Salvaged to Death

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  “That would interfere with me trying not to hear your voice,” she said.

  “Sadie.” He had the tone, the you’re-nearing-the-end-of-my-patience tone. Sadie smiled.

  “I will try to think like you,” she promised. “Step one: find a Russian who doesn’t understand the word ‘cholesterol.’”

  “Sadie.”

  “Step two: take a sledgehammer to my sense of humor.”

  “Sadie.”

  “Step three: call you on the pretense of chocolate syrup when what I’m really trying to say is that I miss you.”

  “Hanging up now.”

  “I haven’t reached step four.”

  “Step four is hanging up,” he said and hung up.

  Sadie tucked the phone back in her pocket and checked to see if Hal was still asleep. He was. She didn’t begrudge him the much needed rest, but keeping watch alone was boring. She edged around the pumpkin and scanned the patch. This time last year she had been on television, reporting on a freak autumn Nebraska snowstorm. Now she sat in a garden not her own, trying to figure out if pumpkin murder was afoot, and she had never felt happier. Even with the sticky emotional situation with Luke, Sadie had never felt such a sense of purpose before. She was where she was supposed to be, doing what she was supposed to do. When the timing was right, no task was too small, even keeping watch over a giant group of gourds.

  A movement at the far edge of the garden caught her attention. Was it a deer? A coyote? Maybe even a bear? It was too far to make out any details. She looked at the object askew, letting her peripheral vision take over and scan for movement. When it moved, she decided it was a human. A stealthy human, but a human nonetheless.

  She nudged Hal, muffling his mouth with her hand in case he woke up talking. Her lips pressed to his ear, whispering. “Someone’s in the pumpkin patch, Linus.”

  He blinked a few times to reorient himself. He nodded, and she dropped her hand, pointing to the spot the person had been. Sadie rose; Hal stumbled up and righted himself against the pumpkin. She guessed he was running on fumes at this point. She would have let him sleep except that he would be disappointed to miss any action.

  They crept toward the place the mysterious stranger had been. There was no sign of him, but he would hardly be standing out in the open if he was sneaking around. And with so many giant pumpkins, there were plenty of places to hide. Sadie and Hal used the pumpkins as cover, dodging from gourd to gourd as they got closer to their target. Sadie didn’t expect whoever it was to still be there, but she hoped to gain some insight into who it had been. Even from far away she didn’t think it was Tom Tomkins. His tiny stature was a dead giveaway; even most women were larger. She was almost positive that whoever had been lurking wasn’t him.

  They were two pumpkins away from the spot where she saw the intruder. She put a hand on Hal’s arm and pulled him to a halt, listening. She heard nothing but the sound of Hal’s breathing and the rustling of his jacket. He wasn’t great at sneaking around, she realized. He wasn’t as bad as some, but he obviously had no experience with covering the details of his presence. She could smell his cologne—it was pleasant, but also a dead giveaway. His jacket was nylon; Sadie had given up on synthetics when she became an investigator. Now she wore a cotton sweatshirt. It was warm and soundless with no crinkling material or clanging zippers. Unbidden, her thoughts turned to Luke. He had learned all the same lessons from Gideon that she had. She didn’t realize how invaluable it was to have someone who already knew what to do. She didn’t often use Luke, but when she did, he came prepared.

  She released her grip on Hal and took a cautious step forward. Though there was no sound, her skin pricked, alerting her to danger. Some unspoken sense was trying to send her a message. Sadie had learned long ago to rely on those gut feelings; they were right more often than common sense in situations like these. She paused again, but it was too late. Someone rushed from the shadows and barreled into her and Hal, knocking them down like bowling pins. Sadie didn’t fight the hit; instead she rolled into it, allowing her upper torso to absorb any impact. She rolled twice and sprang to her feet, a maneuver she learned from her ex-husband who used to tackle her for fun. Kai had been amazed by her ability to take a hit and keep going.

  Hal was still on the ground. She jumped over him and sprinted after their attacker.

  “Okay?” she called.

  “Yes,” he said, breathing hard. Grunting, he heaved himself up and limped behind her. She easily outpaced him, but she was still too far behind their assailant. Whoever he was, he was fast. She still couldn’t make out much about his form except that he was covered head to toe in black. Even his hair was covered. After the tackle, Sadie ruled out the possibility that it was a woman. He was fast and strong, but so were a lot of people. Her first instinct was to blame Bo, but rushing to judgment was often a mistake. When an investigator rushed too early to pin a suspect, she often overlooked something obvious in her determination to make a case.

  Sadie pushed aside thoughts of identification and concentrated instead on catching up. She added a turbo burst of speed, but to no avail. The suspect easily outpaced her and disappeared into the night. The chase became futile. Sadie gave up and admitted defeat, something she hated to do. She wanted a release for her anger, but Fiona’s precious pumpkins were the only outlet. While it might feel temporarily satisfying to kick a pumpkin to smithereens, it would inflict dire emotional harm on her employer. Sadie refrained and instead kicked ineffectually at the ground.

  “You putting out a fire?” Hal puffed as he jogged up to her.

  “I’m having a tantrum,” she said.

  “Are they always this calm? If so, you’re doing it wrong.”

  “I lost him.”

  “Probably a good thing,” Hal said. “He felt like a big guy. Or maybe there were six of him.” His hand graced over his ribs. “That’s what I’m going to tell people, if it’s okay with you.”

  “What was he doing here?” Sadie said. She turned in a slow circle, but there wasn’t much to see. Not only was it dark, but pumpkins obliterated the landscape.

  “Obviously it was Bo, and he was here to damage the pumpkins, probably on his boss’s orders.”

  “I don’t think so,” Sadie drawled. “They know we’re here. They’re not going to damage the pumpkins with us watching.”

  “Then what was this about?” Hal asked. He sat heavily and leaned against a pumpkin, yawning.

  “If it was Bo, then I think he was watching us.”

  “I know things are boring in the country, but are they so starved for entertainment that they watch us watch pumpkins?” Hal asked.

  Sadie sat beside him, scooting close for warmth. The run made her sweaty. Now the sweat was making her cold. “No, it’s not that. Something is wrong with Bo.”

  “You mean besides the beard and the fact that he works as a lackey for the kingpin of a rural salvage yard?”

  “That’s precisely what’s wrong,” Sadie said. “A job like that should go to a moron. Bo’s smart. Why is he here?”

  “Maybe he’s one of those get-back-to-nature types who doesn’t believe in working for the man,” Hal suggested.

  “Or maybe he’s an ex-con,” Sadie mused. Maybe that was what had been niggling in the back of her brain. Maybe her subconscious had been trying to alert her to the fact that Bo was a criminal.

  “That fits,” Hal said. “This is a good place to hide.”

  “I guess,” Sadie said, still not convinced. “It’s just that people don’t usually come to small towns to hide. The city is far more anonymous. Here everyone knows everything about everyone.”

  “Maybe they’re willing to look the other way,” Hal said.

  “They look the other way for one of their own, not outsiders. Something is missing from the puzzle,” Sadie said. “This is really bugging me. I need more information. I need to know about Bo.”

  “How are we going to do it?” Hal asked.

  “I think we should brea
k into their office and have a look around,” Sadie said. After a few beats of silence, she turned questioningly to Hal.

  “What?” he said.

  “I was waiting for you to tell me it’s a horrible idea and we shouldn’t do it,” she said.

  “Keep waiting. I’m too busy trying to figure out how to scale razor wire.”

  “If Luke was here,” she started but didn’t finish. If Luke was there, he would tell them they shouldn’t do it. He would probably try to physically block them from going into the salvage yard. But Luke wasn’t there; Hal was, and he was all for the idea.

  They stared blindly toward the razor wire fence. “If we had bolt cutters, we could cut a section of fence,” Hal said.

  “That would leave a trail,” Sadie said. “A trail leading to Fiona. I don’t want to do anything to increase the feud. We need to get in and out without a trace.”

  “We could put a mattress or leather on top of the fence,” Hal said.

  “Maybe,” Sadie agreed. “But it would shred upon removal. Tom is sure to notice large chunks of mattress stuck in his fence.”

  “You’re poking holes in all my best ideas,” Hal complained.

  Sadie linked her arm with his. “I’m sorry. You’re helping me brainstorm.”

  “By giving you really bad ideas,” he said.

  “It’s more helpful than you might think,” she said. She stood and tugged him up beside her. “C’mon, let’s take a look at the lock on the fence. I might be able to pick it.”

  “Stop it. I can’t resist when you talk about breaking the law,” Hal said.

  “If I’m feeling really naughty, I might rifle through their files and leave them in disarray.”

  “Now you’re just toying with my emotions.”

  Sadie laughed and they walked in silence for a while. When they reached the gate, she pulled out a pocket flashlight and stuffed it in her mouth. She studied the lock. For a paranoid man, Tom Tomkins hadn’t provided much of a challenge with his locks. To secure his precious salvage yard, he had covered it with razor wire but clamped one simple, yet large, padlock to the gate. Sadie had been picking locks since she was a kid—another handy skill Gideon taught her. He often said that the only difference between a good cop and a good criminal was a mound of paperwork. In other words, cops should know how to do everything criminals can do, only they should know how to do it better and do it for all the right reasons. More than once, Sadie had watched her father break into someone’s car using a Slim Jim. It was always to rescue a dog or child, but the lesson stuck: knowing how to break the law was a valuable skill.

  Her picks were in her suitcase. Before she retrieved them, she tested the lock. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she murmured as the lock gave way in her hand. It had been pushed together to make it appear closed, but it wasn’t latched.

  “That’s lucky,” Hal said.

  “Or a trap,” Sadie said.

  “Did anyone ever tell you you’re paranoid?” Hal said.

  “My stalker,” Sadie said. She pulled off the lock and looped it through the fence before opening.

  “You know how much I hate to be the voice of reason, but I seem to remember a psychotically barking dog the last time we were here,” Hal pointed out.

  “I don’t hear him now. We’ll tiptoe and keep our fingers crossed that he doesn’t appear,” Sadie said.

  “Now is a good time to warn you that I have a medical condition where I shove people into the paths of oncoming dogs to save myself,” Hal said.

  “As a doctor, you’d think that you would be able to find a cure for that.”

  “Sadly, there is no cure. Someday I’m going to have a telethon for myself and raise money for a cure. In the meantime, I try to avoid vicious dogs.”

  “That’s probably a good idea even for those who don’t suffer your affliction,” Sadie said.

  The office, unlike the fence, was properly locked. Sadie knelt, pulled out her flashlight, and peered closer.

  “Um, Sadie,” Hal began. He took a step closer and bumped into her, nearly knocking her over, and that was when she heard it—the ominous and low-pitched growl of an angry dog.

  Sadie froze. The dog didn’t scare her, but the powerful flashlight beaming on the back of her head did.

  Chapter 6

  “What are you doing?” Fiona asked.

  “Right now I’m testing the load-bearing capacity of my pants,” Hal said.

  Beside Fiona, the dog’s growl intensified. “Hush, Gidget,” she said, and the growl subsided to a whine.

  “Gidget?” Hal repeated.

  “Tom’s a fan,” she said, but there was a question in her tone, reminding them she was still awaiting an answer.

  “Someone was in the field. He knocked us over and got away. I can’t say for sure it was Bo, but looking around in the office seemed like a good idea.” Sadie thought it was a good idea to tread carefully until she ascertained Fiona’s views on B&E. “I, uh, might have to pick the lock.”

  “Or you could use the key,” Fiona said. She plucked a large ring from her pocket and handed it to Sadie. “I paid the hardware store money under the table to make me a set.”

  “You two,” Hal said as he feigned wiping tears. “I’m just so proud.”

  Sadie stuck the key into the lock and the dog whimpered plaintively again. For the moment, it was obeying Fiona, but how deep was its loyalty? “Is she going to attack us at some point?”

  “Nah. She’s too dumb to know which end is up,” Fiona said. “She and Tom are two peas.” She tittered at her own joke, a girlish trill that ran in direct contrast to her normally deep baritone.

  Sadie turned her flashlight on the dog, wanting to assess for herself the chances of survival. The mongrel was some type of mastiff mix. Drool ran in a long string from both sides of its mouth, its eyes were crossed, and a wayward tongue lolled haphazardly, adding more drool to the mix. Sadie couldn’t be sure, but the dog appeared to be smiling at her.

  “Hi, Gidget,” she said. “Don’t eat me, and I’ll buy you something pretty.”

  In reply, the dog licked her chops and panted a few times.

  “We girls have to stick together,” she said, turning toward the door again.

  “Preach, sister,” Hal said.

  Sadie paused again and turned back. “On that note, Fiona, I don’t think you should go in with us. If we get caught, there’s a good chance I can talk us out of trouble. But if you’re here, it’ll be like a powder keg.”

  “All right,” Fiona said evenly. “I’ll leave the light on for you.”

  Sadie smiled as she watched her walk away. “For you” sounded like “fer ya,” but despite the down-home accent, there was nothing simple about Fiona Tomkins. She was a riddle in herself, but Sadie didn’t have time for more puzzles. She pushed thoughts of Fiona aside and focused on the search. It didn’t take long.

  There was one room, the same room they had seen earlier. There were no hidden compartments in the desk, no filing cabinet. Wherever Tom Tomkins kept his secrets, it wasn’t at work. And there certainly wasn’t any information about Bo in the room, except for a sleeping pallet that might have been used by either man. Luckily no one was sleeping there now.

  Hal walked to the back door and poked his head out. “I would love to get a look at that salvage yard.”

  “Okay,” Sadie said. She gave him a light shove through the door when he remained staring at her, confused. “What?”

  “I was waiting for you to tell me we shouldn’t,” he said.

  “You’ve got the wrong person,” she said, not adding what they both knew; Luke was the naysayer in their group, the cautioner, the red flag. “Let’s go.”

  Unlike the tiny office, the salvage yard was vast. Sadie had grabbed a more powerful flashlight from the office, but even so, it was slow going. The night had turned black and the flashlight’s beam only illuminated so much. Ghoulish shadows appeared in the beam of the anemic light. On closer inspection, they turned out
to be mottled arrangements of bent steel.

  “This would be an awesome place for hide and seek,” Hal observed. “Tetanus notwithstanding.”

  “I wonder why Fiona and Tom never had any kids,” Sadie said.

  “Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome would be my guess,” Hal said. “Fiona has all the hallmarks for it.”

  “Sad,” Sadie said.

  “Treatments are available, but probably not readily up here in the middle of nowhere. Someone should start a clinic.”

  “Hal, did you just receive a calling?”

  He laughed. “No. My calling includes making enough money to pay off my med school loans. I’m going to go where rich people are and find a sick sugar mama I can nurse back to health. Maybe Beverly Hills.”

  “I hear it has swimming pools and movie stars,” Sadie said.

  “Can’t you just see me kissing up to the rich and famous? ‘Why, yes, Eve Harrington, I do think you look lovely today. Is that a wrinkle? Let me fix it with some Botox. That’ll be three thousand dollars.’”

  She smiled, but she would be sad when he went away. He had become a good friend in a short amount of time. Their relationship was different than any she’d ever had because it wasn’t muddied by romance. With both Hal and Luke, she could be herself, her real self and not the person she pretended to be with everyone else. Even though she didn’t have the same comfort level with Hal as she did with Luke, in some ways being with him was easier because there was none of the ever-present tension and no baggage from her past. He was a clean slate.

  They walked in silence awhile, feeling weary. Sadie was just about to call an end to the foray when Hal spoke.

  “What’s that smell?” he asked and she realized something horrible had been niggling at her nose for the past few minutes.

  “Rotten food in a fridge?” she guessed. They had seen ample refrigerators and freezers strewn throughout the junk.

  “No, it’s more acrid than food,” Hal said. “There’s something familiar about it, and that disturbs me.” He sniffed and turned to the left, leading the way with his nose like a bloodhound.