CHAPTER
44
Nick scooted into the tall leather-backed booth behind David Ceimo. He wanted to kick himself. He'd hesitated. Overcompensated. He didn't want to look obvious about wanting to sit next to Maggie and now Yarden beat him to it. Not only that but Yarden had managed to fit himself right in between Maggie and Jamie while David Ceimo and Nick took up the other side of the huge corner booth. Deputy Director Charlie Wurth was supposed to join them later. Nick figured he should have invited A.D. Kunze, too, but he couldn't find the FBI guy. He'd left the briefing early and no one seemed to know where he had gone.
Nick was relieved to be away from the scene, even if it would be for an hour or two. As a county sheriff and then a prosecutor, he'd been to plenty of crime scenes. But nothing this massive and never this many fatalities. He had gained a new respect for those left behind still sifting and walking the grids around the craters.
On a busy Friday evening, The Rose and Crown was packed. The English-style pub had a lobby full of guests waiting, but Ceimo's older brother Chris owned the place. He had escorted the five of them personally to the quieter of two rooms. Now he came back with place settings, handing them oversized menus and taking their drink orders himself.
"On the house," Chris told them.
"No," David insisted. "I can't let you do that."
"I'm not letting any first responders pay tonight." The older Ceimo was shorter than his brother, handsome with a quick smile but serious dark eyes. "We all make our livings, in part, because of the mall and the airport. Something like this happens, we have to pitch in somehow. It's the least I can do."
They watched him leave then David said, "His partner brought over a bunch of food to the scene. I had to get him cleared through security. They almost wouldn't allow it till Chief Merrick noticed a pastrami on rye." He smiled, obviously proud of his older brother. "Must have brought four or five dozen sandwiches."
"Yeah, that was nice," Jamie said. "People don't usually think about us needing to eat. My boyfriend always thinks it's gross that we'd even want to, but after six or seven hours you get hungry."
"You want, I can have Chris shut off this television." David pointed to one of the many screens suspended throughout the pub. This one was off to their side about ten feet away, just over Nick's right shoulder. The volume had been muted and closed captions ran along the bottom of the screen.
Nick found himself looking to Maggie. David did, too. Even as they waited for an answer the video footage of the now infamous chase was being played.
"It's okay," she said after it took a second or two for her to realize they were allowing her to make the decision. "If there's an update or a break in the case, where better to find out?"
They all laughed. Nick realized every one of them probably had a story to tell of the news media preempting one of the cases they'd worked on. However, he doubted that any of them had been preempted by a journalist in their own family. His sister, Christine, had done it to him twice in the past. Once even compromising her son, Timmy's safety. He thought she'd learned her lesson, but he didn't trust her. It was almost as if she couldn't help it. Like a drug addict. Even now he avoided returning her calls. Was she concerned or looking for a scoop?
Briefly he realized her calls might concern their dad, but Christine would say so, wouldn't she? His dad's health had been deteriorating the past several months, bad to worse with no hope of recovery. The stroke he'd suffered four years ago had reduced him to a shadow of the man Antonio Morrelli had once been. But some things never changed and Nick thought the old man was stubborn enough to stick around just out of spite and to ruin Christmas for all the rest of them. Maybe deep down that's what Nick hoped. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he wasn't quite ready for his father's departure, for him to be gone completely and forever from his life.
He scratched at the stubble on his jaw and rubbed at his eyes. When he looked up he found Maggie watching him from across the table. The others were talking about food, their attention buried in the large menu placards. But not Maggie. She had one elbow on the ridge that separated the booth from the wall. Her cheek rested against her hand. David Ceimo sat directly across from her, Yarden right next to her and yet, she was watching Nick from clear across the diagonal of the table.
At first he glanced away. But her eyes were still there when he looked up again and this time he met them despite the flutter they stirred in his gut. She looked tired, but she smiled, just a little. Her eyes were still serious with an intensity he recognized. From the first time he met Maggie O'Dell he felt like those eyes could examine anyone deeply, and he knew they missed nothing.
Their drinks came at that moment. Before Chris finished setting them down, Yarden was pointing at the television screen, waving his arms to get their attention.
"Holy crap," Yarden blurted as he tried to stand up for a better look. "They have the bombers."
Nick had to look over his shoulder. Three photos of three young men were displayed in the middle of the screen. Names appeared beneath them and on the CC crawl at the bottom of the screen.
Chris reached up and turned the volume on:
"?were last seen. Two unnamed sources have verified the identity of three men allegedly involved in the bombing at Mall of America. All three are college students, two at the University of Minnesota and one at the University of New Haven in Connecticut. Again, the three young men are, Chad Hendricks of St. Paul, Minnesota; Tyler Bennett also of St. Paul, Minnesota and Patrick Murphy of Green Bay, Wisconsin."
"Son of a bitch." Ceimo was the first to speak. "What sources? Where the hell did they get photos and names?" He was pulling his smartphone from his jacket pocket, as he slid across the booth's bench. Nick barely got out of the bench and out of his way.
Nick glanced around the table as he sat back down. Both Yarden and Jamie's eyes were still glued to the television screen. Maggie's face had gone white and she was digging for her own cell phone.
"What is it?" Nick asked her. She looked like she had seen a ghost.
"Patrick Murphy."
He noticed her fingers had a slight tremble as she punched at her cell phone's menu. He could see she was searching for a number.
She glanced back up at him. He thought he saw a glimpse of panic before she looked back down. Without giving him her eyes again, she said, "Patrick Murphy is my stepbrother."