Salvaged to Death

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  “Vaslilssa has some contacts in the bio-research world. I’m going to tap them and see if I can sniff out what might be missing from the island,” Luke said. “It’s a long shot, but at least it might give us some idea of what we’re dealing with.”

  “If Vaslilssa’s able to help us figure this out, I’ll by her a bag of Doritos. The family size,” Sadie said. She could practically hear Luke rolling his eyes through the phone.

  “It goes without saying that you need to let this go and come home,” Luke said.

  “Then why did you say it?” Sadie asked.

  “Because it goes without saying for normal people. You two needed to hear it,” Luke said.

  “I’m sort of with you on this one,” Hal said. “This has moved way past pumpkins.”

  “Guys, we can’t let this go. This is bigger than us now; it’s too important,” Sadie said.

  “Sadie, it’s not your job to save the world,” Luke said.

  “This time, maybe it is,” Sadie countered.

  “Sadie,” he started.

  “You’re breaking up,” she said. Reaching for Hal’s phone, she turned it off. She and Hal stared at each other in the ensuing silence. “I won’t blame you if you want to go. Take your car back to Atwood tonight. I’ll keep you updated.”

  “Are you kidding? The best place for an up-and-coming doctor to be is on the front lines of any bio-terror event. I want Channing Tatum to play me in the movie version of this event. Plus, if this turns out to be as bad as we think it could, someone’s going to have to repopulate the earth. Since I’m here and Luke’s there, I’ve got dibs.”

  “I’m afraid if there’s any sort of fallout, your job is going to be much more important,” Sadie said.

  “What’s that?” Hal asked.

  “Food is going to be in short supply. Someone’s going to have to get close to Vaslilssa to distract her so the army can take her down before she eats the survivors.”

  “What about Luke?”

  “He’ll be the first one she eats,” Sadie said. “He’s too trusting.”

  “I will take the Vaslilssa mission on one condition,” Hal said.

  “What’s that?” Sadie asked.

  “You must wait at least twenty four hours after my death before turning to Argus McGee for comfort,” he said.

  “I’ll try, but if he has used a lift kit on his pickup, I’m putty in his hands,” Sadie said.

  “You’re only saying that because you know that the truck we saw with the lift kit in the bar’s parking lot was his,” Hal accused. “Have you no shame, Sadie?”

  “A little. Not much,” Sadie said.

  “And that is why I love you. Now, onward to Bateman and certain doom.” He tapped the dashboard. Sadie turned the car around and drove back to Fiona’s house.

  Chapter 13

  The next morning, Sadie and Hal paid a visit to Shirley. Questioning a grieving grandmother was a new and distasteful experience for Sadie. Fiona helped by providing a casserole to deliver.

  “You’re a good woman, Fiona,” Sadie said as she accepted the foil-wrapped food.

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” Fiona said in her humble way.

  Shirley’s house was unsurprisingly crowded with mourners, family, and friends. Her kitchen counter groaned under the weight of food. Sadie added their contribution and eased into the tiny family room. Despite the amount of people, Shirley sat by herself in the corner, staring blankly out the window.

  “Hi, Shirley,” Hal said as he eased closer and sat down. They had decided that Hal would take the lead, both because he was supposed to be the investigator in the case and because he had already developed a bond with the woman

  “Oh, hi,” Shirley said. She spoke as from far away, as if just waking up to realize that strangers were in her house. “Thank you for finding Johnny. Are you here for your money?”

  Hal winced. “No, not at all. Don’t worry about that. Finding Johnny was an unfortunate accident, and I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  Shirley nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

  “It would help if we could take a look around Johnny’s room,” Sadie said.

  “Okay,” Shirley agreed.

  “And we need to ask you a few more questions,” Hal said. “Shirley, do you think Tom killed Johnny?”

  “I don’t know,” Shirley said. “Tom’s always been good to me. He loaned me some money when I was having a hard time. We’re friends. He talks a lot, but deep down he’s a good man. But even though he never said anything, he didn’t like Johnny. He thought he stole some things from him, but Johnny said he didn’t. It was a bad time before he went away with the sheriff saying he was going to arrest Johnny and all. I was glad when he found that job, even though I missed him.”

  “What can you tell me about his job?” Hal asked.

  “Not much. He wasn’t allowed to tell me things. It was top secret.” Shirley sat a little straighter, shoving her shoulders back with pride over Johnny’s esteemed position. “I went to visit him once and he couldn’t even show me.”

  “Why did he come home?”

  The shoulders fell. “I…guess he missed it here.”

  She’s lying, Sadie thought. Either she knew what Johnny was up to or she was trying desperately to live in denial. “Did he bring anything with him when he came home?” Sadie asked.

  Shirley frowned, perplexed. “All of his things, a big suitcase full and some boxes.”

  “Anything else? Anything unusual?”

  “No, not that I can think of,” Shirley said.

  “Did he seem frightened or worried before he disappeared?” Sadie pressed.

  “A bit,” Shirley conceded. “He never said why, but he was having a bad time with his friends. They didn’t treat him right after he returned. Jealous, no doubt.”

  “Shirley, think hard. Do you know anyone who might have killed Johnny for any reason?” Hal asked.

  Shirley’s eyes filled with tears again as she shook her head. This time they spilled over and ran in unfettered rivulets down her cheeks. “Who would have killed my Johnny? He was perfect.” Her gaze slid to the window and she was lost to them. Sadie and Hal excused themselves and went down the hall to what was obviously Johnny’s room. It was a mishmash of childish collections and a few random trappings of adulthood. A couple of boxes were stacked in the corner, but they were empty except for a few miscellaneous odds and ends.

  “Wouldn’t Bo have searched this by now?” Hal asked.

  “Absolutely,” Sadie said. “And while I secretly hope to miraculously stumble on something he missed, I mostly want to get a feel for who Johnny was.” The small space didn’t take long to search. The only notable item of possible interest was a pair of muddy boots with small pieces of gravel stuck between the treads. The salvage yard was laden with mud and gravel; Sadie’s shoes had looked much the same when she took them off after exploring. Since the coroner’s office probably had the shoes Johnny wore when he was killed, the muddy shoes could point to previous salvage yard trips. Or maybe not since a lot of places in this part of the country were rural and laden with dirt and gravel. Sadie was grasping at straws, and she hated that. She wanted to be in the know, to be ahead of the game and figure out what happened. Assembling a puzzle was nearly impossible with so many missing pieces.

  “Let’s search the basement,” she said.

  “There are about fifty people out there. I don’t think we can both get away with sneaking by them to go downstairs,” Hal said. “Why don’t I cover you and you can search the basement? I don’t have any idea what I’m looking for anyway.”

  Sadie didn’t bother to tell him that she had no idea either. Maybe she would know it when she found it. “Thanks,” she said. They eased back into the family room, and Hal began to circulate, doing what Hal did best—getting people to talk. The unlikeliest of people opened up in his presence. Sadie stood mesmerized for a few seconds as he walked up to the surliest looking man in the room and struck u
p a conversation. A few seconds later, the man was smiling.

  Hal glanced wonderingly in her direction. She jumped to attention with renewed purpose and edged toward what she hoped was the basement. The door was closed and it was in the most obvious spot for a basement, but one could never be sure. Some houses looked like a psychopath off his meds had designed them, with rooms plunked haphazardly and in no discernable pattern.

  The door squeaked when she wrenched it open; a wave of musty air greeted Sadie. She thought longingly of her flashlight as she groped her way down the dark stairs. At the base, she chanced turning on a light, sighing in relief when it gave a soft, ineffectual glow. Unless someone was purposely looking, they probably wouldn’t notice the light. She paused at the base of the stairs, surveying the scene. The room was more cellar than basement; cool, musty, and dank, it looked as if it had been crudely carved out of the mountain instead of built from cinder or concrete. The walls were lumpy and covered with peeling paint, as if someone had tried and failed to distract from the uneven bumps. Sadie felt them to make sure the paint blobs weren’t acting as cover for any hidey-holes. Next she moved on to the cupboard over the sink. It was filled with cleaning products. She checked the lids to make sure there were no false fronts or cutouts. If she were Johnny, the basement would have been the best place to stash something he didn’t want his grandmother to discover. The house was tiny and appeared to be tidy, which probably meant Shirley was a good housekeeper. There was no washer or dryer in the basement, so she would have no need to go downstairs often. The fact that the large room was sparse was both good and bad news for Sadie. There were few places to search but also fewer opportunities to find whatever was missing.

  She went through a large stack of boxes one item at a time and found nothing. No vials, no bottles marked “HAZARDOUS,” no mice that looked as though they died from a mystery outbreak. There weren’t even any spiders present, which Sadie found odd until she noticed a huge stack of Osage oranges in the corner. The old wives’ tale about hedge apples being a spider deterrent must be true. She was about to open the cupboard when the oranges caught her attention. Would Johnny have been clever enough to hollow an orange and conceal something inside? Maybe.

  Sadie strode forward and began squeezing oranges. They were hard and bumpy. She had just picked up the fourth orange when a strong arm slid around her neck and began cutting off air. She turned her head to the crook of his arm and bit. He whispered a yelp and released his hold. For good measure, she turned and punched him in the face, but shock and fear made her weak. The punch probably didn’t hurt. Bo gave her a hard shove anyway. She hit the wall, righted herself, and chucked an orange at his face. It glanced off his nose. He lunged for her again, but she sidestepped him and picked up another orange, holding it aloft like a pitcher on the mound. He put up his hands in surrender.

  “What is wrong with you?” he whispered. “Are you insane?”

  “Me? What’s wrong with you? Were you trying to kill me?” Sadie demanded in a furious whisper.

  “I was trying to keep you from screaming,” he said.

  “I don’t scream,” Sadie said.

  “I almost did,” Bo said. “In frustration. What are you doing here? Did you follow me?” He rubbed his nose. It was red and throbbing from where she had hit him with the apple, but there was no permanent damage as far as she could see.

  “I’ve been behind you the whole time,” Sadie lied. Let him believe she had been on his tail. Paranoia might work wonders for his arrogance. “I thought for sure you saw me earlier.”

  He squinted, either trying to remember a time when he might have glimpsed her or trying to figure out if she was telling the truth. Before he could reply, the door at the top of the stairs squeaked open. Bo dashed for his hiding place in the cupboard, presumably leaving Sadie to twist in the wind, but she was too fast. She darted into the cupboard as he closed it, mashing her back to his front. The sound of heavy boots scraped on the floor, warning Sadie that it wasn’t Hal; he was wearing sneakers.

  Once again Bo’s arm went round her, his hand clamping over her mouth. Did he think she was going to talk after being so careful to conceal herself? No, he wanted to annoy and suppress her—anything to get the upper hand.

  Sadie tried to bite him again, but he was wise to her ways and used his hand like a vise to keep her lips closed. There was no way to elbow him or mash his instep in the confined space. The only thing that had any leverage was her head. She used it to head-butt him in the mouth and nose. He dropped his hand along with an ill-timed curse. The door to the cupboard was ripped open. Sadie burst into tears and hurled herself at whoever it might be.

  “Oh, Argus, you saved me!” she said, tossing her arms around his neck as she pressed her face to his shoulder.

  “I did?” he asked, patting her back in confusion.

  “Yes. Bo dragged me into that cupboard, and he was not being a gentleman. I was so scared, and then you came along.” She peeled back to stare adoringly at his big, dumb face. “I should let you beat him up.”

  Argus shuffled uncomfortably from boot to boot, tossing glances at Bo. “Well, I…” Despite the muscles he liked to keep on display in what appeared to be an endless supply of sleeveless shirts, Argus was the type of guy who only entered fights he was sure he could win. Winning a fight with Bo was doubtful; he was smaller but gave off a menacing air of toughness and capability.

  “Never mind,” Sadie said. She turned to glare at Bo whose nose was dribbling blood. He returned her glare with interest, and she began to feel truly grateful for Argus’s presence. If not for the interloper, she wasn’t sure what Bo might do to her. “I hope you learned your lesson, Bo. No means no.”

  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, gritting his teeth. “I’m learning all sorts of lessons from you,” he ground out.

  Sadie stifled her witty quip in light of Argus who was regarding her curiously. Now was her chance to question him further. “Let’s go, Argus,” she said. She linked her arm through his and tugged him up the rickety stairs. Hal saw her emerge through the door and took a step forward in case she needed a rescue from Argus. Sadie made a subtle motion with her palm and he halted, spinning to find someone else to talk to.

  “Let’s go somewhere,” Argus said. His brain had finally caught up with events and he seemed enthusiastic over the prospect of alone time with Sadie.

  “I couldn’t possibly leave my cousin right now. He would fire me for taking off in the middle of the workday. He’s been threatening to get rid of me for a while now, and I need this job. I saw a swing in the back yard. Let’s sit there.” In screaming distance in case you get handsy, Sadie thought.

  “All right,” Argus agreed, petulant and pouty.

  “I just need to pop into the bathroom for a second and freshen up. The tussle with Bo took a toll on my appearance. I’ll meet you outside.” She gave him a light shove toward the door. If she had done the same to Luke, he would have dug his heels in and lectured her for her condescension. Argus nodded dutifully and shuffled outside. Sadie found the bathroom and removed her shirt. She scanned it, allowing her fingers to follow her eyes. Near the bottom hem, she found a tiny dot of film, too miniscule to be apparent to someone who wasn’t looking. The waffle weave pattern indicated that it was a microphone. The DHS is certainly high-tech, she thought. She pictured Bo in his truck with a listening device, eavesdropping on her conversation with Argus.

  “Eyes on your own paper, Lazy McBeardington,” she said before flushing the device down the commode. She put her shirt on and joined Argus outside. He stared straight ahead, not really seeing anything.

  “This must be a hard day for you,” Sadie said as she sat down.

  “What? Oh, yeah, real sad,” he agreed. “Johnny and I were best friends since we were kids, ever since we moved here from Atwood.”

  “I have a friend like that,” Sadie said, slipping out of her role for a moment as she thought of losing Luke. She shook her head to pus
h the sad thoughts away and stay focused. “Why were you in the basement?”

  “Oh, I was, um, uh,” he stammered, caught off guard by her bold question. “I was looking for, uh, for you.” He ended on a note of relief at having thought of a lie so quickly.

  “Really? How did you know I was down there?” She turned rounded eyes of adoration to him, and he became stymied and flustered again.

  “I…I saw you,” he said.

  “Oh.” She used her foot to gently push the swing, no easy task with Argus’s giant clodhoppers planted firmly in place. After a few nudges, he got the hint and released his feet, allowing the swing to move. “I need to confess something.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “I sort of sought you out on purpose,” she said. “I wanted to get close to you, to ask you some questions.”

  “Questions about what?” he asked.

  “Well, I heard these rumors, and…no, forget it. This is stupid. I promised myself I would stop going for the bad guy every time. Think, Sadie, think.” She made a fist and conked herself in the head a few times.

  “No, wait, what was the question?” Argus asked.

  “You’re going to think I’m dumb,” Sadie said.

  “Nuh-uh,” he said.

  “I sort of heard that you had done some stuff, and I thought it was kind of hot.” She hid her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. This is so embarrassing.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “I heard you lifted some stuff.”

  “I work out,” he said.

  “Not that kind of lifting. I mean you stole some stuff from Tom Tomkins. I heard you broke into the salvage yard and took a bunch of his catalytic converters.”

  “No way, that was Johnny,” he blurted and then quickly looked around to make sure they weren’t overheard.

  “Oh,” Sadie said. Her voice oozed disappointment and she sat back, deflated.

  “I mean, I maybe kind of helped a little, but, you know, it was sort of illegal and I could get arrested if anyone found out.”