Sabotaged

by Dani Pettrey

  Kirra swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “He made a call out?”

  “Afraid so. Said he hadn’t brought his cell phone to Seward, so he asked to use ours.”

  “Any idea who he called?” Reef asked.

  “We traced it. Went to a burner cell, which I imagine by now has been discarded.”

  Great. She was putting money on his call going to Joseph Keller. Which meant they’d been tipped off that they were closing in, and that the police had been brought in.

  Fear seized her chest. What if they harmed Meg because of their actions?

  “I hovered when he made his call,” Kevin said.

  “Did you overhear anything useful?”

  Kevin smiled. “He kept most of the conversation fairly quiet, but at one point he seemed to freak out over something the other person said—asked what he should say if he’s questioned about the stations.”

  “Stations? Plural?” Reef said.

  Kevin nodded.

  “He must have been tipped off by the person he talked to,” Kirra said. “It’s the only way he could know Jake found out about the rigged pump station. Someone inside the race had to tell him.”

  “So they do have a man on the inside.” Reef reached for his phone. “I better let Jake know for certain.”

  “You may want to wait until after you talk to Sam,” Kevin said, gesturing with his chin.

  Sam’s pacing speed had increased dramatically.

  “I worry he may figure out he can just walk out of here any minute.”

  Reef slipped the phone back in his pocket. “You’re right. And I’m sure, or at least hope, we’ll have more to tell Jake after we talk with Sam.”

  “One more thing,” Kevin said as Kirra’s hand rested on the doorknob.

  “Yeah?” She paused.

  “He’s pretty upset about another missing ROW member.”

  “Someone else has gone missing?”

  “I’m afraid so. Belinda Morrison.”

  Kirra swallowed, looking back at Reef. “Belinda? What if our talking to her caused . . .”

  He cut her off gently. “We could play the what if game all day, but it won’t help anybody.” He stooped, his big blue eyes full of love and support. “Let’s do what we can. Let’s talk with Matthews.”

  Reef was right. Taking a steadying breath, she entered the interrogation room, utterly grateful Kevin was allowing them to question Matthews.

  Sam halted, his gaze jumping from Reef to Kirra and back again. “What are you doing here?”

  “Why don’t you take a seat,” Reef suggested, pulling one out for Kirra and then one for himself.

  “If it means I can get out of here faster . . .” Sam slid into the chair opposite them.

  Reef swung his chair around and straddled it, resting his arms across the back. “What can you tell us about Joseph Keller?”

  Sam swiped his nose. “Who?”

  So that’s how he was going to play it. Kirra leaned forward, planting her palms on the table. “Rain.”

  “Like I said”—he reclined—“not much.”

  His nonchalant, arrogant attitude rubbed her wrong. It took great restraint for her to remain calm and collected, at least in appearance. If this man knew anything about her cousin and was taking it so lightly . . . “That’s funny, because we learned you two were part of the NorthStar protest back in Anchorage.”

  “So?”

  “So it appears you two took things further than just protesting.”

  “Says who?”

  “Anchorage police.”

  “They’re wrong.”

  “That’s not how we heard it. We heard you and Rain”—she added extra emphasis to the alias—“were arrested for vandalizing NorthStar equipment later that night.”

  He straightened. “We were brought in for questioning, not arrested.”

  “Still proves you lied to us.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “You said you didn’t know Rain’s real name, didn’t know him at all until he recently showed up on campus. But the two of you protested together months ago, and if you two were brought in for questioning together, surely you would have learned his real name at the time of interrogation, if you didn’t know it before.”

  “So what if I did?”

  “So that’s just the tip of the iceberg, isn’t it?” She shifted in her chair. “What happened to Belinda?”

  Pain flashed across Sam’s face. “I don’t know. She just disappeared.”

  “After talking with us.”

  He pinned an angry gaze on them. “Yeah.”

  Kirra’s stomach flipped. So Belinda’s disappearance was a result of her talking to them. Had she been silenced? “What did you do to her?”

  “Me?” Color raced up his neck. “I’d never hurt Belinda.”

  “So who did?”

  Sam looked away. “I don’t know.”

  Kevin stepped into the room, clearly deciding this was the time to apply some pressure. “If anything happens to Meg or Belinda while you keep your mouth shut, you’ll be charged as an accessory.”

  Sam’s face paled. “I want a lawyer.”

  “Fine,” Kevin said, linking his arms across his chest. “But the accessory charges, along with obstruction of justice, will still hold if anything happens to them in the meantime.”

  Sam swallowed, the defined Adam’s apple in his narrow neck bobbing.

  “On the other hand,” Kevin continued, “if you help us out, we’ll pass that info along to the DA, and in exchange for what you know, you might just get off—or at least get a reduced sentence. Not to mention the satisfaction of saving two ladies’ lives.” Kevin placed his palms on the table in front of the young man and leaned forward. “So what’s it going to be, Mr. Matthews?”

  He sat in yet another rental car across the darkened street from the Seward police station, rage seething inside. If Sam gave him up . . .

  His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

  “Yeah?” his cousin answered on the other end.

  “They’ve got Sam,” he gritted out, irritation burning his veins. All because of a stupid girl.

  “What?” The timbre of his cousin’s voice vibrated.

  “He called. They’re questioning him.”

  “About?”

  “Word from the race is they are checking out the pump stations.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  He adjusted his side mirror, watching an attractive woman cross the recently snowplowed street. “Don’t worry. Frank knows what to do and what’s at stake. Even if they figure it out, they won’t have time to do anything about it.”

  “And Meg? How much does Sam know about her?”

  He swallowed, preparing for a rant. “Enough.”

  “Then you better find out how much he tells them and if he’s really loyal to us.”

  “He’s loyal to the cause.”

  “Cut the cause junk. You and I know why we’re really doing this. You can call it a plan or a cause or whatever you choose, but you know the truth.”

  “But Sam doesn’t, and that’s how it has to stay if we want to maintain his loyalty, especially after taking Belinda out.”

  “I told you not to involve anyone else.”

  “We needed to know what she told Reef and Kirra, and she could have identified me. I had no choice.”

  “Well, you ticked off Sam, and now we might have a loose cannon on our hands. It’s essential you find out what he told them.”

  “I will, and don’t worry about their interest in the pump stations—we’ve thrown in a nice diversion.”

  “At least you did something right.” The line went dead.

  He chucked his new burner cell onto the empty seat beside him, the old one tossed as soon as Sam’s call came in. If their plans fell apart all because of a nosy cousin and her boyfriend . . .

  His grip tightened on the wheel.

  Well, then more than one pretty cousin was going to hav
e to die.

  “So, what’s it going to be, Sam?” Kirra asked, struggling to keep the desperation from her voice.

  “I want it in writing—I’m cleared of charges in exchange for what I tell you.”

  Hoffman chuckled. “Let’s see if what you got is worth anything first.”

  “Fine.” Sam leaned forward. “I know who took Meg Weber, and I’m pretty positive Belinda too.”

  An unsettling mix of fear and hope coursed through Kirra. She looked back at Kevin, praying he knew how valuable that information was and how time was of the essence.

  28

  After a grueling two-hour wait, the regional assistant DA had the papers drawn up and faxed over.

  With only a modicum of hesitation, Sam signed and Kirra pounced.

  “Where’s my cousin? Where’s Belinda?”

  He slid the papers to Hoffman with his index finger. “I don’t know.”

  Panic shot through Kirra. “But you said . . . ?”

  “That I knew who took her . . . them.” He swallowed. He clearly cared about Belinda.

  Reef rested a hand on Kirra’s shoulder, steadying her. “And . . . ?”

  “Joe took Meg our first night in Seward. I imagine he took Belinda after she went to the police station with you. I’m sure Joe was watching.”

  “Belinda?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. You two.”

  Kirra swallowed the fear that invoked.

  “Joe, as in . . . ?” Hoffman asked.

  They needed him to be precise.

  “Joseph Keller. I told him I didn’t think we needed to snatch the stupid girl for our cause to be effective, but he was persuasive and insistent. I ain’t going down for his choice, though, especially not after Belinda.”

  Irritation flared in Kirra that Sam apparently attributed worth to Belinda’s life but seemed to attribute none to her cousin’s. Besides, they already knew Keller was involved, or at least suspected as much. What if they’d made a horrible mistake by making a deal with Matthews? What if he was of no actual help and they’d just let him off the hook for his role? Nausea waffled through her stomach.

  “You mentioned that he and Meg had ridden up to the protest with you,” Reef said, keeping them on track.

  “That’s right.”

  “So what car did he move Meg in? Is someone else involved?”

  “There are lots of us involved at varying levels, but that night it was just me and Joe. He had a car stashed up there ahead of time.”

  “We’re going to need a make and model on that vehicle,” Hoffman said.

  “It was an old beater. Something Joe paid cash for.”

  Hoffman frowned. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than that.”

  Sam sighed. “It was a red Fiat.”

  “So what happened?” She was desperately trying to envision how that night had played out, praying some detail—any detail—would lead them to Meg.

  “Joe slipped something in Meg’s drink. Once she was out, I helped him carry her to the car.”

  “And then you started the rumor the two of them had just taken off together during the night?”

  “Yeah.” Was that a hint of a smirk on his lips? Did he not grasp the seriousness of this? Or did he actually not care when it came to her cousin?

  “Where’d he take her?” Reef asked, his tone deepening in intensity.

  “Like I said . . .” Sam shrugged. “I don’t know.” He rocked back in the chair, the front two legs lifting off the floor.

  Hoffman stalked around behind him and shoved the chair down. “Not good enough!”

  “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

  “You know more than you’re saying.”

  “No I don’t. All Joe said was they were taking her someplace safe.”

  “They?” Reef prodded.

  “I assume Joe’s cousin. He’s the one running things.”

  “Let me guess,” Hoffman said, his jaw tight. “You never got a name?”

  “Actually, I did.”

  Kirra straightened. Finally.

  “Jay.”

  “J as in the letter?”

  “I always assumed Jay as in J-A-Y. But either way it was short for something.”

  Maybe Jacob or Jason.

  “Same last name?” Keller.

  “I assume so.”

  “How’d you meet Joe?”

  “He approached me on campus in Anchorage.”

  “Anchorage? You’re at Fairbanks,” Kirra said. That’s where they’d found him or at least heard of him from the ROW students there.

  “I am now. Joe approached me on campus last fall and said he and his cousin have been fighting environmental injustice for years and they had something monumental planned. Something they hoped I’d be a part of. They were familiar with my vigor for the cause and wanted me to join them.”

  “So you just hopped on the bandwagon. No questions asked?”

  “I asked.”

  “And?”

  “They were sick of the oil companies like NorthStar taking over native and private land, destroying the environment so big corporations could get richer. They wanted to teach them a lesson.”

  “And kidnapping my cousin was the way to do it?”

  “Like I said, that wasn’t my idea, but Joe and his cousin were convinced we needed somebody on the inside to rig the pump stations to overheat.”

  “So it would look like a company malfunction rather than an act of ecoterrorism?” Reef said.

  “We’re not terrorists. We’re just fighting back for those who have no voice.”

  “What about all the people that will get hurt when those stations overheat and blow?”

  He shrugged. “Cost of the cause.”

  “And how did Meg get pulled into all this?”

  “They learned your uncle Frank was the one they needed to rig the pumps. He designed them and laid all the grid work, not to mention he maintains them. He even had a background in B and E. You couldn’t get much more perfect than that.”

  “How’d you know he had . . . ?” She shook her head. “Never mind.” That wasn’t important. If anything, it’d been a total diversion. Meg wasn’t being held as ransom for a Fabergé egg. She was being held so Frank would rig the pumps to overheat and blow.

  “But you needed leverage,” Reef said.

  Sam smiled. “Exactly. They found out that Frank’s daughter was a junior at Fairbanks, and that the campus had a particularly strong environmental group, so I transferred from Anchorage to Fairbanks over winter break.”

  “And sought Meg out?”

  “Yes. She already had an interest in the cause from a class she’d taken the previous semester and had focused all her energy on learning as much about environmental rights as she could, so that was helpful.”

  “But you took it a step further and made sure she got interested in you as well,” Kirra said.

  “Yeah. At least until Joe started hanging around campus.”

  There was a sore spot to nudge. “And Meg fell for him?”

  Sam swiped his nose. “No biggie. Turned out he was the one she needed to be attached to anyway.”

  But he clearly wasn’t happy about it. Maybe that’s why he didn’t seem particularly concerned about Meg’s well-being.

  “Say Frank does as they instructed and the pumps blow—what happens to Meg then?”

  He looked away. “That’s up to Joe’s cousin.”

  “Why’s that?”

  His frame stiffened. “He’s calling the shots.”

  Kirra stood, intercepting his line of sight, forcing him to look her in the eye. “This is Meg’s life we’re talking about. Are you sure you have no idea where they’re holding her?”

  He swiped his nose.

  “You nervous?” Reef asked.

  “No.” Sam shoved his hands into his pockets, his right knee bouncing.

  “If they kill her, you’re going to have to live with the knowledge you sat back
and did nothing to help.”

  “Fine! They took her to some family cabin near Nome, but I’m sure they’ve moved her by now.” He frowned and stuck out his chin. “That’s all I’m saying.”

  “And Belinda?”

  Were those tears beading in his eyes? “I don’t know.”

  29

  KALTAG, ALASKA

  MARCH 16, 8:20 A.M.

  Gage watched Xander step from the room as Darcy moved to his side with her backpack. The communications and SAR team were packing up to head for the next checkpoint located at Unalakleet—the lead mushers having pulled out about four hours ago, the slowest ones not to arrive for another eighteen hours. They’d hang back for a little while and then move on with the rest of the crew.

  Unalakleet marked the first checkpoint on the coast of the Bering Sea, and the weather and terrain shifted dramatically. Brutal storms could suddenly hit off the sea without warning, the soft, drifting snow reaching rooftops. Many mushers would make the change to lightweight racing sleds there—preparing to face the windblown landscape for the remainder of the race.

  “Any word from Jake and Kayden?” she whispered once she was sure they were alone.

  “Nothing positive,” Gage said, “but the search is just getting started.” Jake and Kayden, along with several other air force pilots and some snowmobilers, had left in plenty of time to arrive in the search area when dawn broke. The sun was rising behind the cloud cover, bringing filtered light onto another day of the Iditarod. Unfortunately they’d found no sign of Brad Abbott.

  Darcy collected the remainder of her things into her backpack. “I know he needs to be found, and I want him to be, but so does Frank. Why has all the SAR effort shifted to Brad?”

  “Because”—Gage zipped up his duffel—“Ben believes Frank scratched and didn’t bother telling anyone. Scratched mushers aren’t Iditarod SAR’s responsibility. With another musher missing, one who’s still part of the race, he gets full SAR support. Until Brad Abbott is found we don’t have the go-ahead to resume searching for Frank—and we might not even get it then.”

  “What if we tell Ben what is really going on? Might he see the importance and change his mind?”

  “No . . . Jake and I discussed that. Ben would just argue that the threat to the pipeline isn’t Iditarod SAR’s responsibility—and he’d be right.” Gage shook his head. “NorthStar Oil isn’t willing to call in the authorities yet, and even though we’re pretty sure the kidnappers are well aware of our activities and that we have been in contact with the police, we can’t take the chance of ticking them off by making law enforcement’s involvement official.” He picked up his duffel and Darcy’s backpack and walked toward the door. “So for now . . . we wait.”