by Jay Nadal
The gamble had paid off. Dexter had called off the cops, which meant Cade was free to take care of Beth and Maddie. That had been his main concern. Not the thought of going to jail, or even being locked up for a few weeks until a judge could see him. It was Beth being on her own on the outside. He felt guilty over his loss of control at the garage. He had put Beth and Maddie at more risk by indulging his anger. It would not happen again. That anger had already cost him his job, left him rudderless and alone. No more.
His right leg throbbed with a dull pain. It had never been the same since Clinton Reeves had shot him, and recent events intensified the ache. He had then kicked in the door of the auto shop and climbed a hill. He forced himself to keep going. Each step was a knife into his thigh. But each step was a step closer to Burford. A car passed him with Massachusetts plates. It slowed and then stopped thirty yards up the road. It paused, then backed up.
Cade stood and waited for it to reach him. He hadn’t been thumbing for a lift, but now that one seemed to have arrived, he wasn’t too proud to take it. It drew level and the driver lowered his window. He was young, only in his mid twenties. He had a wide, tanned face and sun-bleached hair. A girl sat next to him with long dark hair that flowed down her back. She had a button nose and a dash of freckles under the tan of her skin.
“Need a lift?” the man said in a voice that suggested pure West Coast.
“Heading into town?” Cade asked.
“Yes, sir, we are. Hop in.”
Cade glanced in the back. Two large cardboard boxes occupied half of the space in the back. One contained white squares of cardboard with slogans written on them. The other held lengths of wood.
“Mighty decent of you, son,” Cade said. “My car broke down a few miles back. It’s a long walk.”
“From here it’s a long walk, and you started a few miles back. Phew. I’m Guy, this is Sara.” The young man had a tone as light as the breeze.
“Are you local?” the girl asked.
“No. Accent give me away?”
“Sorta.”
Cade craned over the boxes, looking at the slogans he could read. “What about the two of you?”
“Not locals.” the young man said.
“From Boston. We’re at college there,” said his companion.
“You’re a long way from class, aren’t you?”
“Yes. We’re here with Professor Clarke. The environmental protest.”
“Right. I’ve been seeing that around town in the last few days.”
“Well, there’s a public consultation at the town hall tonight. Governor Lindsay will be there, and representatives from NorEl.”
“To debate what?”
“NorEl’s plans for fracking under Shell’s Ridge.” Guy didn’t say the words “what else,” but his tone suggested nothing could be more obvious.
“This is our chance to convince the governor not to grant the licenses that NorEl needs. It’s a reelection year, which is why he’s coming to Burford instead of holding the hearing in Concord.”
“Would it be that bad?”
“Fracking will devastate this community, and NorEl are trying to bring it in by the back door,” Sara told him sternly. Her smile dimmed, as though she was thinking twice about their passenger.
“What makes you say that?” Cade maintained his neutrality. Their fervor struck him as short-sighted and narrow-minded, but he had moved into investigation mode. You didn’t let prejudice get in the way when gathering information. He wished he had something to write with.
“Something forced NorEl to pull out of a project in Colorado three years ago—Whitesands. The town stood their ground against the drilling, protests on site, involving congressmen, refusing to sell land the development needed. The investors got cold feet and pulled the plug. NorEl’s share price took a big tumble.”
The words “refusing to sell land” lit up in Cade’s brain like a neon sign above a Vegas casino. His face showed none of the triumph that rose within.
“I had no idea. That doesn’t sound good,” came his bored-sounding reply.
He looked at the scenery. From the corner of his eye, he was aware of Sara looking over her shoulder at him.
“It isn’t.” The young man was passionate. It wasn’t taking much to stoke his fervor on the subject. “It could devastate the environment and the community. Not only because of contamination of the water table with methane and waste products used. But it had led to water resources for whole towns just drying up. And the health implications to individuals…”
“Guy…” said the girl as a warning.
Cade could understand. In his jeans, T-shirt, and faded baseball cap, he no doubt looked the kind of blue-collar guy who would be in favor of drilling or even working for NorEl. More that than a student on an environmental crusade.
“Sounds serious. I’ve heard stuff about fracking back home. Texas. There’s a lot of it down there. Some real horror stories.”
“They’re true. The energy companies are trying to pretend it’s the fabrication of the Green lobby and liberal media. But those stories are true. You should come listen to Professor Clarke.”
“So, who’s he?”
“Professor Clarke is our professor of political science at Boston College,” the girl answered, observing Cade’s reaction. “He’s been campaigning about fracking for years.”
“But isn’t NorEl a mining outfit? NorEl Mica, ain’t it?”
Guy shrugged. “Does it matter? They know how to drill.”
“Maybe I’ll take in the debate. What time does it start?”
“Starts at eight.”
21
The sun was setting by the time Cade stood on the steps of the police station, having recovered his phone. Mitch had been determined to inconvenience him as much as possible and had drawn out the process, requiring a form to be filled out and signed. He then kept Cade waiting in the reception area for almost an hour. Nate appeared with an apologetic shrug, not quite meeting Cade’s eyes. He handed the phone over. Then he appeared about to say something. Cade waited, his stare fixed on the young cop, not letting him off the hook for an instant.
“Just go,” Nate finally said. “You can’t do any good here, and eventually they’re going to get ya. Just get out of town and take Brandon and Beth with you.”
“I intend to.”
Nate’s eyes widened. He hadn’t been expecting that.
“You think I’m some kinda hero, Nate?” Cade chided.
Nate recovered quickly. “No. Of course not. Who is these days?”
“Right.”
Cade walked out of the station promising himself he wouldn’t be stepping foot inside it again. Or any other police station. He stood outside and scrolled through his contacts to find Beth. Something drew his eye to the protesters outside the town hall. Damn kids, he thought. Wasting their time. And it was a waste of his time. But something tugged him over there. It came from the conversation in the car. The girl’s sudden wariness, her demeanor in marked contrast with the woman he had met the previous day who had been almost evangelical in her desire to convert him. What made this kid so wary?
He knew now that there was a connection between NorEl and the Dexters. NorEl security had practically admitted it: local contractors report to Mount Dexter. And don’t mention NorEl. So Dexter was recruiting muscle and working in secret with NorEl’s own security arm. The throng of campaigners occupied most of the space in front of the town hall. About fifty protestors chanted or sang in unison, holding up placards. A TV camera crew moved amongst the crowd, filming.
He wanted to go into that crowd and find Professor Clarke, but turned away. He wasn’t a cop anymore, and this wasn’t his problem. He had bought Beth and Brandon some time. Now he had to persuade Beth to leave town. He tried to ignore the wrench he felt as he walked away. He dialed Beth. No answer. He tried Charlie.
“Hello, Charlie Biggs here.”
“Charlie. It’s Tommy.”
“Tommy. Where
the hell have you been? Jesus, I’ve been out of my mind.”
“Yeah, sorry, pal. Out of my control. Had a run-in with the local cops and then went to see old Pa Dexter.”
“Dexter! You’re kidding me. You went to see him. At his home?”
“Sure did. Nice guy.”
“Hilarious. Why would you do something so stupid? And more to the point, why are you still alive?”
“I’m alive because I have insider knowledge, courtesy of an old contact back home. And I was so dumb because I needed to let Dexter know he would have to back off if he wanted certain secrets kept. What’s been happenin’?”
“Bobby Dexter was here.”
“Here? Where?”
“At Beth’s house.” Charlie hammered each word home.
“Son of a bitch. What did he want?”
“Want? Want! Nothing, just to scare the pants off her, and Maddie, too. That guy is a spanner short of a toolbox. Something just ain’t right with him. He got into the garden, and next thing we know, Maddie is sitting talking to him. Then he tried it on with Beth.”
Cade stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. An annoyed elderly woman walking behind him had to swerve to avoid bumping into him. She passed him, shooting an annoyed glare that Cade was oblivious to.
“He did what?” Cade’s voice was cold and low as anger seared his mind.
“He put his hands on her is what he did. If I’d been ten years younger, goddamned, son of a bitch,” Charlie ranted.
“Is she still at the house?”
“No. She’s taken Maddie up to the hospital to see Brandon. Look, I shouldn’t have told you all that. The last thing Beth would want is you chasing after Bobby Dexter…”
“Too late.”
“Goddammit. Will you listen? They protect Bobby, and he’s crazy. Now, I saw that altercation the two of you got into on your first night here. And if the cops hadn’t shown up, you were about to whoop Bobby Dexter’s ass. See sense, will ya.”
Decision made. This was a long way from over.
“Charlie. I have something to take care of here in town. Some information that may be useful. But can I borrow your car to go to the hospital?”
“If that’s where you’re going.”
“It is.”
“Swear now. You’re going to hell if you lie to a vet.”
“I swear. I don’t even know where to find Bobby Dexter, and I don’ intend walking into the lion’s den a second time.”
“All right. Where are you?”
“Town hall. I have to see a man down here. Can you pick me up in say fifteen minutes?”
“No problem. Store’s closed anyway. Been closed all day. Not as if I will make my money back in a couple of hours tonight.”
“Thanks, Charlie. I appreciate everything you’re doing for us.”
“Yeah, well. Bye, then. See you soon.”
Cade couldn’t help but chuckle at Charlie’s brusque inability to receive praise. He suffered the same failing himself. There were several missed calls from Rissa, and as he walked back toward the town hall, he called her. Ten rings before she answered.
“What’s the matter? You in the john or something?”
“Such a male. I was busy, okay. JC, I try to call you back several times and you expect me at your beck and call the minute you’re ready. You’re lucky I picked up at all.”
“What have you got on NorEl?”
Silence. Cade sighed.
“Okay. I’m sorry. But a policeman confiscated my phone. Remember? I’ve only just got it back.”
“And I have the first draft of one H of a story. Pulitzer prize winner. Anyway, you wanted to know about NorEl. Founded as a mining concern, specifically mica, in ’82. Runs some modest operations in Nebraska, North Dakota, and Pennsylvania. Looks a perfectly respectable operation. On the surface anyway. Then in 2013, a fifty-one percent controlling interest was purchased by Bedrock Inc, which seems to be some consortium. NorEl moves into fracking at this point.”
“I heard NorEl took a big loss on a project in Colorado. You get anything on that?”
“Whitesands, sure. They lost close to fifty million. Most of the board got fired. Stock became toxic. You think this is what the Dexters are investing in?”
“I think maybe NorEl is using them to gain the land they need without having to pay for it.”
“Interesting. They don’t want to risk another Whitesands, so they use local boys to get the land they need cheap. Dexters are a good choice, with years of experience with intimidation. But they could still lose money if they don’t get a license.”
“They’ve thought of that. I hear the Dexters are hiring in muscle. NorEl security guard confirmed it. So what’s that extra muscle for?”
“Sounds like they’re getting ready for a war.”
“Sure does. You got anything else for me?”
“No. That’s it so far.”
“Thanks, Rissa. Gotta go.”
Cade’s mouth twitched at one corner at the thought of Rissa’s infuriated response, cut off. He had taken position at the edge of the crowd that had gathered outside the town hall. A handful of cops stood off to one side. They looked bored. He picked Mitch out from their number. Cade had placed himself amongst the curious locals who watched the proceedings while remaining detached from it, observing but not involved. Cade stood with thumbs tucked into jeans pockets. He allowed his gaze to wander at random, like all the other gawking locals.
So, beyond a cursory glance, he paid no attention to the minivan that pulled up a few yards from him. He observed it, though. A group of placard-carrying protesters got out and starting to mingle. All male, all in their thirties, hard-faced. One walked in front of him, lifting his placard and moving amongst the protesters. His peripheral vision picked up another off to the left. There didn’t seem to be two of them standing together. The minivan remained there, engine running. Something made Cade uneasy.
“Hey there!” It was Guy. He waved to Cade across the discrete space separating locals from out-of-towners. He and Sara carried armloads of placards from their car to the protesters. Cade forced a smile he hoped made him look friendly and approachable. He didn’t feel either and knew well that his natural outward demeanor was stony and inhospitable. He crossed the invisible barrier that divided the two groups.
“Can I give you a hand?” he asked.
“You sure can,” said Sara. She handed him several placards, and he followed the two through the crowd.
“I’ve been doin’ some reading up on NorEl since I met you guys. NorEl and Bedrock. You heard of them?”
“’Course we have. Bedrock is bad news,” Guy told him.
“How so?”
Cade followed the two kids as they wove among the crowd. He felt out of place. He was a decade older than the average age he could see. Hands reached out for placards as they passed, and some curious stares swept over him, more suspicious than curious. Something across the street caught his eye.
A group of guys stood together on a corner, watching the protesters. On the surface, they were no different than any other locals watching this circus. But instinct clamored for attention. He scanned the surrounding area, letting everything seep into his awareness. There were three more a few doors along, at another intersection and just as intent. Another two. Another group of three. The chants grew louder. A man stood two feet from Cade shouting aggressively whilst he pumped his sign into the air. Somewhere else in the crowd, there was a response.
Guy continued to talk, raising his voice to be heard.
“Bedrock’s board got a new director last year. German guy named Bernard Janger.”
A tall man with shoulder-length hair swept back from the temples turned at that point.
“Guy, who are you trying to convert now?” He had a transatlantic accent with a hint of something. Cade wondered if it was Scottish. He wore a pastel-blue sweater tied around his waist over a pink shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and gray jeans. He looked like he had j
ust stepped out of a country club. His eyes were bird-bright and penetrating, hair dusted with gray while his brows were black.
“Professor Clarke. This is… um… sorry, friend. Didn’t catch the name?” Guy said sheepishly, an embarrassed blush spreading beneath his tan.
“Tommy Cade.” Cade put out his hand.
The professor’s hand was as rough and calloused as his own. His grip was firm.
“Good to meet you, Tommy. I overheard Guy telling you about Bernard Janger. The reason we’re all here.”
“I’ve got reasons of my own for asking about Bedrock and NorEl. If you can spare me some time?”
“Journalist?” Clarke queried, one eyebrow arched and a hint of a smile that delicately lifted one side of his mouth. Cade could smell the amusement in the question.
“Doin’some investigatin’ of my own.”
“Interesting. You sound like a cop. Maybe a private investigator?”
“Something like that.” It was simpler to let the man think what he wanted than explain his real interest.
Clarke looked around, forehead creased as the noise ramped up by another decibel.
“Spirited crowd tonight,” he muttered. “We’re expecting Governor Lindsay anytime now, but I can spare you a few minutes. You’re investigating NorEl?”
Cade was about to speak when he saw a young man who had been bawling slogans jostle Sara. He had a shaved head and a drawling mouth. A tattoo spread from beneath his T-shirt to cradle the back of his head. Arms and pecs bulged with the exaggerated tone of a gym addict. Sara had turned as he moved forward, and his shoulder caught hers, almost knocking her off her feet. Guy caught his arm, his mouth twisted in anger. The man shoved him away and sent him sprawling to the ground. Cade moved without thought, stepping in front of Guy as Shaved Head came on. The guy was spoiling for a fight. Cade put a hand out, palm outward. He didn’t bother trying to be heard over the noise. His body language was eloquent enough.
The guy pushed closer, trying to get nose to nose with Cade. He postured aggressively, but Cade had spent his career facing down overpumped bulls like this. He moved swiftly, closing the gap with two strides, not stopping until his chest bumped into Shaved Head’s. He stared into brown eyes that widened as they saw equal aggression where they had expected fear. Cade let his lips part to bare his teeth. He didn’t need to say anything. He saw self-preservation become the primary driver as the guy backed up and melted into the crowd. Cade could feel the mood of the crowd change. He realized that the bunch of guys he had seen getting out of the minivan were the main cheerleaders of the aggression. The organized slogans and chants had given way to pure anger, directed by individuals made anonymous by the mob.