Ian pointed out that it was actually quite brilliant, especially since – according to the digital powers that be – they didn’t really exist anywhere anymore except in people’s minds and memories anyway.
And why had Nicki left so suddenly? At the time, Sean’s instincts told him she was involved with something, but nothing had gone down that he knew of. They’d all been watching and listening for any hint of a covert op within a couple hundred miles. Sean was sure whatever it was, it was local – but nothing had blipped on their radar. There had been a brief moment of hope when Nick suggested that maybe his sister was finally going to take down Benny Marscone. It made so much sense. But when they traced Benny to a local address under an alias, they found the place empty with a For Sale sign out front and no indication of foul play.
The biggest question, and the one that haunted Sean the most: why hadn’t she returned to him? Why hadn’t she trusted him? To make matters worse, something was niggling at the back of his brain. They were missing something, he was sure of it. But what?
After an hour or so of accomplishing nothing, Sean pushed himself away from the innards of the old Camaro and wiped down his tools. Maybe what he needed was a fresh perspective.
––––––––
“I feel like shit.” Sean poured himself into a seat at Maggie’s ancient, scarred kitchen table. With the cheery sunshine yellow walls, white cabinetry, and enticing aromas of the freshly baked goodies Maggie always had on hand, it was the most comforting place he could think of. Not to mention Maggie herself. She might be his brother’s wife, but she took care of all of them, really.
“You’ve lost your croie,” Maggie said sympathetically, pouring him another cup of coffee. “Of course you do.”
Once again Sean was glad Michael had brought Maggie into their family. She got it. She poured one for herself and joined him at the table, pushing a plate of cookies toward him. He went over everything they’d found – and not found – again. Methodically. Accurately.
“I’m missing something, Maggie,” he said in frustration. “I know it.”
Her green eyes swirled and lost focus as she considered him. It was hypnotizing (and freaky) as all hell. “Yes,” she said slowly, “I think you’re right.”
“Can you see it?”
“Well,” she said slowly, working through things in her mind. “I’m not sure, exactly. Let me ask you this – are you and your brothers in any Federal database?”
“No, of course not. Except for our official records.”
“So what if Nicki’s in the same kind of situation? Working covertly, but with a freelance group? Surely you guys aren’t the only one.”
Sean considered this. Yes, there were others. Rogue teams of disillusioned ex-military and others who ran missions under the radar. But Sean and his brothers were the best. In any event, it was worth looking into. He nodded. “I’ll talk with Ian. He’ll know how to find out. Anything else?”
She chewed a cookie thoughtfully. “Something’s not right about this Benny guy.” Sean stirred restlessly. He felt the same way. “Well, not him exactly. His house.”
Sean’s brow arched, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling. “Explain.”
“Isn’t it a bit of a coincidence that his personal residence goes up for sale within days of Nicki’s disappearance?”
“Yeah, of course. But we checked the place out. It’s clean.”
“Exactly,” she nodded emphatically. “Who cleaned it?”
“Excuse me?”
“Who cleaned it? From everything you’ve told me, I can’t picture Benny Marscone rolling up his sleeves and diving into a bucket of Pine-Sol. And a home is always prepped before it goes on the market – the real estate agents would have seen to it. Maybe whoever cleaned the place found something that might be useful.”
Sean pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called Ian. Within a few minutes Ian called back. Sean listened intently. When he disconnected, he leaped up and pulled Maggie into a hug. “I love you, Maggie Callaghan.”
A deep growl sounded from the doorway. Sean flashed Michael a brilliant smile and released Maggie. “You married a fucking genius, Mick.”
“Good news?” Maggie asked as her husband moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her possessively. She snuggled her backside against him, assuring him of her singular devotion.
“You were dead on, both times. Ian says he’s heard of a couple of renegade teams – one or two in particular that seem promising. He’s going to start looking a little closer, call in a couple of favors. And the house? No professional cleaning service within a hundred miles was used. Mick, grab your CSI shit. You and Maggie are going house-hunting.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Nicki’s a Chameleon,” Ian said triumphantly, tossing a file down in front of Sean. The living space on the second floor of the Pub – where Shane, Kieran, and occasionally Sean still lived - had become their center of operations. This was where information was gleaned and shared in their search for Nicki.