Boosted Pt. 06

"Now what?" Laura asked.

"Now I try to track these assholes down. They may have gotten the safe, but that's only the first step. Now they have to get into it, and that's going to be even tougher than stealing it. They are going to have to be careful, so they don't destroy what's inside, and that gives me time."

"You think you can find them?"

"Maybe. There's something about that guy waving his hand around. I know I've seen that before, somewhere. Once I figure that out, I'll have a place to start." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "What about tonight?"

Her lips thinned. "We can make do. I'll have to go get some cash from the bank, for change, and we won't have drawers for the registers, which will be a pain in the butt, but we can open. What about the back door?"

He sighed. "I fixed it once. I can fix it again."

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FIFTEEN

It'd taken Sean a couple of hours yesterday to get the door secured again. The screws on the hasp had been ripped from the frame and were undamaged, so all he had to do was reattach the hasp. While Laura waited for him to return, he'd driven to Maggie's and retrieved his drill. While he worked on the door, Laura had gone to the bank for cash so they could operate that night. After he'd gotten the door secured, he'd taken pictures of the damage and called his insurance company to report the theft. He'd also sent Ray pictures of the damage, so he could add those items to his repair list. Maggie had spluttered in frustration and anger when he arrived home and told her what had happened. She already had a low opinion of the citizens of Tilley from the vandalism and theft she had to deal with in her job. Having his pub robbed only reinforced her belief that Tilley was full of thugs, druggies, and crooks. She'd expressed her doubt when she found out his department was going to be responsible for law enforcement in Tilley, but she'd limited herself to only one 'I told you so.'

This morning there'd been a steady stream of officers stopping in his office to express their outrage and offering their help in tracking down the men that had robbed him. Fish and Gavin had spread the word last night and the entire force took it as a personal affront that someone would rob Sean. Most felt like Gavin, that the thugs were daring the Brunswick PD to catch them.

Sean looked up at the soft knock on his door. "Come in, Chips."

Charles Langley, Chips to his brothers and sisters on the force, was a heavily built man standing just under six-foot-tall, with bulging arms and a thick neck. He'd recently turned thirty, and like most men on the force, wore his dark curly hair cut short. He'd joined the force about the same time as Fish and was half of the Fish and Chips team.

"I heard what happened. Any ideas?"

"On who robbed me? No, not really."

"All those cameras and you didn't get anything?"

"I got lots of video, but these guys were smarter than your average thug. They all wore hoods and gloves, and they took the plate off the truck they used to haul away the safe. All I got was it was a white, '04 to '08 F150. There were no distinguishing marks. I've already looked. There are nine trucks in the Brunswick and Tilley area that fit that description, and who knows where the truck might have actually come from."

"Well... damn."

"Last night I cut together the various camera views and copied it to the shared folder on the server if you want to take a look at it. It's actually kind of funny watching them trying to muscle that safe around. The only thing I saw in the video was there's a guy on there that makes a motion with his hand kind of like," Sean demonstrated the hand motion he'd seen in the video. "I know I've seen that somewhere before. That ring any bells with you?"

"No, but maybe someone else will recognize it. Anything I can do?"

Sean would like to throw his entire force into tracking these asshats down and making an example of them, but he knew he couldn't do that. Having his pub robbed was no different than when anyone else was robbed, and he didn't dedicate his force to finding those perpetrators. Except it was. Loch and Castle was his.

"No, but thanks for the offer. Everyone is keeping an eye out for someone making a lot of noise in a garage or behind a fence. That safe is tough... really tough... and it won't give up easily. Unless they don't care about what's inside, it's going to take them a while to get into it, and even if they don't care, getting it open is going to be loud, messy, and time consuming."

Chips nodded. "I'll keep an eye out. If I see anyone walking along with a blowtorch, I'll stop them and find out what they're doing with it."

Sean snickered. "You do that."

"We'll get them, chief."

"I hope so, but not even so much for me wanting my property back, though that's certainly part of it. I want to bust them to prove to the town they can't get away with robbing a store in Tilley."

"Yeah, I understand, but robbing the chief of police? They've got cojones, I'll give them that. I'll take a look at the video to see if I see anything."

"Please do."

As Chips stepped out of his office, Gary Meyers, one of his newest officers stepped in. "I just heard. Is it true you were robbed last night?"

Sean smiled. "Yeah, it's true." He wasn't going to get a lot done today.

After the first hour, everyone that wanted to express their indignation had said their piece and he'd settled in to get some work done. He was approving the rest of the invoices he hadn't finished when Ray sent him a text. Found door almost like original in Raleigh. Will get today. $1050 installed. Can start Thursday morning. Sean had barely finished reading the first message when a second text arrived. Will have to inspect damage to give estimate on other repairs. Will do that when installing door. Sean responded with a thumbs up emoji. Now that the door repair was settled, he was able to finish marking invoices for payment. He spent the rest of the morning doing routine office stuff and answering emails. His first interview was after lunch and he was trying to get caught up with his paperwork before he had to stop for that.

After lunch, while he waited on the first candidate for Paul's position to arrive, he watched the video from the pub again, looking for something he'd missed. He still saw nothing, but gesture-man, as he'd dubbed him, still bothered him. The gesture was clearly an unconscious one, almost like someone throwing up their hands in frustration or pointing at something while giving directions. He was almost sure he'd seen someone, somewhere, make that same motion, but try as he might, he couldn't remember where.

His phone rang, the display showing 911 Dsptch. He picked up the handset. "Sean."

"Your appointment is here," Terri said.

"Thank you. I'll be right there." He replaced the handset, closed the video, and took a deep breath as he rose. He walked to the lobby, holding the door open so Terri wouldn't have to buzz him back into the office area. "Ms., is it pronounced Bekenronski?"

The young woman grinned. "Close enough."

He smiled in return. "Follow me, please," he said, opening the door wider in invitation.

Machala Bekenronski was twenty-two, looked seventeen, and was graduating with a bachelor's degree in criminal justice in two months. She was clearly nervous, but she interviewed well, was polite, well dressed and groomed, and seemed eager to make the world a better place. He liked her outgoing and bubbly personality, her enthusiasm, and she clearly knew her stuff. In short, he liked her, and he'd like to have more female officers on the force. Sometimes a woman's touch was exactly what a situation needed, especially when dealing with domestic violence calls, something they did more of in Tilley than he liked.

"Do you have any questions for me?" he asked, wrapping up the interview.

"No, sir."

"I have several more people to interview before I make a decision, but I'll contact you and let you know whether you get the job or not."

"Thank you, sir. I look forward to the opportunity to work with you and to serve the people of Brunswick and Tilley."

He couldn't help but smile. She'd done her homework. He hadn't mentioned Brunswick was policing Tilley. "I'll be in touch," he said as he stood, Machala rising with him. "This way, please," he said, escorting her to the exit.

"Thank you again, Chief McGhee, for the opportunity to speak with you," she said as she stepped into the lobby.

"It's been my pleasure," he replied.

He let the door to the lobby close and sagged. This was what he hated about interviews. He liked Machala and would have no qualms about hiring her, assuming her references checked out, but she was only the first candidate. He'd likely get at least one or two more applicants whom he liked just as well, but he couldn't hire them all, and he hated delivering the bad news to perfectly good candidates. Since he was there, he stepped into the dispatcher's office.

"How'd it go?" Claire asked. There'd been a shift change while he was interviewing Machala.

"Fine."

"She's cute."

Machala was, but he'd never admit to noticing. "No news on BIGS?"

Claire typed a moment on her computer. "No reports and it's still in the shift change notes to call you. Why?"

"Because I'm a little surprised I haven't heard anything, and I want to make sure we're keeping an eye on the place."

"You want to be woken up in the middle of the night?" she asked, her tone light and teasing.

"No, not really, but at the same time, I don't feel like sitting there, night after night, hoping to see something either. This is a good compromise. This way I can sleep unless and until something happens."

"Gotcha. But yeah, it's still in the shift change notes and will be until you tell one of us to take it out."

"Okay, thanks," he said before returning to his office.

While he was talking to Machala his cell had buzzed, but he'd ignored it. When he reached his desk, he picked up his phone and looked at the missed call. His heart sank when he recognized the number. He pressed the button to return the call.

"Brunswick Animal Hospital."

"Sean McGhee. Someone there called me about twenty minutes ago. I'm sorry, but I couldn't take the call right then."

"Let me see... yes, Doctor Brewster would like to speak to you. Can you hold?"

"Sure."

He sat, hoping this was going to be good news and the doctor was calling him to tell him he could take his cat home.

"Mr. McGhee, thank you for returning my call. I'm afraid I have some bad news. Marmalade still isn't responding to treatment."

Sean was quiet for a moment, as he absorbed the news. "And there's nothing else you can do?"

"No, not really. I can keep him on the drugs but all that's going to do is delay the inevitable."

"What's your recommendation?"

"It's your decision, of course, but I'd suggest that you think about what's best for Marmalade."

Again Sean was silent for a moment. "You think he should be put down?"

"That's my suggestion, yes. He's only going to get weaker as his heart continues to fail."

"Can I come see him first?"

"Absolutely! We can give you all the time you need to say goodbye."

"Now?"

"We can do it anytime. The procedure is quick and painless. He'll just go to sleep."

"Okay. I guess there's no point in delaying. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Okay. If it's any consolation, I think you're making the right decision."

"Thank you, doctor."

Sean hung up and gritted his teeth against the pain. He sat in his chair for a moment, too stunned to move, willing away the tears that threatened. He abruptly shoved his chair back and stood. There was no point in putting this off any longer. He'd been preparing himself for this since he took Marmalade to the hospital on Saturday.

"I'm leaving, and I won't be back today," Sean said as he stepped into the dispatch office, forcing his voice into normalcy.

"You okay?" Claire asked, her eyes widening slightly.

Apparently he wasn't as good an actor as he thought he was. "I have to go... deal with my cat."

"He's not doing well?"

"No."

She paused for a moment, her face crumpling in sympathy. "Oh, no, Sean. I'm so sorry. I thought he was doing better."

"Thanks. He bounced back for a little while, but I had to take him to the vet again Saturday."

"I know it makes you sad, but sometimes it's the best thing you can do."

"Yeah," he said, tears threatening again. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Take care of yourself," she said softly as he backed out of the office.

As he drove across town he clamped down on his emotions. He damn sure wasn't going to cry in the vet's office over a cat. When he pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the animal hospital, he took a moment to make sure he was in control and then stepped out of his car.

"Sean McGhee. I'm here to see Marmalade," he said as he approached the desk.

The lady behind the desk knew why he was there, and he could see the sympathy in her eyes. "Right this way, Sean. Doctor Brewster is with another patient, but he will be with you as soon as he's finished." She opened a door to an exam room. "I'll bring Marmalade to you in just a moment," she said quietly as she closed the door.

Less than a minute later, the woman reappeared, Marmalade draped in her arms. The cat meowed as soon as he saw Sean. "There's your dad," she cooed, placing Marmalade on the table.

"Hey, buddy," Sean whispered, gently stroking the cat while holding his face close to Marmalade's. "I'm sorry you feel so bad."

Marmalade struggled to his feet and walked to the edge of the table before lying down again, his sides heaving. Sean bit on his bottom lip. The cat knew. Sean picked him up and draped him over his shoulder like he'd done for so many years.

"I'm so sorry, buddy," he murmured as Marmalade purred and rubbed his head against Sean's.

He was still holding him over his shoulder, slowly stroking him, when the door gradually opened and an elderly man with hair that reminded Sean of Albert Einstein's entered the room.

"Sean? Timothy Brewster. Sorry we're meeting under such unfortunate circumstances."

"Yeah." He'd brought Marmalade to the vet's office to get him established when he moved to North Carolina, but he'd spoken to another doctor, a younger woman, then.

"Are you ready or do you need more time?"

Sean carefully placed Marmalade on the table. "I'm ready."

The doctor nodded, removing a syringe from his pocket and pulling off the protective cover. He quickly and professionally injected the contents into Marmalade's shoulder, gently rubbing the cat's head as he removed the needle.

"There you go, big guy. It's all over now." The doctor looked at Sean. "Would you like us to dispose of the body?"

"Please," Sean said, not looking up as he continued stroking Marmalade, watching as his pet's eyes became heavy and then closed.

Sean didn't hear the doctor leave, and in less than a minute, Marmalade was gone. Just as the doctor promised, the cat had simply relaxed into sleep. He continued to stroke the animal until he was sure Marmalade had crossed over the Rainbow Bridge, taking a deep breath and chewing on his lip to hold back the tears. Clearing his throat, he walked out of the exam room and turned toward the reception area.

"I'm sorry, Mr. McGhee."

"Thank you. What do I owe you?"

"We can bill you."

He shook his head. "No, that's okay."

"Seventy-eight."

He passed over his card and their business was concluded with no further words. He nodded his thanks as he took his card back, signed the receipt, and walked out of the office. Getting out of the vet's office helped a little. He sat in his car, started it for the air conditioning, and stared at his phone. This was a call he didn't want to have to make. He dialed.

"Hey Daddy! I'm surprised to hear from you. How's Marmalade?"

"Hey, Punkin," he said, using his pet name for his daughter, McKenzie.

McKenzie, his only child, was a senior at Bridgewater University, majoring in history, and had already been accepted into the school's law program. He called her once a week, usually on Sunday, and had spoken to her only a couple of days ago.

"That's why I'm calling. I just had him put down. I'm sorry McKenzie." He clamped down again on his urge to cry.

"No," she breathed. "There was nothing they could do for him?"

"No. He could barely walk, and he was panting for breath. It was time."

There was a long moment of silence. "Poor Marmalade. He had a good life though."

He nodded to himself. "Yeah. I just thought you should know since he was your cat."

"Dad, he hasn't been my cat for four years," she said, and he could hear her sympathetic smile.

"Well, in any case, I thought you'd want to know."

"I did. Thanks for telling me. How're you doing?"

"Okay."

"Really? You don't sound okay."

"Okay enough. Better?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Okay. That's all I had to say. Love you, Punkin."

"Love you too, dad."

He hung up and looked at his phone a moment before dropping it in the passenger seat. He'd spent the entire weekend and Monday night at Maggie's. It was well past his turn to host, but he didn't want to go home, not tonight. Maybe Maggie wouldn't mind him staying one more night. He pulled his car into gear as he glanced at the clock. He should arrive at her house at almost the same time as she did. He arrived first, but only just, the garage door rumbling up less than a minute after it had thumped closed. He opened the kitchen door into the garage and waited on her to step out of her car.

"You're here early."

"Yeah. I hope you don't mind."

"No, of course not. What's the occasion?" she asked as they stepped into the kitchen.

"I had to have Marmalade put down today. I just came from the vet."

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry."

She melted into his arms and he held her tight. It was hard not to cry, really hard, and he didn't entirely succeed when a single tear trickled down each cheek as he held her close, his head tipped sideways into hers.

"You going to be okay?" she asked, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

"Yeah."

"I know that had to be hard."

"It was, but it was the right thing to do. He was so weak."

She nodded. "Anything I can do?"

He tightened his embrace slightly. "You're doing it."

She tightened her hug in response. She seemed content to stand there as long as he needed her to, her embrace like a balm on the pain of his loss. He cared for her, cared for her deeply. He'd resisted saying those three little words because once he uttered them, they would be real and he couldn't take them back. The urge to tell her how he felt had been growing ever stronger. This wasn't how he imagined it would be, but he couldn't put it off any longer.

"I love you, Maggie," he whispered.

She stiffened for the briefest moment and then relaxed before pulling out of his embrace. She smiled up at him, a tender smile, a... loving smile. "I love you too." She stretched up, offering her lips, and he took her into a gentle kiss. "I didn't think you were ever going to tell me."

"I've wanted to, been wanting to for a while now."

"So why didn't you?" she asked, her eyes and face soft.

He shrugged. "Afraid? I don't know."

She stepped into his arms again. She felt so natural, so right, in his embrace. A smile tugged at his lips. It didn't seem right to smile so soon after the loss of Marmalade, but hearing her softly spoken words of love had thrilled him deeply.

He'd met Maggie a bit over a year ago and had started dating her about ten months ago. Last summer he'd realized he was starting to have feelings for her, but he'd kept them to himself, wanting to be sure how he felt. By the time winter arrived he was sure, but then fear had taken over, and he'd held back, afraid of driving her away, afraid she didn't feel the same way about him, afraid of rejection. Now he felt like an idiot. He should have told her how he felt months ago.