“Accident.”
“Excuse me?”
“Airplane ‘accident.’ We don’t refer to them as ‘crashes.’”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“What paper did you say you were with?”
“The Denver Inquirer.”
“I’m not familiar with that one.”
“It’s a weekly paper,” Carrie said. “We typically focus on local political stories, but I’m currently working on a special report into the crash—I mean accident—of—” Carrie glanced at her notes to get the number correct. “Flight N9712E that crashed in northwest Montana on October 3rd about eighteen months ago.”
“The final report regarding that is posted on our website, I’m—”
“Yes, sir, I know,” Carrie interrupted politely. She didn’t want to make the man angry, but she didn’t want him to think she was an idiot either. “I reviewed the report. But there were some additional questions I had, and I was hoping you might be able to answer them for me.”
There was a pause, and Carrie cringed. Here it was—the moment she always hated, when she was told, “No,” or “I’m sorry. I can’t help you,” and she was forced to find another way to get the information she was after. It happened almost every time, and while it never stopped her, it just made things more difficult and time-consuming. Fortunately, she already had Charlie working it from another direction.
There was a long, rumbling cough from the other end of the phone. “Excuse me,” he said as he sniffed and snorted. “I’ve got a bad chest cold. Now what sort of questions did you have?”
Surprised by his acquiescence, Carrie grabbed her notepad. She wished she had a recorder, but pen and paper would have to do. “Well, sir, the report states that the plane was owned by NorCorp, but there are a number of companies owned by NorCorp. Do you recall which company was using the plane?”
“Can’t say that I do. The plane was registered to NorCorp, and all of the records and maintenance information I recall seeing were in NorCorp’s name.” He paused to cough again before he continued, “Our investigation focuses on the cause of the accident, not on the company or passengers using the plane unless they are suspected of criminal activity.”
“I see.” Based on that answer, Carrie’s hopes for her other questions began to fade, but she decided to try them anyway. “There was a third person killed in the cra—uh—accident, a Dr. Phillip Sandefur.”
“Don’t remember his name for certain, but go on.”
“Is it possible that you might have the name of the company that Dr. Sandefur worked for on file somewhere?”
“It’s possible. But if the passengers are not suspected to have had any impact on the accident, then more than likely, there is going to be very little information on him in our files.”
“Could you please check that for me?”
“It’s not that simple,” he wheezed and coughed as he spoke. “After the final report is issued, all of the pertinent hard-copy records are sent to our storage warehouse. You’re talking about a pretty big undertaking to pull all of those files just to look up where the guy worked. Can I ask why you are so interested in this person?”
“I’m not sure I’m as interested in the person himself as I am the company he worked for.” Carrie didn’t want to have to explain the whole situation or the rationale for her thought process, so she just simply said, “I’m trying to determine if that company might have been involved in any illegal activities.”
“I see.” There was a pause as Kleister cleared his throat. “What kind of illegal activities?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Carrie replied. “But there was no information in the NTSB report indicating what kind of cargo might have been on board at the time of the crash.”
“Again, that is not a part of our investigation unless it was determined to have contributed to the accident. If there was any cargo, I can assure you that nothing carried was against FAA regulations. Nor were there any illegal substances found at the site.”
“I see,” Carrie sighed. “I don’t suppose there was anything about the accident that you can remember as odd or out of the ordinary? Anything at all?”
“No, ma’am, I’m afraid I don’t,” he sniffed. “Our job is to investigate the cause of the accident and to report the facts that we are able to determine from that investigation. We’re not allowed to publish any suppositions about what might have happened or why, only facts that we can prove through scientific investigation.”
“I understand,” Carrie replied. “I certainly appreciate your time. If you do remember anything or you have the time to retrieve those records, I would really appreciate it if you would call me.”
“Sure, I can do that.”
“Thanks,” Carrie replied. She waited while he found a pen and then gave him her cell phone number along with a final plea for assistance.
After she hung up, Carrie sat there for a while, thinking. She had hoped to get more information than that. Now she had to try to figure out where to go next.
She decided to try the direct approach. She flipped through the ever-growing stack of pages she had printed out until she found the pages from NorCorp’s website. She picked up the phone and dialed the number for the corporate headquarters. When the receptionist answered, she requested the human resources department.
Carrie spent several frustrating hours trying to get information regarding the plane crash from NorCorp, but no matter whom she talked to or what approach she tried, the answer was always the same: They were not allowed to give out that information over the phone. It was as if the entire company had been trained very specifically in regards to nondisclosure. But Carrie was determined. She was on to something. She just knew it. And with every call that ended abruptly or with someone hanging up on her, she became more and more certain of it. This had become her own personal David and Goliath, and she wasn’t going to stop until she got what she wanted.
She continued to play the corporate runaround game, trying person after person, prodding and poking, digging for bits and pieces of information like a forty-niner panning for flecks of gold, until the NorCorp offices on the East Coast closed for the day. Even then, she continued until after she got her fourth voice mail in a row when she finally conceded that she wasn’t going to get what she wanted today. For now, she was forced to wait and hope that Charlie came up with something in the meantime.
But tomorrow, she would begin again.
CHAPTER 46
Kyle parked the car in the lot behind the justice center and sat there, thinking. He was more disturbed by the news about Janet than he would have expected. From what he had been told by her doctor, he had been led to believe that her breast cancer wasn’t that serious. He figured she had just been looking for attention like she always had. He had been putting her off in hopes that the report would come back with good news and he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. Now he had to consider the very real possibility that it might be life-threatening. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
For a long time now, he had done everything in his power to distance himself from Janet in an effort to escape her constant belittling and because he wouldn’t have to bear witness to her self-destructive behavior. He wouldn’t have cared if they hadn’t spoken for years.
But the possibility of her death and his being left alone without any parents wasn’t something he had given much thought to before now. And it was unsettling.
Suddenly, he had a new perspective on the emotional struggles that Carrie Daniels had to be going through.
When Kyle walked into the conference room, Marasco and Lewis were sitting there, a pile of paper and file folders spread out before them. They had spent the remainder of the day yesterday checking into the background of the Lattimers to make sure there was nothing suspicious about them, like a recently purchased insurance policy or an amended will, but they had found nothing. They had released the photographs of the young couple to the media, hoping that
someone might have seen them, but that had yet to provide any significant leads either.
“Anything?” Lewis asked, putting down his coffee.
“No,” Kyle said, shaking his head. Facing a dead end, they had hoped the Lattimers might have some further ideas as to who might have wished harm on the newlyweds.
Lewis’s brow knitted as he looked at Kyle. “What’s wrong?” he asked, a concerned tone to his voice.
“I just—” Kyle was cut off by the ringing of the phone.
Lewis hit the button on the speakerphone. “Agent Edwards here.”
“Lewis.” It was SAC Geddes.
“Something come up?” Lewis asked hopefully.
“No. Still no hits on any of the credit cards or bank accounts. But that’s not why I’m calling. I’m calling to let you know the governor of Montana called the director this morning, raising hell about our handling of this case. Says all this attention is bad for tourism, and he wants some answers now. So tell me … do we have any?”
“Not any he wants to hear,” Lewis replied flatly.
The other end was silent for a moment, and Kyle tensed in anticipation. He imagined Geddes taking a long drag of her cigarette, the tip glowing red as her temper flared.
“Do I need to send in Kendrick and Thomas to help?” she asked.
“No,” said Lewis. “We’d just be tripping over each other.”
“Are you sure?” she asked again, sounding suspicious. Kyle knew it was directed at him.
“I’m sure,” Lewis said. “Manpower’s not the problem. Kyle’s busting his ass just like the rest of us, and the locals have given us everything we’ve asked for.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know,” Lewis admitted. “There’s something strange about this case. We haven’t had any breaks go our way yet. But they will. Things’ll turn.”
“They’d better, or you know what will happen. We’re under the microscope now.”
“Yeah? Well, tell the director he might want to start by looking in his own backyard. This might have been over by now if we had gotten any help from the lab. With all the evidence we’ve sent them, we haven’t gotten shit for leads.”
“I don’t think that would be beneficial to either of our careers,” said Geddes. “Just come up with something. Soon.”
Lewis seemed to be more irritated than anything as he hung up, but the knot in Kyle’s stomach that had started with Janet’s phone call had just tightened. He had worked hard to get this chance, and he didn’t like to think about what would happen if they failed. This was his one shot. If he blew it, he would never get a second chance. The problem was it had become political now. It didn’t matter if they were making progress or not. It was all about perception. The rug could be pulled out from under them at any minute, if for no other reason than the appearance that SAC Geddes was taking steps to correct the situation.
Kyle hoped Lewis was right about their luck changing soon, because if it didn’t, the agents assigned to the case would be.
CHAPTER 47
Tick.
It starts slowly, a faint disruption of the darkness, like the ripple of a raindrop in a calm, dark ocean.
Tick.
Tick.
The tapping of a tree limb blown against the cabin’s window.
She sits in the chair at the table, frozen by fear, her eyes fixed on the empty bottle of rum before her.
Tick … tick … tick.
It grows louder, the tempo increasing with urgent persistency as if in warning.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Knocking against the pane harder, harder. Faster, faster.
Escalating into a deafening crescendo.
The blare of a truck horn. A blinding white light.
With a scream, the window shatters. Jagged splinters of light tear her face and hands.
She runs from the cabin, desperate to escape, but the shadow is lurking, waiting for her. Darker than the night, it disengages from the inky blackness to pursue her.
She flees into the forest, seeking shelter among the trees. Limbs grab at her, tugging and clawing, slowing her down. Thorns cut like shards of glass.
The shadow is right behind, bearing down on her.
A shrill cry pierces the dark. Echoing out, it rings in her ears.
Ringing—
Ringing—
Ringing—
The ringing of a telephone.
Alone in the dark, Carrie slowly surfaced from the depths of her nightmare. In a confused state of semiconsciousness, she groped about the nightstand, nearly knocking off the alarm clock before finally finding the phone.
“Hello,” she answered, her voice thick with sleep.
“Carrie?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s Charlie. I think I’ve got something for you.”
“What time is it?” she groaned, the last tendrils of her nightmare slowly slipping away like fog.
“It’s uh … oh, shit, it’s 3:43,” he said with a giggle. He sounded giddy. “Man, I didn’t realize it was that late. Sorry about that. Guess maybe I shouldn’t have had that last Red Bull. But I think I’ve got something for you, and I figured you’d want to know as soon as I found out.” He was talking so fast that Carrie could barely keep up with him.
“No, that’s fine. Hang on a second.” She sat up and flicked on the lamp. Squinting in the harsh glare of the light, she picked up her notebook and pen. “Okay, what have you got?”
“You remember how you told me that the plane that crashed was owned by NorCorp and it took off from Baltimore, right? Well, I looked up all of NorCorp’s subsidiaries and found there were seven of them in the DC-Baltimore area alone. I thought I’d try that first to see if I got lucky, you know. So I tried the websites of the ones that had websites but didn’t find any mention of the crash or a Dr. Sandefur. Anyway, when that didn’t work, I had to resort to other alternative methods, which I’d rather not disclose at this time, but let’s just say that using the social security number you gave me, I finally managed to obtain a copy of Dr. Sandefur’s final tax return. And guess who’s listed as his employer.”
“Who?”
“NorCorp.”
“What do you mean?” Carrie asked. “I thought NorCorp was nothing more than a holding company for a bunch of other companies. Are you telling me he was an officer or on the board of directors?”
“No, especially not based on what he made his last year. But what I noticed that seemed funny to me was that the address listed for NorCorp was a post office box, so I ran a search on the post office’s website, and it turns out the zip code is in Baltimore, Maryland. But I didn’t remember seeing a listing for NorCorp’s headquarters in Maryland, so I went back through the list and found that only two of the companies in the area have that zip code. One is DynaPlate, which is this small electroplating company. But the other one’s a different story. The other one’s a company called GenTech, which is in NorCorp’s pharmaceutical and bioengineering division. You need to check it out in the morning. These guys are into all kinds of drugs and stuff—prescription allergy relief and cold medicines, vaccines for smallpox and anthrax, and they’re even working on one for AIDS. Can you imagine how much that would be worth? They’re into research for a cure for diabetes and—dig this—schizophrenia. Can you imagine them being able to cure someone like Charles Manson with just a shot?”
“No,” Carrie admitted.
“Yup, and that’s just the public side. I haven’t even gotten in to their intranet side yet, but when I get a look at their HR records, I’ll bet you anything we’ll find our mysterious Dr. Sandefur listed as a former employee—and there’s no telling what he might have been involved in.”
Carrie’s mind was now beginning to race with the implications of this discovery. It seemed as if every effort had been made to hide the connection between Dr. Sandefur and GenTech. Now the next question to be answered was why. “Charlie, this is great. This is exactly what I needed, but d
on’t go hacking into their site. I don’t want you getting into trouble if this turns out to be a wild-goose chase.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I’m going to crash their system. All I want to do is get in and snoop around a little bit, just look at things, you know. I’ll be in and out without a trace. No one will ever know I’ve even been in there.”
“No, Charlie, I don’t want you doing that, at least not yet. Get all the info you can from their website but don’t go breaking into anything, you understand?”
“All right,” Charlie groaned.
“And get some sleep,” she added.
“And waste this buzz? No way! I’m up for the duration. Besides, right now is prime surfing time.”
Carrie started to say something more but then thought better of it. It wasn’t like she was his mother. Instead, she just said, “Thanks, Wise Man.”
“No problemo,” he said.
Maybe it was because of the dream she had just had or perhaps it was just an instinctual reaction, but for some reason, Carrie felt an overwhelming compulsion to offer one last admonition before she hung up.
“And Charlie, be careful.”
*
Afterward, Carrie sat in bed, contemplating what Charlie had told her. Was it possible that there had been something on that plane that was responsible for all the recent murders? Could there have been some experimental drug on board, some biological or chemical agent used for research purposes that, once released, was causing people in the area to react unpredictably, perhaps even to the point of murder? That was certainly something the company would never admit to, and anyone would be prone to take steps to cover it up.
She wished she had her laptop with her now so she could do some more investigating; however, it wouldn’t arrive until midmorning, and it was too frustrating to try to do any serious research with her phone. Even so, she knew she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. There were so many things she wanted to check out, so many more avenues to pursue. Like this GenTech company. She wondered about the research they were involved in, the symptoms and behavior of schizophrenics, and the type of drugs used to treat them. She also wanted to talk to Jack Kleister again and ask him about the first rescuers to come across the wreckage as well as the members of the NTSB’s “go” team that had investigated the crash site. Had there been any unusual incidents involving any of them after the investigation? Any sudden or strange illnesses or odd behavioral changes? Any mysterious deaths? Or murders? But it was almost 4:00 in the morning, and as far as Carrie knew, Kalispell didn’t have a twenty-four-hour FedEx Office she could go to in order to gain Internet access at this time of the night.
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