Reagan's Redemption: Book Eight In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series

by Cate Beauman

  “What did he say exactly?”

  “He said ‘Not everyone wants to hear what I have to say.’ My belief is his article is an in-depth look at the disease. Doctor Schlibenburg dedicated many years of his life to progressive massive fibrosis. I have men here in this community with that very diagnosis. I’m a big believer that knowledge is power. If Doctor Schlibenburg’s findings could help me, I wanted them.”

  “How would you describe the doctor?”

  “He was a bit strange—very paranoid.”

  “Do you believe he suffered from a mental illness?”

  “I’m not a psychiatrist, but if I were still practicing in the ER and he were to come in, I certainly would’ve called in the psychiatric department for an evaluation. I remember thinking he must have retired because he’d lost his mind.” She rubbed at her arms, remembering the isolation of the area and her discomfort with being there. “Honestly, I was relieved when I started heading home; although, I did hope to meet with him again, which is why I left the films—I wanted to appeal to his conscience and remind him four men needed his help.”

  “Aren’t the films your records?”

  “Typically films are discarded. I keep all images backed up on my computer.”

  The detective nodded.

  “My goal was to show him over time that he could trust me. I called to follow up and thank him for our meeting the night I got his daughter on the phone.”

  “And when was that?”

  “Monday.” Was it really only three nights ago that she’d sought out Shane for comfort?

  “And on the sixth when you left, did you notice any vehicles or anyone lurking around?”

  She flashed back to the moment when she’d thought she was being followed and immediately dismissed it. A car had driven behind her for an undetermined amount of time, then kept going when she turned into the gas station. “No.”

  “This has been very helpful, Doctor.”

  “I’m glad I could answer your questions.”

  He nodded. “If I have any more I’ll get back to you.”

  “Please do.”

  The detective stood. “Thank you for your time,” he said to both Chase and Reagan.

  Chase gave a quick nod, and she walked Detective Reedy to the porch.

  “Bye, Doctor Rosner.”

  “Goodbye.” She stepped back inside and closed the door, gripping the knob with a clammy hand as her gaze met Chase’s. “I’m going to head to the clinic.”

  “Do you need me to come?”

  “No. Shane usually stayed here with Jenny and Faith.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help with the Doctor Schlibenburg situation?”

  She shook her head, desperately wishing Shane was still here. “No, thank you.”

  “I’m going to get settled in then.”

  “Sure.” She walked outside, crossing her arms across her chest in the cool air, watching the detective drive away with fallen leaves swirling behind his car. She pressed her lips together, knowing the officer would be back. The sickening feeling in her stomach made her certain Doctor Schlibenburg’s death was connected to their consultation—the same sickening feeling that also made her positive Henry’s cremation was an attempt to hide the truth about black lung.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Reagan sat at the scarred table in the tiny satellite library ten miles west of Black Bear Gap. Rock Creek was no bigger than The Gap, but the town did boast a diner open on the weekends and the region’s elementary school, not to mention the library that was about the same size as her galley kitchen back in Manhattan.

  She closed yet another book she hadn’t found helpful and picked up the next option the librarian had suggested, hoping for more luck than she’d had so far. For almost two hours she’d poured through the short stack at her side, searching through periodicals and other local documents pertaining to the area’s mining history. It was worth a shot, since nothing else seemed to be panning out.

  Doctor Schlibenburg was dead, Henry had been turned into dust, and a twenty-two-year-old man had a condition no one his age should have. Four years working underground was not long enough to develop the type of progression he had in his disease, especially in a mine with an impeccable safety record. Too many variables weren’t adding up, and she had every intention of getting to the bottom of it.

  Yesterday’s search through the Mine Safety and Health Administration’s website brought her no closer to discovering the data she sought. For a time she’d thought she struck gold when she found several documents on Corpus Mining, but her excitement waned when she realized all of the records were dated prior to 2005—the same reading she’d done the night before her visit with Doctor Schlibenburg. Not long after that, the well of information simply dried up. MSHA had nothing available on the corporation for the last decade. By the time she closed up the clinic for the afternoon, she’d exhausted her search, having no choice but to send off an e-mail to the local district office asking for help when she’d hoped to keep her quest for answers a secret. She had yet to hear back.

  Sighing, she closed another book, struggling with her constant sense of frustration, and picked up the last hardback, flipping through the pages. She sat up straight, coming to attention when she found a chapter dedicated to Corpus Mining. She held her place with her right hand and flipped back to the copyright page, noting the book had been published just shy of twenty years ago. Finding her spot again, she devoured the words, stopping on every picture.

  She studied “Senior McPhee” as Rand McPhee, head of Corpus Mining Corporation, had affectionately been called, standing next to his sons two decades younger than they were now. She turned to the next page, finding a photograph of Doctor Paul Pattell. He appeared jovial and kind, the caption stating, “He’s the best darn doc a miner could ask for.”

  She read of the men who were happy to work for Corpus Mining, men of strong Appalachian pride. There were photos of Black Bear Gap in its prime. Once upon a time, the town had been pretty and charming. The rundown buildings had been lovingly kept, and the presently abandoned streets were full with the bustle of small-town living. She shut the book and walked up to the front desk, smiling at the sweet older woman sitting behind it.

  “Did you find what you was lookin’ for?”

  “I did.” At least she was off to a better start than yesterday. “You wouldn’t happen to have anymore books like this one, would you?”

  The woman tipped the volume’ s spine her way. “I sure don’t.”

  “That’s okay. Thank you so much for helping me today.”

  “You’re welcome, honey. It’s not often we get youngin’s as pretty as you interested in minin’.”

  She smiled again. “That’s very kind.” She opened the book to some of the pictures. “The Gap is so different now.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Used to be a fine place—a fine place indeed. Then things changed after Senior died.”

  “Senior McPhee?”

  “Mmhmm,” she confirmed, nodding.

  “What changed?”

  “Corpus ain’t what it was. Coal minin’s a dyin’ venture.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard.”

  “Gotta get what you can from deep under the ground.”

  She hummed her agreement as she turned to the page where Doctor Pattell smiled. “He seems very nice. He has a kind smile.”

  “A saint he was. Saw to my Mathias ‘til the day he passed of the cancer.”

  “The doctor passed of cancer?”

  “No, ma’am. My Mathias.”

  Her spirits lifted slightly with the hope of contacting a potentially great resource.

  “Doc died of carbon monoxide. They say it was a suicide.”

  “Suicide?” She glanced back at the man—another closed door she wouldn’t be able to open.

  “Now his wife’ll tell ya different. She insisted ‘til the day the Lord took her that Doc didn’t do himself away.”

  Interesting. “What do
you think?”

  “It’s hard ta say. I can’t think of no one who’d want to do him harm, and fact is Doc seemed a happy man—a dotin’ granddaddy he certainly was, and devoted to Edna sure enough.”

  “Well that’s a shame.”

  “It is indeed—maybe even more shameful than the heathen they got themselves in The Gap. The sins of that woman doctor be mighty. Causin’ trouble, spreadin’ lies, doin’ the devil’s work.”

  Reagan closed the book with a snap, making certain to keep her smile in place. Apparently she was well known even ten miles out of town. “Thank you again for your time.”

  “You come see me again now and I’ll tell ya a few good stories.”

  “I’ll do that.” She went back to the table, gathered her laptop and purse, and walked out the door with a polite wave for the woman who had no idea she’d conversed with the heathen herself. She settled behind the wheel and made her way back to town, rehashing her conversation with the librarian. Doctor Pattell had killed himself despite his devotion to his family and his widow’s insistence that he hadn’t, Corpus Mining “wasn’t what it was,” and she had men sick with a disease that by all intents and purposes shouldn’t exist in a facility as exceptionally run as the one up the road. Why did her shoulders feel heavier now than they had when she walked into Rock Creek Library earlier this afternoon?

  She entered Black Bear Gap’s town limits and turned into the market parking lot. Getting out close to the entrance, she passed through the plume of cigarette smoke, ignoring the grumbles from the men standing around as she stepped inside. “Hello, Hazel,” she tried, knowing the cashier wouldn’t answer and went to the mail window. “Good afternoon, Mini.”

  “Afternoon, Doc Reagan.”

  Reagan glanced over her shoulder, adjusting her stance, forever watchful for another ambush. This time Shane wasn’t here to keep disgruntled community members in check.

  “Here you are, Doc Reagan.”

  “Thank you.” She took the stack and quickly headed home, still needing to pack for tomorrow’s trip to Lexington. She pulled into the drive, then grabbed the mail and her laptop case, running through her list of to-dos as she walked inside. Toeing off her shoes, she smiled at Chase sitting on the couch with his phone at his ear.

  He sent her a wave.

  She mouthed Jenny and he pointed to her room. Nodding, she took the stairs to the study and made herself comfy on the loveseat, wanting to check her e-mail one last time while the house was still reasonably quiet before she dedicated the rest of her day to the girls.

  Jenny had been mopey since she woke from her nap yesterday. Reagan tried distracting the melancholy teenager with popcorn and a funny movie. They even took turns painting each other’s nails with a couple of the new polishes Jenny received from Abigail Quinn, but nothing cheered her up. By the time they called it a night, she had a bed-full of guests. She, Jenny, and Faith bunked in her room, which worked just fine for her. The girls’ company had been a comfort, chasing away the loneliness of their first night at home without Shane.

  She opened her laptop and glanced at the time—three twenty. It was lunchtime in California. Was Shane eating with his buddies? Did he think of her as she thought of him? She shook her head as her stomach pitched and her heart ached. For stretches of time she’d done a good job of putting him to the back of her mind, but he consumed every second otherwise. Shane had officially been gone for more than twenty-four hours. She’d made it through her first full day without him. Pressing her lips together, she sighed. One day down, only an entire lifetime to go, but hopefully each day would get a little easier.

  Her e-mail dinged, alerting her to a new message. Welcoming the distraction, she clicked on the few short sentences from the regional Mine Safety and Health Administration field office.

  Doctor Rosner,

  Thank you for your e-mail. I looked into your inquiry, and I’m afraid the information you seek on Corpus Mining Corporation has been misplaced. As soon as I’m able to track down the records you’re requesting, I’ll be sure to send them on the way.

  Sincerely,

  Markus Starks

  Supervisor

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” How had ten years of safety records been misplaced? Groaning, she flopped back against the cushion and closed her eyes. One step forward, eight hundred steps back. “Enough. Enough of this for today.” She shut the lid on her laptop and gave a quick search through the mail, pausing when she spotted the pink envelope addressed to her. Tearing it open, she frowned as she pulled out a slim strip of white paper with a URL printed on it. “What’s this?” she murmured, looking at the envelope and postmark seal. “Canada.”

  She opened her laptop again and punched in the web address, hesitating with her finger hovering above “enter,” wondering if this was someone’s attempt at infecting her software with some sort of virus. She glanced at the postmark again and hit the button anyway. Within seconds, several hyperlinks popped up. She selected the first one, staring in disbelief at the documents filling her screen—the information she’d been searching for: Corpus Mining’s Safety records for 2013. She exed out of the document and opened another link, then another, realizing the ten-year paper trail was right here. She located 2014’s and blinked. “Oh my God,” she whispered, her heart pounding as she scanned sheet after sheet, noting several infractions for unsatisfactory dust levels as well as numerous on-the-job injuries, some of which were labeled “significant to substantial.”

  “High negligence,” she mumbled as she read, yet Corpus Mining had all of their air violations reversed after the company submitted new samples proving their dust readings were within normal ranges. Surprisingly, the company was still in good standing with the Mine Safety and Health Administration and OSHA, even though they had numerous blights on a once outstanding record.

  She sat back against the cushion again, rubbing at her shoulders. She’d stumbled onto seriously damaging information that now made her four former patients’ diagnoses make perfect sense.

  She glanced toward the stack of mail, noticing a baby-blue envelope much like the pink she’d just opened and tore at the top, pulling out another white strip, this one covered with…part of a sentence?

  …face several struggles not only in their place of employment but also within their daily lives, their condition making the most common tasks unmanageable.

  She searched the remaining pile of mostly junk mail and closed her laptop when Jenny and Faith started up the steps.

  “You’re home,” Jenny said as she took the last stair.

  Reagan stood, pocketing the mysterious piece of paper. “I am.”

  “I meant to study while you were gone, but I guess I fell asleep instead.”

  “Then you must have needed the rest.” She took a still-sleepy Faith from Jenny. “Hi, sweet girl.” She kissed the baby’s forehead as she snuggled her close. “Did you and your mommy have a nice nap?”

  Faith rested her cheek against Reagan’s chest.

  Reagan wrapped her arm around Jenny’s shoulder. “How are you doing this afternoon?”

  Jenny shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Have you packed yet?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never been to any fancy places, so I don’t know what to bring.”

  “We should probably figure it out.”

  Jenny smiled. “I guess we should.”

  “Come on.” She gestured with her head. “Let’s go get you packed up for our first official girl’s weekend,” she said as they started downstairs.

  “I am pretty excited.”

  “Me too.” She found what she’d been looking for; the answers were finally coming, but black lung would have to wait for a couple of days. She was as ready as Jenny to get out of this town for a while. Their trip to Lexington would be good for both of them.

  ~~~~

  “The detective was out to see her yesterday. She’s been asking questions about the mine,” he said as he stared through his
binoculars, watching the doctor put clothes in a suitcase.

  “I guess you should keep a real careful eye on her then.”

  He tightened his focus on her beautiful face as she smiled at the blonde. “She’s back at the cabin now. It looks like she’s getting ready to go somewhere.”

  “I want to know where.”

  “You’ll be the first.” He hung up, more than happy to keep watch over the lovely Doctor Rosner.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Reagan carried Faith in the front pack as she perused another selection of warm tops for Jenny. Abigail Quinn had gotten Jenny’s wardrobe off to an excellent start, but it never hurt for her to have a few more options. Chilly fall temperatures had rolled in with a vengeance. Gone were the cool starts to the mornings and mild afternoons. Winter was making its way south, and they were going to be ready, especially when Reagan had three hours to kill and their hotel room was so close to an actual mall.

  She adjusted the bags she held on her arm, full with various sizes of sleepers, cute outfits, and socks for the baby, stopping when the pretty pink cable-knit crop sweater caught her eye. She ran her hand over the soft cashmere and picked it up, grabbing an adorable pointelle sweater in a cream color as well, imagining Jenny’s slim build filling out both pieces nicely.

  Faith stirred in the carrier, and Reagan rubbed her hand up and down the baby’s back as she carried the small pile of new clothes toward the registers. She paused when she spotted a navy blue sweater in the men’s section that would look perfect on Shane. Sighing, she shook her head and kept going, forcing a smile for the cashier when she set her stuff on the counter.

  “Good afternoon.”

  “Hi.” She pulled out her credit card and swayed as Faith started to fuss.

  “I just love babies.” The sales associate grinned, leaning closer to Faith. “Your daughter’s beautiful.”