HazMat teams in your yard." "Oh my God," he cried out. "I'm ruined after fifty years of devoting my life to helping the sick and injured," he said forlornly.

"Doctor, from what you've told me I think you've been a victim in all of this. And your skill and dedication to medical standards by obtaining critical evidence from Susan Peterson's body may lead to solving her murder. That's how people will judge you." He looked up at me and quietly said, "Thank You. You're a kind man for saying that. Let's make that copy of her chart."

I watched the nurse make the copies and went outside to the back of the yard as three State Police cars screeched to a stop out front. Jon Michaels briefed the Troopers, and they began a door-to-door evacuation of the neighboring houses.

"Daryl, a bomb disposal unit and HazMat crew is on its way down from Rutland," Michaels told me. "And Captain Merrill wants you to call him as soon as you can." I dialed the cell number that Jon gave me. "Merrill here," he answered. "Daryl Richardson here, has Jon briefed you on what we have up here?"

"Yeah, good job you guys. But listen, I wanted you to hear it from me first; the FBI has arrested Sheriff Hunter."

"WHAT?" I asked in disbelief. "On what charges?" "Insurance Fraud, Wire Fraud, Money Laundering and violation of the RICO statute."

I was stunned. "How can that be?"

"It was primarily due to the hunch you had about the bail bond company. Your people in Boston sent us the documents on the company and you were right. Freedom continued to write bonds for almost two years after the State revoked their license for non-insurance. Jacob Meisner's team put the warrant application together and a Federal judge issued it.

"I can't believe that all of this is coming together so quickly," I said.

"Well, it is. I have a team on their way with the FBI agents to arrest

Warren Donnelly at his office as we speak. Same charges, and I think that's just for starters" the Captain responded. My heart was pounding, and my mind raced to comprehend what he was telling me.

"And Daryl, we seized a report, if you can call it that, a two-page document that John Carpa wrote up after he and Detective Manning shot Mark Savage. It says that Savage stormed the sub-station armed with a rifle, told them that he killed the girl and shot the Judge, and said he was going to kill them too. They wrote that they had no choice but to shoot him. We also seized the rifle from the evidence room that the report says Savage was carrying."

"Captain, what about the video from at the sub-station?"

"I'm not up there, I'm in Hamilton, but my team over there said that the station was unmanned, and they had to force entry. They told me that they don't see any cameras."

"Captain Merrill, I'm mad as hell that I can't be there to see the look on Donnelly's face when they arrest him," I said.

"Me too Daryl. I'm heading over to Ethan Falls in a few minutes; I want to meet up with you at the court house and bring your FBI agents with you. We're going to execute the building search warrant when I get there, I don't want to wait until tonight. Are your tech people from Boston here yet? We're going to need them."

"I don't know if they got in yet. I'll call Boston and get their cell number," I said.

"Fine. Do you need anything up there? Five more Troopers are on their way down there from up North to help contain the scene, and the Sherriff's Department is sending some cars up to help you."

"Abbott Sheriffs? Are you sure that's a smart move?" I asked.

"Daryl, you won't believe this, but the ones we spoke with here are glad we arrested Hunter. They actually thanked us for finally stepping in."

"Did Hunter offer any resistance?" I asked, privately hoping that he resisted arrest.

"He started to come at my team but one of my Troopers, I think you met him, Rick Anderson, took him down to the floor and had him cuffed in less than thirty seconds."

"I did meet Rick, you sent him to my house with the warrants. He's huge! In fact, all of you guys are huge!"

Merrill laughed, "It's the mountain air and maple syrup Daryl! Meet me at the Courthouse and I'll give you a full briefing."

I ended the call and leaned against a fence post to think. I never saw any of this coming this fast, but I still had Susan's murderer to find.

Jon Michaels came up to me and asked, "You okay Daryl?" "Yeah Jon, just surprised with how fast all of this is going down. And thanks, you and your guys did a great job."

"Couldn't have done it without your lead Boss, Thank You!" he said as he walked down to brief the troopers and Abbott deputies who were arriving on the street. I called Damian Costigan and his secretary put me right through.

"Daryl, I just got a call from our Vermont office. The word here is that you've got drugs, bombs, the Sherriff and County Exec. Great work man!"

"Thanks, but I need some help. I have to track down your techs and get them to the Ethan Falls courthouse ASAP."

"Okay. I'll call them and see where they are and re-direct them. Sounds like things are breaking fast up there. Give me a call with status reports when you can," he said and ended the call.

I stood on the side of the doctor's office and watched the crowd on the street start to grow; displaced neighbors, passersby stopping on the street to gawk. It was only a matter of time before the media circus arrived in town.

I saw two of Jon Michael's team walking a handcuffed Farhan Hussein down to an unmarked car parked on the street. I was surprised that he was older than I thought he would be. He shifted his gaze to me as they placed him in the back of the car and I could see hatred in his glare. "He wants a lawyer!" the undercover said turning to me. "Wait until we tell him about the Patriot Act detention provisions! He'll start talking then!"

Where are you taking him for processing?" I asked. "Bellington," the undercover answered. "The Captain over there, Dan Monroe, offered us the use of his department's lockup until we can move him to a Federal holding site, probably Boston. I'm sure seeing these guys in cuffs will give his men a lot of satisfaction."

I went out to my Challenger and locked Susan Richardson's medical record and the evidence package in the trunk.

As I started the car Jon Michaels came up to my window.

"Daryl, can you do anything about this jackass Agent Barden and get him out of here before my guys rip his face off? He's running around like a chicken with his head cut off, barking orders, screaming at the neighbors to move on. What the hell is wrong with this guy?"

I turned the car off and dialed Captain Merrill's cell.

"Yeah Daryl," he answered. "Cap, we have an issue with Agent Barden that was assigned to us. He's being a jerk and is pissing off everyone around him. Can you recall him before your guys knock him on his ass?"

"Tommy Barden? I told his boss that I didn't want him on this case. You tell Barden that I want him to meet me at the Court House immediately. I'm on my way there and I'll call his Agent-In-Charge to re-assign him. Any luck finding your techs?"

"I'm on it. I expect a call from them any minute now, thanks Cap." Jon Michaels and I went to the backyard and I told Agent Barden that per Captain Merrill he was to immediately report to him at the Ethan Falls court house. He looked surprised.

"I don't work for Merrill, and I don't work for you Richardson. I'm an FBI agent," he said in resistance to the order. I was tempted to knock this guy on his ass myself before Jon Michaels did. "Barden, I'm a US Attorney, and technically at this scene, I AM your boss. And I'm telling you to get your ass down to the Courthouse now!" Before he could argue his cellphone rang, and he answered it brusquely. "Yeah, Barden!" He was quiet for a minute and I could hear the voice on the other end was loud, but I couldn't make out the words. I heard him say "Right Chief, I'm on my way." He shoved the phone into his pocket and I could see his anger was about to explode. Without another word, he stormed off, and we watched as he went to his car and spun the wheels as he raced off down the street. "Thanks Boss," Jon said shaking my hand. Barden's partner Agent Bill Phillips came over to us. "I wondered when you were going to have enough of him. What do you want me to do?"

"Bill, you're now the Agent in charge at this scene. Work with Jon and his guys to collect the evidence. If you need anything, call me." Phillips shook my hand and said, "Will do."

I went back to my car and in five minutes I pulled into the court- house lot. As I parked, I saw out of the corner of my eye Agent Barden in an animated conversation with an older man dressed in a suit and tie. I watched as he took Barden by the arm and opened his car door for him. I watchd Barden slowly drive away.

I heard someone call out "Daryl Richardson?" and a man approached with his hand extended. "Jack Merrill. Finally, we get to meet face to face. Let's sit over there on the picnic table and we can talk."

"My men arrested Warren Donnelly," he said. "They grabbed him as he was trying to get out of his office building."

"Did he put up a fight?" I asked.

"Oh Yeah! From what my men told me he went into a rage and they had to force him to the ground and cuff him. He was carrying a handgun, but he never got to it. They said he's been screaming like a banshee, threatening to sue all of us, the Federal Government, demanding to see his lawyer. He went absolutely ballistic when they told him he was being detained without bail pending arraignment in Federal Court.

"I wish I was there. What about Carpa and Manning?" I asked.

Merrill explained that when they arrested the Sherriff his men looked for Captain Carpa and Detective Manning to interview them but were told by the dispatchers that they were on the road. Neither of the detectives responded to several radio calls asking for their locations.

"And get this Daryl, when my men found the rifle in the evidence room it was tagged with the same inventory number as a plastic bag that contained six bullets. You'll find it interesting that the ammo was soft lead nose, not copper jackets. Before this evening I need you to go over to the Medical Center and execute the warrant for the bullets. I'll have an FBI agent go with you and file the return with the Court. As soon as he gets the bullets, I'll have them hand delivered to our crime lab in Montpelier. They said they'll rush a ballistics comparison between the bullets and the rifle we seized to see to if that was the weapon that shot the Judge. My gut feeling is that it is."

"Cap, I don't believe that Deputy Savage shot the Judge or murdered Susan Peterson."

"Well Daryl, so far your instincts have been right on. Who do you think did?"

"Carpa and or Manning."

"Okay, but keep in mind what their report says. He stormed into the building with the rifle, admitted his guilt to them and raised it to shoot. They claim self-defense. Without any video, we have to take them at their word. There were no other witnesses."

I thought for a moment and then it dawned on me, something I noticed last week.

"Cap, when I gassed up my car the other day at the station across the street from the Sheriff's office I noticed that they have four cameras trained on the pumps. The two cameras closest to the building may view the Sheriff's office in the background. It's worth checking out."

"It's worth a chance," he said. "Hopefully they save a few days of video on their system."

We saw a car pull into the lot and two young guys got out and one of them waved toward us. It was the two electronics techs from Boston. They approached and introduced themselves as Frank Paris and Pat Collins. I explained to them that we suspected that the Courthouse had been bugged, and the signals were being transmitted to a nearby house over a microwave link. We walked to the side of the lot and I pointed to the tower on Billy Barnum's property.

"Ham radio," Frank remarked, "Nice beam antenna."

"See that smaller antenna below the main one?" I said. "There's a matching one over here on the corner of the courthouse roof." The techs looked back and forth between the two systems and Pat said, "Not microwave, looks like a UHF link. Piece of cake to check it out. Let me get some equipment."

"Wait a minute guys. The owner of that house is the Court Superintendent. He's a suspect in the wiretapping. We don't want him to catch you snooping around," I cautioned them.

"Hey Mr. Richardson, haven't you heard? We're the black bag spooks! Piece of cake. What's that next to the house? Looks like a park or something."

"Yeah, a small one," I answered.

"Okay c'mon Frankie, let's drive up there and I'll use the laser scanner to see what frequency is being transmitted." As they headed back to their car I asked again, "Are you sure you can do this without being detected?"

"Piece of cake," they said in a unison laugh, "Chill!" As they drove out of the lot Captain Merrill looked at me shaking his head. "Daryl, this next generation of law enforcement really scares me."

While we waited Merrill said he wanted to share some confidential intelligence. "Daryl, we pulled our undercover agent out of the survivalist camp yesterday. He says there are eight guys living up there in three small houses about a half-mile inside the entrance. He says most of them are from out of State and have been up there a few months. He said that one of the guys is from Maine, and he's an expert gunsmith. He's allegedly working on some high-power ordinance.

"Our agent thinks it's a homemade grenade or rocket launcher. The others going up to use the firing range there are from the area, a few from New Hampshire. They're doing weapons training with the automatic weapons that the Sherriff got through a Federal grant. That's how our undercover got in there. Our guy said they've been doing some photo reconnaissance of State office buildings and National Guard storage areas and he thinks they're planning some bombings." "Why though?" I asked.

"Our guy thinks that they're going to try to blame the violence on the Islamic refugees that have settled up here, make it look like terrorism." I didn't answer. I only saw Yo-Yo at the resettlement camp, but from what Mandy told me there were a few families living there, not young radical types.

"Daryl, if we can get our hands on those automatic weapons, and they trace out to be the ones the government provided, we have Hunter for arms trafficking. And if the documents your Boston office sent us to check out implicate the County Exec as the head of this so-called Patriot Foundation that's supporting his run for the Governor's office, we have him for conspiracy, at the least." I didn't respond to what he was telling me.

"Daryl, we have to get into that camp now! We're going to raid it!

We're assembling an assault team, mostly Emergency Services Units from the region and some FBI support units. The National Guard is going to provide us with some helicopters for air cover in case shooting breaks out."

"Jack, I can see where you're going with this and I wish you luck. But my role in this Grand Jury probe is to find out who killed Susan Peterson and shot Judge Moran. This all seems to be far removed from that."

"Daryl did Jon Michaels tell you about what his narcotics detectives have been finding in the overdose death cases?"

"Yeah, he said that lab tests showed heavy concentrations of fentanyl mixed with the heroin."

"Did he tell you that the bags of heroin were stamped with some sort of Arabic symbol?"

"No, I don't remember him telling me that. He may have, but if he did, I missed it."

"That's the link, Daryl! Make it look like the Islamists at the re-settlement center are killing off the drug users. That's a form of terrorism, and we think that somehow Susan Peterson and Judge Moran stumbled onto that information. I think the person or people you're hunting are involved with that survivalist camp."

Our tech boys pulled back into the parking lot and came over to us. "It's a pretty sophisticated UHF link as we thought," Pat Collins said. "The laser scan got the frequency, and it sounds like one or more phones are tapped and being transmitted. There's no noise in the background, so we don't think any of the common areas are bugged. What do you want to do?"

"Wait a minute," I interrupted, "How do you know phones are tapped?" The two whiz kids looked at each other and smiled. "Is there a Dom Petroni or something like that in the courthouse right now?" asked Frank Paris.

"Dan Petrone is the County Attorney," I answered.

"Well, he's on the phone right now with some lawyer type arguing a plea bargain," Collins explained.

"You heard that?" I asked.

"Please, Mr. Richardson, you doubt our work?" quipped Frank. 'What's next?"

"Do you guys know anything about video systems?" The two exchanged a bored look and I could see that I wasn't impressing them with my knowledge of electronics.

I explained the shooting of Deputy Savage inside the Sheriff's office, and the chance that a gas station across the street may have caught the scene on their video. "Then let's take a look," they said in unison. These two were a trip I thought, but they came highly recommended by Damian Costigan.

The four of us drove to the gas station in Jack Merrill's car and we met with the manager. His reluctance to cooperate surfaced quickly, and he asked if we had a search warrant. Jack Merrill pulled him aside and explained that he was the Commander of the State Police Major Crimes Unit. "Well," he said to the manger, "we don't, but we can get one, but that will take hours."

"Listen friend," he continued, "your cameras may have evidence of a murder. So, while we're writing up the warrant, I'll have to post a few trooper cars across your driveway to keep your customers out to make sure the video isn't disturbed. So, let's see, losing four hours of business will cost you what, two or three hundred dollars? And if we come back with a warrant, we're going to seize your cameras and recorder and computer. That's what, another five or six thousand dollars?"

"Okay, Okay, I get it. The recorder is in the back office! Who are these two?" he asked pointing to Pat and Frank.

"They're undercover FBI agents. I'm sure you don't want them hanging around out front here, do you?" Merrill asked with a grin. The whiz kids smiled at each other and we went into the back office. "Nice system," said Frank as he sat down and started typing on the keyboard.

He looked up at the manager and said, "You know, your username and password shouldn't be ADMIN/ADMIN. I'll fix that for you before we leave. Okay, gentlemen, what's the date and time of the shooting?"

Jack Merrill checked his notebook and gave the info to Frank. He changed the screen to bring up only the two cameras closest to the building, and I found that I was right. One of them had a clear but distant view of the entrance to the police substation. Frank moved the video frames in fast forward mode until we caught a glimpse of someone walking toward the front door.

"I think that's it," Jack Merrill exclaimed "That could be Mark Savage. Can you zoom in a little?"

Frank looked over and smiled. "Piece of cake," he said, and I watched the enlarged image clearly showing Mark Savage walking to the door. He wasn't wearing a jacket, and he wasn't carrying a rifle. Merrill and I exchanged looks but didn't speak.

Frank took a pen and wrote down the time stamp on the back of his hand. He looked up at Merrill and me and said, "WHAT? Not everyone carries a notebook you know."

He manipulated the video slowly through the next seven minutes of video. At that point we saw a male quickly walk out of the front door and go over to a car parked in a side driveway.

He opened and closed the trunk and quickly walked back into the Sheriff's department. Frank stopped the video at a frame that had a good three-quarter view of the man's face as he looked around as if to see if anyone was watching. He was clutching a rifle close to the side of his body. Frank increased the image size just to the point of distortion, but we could clearly see it was a rifle.

"Is that John Carpa?" I asked Merrill. "Yeah, that's Captain Carpa," the station manager interrupted. "He's a customer here, all the Sheriffs are. What's the big deal with that?" he asked.

Captain Jack Merrill and I didn't respond. Frank Paris spoke up, "I see that you don't have a printer," he said to the manager. "Pat, you have a USB drive in your bag of tricks?"

Pat Collins reached into his pants pocket and pulled out about a half dozen removable USB drives, in varying colors. "Use the blue one," he said as he handed it to Frank. "Blue is easy for me to remember which one the data's on."

Merrill and I looked at each other and both us fought off the urge to laugh. Like I said, these guys were a trip.

Frank became serious as he quickly worked, explaining that he was copying the entire seven minutes of video, and then a series of still frames showing Savage's arrival and Carpa going out to the car without the rifle and coming back in with it. The whole process took him less than fifteen minutes. They were an odd couple, but Frank and Pat obviously knew their stuff.

When Frank finished, he turned to Captain Merrill and said, "Write down your email address, you too Mr. Richardson and I'll email the data to you tonight." Turning to the station manager he said, "The bad news is that I have to seize your computer's hard drive, the good news is that this is a Dell and we have a larger new hard drive in our car. It will make your computer work much better and faster and I'll replace it for you for free." The manager obviously didn't know what to say, finally, he muttered, "Thanks."

Captain Merrill drove Pat and me back to the Courthouse lot. When we got there, I looked at my watch and told Merrill that we needed to interview Billy Barnum, but I needed to get to the Medical Center and take possession of the bullets.

A few of Merrill's men were in the lot, along with some FBI agents. He spoke with them and he assigned one of the agents to head down to the Medical Center with me to execute the warrant. He said he needed to touch base with Jon Michaels to see how the evidence collection and clean up at Dr. Greene's place was going.

Turning to Pat Collins he said, "Pat, go back and change out the gas station hard drive. Get the owner to sign this consent to search his computer. I don't care what you tell him, I just need his signature. Then I'll need you and Frank back here."

"Piece of cake!" Pat said. "If he balks, I'll ask him what all the porn is doing on his computer." Merrill looked at me and I shrugged. "Don't ask," I said.

Merrill said he and his men would interview Billy Barnum and see if they could get consent to search his house. Turning to Pat he said, "When you're finished at the gas station I want you and your partner to check out Barnum's electronic equipment."

"Cool, I love ham radio stuff. Piece of cake, we'll be back in a flash," he said and sprinted back to his car.

Captain Merrill shook his head and said, "Daryl, got a minute?" and motioned me away from the rest of his team.

"The video we saw is clear. Savage never had a rifle when he went to the office. Carpa and Manning murdered him and then tried to frame him for Susan's murder and the hit on the judge," he said.

"Yeah," I responded, "and I think we'll find that the rifle will test out to be the one used to shoot the Judge. Now we need to find Carpa and Manning and we need Manning's gun."

"Agreed," he said, "and I have to get a reading from the US Attorney to see who will file the murder charges."

"Wow Jack, you have a lot on your plate," I said.

"Yeah, but I left something out when we talked before. We're raiding the survivalist camp tomorrow morning at six AM. I want you to be there. We're going to stage here at the Courthouse at five. Get some rest tonight, this could get messy tomorrow."

I nodded, and we shook hands. I waved to the FBI agent he had assigned to me and we headed down to the Bellington Medical Center.

On the drive down, I called Kaitlyn Mason and told her that I was on my way. She told me to ask for her at the Reception Desk when I got there. I called Mandy and was just getting ready to disconnect after five rings when she answered.

"Daryl! Thank God you called. I've been praying for you. Are you all right?"

"Yeah Hon, I'm fine, it's just been a crazy day up here, and this is the first chance I've had to call you."

"Daryl, we've been sitting here watching the news. Every local station has a special report. You've arrested Sheriff Hunter and Warren Donnelly? And Farhan? And you found bombs and drugs? My God, I've been going out of my mind with worry. Daryl, this is killing me," and I heard her start crying.

"Mandy," I said with no response from her. "Mandy?" "Daryl, its Lindsey. Mandy's okay she's just wrought with anxiety over you. She's safe with us; we'll take care of her. Just give her a few minutes."

"Oh, thanks, Lindsey. I was afraid of this," I answered in gratitude "Daryl, all of this is on the news now. They're showing satellite trucks and crowds of reporters pouring into the village. Daryl, this will destroy our little town!" she said.

"It's almost over Lindsey. One more day and I think I can come home and explain to you who murdered Susan and shot your husband. Ethan Falls will survive and come back stronger. And we will too." "Okay, I'm worried, but I believe you. Here's Mandy," she said.

"Oh Daryl, I'm so sorry that I broke down on you. I've been fighting off crying all day long but with everything on TV I couldn't take any more."

"It's okay sweetie, It looks like I'll be home tomorrow afternoon. My work here is almost over."

"I hope so. I'm praying for you. We all are. I know you're busy, but can you call me tonight?"

"Yes, I'll call around seven. Is that okay?" I asked.

"Of course, I'll be waiting. I love you Daryl Richardson. Good bye."

After I arrived at the Medical Center, my FBI Agent partner introduced himself as Paul Sanders. We went to the Information Desk and in a few minutes, Kaitlyn Mason and Security Manager Tom Hines met with us. Agent Sanders produced his ID and presented Kaitlyn with a copy of the search warrant. She studied both documents and handed him his ID. Turning to Tom she said, "This is all good Tom, you can release the evidence."

As Tom opened the safe Kaitlyn motioned me aside. "We've been glued to the TV in our break room. The news coverage is all regional special reports. It sounds like you're taking Ethan Falls apart. Bombs, drugs, the Sherriff and County Executive arrested? Is it over Daryl?"

"One more day Kaitlyn, and I think I'll be able to prove who killed Susan Peterson and shot Judge Moran.

She leaned over and gave me a hug. "Daryl, please be careful, we're all praying for your safety."

"Thank You, Kaitlyn" I said and turned to watch Agent Sanders documenting what he was seizing before he turned it over to me. I signed the chain of custody form for him and bid my hospital friends goodbye.

Out in the garage Agent Sanders and I shook hands, and he said he'd file the warrant return in the morning. As he walked to his car, I couldn't help but think that Agent Tommy Barden could learn a lot from this man.

I locked the bullets in the trunk of my car and drove back to the hotel. I freshened up in my room and went down to the lounge for a beer.

I was surprised to see Mandy's bartender friend Davey behind the bar. True to form, he was providing drinks and entertainment to two comely coed types sitting at the bar.

"Hey!" he greeted me with his hand outstretched.

"Mandy's friend. I'm sorry but I never got your name." I shook his hand and replied, "Daryl."

I ordered a light beer and took a stool distant from his girlfriends.

When he brought my drink he said, "We haven't heard from Mandy. Is she okay? I heard she took a leave of absence. We're all worried about her."

I told him that she was fine. She was away for a while but was safe and coming to terms with what had happened with Deputy Savage. I thanked him for stepping in and helping her when the fight broke out. He looked embarrassed and said it was just the right thing to do. He said he heard that Savage had been killed and that he was the one who murdered Susan Peterson and shot a judge. I told him that I too had heard that but didn't elaborate. He leaned over and spoke quietly, so his girlfriends couldn't hear.

"Mandy told me that she really likes you. Do you know how many guys have hit on her at the bar? She's turned them all down, and never talked about any one of them, only you." I sensed he was fishing, so I just smiled.

"When you talk to her, please tell her I miss her." I told him that I would, and he went back to his friends. I finished my beer and left a five-dollar bill on the bar. I went up to my room, changed into jeans and set my alarm for six-forty-five so that I wouldn't miss my seven-pm call to Mandy. I was lying on the bed dozing on and off when I heard my phone vibrating on the table. It was Captain Jack Merrill.

"Daryl, I want to fill you in on our interview with Billy Barnum. He told us quite a story."

Merrill went on to say that Billy was approached by Abbott Sheriffs Carpa and Donovan who told him that they were doing a secret investigation of County Attorney Dan Petrone. He said they told him Petrone was taking bribes and that they had a secret warrant to tap his phone. He said he told them he didn't believe them, and they called the County Exec and he emailed Billy an order to cooperate with the secret investigation.

Merrill said he thought Billy was out of his mind and lying, but he went to his computer and brought up Donnelly's email to him. It was true.

I sat upright on the bed as Merrill continued. He said when they asked Billy about leasing the survivalist camp, he told them that he did sign a lease with Donnelly and Sheriff Hunter for them to establish a wildlife refuge, a park, and a sportsman's center in memory of his family. He thought that the people living up there were clearing the land and making hiking trails. He said he hadn't been up there for over a year, but Donnelly had told him that the whole plan would take a year or two to finish the park. He denied ever signing the property deed over to anyone.

He said he had the office building constructed on land his family owned, and he had enough cash saved over the years not to have a mortgage. He said he signed an agreement with Donnelly to manage the building for him, and the office rents would cover the taxes and insurance and the excess would be applied to the development of the park. He adamantly denied signing the property over to Donnelly for one dollar.

I interrupted Merrill and said, "Captain, are you telling me that the Abbot Sheriffs and Donnelly engaged in wiretapping, and secretly converted Billy Barnum's property to themselves?

"That's what Barnum told us, and I have to admit, I think he's telling the truth."

"But Jack," I asked, "what about the wiretaps being transmitted to Billy's house?"

"Your techies did an electronics' sweep of Petrone's and the Judge's offices with some kind of gadget they had. They found the phones were tapped, and each office had a tiny microphone wired into the desk lamps. Your boys said the work was almost as good as theirs is. Professional they said."

"Barnum signed a consent to search, and we went to his house with the geek brothers. They were blown away by his ham radio station, gushing about how much equipment he had. Anyway, Barnum said that he didn't install the antenna between the house and Court, he's too old to climb the tower."

"Then who did?" I asked.

"He said Detective Roger Manning showed up one Sunday morning with an Arab guy who climbed the tower like a monkey and installed the antenna and a computer in his ham radio room. Want to take a guess who we think the installer was?"

"Electrical engineer Farhan Hussein," I answered.

"Bingo my friend! Barnum said Manning never introduced the guy and never called him by name while he was working. As soon as we can get a booking photo of Hussein, we'll show Barnum a photo lineup to see if he can pick him out."

"But who was getting the audio recordings and how?" I asked

"Barnum said Manning instructed him to download the data onto a USB drive twice a week and email it to Warren Donnelly! The last three weeks they wanted the downloads every night. Your geek boys hacked into the recording computer and found a download file. They said it's all there, just like Barnum said it was. And Barnum saved the sent emails."

I was standing up next to the bed at this point and told Merrill I couldn't believe that these Abbot guys and Donnelly were so stupid.

"Daryl, we're cops, we think these guys were stupid. But your geek boys, they were impressed. Sweet they said. They were salivating as they were working on the system. They're really good, but where in hell did you find these guys?"

"This is the new FBI Jack. You and I are dinosaurs I guess."

"Okay, switch gears. Did you get the bullets from the Medical Center?"

"I did, they're locked in the trunk of my car with Susan Peterson's medical record and the rape evidence kit."

"Okay. I want to get the bullets and rape kit up to our Forensics Unit tonight. I have a Trooper ready to drive up there. Okay if I tell him where you're staying and give him your cell number? I'll have him swing by and pick up the evidence."

"Sure. Just have him call me from the hotel lobby and I'll take him out to my car. Make sure he has a chain of custody form for us to sign."

"Will do. And Daryl, try to get some sleep. We have an early morning appointment.

At seven I called Mandy as promised. She sounded better than she did earlier, and I answered the dozens of questions that she had from watching the news. I answered them as best I could and eventually steered our conversation to her. She had called her parents, and they said they were glued to the TV coverage of the events in Ethan Falls. They were pressuring her to go up to Stowe and stay with them until things settled down, but she held fast to her decision to stay in Stockbridge.

She said Judge Moran started physical therapy, and she thought that he was looking stronger every day. I told her that I had to be up early in the morning and I needed some sleep. We ended the call with my feeling that she had worked through her fears and would be waiting for me to come home.

About a half hour later I received a call from the Vermont Trooper who was in the lobby. I transferred the evidence to him and went back to my room and went to bed. Tomorrow was going to be my make or break day.

Chapter Nineteen

On Wednesday morning I was up, showered, shaved and dressed by four-thirty am. I strapped my weapon and ammo clips onto my belt and grabbed the Federal Officer windbreaker from my garment bag. I didn't want to be wearing it when I went down to the lobby, but as I passed the registration desk, the clerk barely glanced at me. I opened the trunk of the Challenger pulled out my bulletproof vest from an attaché case and put it in the back seat.

There was almost no traffic as I headed north out of Bellington but after a few minutes, I came upon four Trooper cars and a van ahead of me. We formed a convoy and pulled into the Ethan Falls court parking lot a few minutes after five. As soon as I pulled in, I realized that Captain Jack Merrill wasn't taking any chances. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that there were at least thirty uniformed and plainclothes officers gathered by the picnic table, and I saw that he was setting up a map on an easel.

A few minutes later I saw a Vermont State Police Emergency Services truck and two private ambulance service units, and a paramedic car quietly arrive. Merrill gave a short but thorough briefing. He believed that there were between six and ten men staying at the camp, and they were to be considered armed and dangerous.

He had broken down his raid team into four squads, one for each of the sleeping quarter's buildings and the fourth to secure an area the undercover agent had said was their armory.

Merrill told the group that they would make entry into the camp on his command when he saw two National Guard helicopters sweep in and hover above the center of the compound. His plan was for the noise to confuse the occupants. The group had no questions, and he dismissed us to standby. As I started to walk away, he spotted me and called me over. As I walked up to him, I saw Bellington Captain Dan Monroe walking over. We shook hands and I told him I was surprised to see him here.

"Captain Merrill asked if I could provide my department's K-9 unit for support," he said. "We have two drug sniffers and one bomb detection dog. They're with their handlers out on the street." Merrill said, "Daryl, last evening I got the word to seek State arrest warrants for Carpa and Manning charging them with the murder of Mark Savage based on the evidence we got from the gas station video. My best warrant detective wrote up an affidavit and we got a State Judge to sign off on the warrants at one this morning. The Judge ordered one million dollars bond for both, cash, no surety." I looked over at Dan Monroe and he was as surprised as I was.

"Cap, you're not wasting any time on this," I said. "That's great work. Now all you have to do is find them."

"WE have to find them, Daryl. Is Manning still your prime suspect in Susan's murder?"

"He is."

"We were pinging Carpa's cell phone all night, and it looks like he's heading north, probably trying to cross over into Canada. The pings got no response around two AM, so either he's out of range of a tower or he turned the phone off. After Hunter and Donnelly's arrests, he knows we're on to him."

"And Manning?" I asked.

"Our undercover that infiltrated the militia said that a few times in recent weeks Manning stayed in a small cottage on the north edge of the compound. Supposedly it's tucked in next to a large propane storage tank. We didn't get any location hits when we pinged his phone. If he is in there, you have the first crack at him. If it weren't for all the work, you did on this we wouldn't be here this morning. I owe you that."

A Trooper approached us and apologized for the interruption.

"Captain, the choppers will be lifting off from the Rutland airport in five minutes," he informed us. Captain Merrill gave the order for his officers to move out to the entrance of the compound and standby.

"Remember, slow and quiet, no headlights. I don't want any accidents," he said. "The ESU truck will be the first through the gate. If it's closed and locked, drive through it."

Dan Monroe looked over at me and said "It's show time. Ride with me."

I went over to my Challenger and put on the bulletproof vest and windbreaker. I got into his unmarked and we took a position at the end of the line of cars.

"I don't know how this is going to go down Daryl," Dan said. "As I was driving in, I saw a few of the neighbor's lights go on down the road. This much traffic at this hour isn't normal. Wait until they hear the choppers. I hope that we still have the element of surprise." I leaned back in the seat and thought to myself, I bet Eddie Peterson was looking through the curtains to see what the noise was.

Dan lowered the driver's door window and about five minutes later we heard the whir of rotors from the approaching choppers. He craned his neck to see if he could spot them, but they were flying dark. We heard them pass low and directly over us and heard the command, "EXECUTE – EXECUTE," over a loudspeaker. Almost instantly the early morning dawn was made intense by the floodlights beaming down from the choppers. Dan pressed on the gas pedal and we sped through the compound entrance. He swerved to avoid hitting the chain link gate that the ESU truck had burst through. Suddenly we heard automatic weapon gunfire inside the camp.

Dan skidded his cruiser to the edge of the dirt driveway and yelled

"Get out, this side, take cover." I bailed out the driver's side door on his heels and we took cover behind a cement pillar. We heard another burst of gunfire that sounded like it was coming from the roof of a two-story building. We saw one chopper veer sharply up and away, the second one swung in low and shined its spotlight on the building.

"Damn," he said, "they're shooting at the chopper." We saw a flash of automatic gunfire from the door of the chopper and a burst of automatic weapons from the ground. We could see the Troopers on the ground storming the sleeping quarters and heard them screaming for the occupants not to move. The rooftop shooter was silent.

We saw the second chopper beaming its light on the propane storage tank and we moved closer, ducking behind whatever cover we could find. We heard a bullhorn ordering the troopers to "COVER - COVER IN PLACE,"

From our vantage point we squinted and could see a man waving a gun in our direction, screaming something we couldn't understand. The choppers gained altitude but remained illuminating the man.

We heard a bullhorn command, "THIS IS THE STATE POLICE DROP YOUR WEAPON," several times. We could see the man was moving closer to the propane tank, Dan and I moved in for a closer view. "That looks like Manning," he said.

The choppers rose higher, and the lighting was less brilliant. "What's he got in his left hand?" Dan asked, "looks like a bottle." I strained to see what he was holding, and Dan pulled me back behind a pallet.

"Be careful, you don't want to get killed, do you?" he said. We could hear the man screaming, "Move back or I'll blow the tank, Move Back! _"_ The ESU team moved in closer, and the man ran up next to the propane tank. He pointed a handgun at it and screamed, "So help me God I'll blow it. You'll all die with me."

The stand-off went on for three or four minutes when we saw a figure slowly creeping out of a large storm pipe behind and to the left of Manning. I strained my eyes but couldn't make the figure out, so I took a chance and bolted about twenty yards up closer. I heard Dan yell, "Daryl, get down," and Manning turned in my direction and fired a shot. It hit the dirt off to my right as I ducked behind another pile of wood pallets.

I heard the bullhorn call out "H0LD YOUR POSITIONS -HOLD YOUR POSITIONS." I peered out from the pallets and saw a small frame man dressed in camouflage holding a handgun. He crouched and silently snuck up behind Manning.

Suddenly he leaped up and grabbed Manning around the neck from behind, pressing his gun against his head.

"DROP THE GUN – DROP THE GUN," the man screamed. Manning tried to break free, but the man tightened his grip and lowered the gun into Manning's crotch. He dropped the gun and the bottle, which broke as it hit the hard ground.

I dropped down to my knees, "My God!" I said out loud, "that's Eddie Peterson!"

I heard the bullhorn command "You, with the gun. Drop your weapon. Drop your weapon."

Eddie screamed to Manning, "YOU KILLED MY DAUGHTER, DIDN'T YOU? DIDN'T YOU?" I could see Eddie tightening his grip on Manning's neck, pressing the gun harder into his crotch. Eddie screamed again

"DID YOU KILL MY DAUGHTER SUSAN?"

Manning cried out, "YES! YES! It was an accident. Carpa told me to scare her but she fought back hard! I didn't mean to kill her!"

I stood up and yelled to the ESU Troopers "Hold your fire! Hold your fire! He's a friendly. He's a friendly!"

Eddie Peterson looked over to me and squeezed harder on Manning's neck. "DID YOU RAPE MY DAUGHTER? DID YOU RAPE MY DAUGHTER?"

"NO! NO!" Manning screamed "NO! I SWEAR TO GOD!"

I stood up and started walking slowly toward the men. This time it was Captain Merrill's voice on the bullhorn ordering his troopers to hold their fire.

"Eddie," I called out, "He's telling the truth. I spoke with Dr. Greene. He examined Susan and said she wasn't raped." Eddie just stared at me.

"Eddie, he killed her, but he didn't rape her. Please, Eddie, give me the gun." I moved up to within ten feet of the men and held out my hand.

"Eddie, it's over. You have the man that killed Susan. Let him rot in a cell for the rest of his miserable life. Please, give me the gun. It's over."

The blast of Eddie's gun shocked me, and Manning let out a blood- curdling scream as he fell to the ground grabbing his crotch. The ESU Troopers rushed over to us with their weapons trained on Eddie.

"I aimed low," he said as he handed me the gun. "He only thinks I shot him. Are you going to arrest me now?"

"Eddie, what were you doing out here, crawling out of that pipe? And how did you know Manning killed Susan?" I asked.

"I came up here through the woods about four this morning. I was searching the outbuildings for her Jeep when I heard the commotion on the road. I crawled into that abandoned drainage pipe and made my way inside it until I realized it opened into the compound. When I heard the shooting, I held my cover. I found her Jeep, Daryl! It's behind this cabin, covered with a tarp and brush. It's a lousy camouflage, all the cops had to do was fly a chopper over it and they would have found it. Manning came out of that cabin Daryl!"

Captain Merrill ran up as Eddie was speaking. He looked at me and I quickly told him that Eddie was Susan Peterson's father, about her Jeep being missing since the murder, and that Eddie had been searching for it at night for weeks.

He looked at Eddie and I could see him staring at the Marine Corps tattoo on his forearm. He asked, "Do you have a permit for this gun?"

"I do Sir," he replied coming to a stiff attention posture.

Merrill looked at me again, looked over at the drainage pipe and offered his hand. "Thank you for your assistance here, and your service to our Country. I'll have someone take you home and we'll come by later to take a statement from you."

I could see tears in Eddie's eyes as he reached over and shook our hands. This time, his grip was soft. The rage he had been holding in for the past three months was drained from his body. He walked away with two of the ESU team with their arms around him.

"How are you going to write this up?" I asked Captain Jack Merrill. He thought for a moment and said, "Exactly like it happened, Daryl." Dan Monroe came up to us and shook my hand. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're crazy Richardson?" I didn't respond.

We moved back to the center of the compound and we saw the troopers bring out seven prisoners from the sleeping quarters. We heard a Trooper yell to Merrill that the guy on the roof was dead. The sun had fully come up, and we watched the choppers fly off.

Merrill said, "We're going to be here all day doing a search, inventorying the weapons and supplies, checking the IDs of the guys we have in custody. Why don't you two take off before the media swamps us? And don't forget we still have to find and arrest John Carpa."

"And I still must find his brother Pasquale Carpanara for the attempted hit on Judge Moran at the hospital," Dan Monroe chimed in. Dan drove me back to my car at the courthouse and as we turned in, we could see the first TV news station van speeding up the road to the compound. "Merrill's going to be one tired boy by the time this day is over," he said.

After Dan drove away, I went inside the Courthouse and noticed that there were two young Abbott Deputies checking IDs and using metal detector wands on everyone entering. One of them spotted me and motioned me around the line.

"And you are Sir?" he asked.

"Daryl Richardson," I answered, "from the US Attorney's Office. I'm here to see County Attorney Dan Petrone." He directed me to pass through.

Dan Petrone's waiting room was empty, and his clerk quickly came out of her office and greeted me. She called Dan on the phone and he appeared in less than a minute. "I was wondering when the hell you were going to tell me what's going on," he said as he extended his hand. "C'mon in and talk to me."

It took me almost half an hour to explain the case developments to Dan, the murder warrants for Carpa and Manning killing Deputy Savage, and I could see his anger when I told him about the wiretapping and the accusation that he was accepting bribes.

He said he was up to speed on the Federal arrests of Sheriff Hunter and the County Exec and the attempted hit on Judge Moran from the TV coverage, but Farhan Hussein's arrest was a surprise.

I told him about the raid on the camp, and how Eddie Peterson ended the stand-off with Manning after he admitted he had killed Susan.

"Daryl, there were so many secrets in Ethan Falls, but you exposed them. Personally, and on behalf of my neighbors, thank you for your excellent work. So, what's next for you?"

I told him that I was going home to Stockbridge, and hopefully, Judge Moran and Lindsey would be able to come back home to Ethan Falls. He asked me to give them his fondest regards, and I invited him and his wife down to my house for a visit after the dust settled.

I left the Courthouse feeling as if the weight of the world was off my shoulders. There was one loose end to tie up, but the pieces were in place to match the rifle Carpa took out of the trunk of his car and Manning's gun to the shooting of Judge Moran. I just had to wait for the Crime Lab report. I had one more stop to make, drop off Susan Peterson's medical record for Captain Merrill at the Bellington trooper barracks and after that, I could check out of the hotel and head home As I pulled into the hotel lot, I saw my two electronic geniuses loading their luggage into their car. I thanked them for their excellent work and assured them that I'd let Damian Costigan know how they helped break the case open. "Piece of cake," they said in unison as they got in the car and drove off. I cleaned out my room and left a gratuity for the chambermaid. In the lobby the clerk quickly processed my bill for the three rooms and by eleven I was on the road back to Stockbridge.

In a little over an hour I pulled into the Stonegarden estate and much to my surprise and amusement I saw the love of my life wearing a baseball cap and jeans on the lawn tractor. As soon as she saw me, she leaped off and came running over to me. As I stepped from the car, I learned that for a small woman her hug was like a bear's! "Daryl, Oh Thank God! I'm so glad that you're home safe."

I tapped the brim of her cap and said," I love the look. What the heck are you doing?"

"I couldn't stand to watch any more news about Ethan Falls. They've had special reports on all morning, and even the national networks are carrying the story. My God Daryl, I guess Google was right about you!" She grabbed my hand and said, 'C'mon, I know Judge Moran and Lindsey are dying to talk to you."

As we walked, I complimented her on how well she was mowing in straight lines! She laughed and said, "You haven't seen anything! This morning Erik taught me how to drive the Gator! Look out world, this country girl is on a roll!" I can't tell you how thrilled I was to see this side of Mandy again. I had put her through hell and it was a test of our relationship, but now I was grinning ear to ear. Who would have thought? Daryl Richardson is really in love with this girl!

Judge Moran and Lindsey were sitting out on the deck and I could see that the rest and fresh country air were having a positive effect on them. After a handshake from him, and a long hug from Lindsey I sat down, and Mandy brought me a VO and Coke. "I think you've earned this," she said as she handed it to me.

I brought the three of them up to speed on the case. Judge Moran never shifted his eyes from me. When I finished, he finally spoke. "So, it sounds like I was shot because I was a threat to their criminal enterprise," he said. "And Dr. Greene's associate was an unexpected collateral arrest."

"Yes, Sir," I said. "The root of all of this was their intent to make the State government look bad, paint the Governor as ineffective, and use violence and drug trafficking as their tools. And that cost Susan Peterson her life and almost killed you. But I knew Farhan Hussein was a critical link after Mandy worked with refugee boy to draw a picture of Farhan's friend who had given him drugs and needles. That was Detective Manning."

"Without Mandy's help, I'd still be back at square one." I said as I reached over and took her hand; she looked down at the floor and smiled.

"And the wiretaps at the Courthouse? And Billy Barnum's exposure to prosecution as an accomplice?"

"I can't speak for the US Attorney, but from what I was told, Billy was duped. If they're smart, they'll grant him immunity from prosecution if he'll testify against Hunter, Donnelly, and Manning."

"That sounds logical" Judge Moran opined, "But I seriously don't think that there will be a trial once the Government is finished piling all of the criminal charges on them." For a man who was near death a few weeks ago, his brain was as sharp as ever.

"I agree. I think that Carpa and Manning are in the worst shape. Once we get confirmation from the lab that their weapons were used to shoot you, and when the drug trafficking and wiretapping charges are added, they're both looking at life sentences," I said.

"But Daryl, as I understand it Carpa is still on the run," he said.

"He is Sir, but it's only a matter of time. And don't forget they still need to locate and arrest Carpa's brother and identify his associate from the hospital incident. Bottom line is they still have some loose ends."

Mandy got up and walked behind me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. "I'm glad you said _they_ have some loose ends, not _I have_. I'm not letting you out of my sight little boy! You're staying here with me!" We all laughed, and honestly, I didn't want anything more than to stay with her. The Moran's thanked me for everything I had done for them and said that Mandy and I should have some alone time.

"Oh!" Mandy said, "We'll have our alone time, but first this country girl has to finish mowing the lawn! Daryl, I won't be too long, you just relax. You've earned that!"

At dinner we feasted on spaghetti and homemade meat sauce that Mandy and Lindsey had cooked up late in the afternoon. After the women cleaned up, the Judge and Lindsey retired to their bedroom. Mandy and I watched TV, and my yawning finally got to her by eight pm.

"I'm sorry Honey; I haven't had much sleep in the past twenty-four hours."

"Well, my love," she said, "I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is we're going to bed. The bad news is that you aren't going to get any sleep for the next half hour. You okay with that?"

I leaned over and gave her a kiss. "Yeah, that's okay. Just don't take it personally if I fall asleep."

### Chapter 20

I slept until ten on Thursday morning and after I showered and dressed,+ I went out to the kitchen to find that Mandy had left me a note that the Moran's had gone up to Ethan Falls for a doctor's appointment, and she had gone over to Lennox to do some shopping. I made myself a coffee and went out on the deck. I saw that the local farmers were out haying the lower meadow, and I saw Erik coming down the hill on the Gator. I walked down the steps to the backyard and he pulled up to me.

"Good Morning," he greeted me. "Bernie and I have been watching the news stories on Ethan Falls. Sounds like you cleaned house!"

"Yeah, it turned out to be more than I planned on. At least we got the guy who killed Susan Peterson, and two of the deputies are probably the ones who shot Judge Moran."

"I have to tell you, I've enjoyed having your girl Mandy around here. She pestered me to teach her how to drive the Gator and once she got the hang of it, you would have thought she was ready for NASCAR! And then she wanted me to teach her how to fish!"

"How did that work out for you?" I asked.

"Bernie and I took her up to the lake for a couple of hours to get her out of the house and she caught three smallmouths before we got one! "And when we were packing up the Gator she saw the shotgun and asked why I was bringing it. I told her that we had bears roaming this time of year. Now she wants me to teach her how to shoot! I told her I'd have to run that by you, but I'm telling you, Daryl, you better marry this girl or Bernie and I are going to disown you!"

I just smiled and didn't respond. Erik went about his chores and I went in and checked the news on my laptop.

There were a lot of stories about the action in Ethan Falls, and as I scanned through them, I could see that the press was doing a lot of speculating and embellishment of what had happened.

One article caught my eye, and it said that there were unconfirmed rumors that I had been brought in from the Boston Justice office to oversee the investigation of Judge Moran being shot and that led to breaking open the whole scandal of the County officials. Not what I wanted the world to know I thought.

Just before noon, I got a call from Bellington Captain Dan Monroe.

"Daryl, I wanted to fill you in on something about the incident at the Medical Center. Tom Hines worked his ass off reviewing hours of video and came up with a still frame of the guy that was with Carpa's brother. He emailed it to me. Late last evening Jack Merrill sent out a confidential email with a photo of the guy that was killed on the rooftop at the compound. One of my night detectives saw it come in and noticed that it was the same guy in the hospital photo."

"Man, that's a stroke of luck. Any ID on the guy?"

"Not yet. Merrill's team sent his photo and prints down to Washington and copied the New Jersey State Police Intelligence Unit. One of the guys that were arrested is starting to talk a little, and he said he thought the guy was from Newark."

"Dan, all of this is somehow related to these guys that came out of Jersey."

"I know Daryl, it looks that way. We're working with the Jersey cops to try to find John Carpa's brother. I have a warrant for him charging attempted murder, and a few other felonies related to the gun he had. I'll keep you posted."

The case was progressing just fine without me I thought as I switched on the TV and sprawled out on the sectional in the family room. Mandy came home in the early afternoon and chatted about her shopping, and after she put her goods away, she curled up next to me.

Lindsey called her and said that she and the Judge decided to stay the night at their house, but they would be back down here in the morning. I wasn't too comfortable with that, given Carpa and his brother were still on the loose, but I let it go.

Friday was a quiet day, with no updates on the case. On Saturday morning I got a text from Captain Jack Merrill asking me to call him.

"Daryl, thanks for calling. John Carpa's been arrested. He was trying to talk his way through the Customs inspection point between Maine and New Brunswick. He was using a driver's license with his true name, Giovanni Carpanara. When the Customs agents ran his name through the National Crime Information Center, they got the murder warrant hit. I had entered his true name as an alias. They're holding him without bond, and we'll start the extradition paperwork Monday morning."

"Great work! Any word yet on the ballistics tests?" I asked.

"No, but I spoke with the Crime Lab boss, he said he's authorized his guys to work the overtime to get the tests done. He said he should have something for me by noon tomorrow. I know that's Sunday, but I can call you when I get the results."

"Absolutely Jack. If the guns and bullets match like I think they will, I can back out and let you take it the rest of the way."

"Thanks, Buddy! You know the damn paperwork is the hardest part of any case," he said with a laugh.

"Well maybe if you talk nice to him and promise him a bottle of booze like I did, Jacob Meisner will give you a hand!"

"For all the work you got him to do for us you owe him a case!" he said.

"Get me his address and consider it done. Talk to you tomorrow," I said.

Mandy came into the family room. "I heard you on the phone. More business?"

"Yeah, but I think tomorrow I'll get the last information I need and I'm out of this." She gave me a kiss and a long hug.

"That's what I've been praying for my love."

"Hey!" I said, "What's going on with your parents coming down to visit?"

"It looks like they'll be down next Saturday. I talked to my mother yesterday, and she sounded more comfortable about us. She said she and Hansel have been watching the news out of Ethan Falls news and have been Googling up a storm. She said they're amazed by your career."

"Damn Google!"

At one-thirty Sunday afternoon, it all ended with a call from Captain Jack Merrill.

"Daryl, the ballistics are done. Both weapons were used to shoot Judge Moran."

"Thank You, Lord," I offered.

"And Daryl it gets better. We got a hit on the pings we were doing for Pasquale. It located him in Miami. The FBI down there found him in a hotel and they raided his room and caught him with a hooker at two this morning. I woke Dan Monroe up when I got the news and he's ecstatic." I was quiet for a moment.

"One more thing Daryl. The forensics lab examined the sexual assault evidence taken from Susan Peterson's body. There is no evidence that she was raped."

"Daryl, I have to ask. How did you know that when you were talking Eddie Peterson out of shooting Manning?"

"I wasn't sure about that, but I had to tell Eddie something. I remembered that Dr. Greene said the detectives had him undress Susan when he did the post-mortem. It struck me then that there hadn't been a sexual assault."

"Well Daryl, I found some comfort in knowing that her killer hadn't violated her."

"Then it's over Jack! Thank you and your men for your support and cooperation."

"No, Thank You, Daryl. You built our case for us. Don't forget you invited me down to your place.

"We'll set something up Jack. Maybe we can get Dan Monroe and his wife to join us," I said.

"His wife? Daryl, you mean his fiancée, don't you?"

"What?"

"His fiancée. That pretty lawyer gal from the Medical Center.

"Kaitlyn Mason? Jack, I saw her rings. She's married!"

"No, my friend. She's divorced. Been a few years now."

"Jack, I definitely will set something up for you guys to visit. We all have a lot to talk about!"

Late Sunday afternoon Mandy's mother called her, and I saw that she was in the kitchen on the phone for almost a half hour. She came into the family room and handed me the phone. "My father would like to talk to you Daryl."

"Mr. Simmons, this is Daryl, Hi!"

"Daryl, I'll get right to the point. Mandy's mother and I have been concerned about your whirlwind relationship with our daughter. And after learning what you do for a living, we felt that she was making a mistake."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Mr. Simmons."

"But after seeing how you've protected her this past week and watching the news about what you did in Ethan Falls, we were wrong about you."

"I didn't answer, and I looked up at Mandy who had that " _What?"_ look on her face.

"Can we assume Daryl that your relationship has long-term implications?"

"Yes, it does," I responded.

There was a long pause on his end of the phone, then he said, "If those implications are marriage, then you have our blessing if that's what you two decide. We've never heard Mandy be this serious about anything in her life, and we have to respect that she's not our little girl anymore."

"Thank you. I'm hoping that you and Mandy's mother can come down to Stockbridge next weekend. I'd like to celebrate some things with all of you."

"Yes, we'll be down Daryl. Please tell Mandy that her mother will call her during the week. Nice talking with you." I handed the phone back to Mandy. " _WHAT?"_ she said.

"Your Mom and Dad will be coming down next weekend to celebrate with us.

"Celebrate what?" she asked.

"Your achieving an MBA. And our engagement if you say yes you'll marry me."

She looked stunned.

"Your father said that if we decide that we want to get married down the road, he and your mother give their blessing."

She didn't say anything and after a few moments, I filled the void.

"I remember that you said that you didn't want to talk about marriage for at least a year, and I'm not sure why that's so important to you. But you didn't say anything about waiting to get engaged. I want you to be my fiancée.

"You lawyers are always looking for loopholes! Daryl, in less than a month I've seen that your life is full of violence, and so many people rely on you to help them get through it. I want to wait a year to get married to be sure that I won't disappoint you by being scared for you all the time and crying about it. I want you to feel that I can give you the love and support that you need. All your money is every girl's dream, but not mine."

"Mandy, we'll be fine. We can wait for a year, but I want you to know that I'm not letting you go. Will you be my fiancée until we get married?"

"YES! I would love to be your fiancée and not your girlfriend!"

"Is it too early for a nap?" She asked.

