Dangerous Refuge

by Elizabeth Lowell

  Tanner waited until the kid was halfway back to his video game before saying to Shaye in a low voice, “I saw something I want a closer look at.”

  “What?”

  “A restroom. If Campbell comes, go ahead and make nice without me. I’ll be back to do the wet work.”

  She winced. “From what Kimberli has said, Campbell hates all conference rooms. Prefers to do things in his office.”

  “Down that hall.” Tanner pointed with his thumb as the kid had. “Got it. I’ll make it quick.”

  Instead of sitting, Shaye wandered the conference room, looking at the photos on the walls. A few were of buildings with striking architecture. Most were of industrial parks, subdivisions, modest apartments, condos, and malls.

  Jonathan Campbell entered the conference room with a broad smile on his equally broad face. His frame was as burly as that of the construction worker he had once been. Though his hands were smooth and manicured now, they still showed signs of too much sun and the random scars of rough labor. He had a belly and an empire, and had enjoyed building both.

  “Shaye. How’s my favorite preservationist?”

  “I haven’t talked to Kimberli lately,” Shaye said. “As for me, it has been a long few days.”

  “Such a loss to the community. But Lorne Davis had a good life.”

  “Yes,” she said in a husky voice.

  Wish I could say the same about his death.

  “Freddy told me you weren’t alone.”

  “Tanner ducked into the restroom. He should be right back. If you want to talk to us in your office down the hall, I’ll bring him there when he comes back.”

  “Good. I hate conference rooms. A man can never get comfortable.”

  When Campbell left, she went back to studying before-and-after pictures on the wall. Intellectually she knew that people needed places to live and work, raise and educate families, and that not everyone was made for the concentrated life of cities. Even so, emotionally, too many of Campbell’s constructions were an insult to the landscape.

  Don’t be a snob. Not everybody can afford to buy even those low-cost houses. Just because I’d rather look at sagebrush than industrial parks and suburbia doesn’t make me right.

  Sure does make me want to work harder for the Conservancy, though.

  Tanner ducked his head in the door. “Campbell still in his office?”

  “He’s waiting for us there.”

  “He can wait another minute or two. Come with me.”

  “I don’t need a restroom,” she said.

  “You will after you see this.” He looked quickly up and down the hallway. Nobody in sight. “Come on. We don’t have much time.”

  Curious, she followed him, listening to his low-voiced explanation.

  “I wanted to explore inside one of these rooms, but I didn’t want to make the kid nervous,” Tanner said.

  “Which room?”

  “This one.” He pulled her through a half-open door.

  She looked around. “I didn’t know you had a thing for model buildings.”

  “I really liked that one,” he said, pointing.

  She looked at the far end of the room, where there was a long table holding a three-dimensional relief map of mountains, a narrow valley, and a stream winding through. Low, clean-lined buildings clustered around a landscape featuring bike paths or trails, model trees, and what looked like both a hot-spring pool and the more standard Olympic kind. Farther upslope, the stream had been diverted into a series of randomly sized pools and cascades, which could be for fishing or even kayaking. The steep mountain slopes showed miniature ski runs and surprisingly tasteful chalets.

  “So Campbell built a resort,” she said. “So what?”

  “Look again. It hasn’t been built yet. Imagine yourself about here,” he said, pointing to the map, “and pretend you’re looking up at the line of taller mountains.”

  Silence filled the room, followed by a low sound, the kind made by someone taking a body blow. “That’s Lorne’s valley!”

  “Keep it down,” Tanner said swiftly. “Campbell’s office shares a wall with this room.”

  She gritted her teeth and said in a low voice, “This should get the sheriff’s attention.”

  “The fact that Nevada’s premier developer would like to get his hands on Lorne’s land? Hardly a news flash.”

  “But this . . . this is evidence. Motive!” For all that she was whispering, it was obvious she was mad enough to wreck the model with her fists.

  “It’s another bright, shiny bead, not the string we need to hold all the beads together.”

  “But—”

  “Think,” he said urgently. “There are too many ways the sheriff could explain this away, the most obvious being that wanting something isn’t the same as murdering to get it, plus there’s still no way to prove Lorne was murdered in the first place. ”

  She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Are you saying this doesn’t mean anything?”

  “I’m saying even a lawyer provided free by the county could scatter our beads to hell without breaking a sweat. Campbell’s lawyers wouldn’t be free. They’d blow us out of the universe.”

  She knew Tanner was right. She just was too furious to accept it quickly, much less graciously.

  “Put on your party face,” he said.

  “This is my party face.”

  “I’ve seen you do a lot better.”

  She glared at him.

  “Look, if you can’t keep it together,” he said, “I’ll pretend to be interested in selling the ranch if the court gives it to me.”

  Her eyes widened like she’d been slapped. “Are you?”

  “I don’t know,” he said impatiently. “But if you have to yell at someone, yell at me.”

  There was a tight silence.

  “I’ll keep it together,” she said. “We need to know how close Campbell is to Rua. Someone wound that thug up and aimed him toward Lorne.”

  Tanner didn’t point out that they didn’t know that for certain and they sure couldn’t prove it. He didn’t want to set her off. She was a passionate woman in more than sex.

  “Okay,” she said, even though it wasn’t. “Let’s get it done.”

  Thirty

  Feeling like a rebellious teenager, Shaye followed Tanner out of the room—and nearly tripped over the geek in the neon shirt and shoes.

  “I was just coming to tell you that Unc—uh—Mr. Campbell has another appointment real soon.”

  “Thanks,” Tanner said. “I saw the models and couldn’t resist.”

  “Really?” The kid’s voice said he’d never looked at the models once, much less twice. “I’ll take you to his office.”

  “We know where it is.”

  “It’s my job.”

  Tanner took Shaye’s arm. She was stiff, like someone who was keeping vicious control of each breath. He hoped she wouldn’t explode before he got her back to the truck.

  They stood in the office doorway behind the kid. Campbell had his back turned to them, gesturing as he looked out the window that made up the back wall. Tanner couldn’t decide if the posture was defensive or aggressive. It sure wasn’t relaxed. He held a cell phone to his ear, listening, not talking. The gold in his wedding band looked liquid against his weathered hand. The diamonds set in the band gleamed like frost.

  Shaye counted nubs in the Berber rug under her feet and forced herself into her party persona. The hated lessons learned at her mother’s nylon-clad knee finally snapped into place like the armor they were.

  Tanner kept looking at what he could see of the cell phone in Campbell’s hand, trying to figure out why he cared. Then he realized that there was a landline on the desk, and an expensive cell phone lying right next to it. Plus a BlackBerry on Campbell’s belt.

  Why does he need another phone? And a cheap piece of junk at that. I can understand why an elected official like the sheriff has a cheap phone, and why someone running for office might want an
anonymous cell phone, but Campbell? Is it some kind of Nevada fetish?

  I feel like I’m in south L.A., where drug dealers use throwaway cell phones like other people use toilet paper.

  The kid knocked on the open door.

  Campbell’s stance tightened. “Later. My guests just arrived.” He ended the call, tossed the phone into the center drawer of his desk, and closed it with an angry motion. But he was smiling when he looked up. “Thanks, Freddy. I’ll take it from here.”

  The kid vanished.

  “The guy on the phone has been stringing me along for a couple months now, never coming through. You know how it is,” Campbell said to Shaye. “Some deals have to be nursed like babies.” He narrowed his glance on Tanner. “Have we met? Something about you is familiar.”

  “Tanner Davis,” he said, holding his hand across the desk with a toothy grin. “Real happy to meet you, Mr. Campbell.”

  “Lorne Davis is—was—his uncle,” Shaye said, and watched closely.

  “Oh, right, the Conservancy benefit,” Campbell said, smiling and shaking hands. “I only played poker with Lorne a few times, but I liked him.”

  “He was a hard son of a bitch,” Tanner said. “But he was family.”

  “Family. What’re you gonna do?” Campbell asked, shaking his head. “Got some hardheads in mine. Still, you miss them when they go. Sit down and tell me how I can help you.”

  Tanner looked at Shaye, saw she was in control, and nodded slightly. She was already talking, using the polite, social voice that made him want to strip her naked and go down on her until she forgot to be civilized and screamed with pleasure.

  “Thank you for making room in your busy schedule,” she said. “I know you’re pressed for time, so we’ll make this as short as possible. We had a few questions about a man you recommended to Mr. Hill’s security detail. Antonio Rua, called either Tonio or Tony.”

  Campbell sat back in his leather office chair and let the name roll around in his head. “Sounds vaguely familiar, but I can hardly keep track of every man I’ve hired.”

  “Rua was a supervisor, so you might’ve talked with him directly.”

  There was a moment of puzzlement before Campbell leaned forward and snapped his fingers. “Got him. Yeah, sure I remember Rua. He kind of drifted in and out of construction, but when he paid attention he was good. He kept the men on the site in line, and not everyone can do that. Cleaned up real nice, too. Was comfortable talking to suits when we took potential investors to sites.”

  “So you remember recommending Rua to Mr. Hill’s security manager?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I mean, if Harold said so, I must have. Over time I’ve recommended a number of guys to help handle crowds for him. I already require random drug testing and I screen pretty heavily, so if they work for me, they’ll pass Harold’s sniff test without a lot of wasted time.”

  “Did Rua?” Shaye asked, her face aching from keeping the social mask in place. The vision of Lorne’s ravaged body and Campbell’s cheerful model of Lorne’s transformed valley kept pinging around in her head.

  “If Rua worked for Harold,” Campbell said, “he passed the tests.”

  “I checked with Mr. Hill and Rua was indeed hired on,” she said. “I don’t think he has started work yet.”

  Silently Tanner gave her points for not mentioning Rua’s death by lead poisoning.

  “So is Rua in some kind of trouble with the Conservancy? Building condominiums on sacred land or the like?” The corners of Campbell’s eyes crinkled as he grinned.

  Her training held and she smiled her social smile. “We were hoping to talk to him.”

  “Cell phones work on construction sites. Did you get his number from Hill?”

  “The last number we had for him is disconnected,” she said.

  Tanner decided she’d make a very good partner. Don’t lie, but don’t tell any truths you don’t have to.

  “He probably just got a prepaid cell phone on payday and used it as his number until it ran out,” Campbell said, shrugging. “A lot of people in the valley are living real close to the bone.”

  “I see that in my line of work, too,” Tanner said gravely.

  “Oh?” Campbell asked. “And what would that be?”

  “Social work over in L.A. County. Lotta people living pretty tight there. I mean, I do what I can, but I’m only one man, y’know?”

  “I surely do.”

  Tanner looked around the office, which was three times as big as the conference room. “Just glad to see someone around here is making money and jobs. Surprised you don’t have more building sites close by. They all in Reno?”

  The phone on the landline buzzed once.

  Campbell ignored it. “So far, all my sites are near Reno. Land enough to do big things with is hard to come by here in the valley. What little the government or the tribes don’t own is locked up in old landholdings.”

  And will stay that way, Shaye thought savagely, as long as I do my job.

  “But that doesn’t mean you don’t have big dreams for the place, right?” Tanner asked with a knowing smile.

  “Who doesn’t want a better life for themselves and their community?”

  “We all do,” Shaye said with a smile as empty as a desert sky. “It’s just that everyone doesn’t agree on what that better life is. For some, it’s the family ranch and open land and maybe a touch of the wilderness at the edges.”

  Campbell shook his head sadly. “I hear you, but if we’re going to bring jobs back to the valley, something has to change. You’ve been here less than, what, two years?”

  She nodded and her cheeks felt numb from smiling.

  “Well, there was a time when every business pad on 395 between here and Carson was a beehive of jobs and building. New businesses—family businesses, most of them—starting everywhere you looked. Now, hell,” Campbell said in disgust, “now you could fire a shotgun down those same streets and not hit anything but For Sale signs.”

  “There is still a place for family ranches,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Sure, but not every place.” Campbell leaned back and sighed. “Like you, I have a dream for one or two of those ranches. Unlike you, my dreams will bring money into the valley.”

  “Like that ski resort in your model room?” Tanner asked. “That would bring in a lot of jobs.”

  Campbell grinned. “That’s my baby. I’ve been working on it for five, six years now.”

  “What made you think you would ever own the land for it?” Shaye asked, forcing another smile.

  The BlackBerry signaled an incoming message. Campbell ignored that one, too.

  “I’ve got several long-term projects like that,” he said. “The modeling and all is expensive, but if the land ever comes on the market, I’m ready to go before my competitors have a chance to blink and look around for an architect.”

  “Designing a casino, hotel, cottages, recreational area, ski run and chalets, trails and all the trimmings—pretty expensive for an if-come project,” Tanner said.

  “I’ve got the backers to compete with Tahoe,” the other man said. “It’ll probably take a decade or more to gather the land, but imagine if it happens—jobs for thousands, a new market for local goods, a new destination for people from all over the world. Why should all that tax base stay in Tahoe? It’s overbuilt and overpriced for what you get. We can do better than that.”

  “What if someone didn’t want to sell? Wouldn’t that derail your dream train?” she said neutrally.

  “You gotta use your mind as well as your heart,” he said to her. “Remember Kelso v. New London? Supreme Court says the state has an overriding interest in the case of private landowners who stand in the way of beneficial local or state developments. Eminent-domain laws would apply. But that shouldn’t be necessary. People here know we are desperate for jobs.”

  “What if they didn’t care?” she asked, her voice still polite, interested. Controlled. “As you said, everyone has different
dreams.”

  From inside the desk came the strident noise of a cheap cell phone.

  “That’s why we have laws, cops, politicians, and courts. Sure, it would be a hassle to use Kelso, but if the politicians are with you, it’ll get done. Me? I’d rather work with the Conservancy to make sure not just one dream comes true. There’s room in Nevada for everyone to get a piece of the pie. We just need the right people at the political helm to make sure things happen.”

  The cell phone rattled again.

  “Sorry,” Campbell said. “Gotta take this call. Great talking to you, Shaye, Mr. Davis.”

  Apparently Freddy was aware of the incoming calls, too. He appeared in the doorway as Campbell opened his desk drawer.

  Tanner knew he wasn’t going to be able to eavesdrop.

  So did Shaye.

  Without a word, they followed the neon shirt and sneakers out of the building.

  She had never been so grateful for an interruption in her life. Her social armor was fraying, her skin too tight, her jaw and shoulders aching. She pulled herself up into the truck and counted the seconds until Tanner pulled out of the parking lot.

  “It’s safe now,” he said. “Let it out.”

  “I can’t. I’m afraid I’ll never be able to shove it back in again.”

  Thirty-one

  The throwaway cell phone vanished into an anonymous Dumpster behind a restaurant and bar.

  Enough of this.

  Nevada is full of empty spaces and unmarked graves. Nobody will notice another one.

  Or two.

  Three.

  Whatever it takes.

  Thirty-two

  Tanner picked the first motel close to Refuge that advertised more than clean rooms and weekly rates. He knew that Shaye was going to crash sooner rather than later. Dealing with death was like being in a race—at first your adrenal glands run a marathon a minute. More training, more races, and less adrenaline each time, until finally the mind rather than adrenal glands ruled the body.