“How’s the weather where you are?” Rainey asked, watching lightning flashes in the clouds near Durham.
“It looks nasty,” Katie said. “We’re in Chapel Hill. The wind has really picked up. We might be a little later getting home. I don’t want to run into hail with the van. Ann said we can wait it out in one of the construction garages till it passes.”
“Okay, honey,” Rainey said. “I’ll see you soon. Be careful.”
“Are we still in mortal danger,” Katie asked half kidding, but not really. It was another coping mechanism Katie used which required her to be flippant in times of stress.
“Just be aware that someone has made a threat. I’ll fill you in when I see you.”
“All right, then. We are in a watch, not a warning, conditions are favorable, be on the lookout. You be careful. I love you. See you soon. Oh, Cathleen says to tell Danny hello.”
“He can hear you,” Rainey said.
Cathleen’s voice filled the car. “Hey, Danny. I tried Carolina barbecue, and I want a tiny house.”
“We just bought a huge house,” Danny said.
Cathleen came back with, “I’ve changed my mind and want to live in a tiny house in Rai-y an- Ka-ie’s ba-yar-…”
Rainey saw the sky light up in the distance as the call dropped out.
An automated female voice purred, “Call ended.”
“Remember, after Katrina when they voted down a bill requiring cell towers to have at least eight hours of battery power,” Rainey said. “That is why when there is a power outage the strength of signal goes way down. The newer towers put in after 2007 usually have battery power, but the older network still hasn’t been updated.”
Rainey glanced over at Danny. He was staring at her, mouth opened a bit, an expression of wonder on his brow.
“What?” she asked.
“An unknowing person would guess that you simply have too much time to surf the Internet and read random shit. But I bet you have a legit reason for knowing that.”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I had a case where the suspect’s cell phone said he was not at the crime scene when a witness saw a man throw a woman from a third story balcony. A storm knocked out power and cell service to his carrier in the area of the crime scene. It turned out to be a stroke of luck on his part that he received a call while committing the crime. Phone records placed his phone nearer to the next cell tower, which happened to cover the apartment he rented for his mistress. He was just that lucky.”
“So, how did you prove he did it?”
Rainey chuckled. “I didn’t. His mistress gave him up and testified that he couldn’t believe the power outage was giving him an alibi and how it had cost him nothing to get away with killing ‘that bitch.’ The mistress cost more, and he didn’t pay up.”
Danny sighed. “Alas, we don’t have a mistress to give up Chance.”
“But we do have The Inquisitive Mistress, Vanessa Wilhelm. Pull up what Brooks sent on her. I just scanned all that stuff. Did you see those blog entries Brooks highlighted? The Mistress interviewed a lot of Hale Trucking employees.”
Danny busily opened and closed windows on the computer, zeroing in on pertinent info.
“I see that she said retired Special Agent Rainey Bell refused an interview.”
“I don’t remember the request. Ernie could have played gatekeeper on that one. She knows I don’t discuss cases I worked while at the Bureau with anyone outside the FBI.”
Rainey gripped the wheel a little tighter and focused on the road as the wind buffeted the car, rocking the laptop in its holder. They caught up with the rain on the backside of the storm. Rainey turned on the windshield wipers.
Danny braced the laptop with his hand so he could continue to read.
“Wilhelm also spoke with Eugene H. Berry, son of Jean Berry. Eugene said his mother could not be interviewed because of dementia. Yet, Wilhelm notes Jean Berry is still signing checks, which she discovered by chatting up a teller down at the bank. The teller said Ms. Berry still came to the bank herself on rare occasions, but he assured Vanessa, Jean Berry does not have dementia. She’s sharp and no one to be trifled with.”
Rainey slowed the car more as the rain fell harder. Her thought processes decelerated with it. Taking the cue from her body, Rainey took a deep breath and released it with the anxiousness that felt as though it was freezing her brain.
Danny commented, “Wow, that was a hell of a stress release. You good now.”
“Yes. I got it in my head that we had to see this woman. I think I just asked myself why.”
Danny didn’t want to talk about her processes, which Rainey adored about him. He answered her question. “Okay, we know the IP address is tied to an account paid for by Jean Berry at her residence on Station Road. Chance could still have set this up. Hijack the Wi-Fi from outside and send whatever from whomever and it will look like it originated here. Brooks said the tablet identification data traces back to Vanessa Wilhelm. Vanessa’s family said the one she carried for interviews is missing.”
Rainey listened to yet another circumstantial evidence-laden saga in the Chance Hale tale.
“They are the only people left,” Rainey said. “Jean and Eugene are it. Everyone else is dead except Robby.”
She exchanged a quick look with Danny.
“We need to know for sure Robby is out of circulation,” Danny said and began typing into the laptop immediately. “Brooks can nail that down for us.” He hit the enter key with some flourish, saying, “Okay, what next?”
“We have twenty minutes to come up with a reason that Jean Berry or her son, Eugene, could be the masterminds of a serial murder run two decades long, able to stop at will and pick up again if the need arises. What kind of crimes are these? What’s the payoff for the killer?”
Danny added his own questions, “What do the victims have in common? What nerve did Vanessa Wilhelm hit, or rather who did she unnerve?”
Rainey gave consideration to a theory she had never given much credence. “Could this person have hidden in the edges of Chance Hale’s life? Is this someone that was never on anyone’s radar, not even Chance’s, whom I have assumed knows more than he’s saying.” Rainey popped the steering wheel with the heel of her hand for emphasis, saying, “Or is he the calculating killer I’ve always thought he was? If he is, he has a partner. That partner is the person I want to talk to.”
The incoming caller alert sounded. “You have an incoming call from Brooks.”
Rainey pushed the button on the steering wheel, answering the call, “Our Ms. Brooks, tell me crime solving clues so we can wrap this day up and go watch young men fly through the air, dropping threes like rain.”
“I am recording every moment. Don’t tell me any scores,” Brooks said. She and Rainey shared a love of tournament time.
Danny asked, “Do you have the email I just sent?”
Rainey could hear Brooks’ fingernails clicking against her keyboard as she answered the questions posed to her, “I do have that email and was way ahead of you on that one. It occurred to me that elimination of family members and employees as suspects was our challenge here.”
“You are Magic Melatiah after all,” Rainey remarked.
Brooks chuckled. “No magic at all. These people are just like any other criminal; they want something somebody else has, and they take it. It’s like Hannibal Lector said—people covet.”
Danny teased, “Oh no, you’re not quoting Hannibal, are you?”
“Tell me he’s wrong,” Brooks countered. “It doesn’t matter what excuse or reason these serial killers give you for their crimes, it all boils down to they took because they wanted a thing someone else had, be it money or self-worth. That’s coveting.”
Rainey steered the car around a significant ponding of rainwater on the highway, while she said to Danny, “She has a point.”
The horizon lit up the eerie green hue that signifies a transformer struck by lightning in the distance. The rumble of thu
nder filled the car.
Rainey warned, “We’re driving into a severe storm so the call could drop. Tell us the important stuff first.”
Brooks began the information dump. “First, Robby Hughes is in a long-term care facility. He can walk and talk, but he has a way to go and may never fully recover. His guardian is Jean Berry.”
A great BOOM interrupted Brooks, as lightning made contact with the earth somewhere nearby.
“Good Lord, is all hell breaking loose down there?”
Danny spoke over the noise, “Rainey insists we drive into a severe thunderstorm, so that’s what we’re doing.”
Rain began to roar against the roof of the car in rhythmic sheets. Thunder clapped directly after the lightning flashes, now coming with more frequency. They caught the main storm at Durham, ten minutes from Jean Berry’s house on a clear day, but not today. Traffic snarled to a near stall.
Danny spoke to Brooks again, “Keep talking. That way I can’t concentrate on the fact we’re surrounded by so much electricity the hair is standing on my arms.”
Rainey focused on the worsening road conditions and the five lanes of shiny red brake lights in front of her. Danny turned up the volume on the call and made notes.
Brooks continued, “All right, then. Now, follow me, children. When Joshua Hale blew up in North Dakota, Obadiah H. Hale already acted as Chance Hale’s legal guardian. Less than a year later, after Obadiah’s death, the court named Jean B. Berry his guardian. She was also the executor of Obadiah Hale’s estate. Robert A. Hughes took over Hale Trucking management on paper, but Jean, a twenty percent stockholder, ran the business. Through the years, both Chance and Robby borrowed money from Jean, using their shares in Hale Trucking as collateral. When they couldn’t pay back the loans, Jean claimed their shares until she eventually owned eighty-five percent of old Obadiah’s empire. She even foreclosed on Robby’s home there on the property. Her son owns the remaining fifteen percent. Robby and Chance have nothing left.”
“Smart business woman or shark, none of that is illegal,” Danny said. “What happened to Hale Trucking? It’s no longer in business, right?”
“There was a sell-off of most of the equipment and vehicles in January of 2010. The land, houses, and buildings remain under Jean Berry’s ownership through her company Löwenherz Industries, LLC. That corporation has spawned multiple businesses, all of which pay lease fees back to the mother company for operating space. Several of these firms made substantial purchases from the Hale Trucking sale at hugely discounted prices. Significant losses over here are covered by gains over there. This woman knows tax law and how to get around it.”
Danny asked, “Can you tell if Jean Berry is still actively running her businesses?”
“Her signature is on a recent application to the Orange County zoning board to allow rental of parking spots for tiny houses on her property. She appeared in person, with a valid ID.”
Rainey commented, “College kids are begging for places to park tiny houses. That’s a hot income producer right now. Jean doesn’t sound like a woman suffering from dementia.”
“Why would Gee lie to Vanessa about his mother’s health? It would be so easy to check,” Danny said.
“Speaking of Gee,” Brooks said, “Eugene H. Berry is absolutely squeaky clean. His credit is great, he pays his bills on time, and he’s never had a speeding ticket. On paper, he is paid by Löwenherz Industries, but I can’t tell you what Eugene does for a living. He pays his taxes and donates money to animal welfare causes. Something is definitely wrong with this guy. No one is that good. I could dig up dirt on the Pope but not this guy.”
Rainey changed lanes and exited onto US 70 toward Eno. She pointed out the window to the north and said, “The Tammy Gaskill assault took place just north of here in the park. Fews Ford is an easy walking distance for OB Hale’s boys, less than three miles.”
“Speaking of the Gaskill case,” Brooks said, “I found her in Richmond if you want to talk to her.”
Danny added a piece of information. “Sheila said Ms. Gaskill was unwilling to help in the investigation.”
Rainey was undeterred. “If we get the DNA match, even if the statute of limitations has passed, North Carolina courts have applied the discovery rule in some sexual abuse cases involving minors. Tammy Gaskill was barely fourteen-years-old at the time of her assault.”
Brooks interjected, “You would force her to participate, even if she didn’t want to? That’s a second rape right there.”
Rainey defended her statement. “No, of course not. What I’m saying is Ms. Gaskill may finally have the DNA evidence to back up her story, and if that changes her mind about prosecuting the offender, then great. If it allows her to put away any doubts she may have about what actually happened to her, that’s much better.”
The tink-tink-tink of hail pellets hitting the car commenced right as Rainey turned onto University Station Road. The tops of the trees whipped around, tossing leaves and small branches into the wind. Shredded by hail and knotted together by violent gusts, various types of greenery fell in wet clumps on the Charger’s windshield. A heavy deluge added another degree of difficulty to clearly seeing the road. Rainey slowed the car to a crawl. They were inside the squall line.
“Damn, did the bottom drop out?” Brooks called over the howl of wind driving rain and hail into the exterior of the car.
The sun had yet another hour before its setting, but darkness fell all around them, while a staccato strobe of lightning danced across the sky. The ground under the car rumbled long after the flash and crash of the strike.
Much like when her dad would say, “Turn the radio down. I can’t see for hearin’ too much,” Rainey dismissed Brooks.
“Hey, I’ll call you back,” she yelled over the deafening rumble.
Before she could disconnect, Rainey heard the automated voice say, “Call ended.”
“Hey, unplug my laptop from the car,” she said, peering through the windshield in hopes of catching a glimpse of the centerline.
“I thought you said we were safe in the car,” Danny complained while pulling the charger cord out of the laptop.
“We are,” Rainey explained, “but it can fry electronics if we get a direct hit.”
Lightning streaked in front of the car and slammed into a tall pine tree next to the road. The top of the tree exploded, sending sparks flying. The sound of the atmosphere ripping joined the exploding pine to rattle the car and its occupants.
“Shit!” The expletive left both Danny and Rainey at the same time.
“If I could find somewhere to pull off the road, I would, but I can’t see the shoulder.”
“Next time, we listen to the weather report and heed the warnings,” Danny retorted.
Rainey could see the tree line open up ahead.
“There’s the overpass just ahead. I can pull off and let this clear. I don’t want to go over I-85 with winds this high.”
“I appreciate your showing a bit of caution, now that we’re in the middle of the damn storm,” Danny said.
Rainey took advantage of a flash of lightning to locate the wide paved shoulder before the overpass. As she pulled the car to a stop, she turned to Danny.
“I am sorry. I forgot storms made you nervous.”
“You did not forget,” Danny said.
“Well, since I’ve had to convince three children the world is not coming to an end when it storms, I had forgotten a grown man might have a panic attack,” Rainey said, trying not to laugh.
The wind rocked the car, lightning tore through the air overhead, hail just a little shy of the size of golf balls slammed into the hood. Rainey saw Danny flinch as an especially large clump of ice smashed into the windshield.
She reassured him, “It’s ballistic glass. Ice won’t break it.”
Danny eyed her with mock scorn. “I don’t give you shit about your issues.”
“What issues?” Rainey asked.
“How about when you hear someone
throw up? Ble-eck,” Danny made exaggerated puking sounds.
The sky lit for several seconds, a sustained lightning strike turned the dark into day. Across the bridge overpass, a giant billboard caught Rainey’s attention.
“Did you see that?” she asked.
“See what?”
Rainey pointed at the billboard. “Watch over there. Wait for the lightning.”
The lightning came quickly, held fast, and allowed a full perusal of the sign.
Rainey threw the car into gear and stomped on the gas. Hail exploded against the windshield as the Charger crossed the overpass. Rainey did not care about a gust of wind sweeping them off the bridge anymore.
As they passed the billboard, Rainey mumbled under her breath, “Son of a bitch.”
Danny read the sign aloud, “Tiny Hart Living – We put a lot of heart in our tiny homes. Take Next Right.”
17
March 25, 2017
Tiny Hart Living Manufacturing
Former Location of Hale Trucking
University Station, NC
At the end of a spacious parking lot, lightning flashes revealed two enormous steel garages standing like guardians to the forest behind them.
“What do you want to do?” Rainey asked.
She had stopped the Charger a few feet into the parking lot, under the shadow of a clump of trees. Danny peered through the rain at the buildings. The hail core had moved through, leaving broken limbs and power outages in its wake.
“Well, they know we’re coming. I’m pretty sure of that,” Danny said.
“Who is they?” Rainey asked. “Is it Hart and his wife, Ann Burke? Is it Jean and Eugene Berry? Is it all of them. I’ve seen Jean Berry, albeit nearly twenty years ago, and all I can tell you is she was a redhead and looked like a young Lucille Ball. I didn’t get a great look at Ann behind the scarf and those huge sunglasses, but she is a brunette.”
Rainey with a Chance of Hale (A Rainey Bell Thriller Book 6) Page 16