“Tell them the park across the road.” He mouths the words, and I barely understand him.
But I provide the information to the guy as Cormac and Seamus haul Sean onto his feet. He groans as Cormac presses his shoulder into Sean’s belly and hefts him onto it. What the fuck? They can’t move him like this.
They are. Seamus grabs my purse and pushes it at me before hurrying to gather Sean’s bag. Lord only knows what’s in there. I expect us to get in the elevator, and I fear dropping the signal. The dispatcher isn’t saying anything right now, so he must be putting out the call. When Seamus opens the door to the stairwell, I freeze. Seamus looks like he’s ready to hoist me over his shoulder if I don’t keep up.
Cormac still has his gun in his hand, and Sean over his opposite shoulder. Seamus is behind me, his gun at the ready. We’re on the fifth floor. I don’t know how they make it down the stairs without being winded, especially Cormac. But neither of them is breathing harder than normal while I fear passing out. They lead me out of a back door, and I realize it’s likely how they came in. Seamus is on my heels, keeping me from slowing down as we hurry to the grassy area across the street.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“The ambulance will be there in two minutes.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“I’ll stay on the line till they get there. Are there any witnesses?”
My eyes widen. Cormac lays Sean on the ground in the same position as he found him when he and his brother arrived. Seamus points around. The park is empty. I can tell the truth.
“No. There’s no one here. We were going for a walk.”
“All right. How’s he doing?”
“He’s unconscious.” He is. He didn’t make a sound the entire way down the stairs, out the back door, across the street, or when his cousin put him down.
“The ambulance is just around the corner. I hear them. Can I hang up now, so I can concentrate?”
“Yes. They’ll take care of him.”
“Thank you. Bye.”
I hang up without waiting for another word. I hear the siren, but I see nothing.
Seamus wraps an arm around the middle of my back, and I realize I’m trembling. What he says only mildly reassures me.
“We'll follow at a safe distance. If there's anything you don’t know how to answer, and he’s not conscious, pretend to be too distraught to tell them.”
“What do I say when they want to know how he got shot? It’s in the back, and it’s clear what kind of wound it is. They’ll have to fish the bullet out. How do I explain that if I was here? They’ll expect me to know the answer to at least that question.”
“No, they won’t. Like you said, he was shot in the back. There’re plenty of reasons you wouldn’t see who did it if both of you were looking away.”
“How do I explain why he’s a target? Won’t they want to know if I have any guesses at all?”
Cormac shakes his head before answering me. “The hospital staff won’t be interested in that. They’ll focus on getting him into surgery as soon as possible. He’s O positive. He hasn’t had any surgeries, and he’s otherwise in perfect health. As long as you can remember that much, then you should be fine. If you can’t answer questions, remember, pretend to be the distraught wife.”
I’m still not convinced. “The gunshot wounds mean calling the cops. It won’t take them long to get there. They’re the ones who are going to want answers to these types of questions, and I won’t know what to say.”
“By then, we can have a reasonable explanation for showing up. We can take care of any questions you can’t answer. And if they want to know why we're in town, we say business.”
“It’s not like Belchertown is such a booming metropolis that three New Yorkers and a woman from Montreal would gather here. We have to have some type of story to explain it.” I think I’m doing a fucking great job not panicking, but I’m on the verge.
Seamus squeezes my shoulder as he pretty much keeps me from collapsing. “The only story they need to know is that we are in town for business but haven’t yet held the client meeting. It is clear from your clothing, his, and ours that we’re wealthy. As a wealthy businessman, it's not beyond reason he could be a target. He’s a legitimate venture capitalist in New York. We stick to the truth. He owns more than one business, and there are plenty of people in the corporate world who would prefer not to see another O'Rourke make another million.”
We spot the hood of the ambulance turning the corner. Seamus lets go of me, and I nearly fall over. I’m unprepared for them to back away. My fear must be clear because Cormac pats my upper arm.
“We’ll follow you. But the fewer people here the better.”
“And the hotel room?”