Boosted Pt. 01

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This is book three of a three book series. While I endeavored to make it possible to enjoy each book on its own merits, I believe the books will be most enjoyed by reading them in the following order.

Deadly Waters

Flashover

Boosted

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PROLOGUE

Sean McGhee slid the duffle containing their clothes and other items for their trip into the boot of his 1966 Jaguar E-Type. He shoved it hard into the left side of the car, making room for him to tuck the smaller suitcase beside it. The XKE wasn't a small car, but it had been designed for sex appeal, not luggage space, so they'd been forced to pack light.

The weather was perfect. It was a beautiful October Friday, with bright sunny skies and a predicted high in the mid-seventies. He'd been living and working in Brunswick for almost a year and he'd decided it was time to take a few days for himself. He and Maggie Neese were going to New Bern for a four-day weekend. Having Maggie all to himself over a long weekend was appealing enough, but he was also looking forward to hopping the ferry from Cedar Island to Ocracoke Island, and then another ferry over to Hatteras Island to see the lighthouse, before driving up to Kitty Hawk to see where powered flight was born. Driving along the barrier islands in view of the ocean, the Jag's top down on a sunny fall day with Maggie in the seat beside him, made him smile every time he thought about it.

He had to get away for a few days. He was making himself crazy worrying about all the things he needed to do. Last week he'd made an offer on a building in downtown Tilley with the intent of opening an Irish pub, the Loch and Castle. He'd lowballed the building owner to minimize his risk, but he was still taking a big leap of faith by being the first business to open in Tilley's long deserted downtown, especially a place like the Loch and Castle.

Tilley's mayor was anxious to promote growth and had readily agreed to all his demands. With the tax breaks, waiving of fees, and the improvements the city had agreed to make, he'd never get a better opportunity. If the owner took his offer he almost couldn't lose. He didn't know anything about running a pub, but with The Mills at Brunswick project well underway to attract a more affluent crowd to Brunswick, he wanted to be poised to take advantage of what he hoped would be an increased demand in dining options, options that didn't involve a drive-thru.

He heard the kitchen door thump closed and he glanced up, smiling as Maggie approached. She dropped her purse into the passenger seat before handing him their final piece of luggage, a gym bag that held shoes, liquids, and their bathing suits. He wedged it into an opening between the duffle and the suitcase and tried to close the boot lid. It bound up before latching and he spent a moment shoving bags around and mashing them down.

"Is it all going to fit?" she asked as he tried to close the lid again.

"It'll fit," he grunted as he leaned on the lid to latch it. "Ta-da!"

"We ready?" she asked, pulling her sunglasses off the top of her head and perching them on her nose.

He patted his pocket to make sure he had his phone and then quickly went through his mental checklist. Marmalade, his fat orange tabby, had plenty of food and water, so he'd be fine, Will Donner could handle anything that came up at work, as unlikely as that was, his pistol was tucked safely into the duffle, and he'd gone to the bathroom before bringing out their luggage. "Yeah, I think," he replied as he stepped around the car to open Maggie's door.

She folded into the seat and adjusted her sweater as he shut the door. He stepped around the car to the driver's side, slid behind the steering wheel, snapped his seatbelt, turned the key in the ignition, and pushed the starter button. The car spun over rapidly, but it didn't want to start. He frowned at the starter button. He wasn't surprised the car was cranky about starting yesterday when he'd fetched it from the building where it was stored. The last time he'd driven it was several months ago, when he'd taken it to Car's on Main, but normally it started right up after it had been driven. He pushed the button again, adding a little choke to help it along. It coughed to life, running roughly as he feathered the throttle before it cleared its throat and roared lustily. He looked at Maggie and grinned. Owning a British car was a terrific exercise in learning patience. He snicked the car into reverse and backed it out of Maggie's garage. Clear of the big roll-up door, he switched the car off without thinking. He reached to restart it immediately but decided to wait. The Jag would either start, or it wouldn't, and the thirty seconds it took him to close the door wouldn't make any difference.

"Be right back," he said as he clambered out of the car.

He walked to the garage and pressed the Enter button on the keypad that allowed someone to open and close the door without the remote. When they'd started leaving changes of clothes at each other's house, he'd given her a key to his apartment and she'd given him an opener for her garage, but the small plastic box was clipped to the visor in his police car. As the door rumbled down, he squeezed back into the Jag and leaned over for a kiss.

"I'm really looking forward to this trip," he said as Maggie pulled back from his noisy smooch.

"Me too."

He pushed the starter button, and again the car shook and shuddered before stalling. He glared at the car as if it had insulted him. The last time it'd been hard to start like this was after he'd driven it to Raleigh on a hot summer day. The Jag had always been fussy about starting after it got hot, but that shouldn't be the problem this time. He pushed the starter button again and the car shuddered to life. He feathered the throttle until the car gathered itself. He revved it a couple of times and it seemed fine. He looked at Maggie and grinned. She'd ridden in the car enough to know the Jag had, as he liked to call it, personality.

He backed down the drive and into the road. When he tried to pull away the car stumbled, tried to stall, and the roughness returned. Slipping the clutch, he got the car moving then planted his right foot. The car surged away with a howl, pulling strongly as he worked the car through the gears. As the engine warmed the car smoothed out, but every time he tried to accelerate, the car hesitated a bit and seemed down on power, like it was fouling the plugs. He turned onto Highway 70 and again put his foot down, revving the engine hard to try to clear the fouling. It was a straight ninety miles down Highway 70 to New Bern, but he could tell something wasn't right with the car. He attempted to pass a slower car, but as he pulled out and dipped into the throttle, the car wouldn't accelerate and he could feel the shudder of the engine though the body of the car.

"What's wrong with it?" Maggie asked.

He shook his head. "Don't know, but whatever it is, it's getting worse."

He played with the car for a few miles, trying to figure out what was happening. If it were something simple, like fouled plugs, that should have cleared up by now. The car pulled hard at full throttle, once it caught its breath, and ran okay under a light load, but the moment he asked for more power, the car balked, and the problem was getting worse.

"We need to go back," he said as he began to slow. There was a business coming up on the left that he could use to turn around.

"What are we going to do?"

He flipped on the turn signal and whipped the car into the parking lot, down shifted to keep the revs up, and quickly pulled the car into a big loop before burying his foot and howling back onto the road. He could feel the slightest of shudders even under full power now.

"Go home, get your Civic, and try this again."

"Will it make it?"

That was the question wasn't it? They were only ten or fifteen miles from her house. He thought the car could make it that far. Maybe. "Yeah, I think so."

The Jag was really suffering when he pulled it into her drive, and it stalled as he keyed in the numbers on the pad to raise the garage door. It wouldn't restart and they were forced to push it into the garage.

"Well, shit," he muttered as he pulled back on the car to stop it from rolling into the lawnmower.

"Do you want to stay and " Maggie began.

"Oh, no! I've got you all to myself for four days. You're not getting out of it that easily," he interrupted as he opened the boot. "It won't be the same as if we were taking the Jag, but that's only a minor disappointment."

"Yeah. I was looking forward to taking it."

He smiled at her as he pulled the first two bags from the car. "I guess we'll have do the trip again. Maybe in the spring."

She grinned back. "I like the way you think."

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ONE

The keys of Sean McGhee's laptop clicked softly as his fingers danced over the keyboard. It'd been ninety days since he hired the last two of his officers, and he was working on their reviews. They'd successfully completed their evaluation period and he was going to give them some feedback and a small raise. Thus far he'd hired eight of the twelve officers he'd requested when the Brunswick Police Department took over patrolling of Tilley. He might still hire the last four officers, but he'd paused his furious hiring to give him time to evaluate if additional staff was warranted. Being able to call upon backup from available officers patrolling either Tilley or Brunswick, when required, might allow them to police both areas effectively with the current staff of twenty-four sworn officers. His department seemed to be winning the drug war in Tilley and he didn't want to pad his staff just because he could. More officers meant more headaches. He'd learned that firsthand during his tenure with the Boston Police Department.

When Tilley contracted with Brunswick for police services as part of Mayor Rudy Klinger's plan to have Brunswick, Tilley, and Abbyville working together for the common good, it'd stretched his department almost to the breaking point. They'd started small, pushing the drug dealing out of Tilley's long deserted downtown area, but over the past nine months, as he added manpower, they'd driven the dealing deeper and deeper underground. He wasn't so na ve to think he'd run the drug trade out of Tilley, but open dealing no longer existed. Even though his department was taking major bites out of Tilley's crime problem, the town still had plenty of issues. Theft, possession, and battery were still big problems, and even though Tilley was roughly half the size of Brunswick, his department ran about fifteen percent more calls there than they did in Brunswick. The number of calls in Tilley was continuing to decline, but his department still had some work to do before Brunswick's neighbor would be as safe and quiet as Brunswick itself. He didn't know if getting Tilley's crime under control would be enough to encourage businesses to move into town, but two businesses had made the leap of faith.

The first business to make a commitment to Tilley was Loch and Castle, a pub he was opening to try to capitalize on the need for more mid-level restaurants in the area, but a month ago another business had moved in, buying or leasing the old Chevrolet dealership at the edge of town. He didn't know exactly what was moving into the building, but it was clear from all the activity someone was committing a lot of money and effort.

Hudson Voiles, the Mayor of Tilley, had been nothing but smiles since Sean bought his building and greeted Sean like a long-lost brother whenever he saw him. When work started at the Chevy dealer, Hud became even more effusive in his greetings. Sean suspected if he asked for a parade and a street to be named in his honor, he'd get it. He hadn't started his pub as a goodwill gesture, or to win favor with Hud, he intended to make money, but it didn't hurt to have the mayor believing he could do no wrong.

He finished typing up the evaluation for Catalina Hermosa, one of the two women now on his force, and then read over his comments. Five of his officers had been hired fresh off their BLET the Basic Law Enforcement Test. Two more, Garland Jacoby and Tyrell Pickerling, had come from Tilley's now dissolved police force, and Quinten Aanson had joined the force from Dallas. Quinten might actually stick around for a while. Sean hadn't believed his luck when Quinten, an eight-year veteran of the Dallas PD, had applied for a job. He'd wasted no time in snapping him up. Quinten had applied because his wife was being transferred to Raleigh and he wanted to get his foot in the door somewhere as soon as possible, but he seemed to be enjoying the slower pace of small-town police work. Sean could understand that. He felt the same way.

Garland, Tyrell, and Quinten had been able to step in and be effective immediately, and while his fresh recruits were eager to make a difference and to prove their mettle, they were also so green he didn't want to throw them into the deep end and hope they could swim. He'd assigned them a month of ride-along duty with his old-timers, such as they were, to learn the ropes while he equipped cars for them.

With the exception of himself and Quinten, his sworn officers consisted of a few retired officers who wanted to keep their hand in, while the rest of his officers were all young with less than five- or six-years' experience. Brunswick's police force had a turnover problem. Freshly sworn officers would come in, work for a few years to gain some experience, and then leave for bigger departments and more money. In the just over sixteen months he'd been the chief of police, he'd already lost one of his officers to Fayetteville. It was an ongoing problem that his predecessor had dealt with as well. Brunswick simply couldn't compete effectively with Raleigh, Charlotte, Greensboro, and other larger municipalities on salary and advancement opportunities, and he was still trying to figure out the best way to retain his officers.

He finished reading the evaluation. He'd talked to Chips, Cat's partner during her ride-along, before starting her review. He was going to address her demeanor. Chips was one of his more assertive officers, and if he thought she was a little aggressive, then she needed to reel it in a bit. There was a time and place to take a hardline, but he wanted his officers to be polite, friendly, and approachable until there was a reason not to be. With a little nod to himself, he printed out two copies of the review before rising from his desk and hurrying to the communal printer that shared space in the dispatch office.

Kim Wells, one of his 9-1-1 operators, was talking into the headset perched on her head when he stepped into the small room. He didn't bother her. His 9-1-1 operators were a lot busier now that they were also taking calls from Tilley. At one time the call volume was so high he thought he was going to have to add another dispatcher, but with the recent decline in the number of calls, his operators were able to keep up. Taking the review from the printer he returned to his office and began working on the review for officer Tucker Zelney.

-oOo-

Sean stepped into his apartment. His place wasn't much, but the small one bedroom met his needs. The complex didn't have many amenities, but it was clean and well maintained, and that was all he cared about. Marmalade, his orange tabby, met him at the door, purring and weaving between his legs as the animal rubbed his head against his owner's ankles. Sean reached down, picked the cat up, and draped him over his shoulder, vigorously scratching the animal's ears as the cat purred.

"Miss me?" he asked as he gently dropped the cat back to the floor.

Marmalade ran to the cabinet where his food was kept, reared up, placed his front paws on the door, and then looked over his shoulder as Sean strode past. When Sean didn't stop, the cat dropped to all fours and raced past to jump on the bed, standing at the edge and meowing to be petted again. It was the same routine each time Sean, and now Maggie, came home. The cat would greet them at the door, rub and purr before racing to the food cabinet, and then running to the bedroom to jump on the bed.

Sean gave the cat a rough, playful, rub on the head as he passed before removing his service weapon and badge, laying them on the dresser where they would stay until he needed them again. He was also certified to carry a Taser, but he left that weapon at the station unless he was working an event. He glanced at himself in the dresser mirror and pushed his hair across his forehead with a thumb. He needed a haircut. He often mentally compared Brunswick to Mayberry in The Andy Griffith Show. Too bad there wasn't a barbershop in downtown he could stop in while on one of his walkabouts. It couldn't get much more Mayberry than that.

While his patrol officers wore typical black police uniforms, he wore tan pants and a black polo style shirt with 'Brunswick PD' embroidered on the left breast in gold. With strawberry blonde hair worn longer than most of his officers, glasses, and because he often carried his weapon out of sight under his shirt and his badge in his pocket, most people wouldn't automatically identify him as a police officer. An accountant or IT nerd maybe, but rarely a cop. When he'd accepted the police chief position, he'd decided he wanted to be open, approachable, and interact with the people he was sworn to protect. It had taken a little time, but walking the downtown area once a week, and maybe because of his less intimidating attire, people were becoming comfortable stopping him and making their concerns known. His pub was currently the only business in downtown Tilley, but once a few more businesses opened there, he'd add Tilley to his rounds.

"Want something to eat?" he asked Marmalade as he turned from the mirror.

The thump of the cat hitting the floor before dashing to the kitchen was his answer. As Sean rounded the corner Marmalade had already placed his front paws on the cabinet door and was watching for him to appear. He grinned. He didn't know if it was possible for a cat to actually smile, but sometimes Marmalade certainly seemed to.

He gently nudged the cat aside and looked over the selection of canned food inside. He selected chicken and retrieved one of Marmalade's bowls before peeling open the can, playfully sticking his tongue out in mock disgust as the p t slurped out of the can and into the bowl. He placed the bowl on the floor and Marmalade began to eat, purring as he devoured his food. The cat could sometimes be a picky eater, and over the past couple of weeks the animal had been especially finicky, occasionally refusing to eat. Sean declined to play that game. It was the same food the cat had been eating for years, and since Marmalade needed to lose some weight anyway, he could either eat what he was given or go hungry. The animal had lost a half-pound or so playing his game, but today he was ready to eat.

He gave the cat a quick scratch between the ears and then turned to decide what he and Maggie were going to have for dinner. It was his turn to host, so he opened the freezer to see what he had to work with. He pulled out frozen chicken breasts, putting them in the microwave to start thawing while he measured rice into a pan for cooking. They hadn't had stir-fry in a while, and he was in the mood for it. He was stirring the wok full of chunked chicken breasts and vegetables when the door opened. Maggie had a key to his apartment, and while they each still had their own place, they both treated the other's home as their own.