Purchased two first class tickets to London.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Drake left Ava in the guest bedroom.
Suzy Q curled up against her right leg.
Sage popping in every few hours to check on her.
She was in good hands.
The entire night was one long blur to Drake. It had started eating dinner on the couch, watching Ajax fight zombies.
Encompassed Despo’s. Bargain Mart. Being tied up and left by a river.
Carrying Ava into the house. Trying to explain to his friends what happened.
Trying to figure out why he wasn’t dead.
The entire Zoo Crew stayed the night. Sat up with Drake for hours. Tried to pull out any little piece of information that would help explain what happened.
They were as baffled as he was.
Eventually around four, Ajax drifted off to bed. Kade went to Drake’s room. Both were frustrated they hadn’t been able to help.
Mandated Drake get them if anything so much as made a sound outside the house.
Sage opted for the couch. Stayed awake despite her obvious exhaustion.
Watched as Drake paced a path across the living room floor. Listened during the odd intervals he felt like speaking. Maintained a comfortable silence when he didn’t.
By seven, it was apparent Drake wasn’t going to be able to sleep. There were just too many thoughts, too many images, battling for space at the front of his mind.
It would be impossible to turn them off.
Instead, he began watching the clock. Counted minutes.
Retrieved the folder from his truck. Went through it a dozen times over.
Half past eight he tiptoed past a sleeping Kade. Showered. Dressed. Nodded to a dozing Sage.
Climbed into his truck and headed downtown.
For a Tuesday, the traffic was thin. A typical mountain town on a sleep morning.
The air was cold. Frost painted much of the world a crystalline white. A milky grey sky gave the appearance that it could have been anywhere between 8am and 5pm.
Drake angled the truck north up through the heart of town. Across the Clark Fork River. Past the famed Wilma Theater. By the cluster of three banks that comprised the financial district.
Hooked a left onto Pine Street. Slid his truck to a stop in the diagonal parking spots in front of a two story building. Faded red brick comprised the entire façade.
An expansive glass double door took up most of the front.
A sign reading United States Attorney's Office - District of Montana was stamped into the wall beside it.
Drake took a breath. Lifted the folder from the seat beside him. Slid it into his shoulder bag.
Hefted the entire thing into place.
A pair of middle-aged US Marshalls nodded as he entered. Checked his bag. Motioned him through the metal detectors.
Drake thanked them. Collected his things.
Fought back the dread within him. Slowly trudged up the stairs to the second floor.
It was the first time he’d been inside the DA’s office in almost two months. The last time was on the heels of the first case he and Ava had worked together.
An ugly affair that left them both with broken bones. Encompassed many of the high-ranking officials in town.
The DA’s office had been unwilling to help at the time. Fear of negative public perception. Only once their hand was forced did they begrudgingly intervene.
The entire affair had not sat well with Drake.
Both sides knew it.
Drake pushed himself through the front door of the office. Walked directly up to the front counter. Rang the small bell. Waited.
An aging woman with bottle-orange hair toddled from a back hallway. Held a steaming-cup in her hand, tea bag tag hanging over the side.
She stopped abruptly when she saw Drake standing there. Looked at him warily.
“Good morning Drake.”
“Good morning Darcy,” Drake said. “I’m sorry to come so early.”
Darcy continued to stare him. Seemed to be weighing his words.
It was not the first time the two had faced each other.
“That’s alright,” Darcy said. “We’re all here, just a little slow getting started this morning.”
“The cold has a way of doing that.” Even. No forced smiles. No transparent small talk. “Is Mr. Wise in by chance?”
Before Darcy even had a chance to respond, a tall man appeared from around the corner. His own coffee cup in hand.
“Good morning, Mr. Bell,” he said. Even more wary than Darcy. “Come on back.”
Drake nodded to Darcy. Was buzzed past the front desk. Followed Wise into his office.
Timothy Wise was the Deputy District Attorney of Western Montana. He had handled, or rather not handled, the prior case for Drake and Ava.
Neither side openly disliked each other.
They didn’t particularly care for one another either.
Wise settled down into his chair. Placed his coffee cup down on his desk. Locked his fingers in front of his stomach.
Despite his height, he was not an overly large man. Narrow shoulders. Blonde hair cut short, pushed to the side. Neatly clipped mustache.
“I can’t say I’m overly surprised to see you here,” Wise opened.
Drake’s brow furrowed. He said nothing.
Wise made a circular motion with his hand. “What, with the election being next week and everything.”
Slow dawning spread over Drake. “You think I’m here to drop some sort of ultimatum? Go public with how the office handled things? Try to sway the election?”
Wise paused. Waited for Drake to continue. Finally prompted, “Well, aren’t you?”
Drake shook his head. Lifted his bag up onto his lap. Took out his notes from Alice.
The folder he’d been given the night before.
“I’m bringing you a case.”
Wise frowned slightly. Said nothing.
Drake paused. Considered where to start.
“Do the names Craig Galt, Bronson Irwin, or Edgar Carpenter mean anything to you?”
The look of wariness remained in place.
“Vaguely.”
“They all passed in the last two weeks,” Drake said. “The last two were staged to look like death by natural causes. All three were former employees of Bargain Mart.”
Eyes narrowed. “Go on.”
“How about the name Thomas Jenks?”
Another terse nod.
“Last night he was found hanging in the Bargain Mart store. Supposed suicide.”
Eyebrows raised a fraction. “And how do you know this?”
Drake pursed his lips. “Let’s just say I have some friends that knew I was looking into this. They tipped me off.”
Wise sighed. Leaned forward. Rested his elbows on the edge of his desk.
“Okay, Mr. Bell, you have my attention. Why were you looking into this?”
Drake started at the beginning. Outlined how Alice Galt had come to see him. Meeting with Walt Traynor. Learning about Dead Peasants.
Went on to include speaking with Thomas Jenks. Discovering the deaths of multiple employees. Speaking with Dr. McKenzie. Hearing from Jenks just hours before he died.
By the time he was done, Wise was furiously scribbling notes.
“Anything else?”
Finally, Drake opened the folder. Took out the single piece of paper inside it. Passed it across the desk.
“That’s a list of bank accounts and balance transfers. That list was left in my truck last night. I honestly have no idea where it came from.
“But if you look at the dates, a pretty clear pattern emerges. Each time somebody here in Missoula dies, a hefty deposit was made from Bargain Mart into these accounts.”
Wise looked at Drake. Back down at the paper. Studied the list intently.
“Are you telling me Bargain Mart was actually paying somebody here in town to take out former employees?”
Drake n
odded. “It sure seems that way.”
Wise’s mouth dropped open. He continued to study the printout.
“I’ll level with you,” Drake said. “I intend to go after them for restitution to Alice Galt for the Dead Peasant policy in her husband’s name.
“But I don’t have the standing to bring criminal charges. Certainly not against a corporation with such an enormous global presence.”
Wise moved his eyes from the printout to his notes. His lips moved imperceptibly as he read through them.
After several long moments, he looked up at Drake. Leaned back. Rethreaded his fingers. Sighed.
“You know, I still regret the way things played out last time.”
Drake nodded slightly. Said nothing.
“It won’t happen again.”
“So you think there’s something here.”
Wise offered an exaggerate nod. “Oh yeah. Obviously we’ll have to do our own investigating, but you make a compelling case.”
“Mr. Traynor and Dr. McKenzie both stated they would corroborate everything I’ve told you.”
“I have no doubt,” Wise said. Snorted softly. “Hell, I thought you were coming in here to tell me you were gunning for our jobs. About to go public with everything you knew just a few days before the election.”
Drake shook his head.
The thought had occurred to him a time or two. He and Ava had even discussed it.
Decided that in the end, their client had gotten what was coming to her. Everybody involved had gotten theirs too.
And, as evidenced by this meeting, it wasn’t so bad to be guaranteed face time with the DA’s office whenever they wanted it.
Still, he wasn’t about to let Wise know any of that.
Drake stood. Extended a hand across the desk.
“So, we’ll be in touch?”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Drake pulled away from the District Attorney’s just a half hour after arriving.
Everybody at home would still be asleep.
Still too early for class.
No point in going to the office. There was no way he could focus enough to get anything done.
Instead, Drake maneuvered the truck west across Broadway to the far end of town. Turned south. Rolled out through the countryside.
Crossed and recrossed various tributaries of the Clark Fork.
Found himself out near Blue Mountain shortly before ten.
Heavy frost clung to everything. A crisp scent hung in the air.
Drake pulled the truck to a stop in a small gravel lot. Climbed out and took a footpath through knee high sage grass.
It was a place Drake had driven by many times. Never actually been to. Never had any reason to.
Before today.
Truth be told, he wasn’t entirely sure why he was there now. What had prompted him to make the trek.
Somehow, it just seemed he should.
The path wound through a dense thicket of Lodge Pole Pines. A blanket of browned needles covered the ground, all plastered in place by the cold.
The earth was silent beneath his feet as he passed through. Emerged into a clearing no more than forty yards square.
Two dozen headstones lined the space.
Most were aged beyond recognition. Nothing more than blank slate tablets.
Others were in various states of disrepair.
Faded writing. Crumbling edges. Encroaching weeds.
One was brand new, positioned in the far corner. It was cut from dark grey granite. Had a polished sheen.
Drake picked a path towards it. Came to a stop just a few feet away.
Stood off to the side to avoid the fresh turned earth stretched out at its base.
A myriad of thoughts came to his mind.
When he left the DA’s office, it made sense to stop by. Now, standing there, he felt a little foolish.
Like he was trying to live out a scene from a bad movie or something.
A hand pressed softly against his back. Materialized into a person standing at his side.
How she had gotten there, Drake had no idea. He hadn’t heard her drive up. Her car door close.
Even a footstep as she approached.
“Good morning, Alice.”
Alice pressed her lips together. Didn’t really smile.
“You two would have liked each other,” she said simply.
Drake turned his attention back to the head stone. Studied it.
No life and death dates. No inscription describing him as a loving husband.
Just a name. Beneath it, on a diagonal, was a picture of a log. A wedding band wrapped around it.
“I like the design,” Drake said. Motioned to the stone with his chin.
“He had a friend of his draw it up a few months ago. Always said the woods and his wife were the two great loves he’d leave behind.”
Drake looped his arm around her narrow shoulders.
They stood in silence together for several long minutes.
“Is it over?” Alice asked.
Drake exhaled slowly through his nose. “No. Not really. It won’t get any worse, but the case has a ways to go yet.”
“Will we win?”
Drake nodded. “Craig’s name will live on for a long time.”
No pause. No doubt in his mind.
Alice nodded. Sniffled softly. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.
“How long does it take?”
Drake’s eyes slid shut.
Even without being specific, he knew what she was referring to. To the conversation they’d had in her living room a few days before.
To how long it takes before the pain ebbs away. Before a scab finally starts to form on the open wound.
“I don’t know. All I can tell you is it’s been three years, and I still miss my parents every single day.”
Alice pressed a little tighter against his hip.
Said nothing.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Floor-to-ceiling glass formed two entire walls of the office.
As one of three founding partners in the Cerberus Corporation, the office wasn’t just the garden variety corner spread.
It was nothing short of palatial.
Black marble desk. Hand-laid oak floors.
A private meeting table that could seat six. Two sofas for meetings that needed the appearance of something a little cozier.
Walls lined with fine art. Renoir. Matisse. Monet. Sculptures strategically placed between them.
Opulence practically oozed from every corner of the room.
It fit the office’s owner to the letter.
Leigh Montgomery pushed himself back from the desk. Rose. Turned to stare out the glass windows that abutted him from behind.
At half-past ten, night had long since fallen over London. From where he stood, he could see much of it stretched out in front of him.
The Thames River. Piccadilly Circus. The House of Parliament in the distance.
For all the acclaim New York received as being the city that never slept, London wasn’t far behind. A billion lights of varying colors blazed back at him.
Illuminated everything so plainly it was almost as if he was looking down on the city under the noon-day sun.
The craziest part was the city was just beginning to wake up for the evening.
Montgomery clasped his hands behind him. Stared past his own reflection to the city below.
Wondered what percentage of it, at that exact moment, he owned.
Wondered what percentage he could own, if he had the desire.
At that hour, he was the last one remaining in the office. Not that he was still working. More like waiting.
He had already called to tell his wife he wouldn’t be home.
Would be using the fully-furnished apartment that adjoined where he now stood.
There had been no objection on her part. They both knew how the game was played.
Montgomery smirked. Thought about which one of her own
dalliances she’d called the moment they hung up.
Maurice, the tennis instructor? Perhaps Javier, her personal Spanish tutor?
Maybe even Adam, the muscle-bound personal trainer?
Montgomery unclasped his hands. Checked his watch.
It was exactly 10:30. On cue, a flash of movement in the glass’s reflection caught his eye.
Montgomery smirked. Remained positioned with his back to the room.
“Right on time,” he said, voice brimming with arrogance. “One more minute and I would have been angry. You wouldn’t like me very much when I’m angry.”
“And why is that?” the girl asked.
Montgomery smiled. Started to respond.
Stopped himself short.
The girl had actually spoke. None of them ever spoke.
Not only that, there was something familiar about the voice. Something he recognized, couldn’t quite place.
Montgomery turned. Stared at the woman before him.
She wasn’t one of his. Wasn’t dressed in the long black trench coat he demanded. Almost certainly wasn’t wearing the lace bodice he paid good money for.
She wasn’t brunette.
She definitely wasn’t eighteen.
“If you’re wondering where the child you were expecting is, don’t worry. She’s safe,” the woman said. Eyes blazing.
Look of equal parts triumph and defiance on her face.
Montgomery’s eyes grew large. He twisted his head slightly in confusion.
The voice clicked into place. He had never laid eyes on its owner in person before. Still, had no doubt it was her.
Tried to pretend otherwise.
“Who are you?”
“You know,” the woman said. Remained rooted in place.
The look of confusion remained a moment. Gave way to a flash of fear. Was quickly replaced by the standard visage of haughty self-righteousness.
“Why are you here? We paid you your money. Is it more you’re after?”
The woman shook her head. Said nothing.
“Then what? What more could you possibly want?”
The sound of heavy footfalls drifted in from the hallway. Boots slapping against hardwood floor. A large man filling them.
One measured step at a time the man walked into the room. Took up a post beside the woman.
Stared malevolently at Montgomery.
“Respect,” the man said. “And we promise, it won’t look like anything resembling natural causes.”
Dead Peasants (Zoo Crew series Book 2) Page 21