The Nora Abbott Mystery series Box Set

by Shannon Baker

  Charlie gathered the bag of ashes and placed it back in the box. He slammed the lid on. “You’ll do what you’ve been doing all along. You’ll take care of everything and everyone around you.”

  Nora shook her head. “Scott gave me courage. And now I’m all alone.”

  “That boy didn’t give you anything.”

  God, she was tired. Nora pulled herself up and trudged down the trail.

  Charlie followed her, carrying the pine box.

  They walked in silence. The ache in Nora’s heart pounded in her brain. She’d never feel good again. The last curve rounded into a long straight decline to Kachina Ski’s parking lot.

  All Nora wanted to do was climb the stairs to her apartment and fall into bed.

  She looked down the trail and froze. The worst day of her life just cranked up another full turn.

  Bimbo and her friends were gone.

  But something far worse waited for her down there.

  9

  Like strategizing the next chess move, Barrett chose the exact words to reassure the Congressional committee members. He maintained relaxed body language and a sincere expression, leaning slightly forward in his chair and looking each vote-hungry vulture in the eye.

  Since the meteoric rise in uranium prices recently, McCreary Energy, among others, had filed hundreds of mining claims in the vicinity of the Grand Canyon. Environmental alarmists scurried to block them and repeal the 1872 mining laws that made mineral rights king over every other public lands use. Climate change, clean fuel, faltering economy—all of it stood squarely in Barrett’s way as he readied McCreary Energy to go after the uranium windfall. Now this hastily convened Congressional committee thought they had the power to pull Barrett’s plug.

  They wouldn’t stop him.

  Wheelan Deavonshire, Senate representative for northern Arizona, hosted this on-site hearing. Barrett owned Deavonshire, which meant this asinine mining moratorium would go away. Or else.

  Christ, he hated squeezing his feet into the fancy ostrich-skin boots and confining himself to a suit and tie. Didn’t matter if it happened to be the finest fabric, tailored to fit his growing bulk. He might despise this and other actions, but it was a small enough sacrifice for family. For Heather.

  Barrett studied the Congressional panel while keeping a keen ear out for the media and other participants filling the conference hall behind him. He spoke with authority. “Withdrawal of these lands from mining is unnecessary and if enacted will degrade the environment of the Grand Canyon, reduce public visitation to the area, increase America’s dependence on foreign energy and negatively impact the economy of both the region and the country.”

  He paused to let that digest. “With China and India pushing for nuclear reactors, it’s our patriotic duty to develop uranium here and reduce our dependence on foreign oil. If you withdraw this land from uranium development a valuable resource capable of producing clean electricity for millions of people will be sacrificed to appease the emotions of a few special interest groups.”

  He sounded reasonable. “This union of special interests is attempting to justify withdrawing lands by attacking the mining industry. They grossly exaggerate environmental damage of an operation closed for more than 40 years. They assume we’ll use the same outmoded techniques today we used in the 1970s. I can assure the American people that McCreary Energy has cleaned any contamination that remained from earlier operations and today’s techniques are far safer.

  “If this attack is successful, you will send a clear message to the American people that the federal government doesn’t care about the price of fuel, domestic jobs or the environment.”

  Barrett thanked the committee and the chairman declared a break.

  Before Deavonshire could escape, Barrett gave him a hearty slap on the back and directed him toward the senator’s office.

  Once inside Barrett settled into the comfortable client’s chair and waited for Deavonshire to close the door and seat himself behind the glossy desk. Even in a district as cash-strapped as northern Arizona, the senator managed to surround himself with tasteful and expensive trappings. All on McCreary’s dime.

  “The opposition’s lined up an impressive roster for testimony today,” Barrett said, eyeing the glad-handing, ingratiating slime.

  The senator nodded his head with annoying enthusiasm. “Thank goodness there aren’t more people like that Charlie character badgering the committee.”

  At least Charlie had kept his heckling outside the courtroom and behaved himself in the hearings. In their youth, Charlie carried more threat. His bark, as well as his bite, weakened with age. “Charlie’s made a career of being a pest.”

  Deavonshire matched Barrett’s insincere smile. His tanned face, wavy hair and toothpaste-ad radiance didn’t quite hide his discomfort. “Uranium mining close to the Grand Canyon is a hot button issue. At the end of the day, people are concerned with preserving the beauty of one of the Eight Natural Wonders of the World.”

  Seven, you idiot. “The committee was receptive to Huntsman’s testimony about the safety of modern mining techniques. With your support, Senator, they’ll have no problem giving us the go-ahead.”

  When Deavonshire’s only response was an uncomfortable silence, Barrett hardened his voice. “You understand McCreary Energy is responsible for putting you where you are now.”

  Good. The grin slipped from the senator’s face. “You know I’m grateful for your support.”

  “Bring home the votes. We’re set to start drilling immediately.”

  Was Deavonshire’s smile the tiniest bit shaky? “It’s a tough issue, Barrett. I’ll do what I can.”

  Barrett rose. “Deliver.”

  The senator held out his paw for the firm politician hand job. “Big Elk sure isn’t helping our cause. The Hopi council was ready to recommend the mining but they cancelled their testimony for this afternoon. Rumor has it Big Elk convinced them to change their position.”

  Fire blasted through Barrett at this unexpected setback. “I’ll take care of Big Elk.”

  “I’m sure the committee is going to call for another environmental impact study.”

  God damn it. “You’ll convince them it’s not necessary and a waste of taxpayer dollars. Last year’s EIS is sufficient.”

  There was that patronizing attitude, as if Barrett didn’t know how the system worked. “This is a small issue and might be something we can concede to appear cooperative.”

  “Another EIS is non-negotiable. No new studies, no delays. Get the vote.”

  “Absolutely.” Could teeth get any bigger or whiter?

  Barrett wasn’t convinced of Deavonshire’s sincerity. “How rude of me. I haven’t asked about your wife and adorable daughter, Angela, isn’t it?”

  The senator grinned. “She’s a corker.”

  “The world can be a dangerous place for a three-year old, don’t you think?”

  Deavonshire’s face froze. He might be stupid but, apparently, not retarded.

  Barrett showed his teeth, only slightly resembling a smile.

  The color drained from the Deavonshire’s face.

  Barrett patted the senator on his shoulder. “I’m looking forward to the committee releasing those claims.” He sauntered down the hall, spying Cole chatting with, of all people, Charlie Podanski.

  Cole spotted Barrett and ambled over. A young reporter scurried to them, her notebook and pen poised. “What do you say to those who are worried uranium mining could destroy the landscape and pollute the water? That ideally, mining should be forever banned in this region?”

  Barrett barely kept himself from growling at the ditz. Obviously, he shouldn’t talk to the press now. “Let me introduce Cole Huntsman. He’s McCreary’s expert on uranium mining.”

  Barrett stepped back and let the ever-charming Cole disarm the reporter.

  “Mining techniques have changed dramatically since uranium was mined around here in the seventies,” Cole said. “The typical footprint
of the mine is smaller than a Wal-Mart parking lot. Each mine would only last about five years and as it closed, a new one would open. So we’re not talking about hundreds of mines operating at the same time.”

  The co-ed scribbled and nodded. With the reporter occupied and the hearing room empting, Barrett moved on to his next problem. He needed Nora Abbott under his thumb. Not necessarily out of the picture as her meddling husband, though if it came to that he wouldn’t hesitate.

  Cole continued with his smooth press voice. “Uranium is deep underground so mines won’t be exposed to wind and water. The water table is way below mine level. There will be no blasting, no unsightly pits, and no lasting contamination.”

  Problems roiled in Barrett’s gut and he swallowed acid. Was this how his father felt before he keeled over from a heart attack?

  “The Arizona Strip, a land area of 1.7 million acres, contains one of the richest uranium resources in the world.” Cole was wrapping up the soft sell. Touting the benefits of nuclear energy wasn’t difficult. Barrett, himself, was a true believer.

  Barrett slipped away. He pushed open the smoked-glass courthouse doors, stepping into the blinding sunshine of the courtyard.

  How could he expedite snowmaking? Left to her own devices Nora Abbott might not get around to it this year, what with mourning the loss of her husband.

  He tossed Nora to the back of his brain and shuffled the next issue to the top. Big Elk. Didn’t that asshole ever quit? Like an annoying gnat under Barrett’s nose, he meddled with the Hopi Tribal Council and stirred up do-gooders who didn’t have lives of their own. Barrett could neutralize him and it would only cost money. Lots of it.

  So deeply into his plots, Barrett paid little attention to crossing the street and arriving at his shiny black Escalade. He pushed the unlock button on a key he didn’t remember pulling from his pocket. Damn, age whittled his awareness. Used to be he could manage McCreary Energy’s five-year plan, train a quarter horse to pace and enjoy Heather’s pre-school antics, all at the same time.

  Focus, you old fool. Barrett drew in a breath and glanced across the park at the edge of the courthouse parking lot.

  A gunshot through his temple wouldn’t have been a bigger jolt.

  Cuddled under a tree, Heather leaned forward and shared a sloppy kiss with that fucking Indian.

  God damn it. He’d paid good money to send that thug to jail.

  Barrett wanted to kill the boy, tear him apart and watch wolves fight over his flesh. He wanted Heather safe at home in a ten-year time out. Red hot rage coursed through his blood. He couldn’t get to Heather fast enough. His hands ached to close around the boy’s throat and see the life drain from him.

  Heather’s eyes flew open when she saw Barrett. She recovered and jumped to her feet, hardening her face in challenge.

  Suddenly it was Ester in front of him with that same expression. “I have made my choice, Barrett.”

  Barrett froze.

  Heather stepped in front of him, chin raised. “Hi, Poppy.”

  Not Ester. Heather. Years ago he’d wrap his arms around her and take her into his lap, her little pony tails bouncing. Like Ester, his sweet little cherub didn’t exist, anymore. The teenager in front of him burned with enough anger to heat a Siberian village for a week.

  Barrett took Heather’s hand. “It’s time to go.”

  His touch hit her like acid. “I belong with Alex. With my people. Honoring Mother Earth and the kachinas of the sacred mountain.”

  The stinking pile of shit dared to speak. “She is finally with her people. Don’t try to corrupt her with shiny toys.”

  This scum didn’t understand the thin ice he skated on. “Shut up.”

  Alex tossed his veil of black hair with an aggressive thrust of his shoulders. “You can’t talk to me like that. I got friends. More powerful than you.”

  Barrett barely held on to his rage. “What friends?”

  “Big Elk. Don’t fuck with him, dude.”

  Nice nail to your coffin, asshole. Barrett pulled Heather’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  The young man’s shifty eyes focused across the park and he took a step back.

  Heather resisted. “I’ve tried to talk to you about this and all you say is about cost of living and making money. You don’t listen.”

  Heather’s brave boyfriend took another step back and hurried away.

  Heather watched him with a puzzled frown.

  A man’s voice sounded behind Barrett’s shoulder. “Mr. McCreary?”

  He turned to the gray-haired uniformed cop and flipped through his mental Rolodex. “Mike Tomlinson, isn’t it?”

  The cop returned his smile, probably impressed Barrett could come up with his name. “That’s right.”

  Heather retreated.

  Before she could take another step, Barrett put his arm over her shoulders and drew her to his side. “Have you met my daughter, Heather?”

  Tomlinson lost his smile and hesitated a moment.

  Ice floes threatened Barrett’s heart. There was a reason Alex disappeared, a reason the good officer approached and it all had to do with Heather.

  Tomlinson looked Barrett in the eye. “Actually, Mr. McCreary, we have a situation involving your daughter.”

  Heather stiffened next to him but kept an implacable expression.

  Moisture evaporated in the arctic chill of his body.

  “There was an incident here a couple of days ago at the courthouse that involved your daughter.”

  “What sort of incident, Mike?”

  Tomlinson shook his head. “That activist, Big Elk, stirred up a bunch of people and things got out of hand. The owner of Kachina Ski, Nora Abbott, was threatened.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Afraid so. Anyway, several witnesses identified your daughter as one of the assailants.”

  If he’d had any doubts before, this sealed Alex’s death warrant. “How is Ms. Abbott?”

  “She wasn’t injured. Unfortunately, the next day the main assailant, Alex Seweingyawma attacked Ms. Abbott at her home and nearly killed her.”

  Heather drew in a sharp breath. At least this news surprised her.

  “Attempted murder? And this criminal is at large?” No need to tell Tomlinson that Alex had been here. Barrett was more efficient and lethal than the legal system.

  “We’ve got leads but frankly, when these people retreat to the rez, it’s hard to get our hands on them.”

  “I understand, Mike. This is a disturbing situation and I promise we’ll take care of it.”

  Tomlinson nodded. “Seweingyawma is a dangerous man. Your daughter needs to keep her distance.”

  “Of course. Thank you.” Barrett started to walk away.

  “There are consequences, you know,” Tomlinson said.

  Barrett clenched his teeth. “Consequences?”

  “To your daughter’s involvement. Heather will have to appear before a judge. In cases as serious as this, juvie lockup isn’t out of the question. But sometimes, if the family can come up with suitable restitution and the youth shows appropriate remorse, probation is a possibility.”

  Heather didn’t balk when Barrett led her to the Escalade.

  A black wave of panic gathered at the back of Barrett’s brain. He forced calm waters. He’d made a fortune turning problems into opportunities. He needed to think like Barrett McCreary III, not some addled peon.

  How could he stop Heather from this teenaged rebellion stage and get her back on track? When Heather threatened Nora Abbott she also threatened her own future. Fear of her next self-destructive move terrified him. At the very least, she’d made his next move trickier.

  If Nora had resentment for Heather’s part in the attack, Barrett would have a hard time manipulating her. He needed Nora Abbott on board.

  Barrett cleared his mind and waited. He put his trust in the wheels and cogs of his brain that operated on the other side of his consciousness.

  It happened again, as it always di
d. A solution sprang into his head, fully formed like Athena bursting from Zeus’s temple. Barrett hadn’t lost his touch, after all.

  By this time tomorrow Nora Abbott and Heather would both be under his control.

  10

  Charlie bumped into Nora on the trail, Scott’s pine box stabbing her in the back. “Oh man, it’s The Heat.”

  She thought the death of her husband, revelation of his betrayal and looming financial ruin might be more than she could take in one day. And yet, the black cloud just got darker.

  Maybe she could walk back up the trail like the Von Trapp family at the end of the Sound of Music. She’d trudge onward until she found sanctuary.

  “You go,” she said to Charlie. “I’m heading up the mountain to find a place to sit until I petrify.”

  Charlie frowned down the trail. A crowd milled in the lot but Charlie’s sole focus was Gary Something-or-Other in his uniform.

  Cole Huntsman stood next to the cop and probably spilled his guts about Bimbo accusing Nora of murder. Any other time, that might worry Nora.

  Big Elk stood in the middle of a circle of protesters like a ring master. With the righteous following, this circus wasn’t short on clowns. Not even the dozen or so Native Americans and the Guilty White People chanting “Make love, not snow” frightened her.

  As bad as all that seemed, what froze Nora’s blood and made her want to swallow the cyanide pill, stepped from a taxi.

  Abigail.

  Charlie sucked in a breath of awe. “I am in love.”

  Cold sweat slicked Nora’s forehead. “Forget it, Charlie. Abigail is like carbon monoxide. You don’t realize how deadly she is.”

  “Abigail. The name sings as if spoken by the hosts of heaven.”

  Right on schedule the news van pulled up and a camera woman jumped out. Big Elk had to be disappointed the crew was local. Still, a network affiliate left hope for national exposure.

  Charlie all but floated down the path. “Who is this vision?”

  Reluctant, Nora followed. “My mother. Abigail The Perfect.”

  Abbey trotted down the trail as a one-tail welcome committee.