Red Tide

by Peg Brantley

Nick could relate. He loved being in the field, making a difference. If he wanted, he could do nothing but jet between continents, going from party to party or spa to spa. When he first hurt his back, he’d thought about it, but only for a short while. Those lives were empty. It wasn’t just the adrenaline, but the impact of his job and the mental focus it required.

  A Ford F-150 pulled up, its headlights piercing the fading light. A rancher stepped out of the cab, boots and Stetson complimenting his Levi 501s and the plaid shirt under his Levi jean jacket. “Anyone hurt?”

  Nick said, “Mostly minor injuries. The co-pilot and attendant might have more serious things going on. The pilot seems okay, and I just have a back injury that’s kicking up some steam. We were lucky.”

  The rancher took in the scene and nodded. “Could say that.”

  The air was split by the revving motors of vehicles approaching over rough terrain. Someone knows a siren going full-blast would have no positive impact in a rancher’s field in the Colorado mountains. He was grateful that the daughter he had never met would not become an orphan today but he could use some pain relief.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Jamie stared at Jax. “So you’re saying that someone obviously connected to the killings offered you two hundred thousand dollars to mess with the toxicology results?” Jamie pulled her legs off the couch where she’d been stretched out, and got to her feet. Pacing helped her think. Whatever we’ve gotten involved in, it’s big.

  “Not mess with them, per se. Delay them.”

  Jamie gave her sister a stern look. “You’re kidding, right? Like it matters?”

  Jax’s gaze slid to the grandfather clock in the corner. She had been tempted, and it bothered her.

  Jamie thought, Time to lighten up. We have more important things to think about than whether Jax can be bought. She picked up a copy of the Aspen Falls Gazette and checked out the front page for the third time that day. The headline read Bonzer Bodies Un-Buried, but so far the sheriff’s department and FBI had been able to keep the story about the newer victims from hitting the papers. It would be national news soon enough.

  She barely glanced at the story below the fold. Another terrorist had been arrested in Denver. Jamie’s ribs thrummed with anticipation. They were on to something. She knew it. “What do toxicology tests screen for, exactly?”

  “Standard tox tests check for all kinds of drugs and alcohol. They’re grouped under broad headings and tested. If a positive comes up, more tests are run to determine the precise drug. Those things can pretty much be determined in a few hours.”

  “What about the FBI lab? Are you sending some tissue samples to them?”

  Jax nodded. “We are. They’ll also screen for some poisons, and a few other things.”

  Jamie stopped pacing. “So unless you see something in the autopsy that triggers a test for something that’s not on the list, it’s possible the real cause of death will never be known.”

  “Sure. At some point you run out of tissue. We screen for typical substances, but unless there’s a suspicion of something else, something specific, that’s all we can do.”

  “Why would someone want to delay results that would be more or less typical?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Would it be atypical for a lot of unconnected dead people to have the same drug or whatever in their system?”

  “Of course, but I don’t see what difference that would make,” Jax said.

  “So assuming we’re not concerned about alcohol poisoning, it must be a drug or a poison someone is trying to keep from being discovered. But why?”

  Jax shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  “Think,” Jamie said as much to herself as to her sister. “Maybe whatever it is ties directly to the killer. If we can figure out the why, maybe that’ll go a long way toward helping figure out the who.” She resumed pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. “A supplier?”

  “Jamie, I’ve thought and thought about this. I can’t come up with anything. A supplier is possible, but it’s one element that would point to only one source.” Jax tugged one of their mom’s afghans up to her neck. “This is Aspen Falls, neighbor of Aspen. Drugs are flown into that airport from LA and New York and Asia on a regular basis all packed and secure, not to mention the stuff coming up from Mexico. One thing pointing to one supplier doesn’t make sense statistically.”

  “Okay,” Jamie conceded. “Why else would someone not want the results released?”

  “Something new?” Jax ventured from under the afghan.

  “What, like a new drug? A new drug that’s killing people?” Jamie went into the kitchen and came back a minute later with two glasses of wine. She handed one to Jax. “Why would they offer you money? If I was trying to distribute a new drug and it kept killing people, I’d just back off. Let things cool down. Come up with another formula.”

  The sisters sipped their wine in silence.

  A cold chill pushed itself up through Jamie’s body. “What if it isn’t a drug? Who would pay big bucks to buy a little time?”

  “What are you talking about?” Petulance oozed from Jax. She often got cranky when she was tired or stressed.

  Jamie figured her sister was allowed, and she was about to make it worse. “What if he was making a big deal about the toxicology screen—the standard toxicology screen—because he knows there’s nothing there. That way, regardless of what you decided to do with his bribe, he’d still be buying himself some time.”

  “James, I’m a scientist, not a behaviorist. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Okay, let’s be scientific.” Jamie exhaled and gathered her thoughts. “Let’s look at the facts we know and what we can reasonably surmise from them.” She held up one hand. “Now, we’re not law enforcement or attorneys. We’re just two sisters talking, so surmising is allowed. Wait.” Jamie went back to the kitchen and came back with the bottle of wine and some nuts. She sat down. “Okay, the bodies, which you’ve already established were killed in different ways by two different people were found in the same location. Why?”

  “Either our current killer knew Leopold Bonzer or, more than a decade ago, he found a fresh grave or witnessed Bonzer burying someone.”

  “Good.” Jamie was glad Jax seemed to be getting into the game.

  Jax said, “But Bonzer didn’t have any friends that anyone knew about, and people just don’t stumble onto dumping grounds. So statistically speaking, our guy must have witnessed Bonzer burying someone more than ten years ago.”

  “Which means our current guy spent at least some time here back when Bonzer was doing his killing.”

  Jax nodded. “Probably even lived here.”

  Jamie popped a few nuts in her mouth. “So he’s not a copycat.”

  “Nope. He just took advantage of someplace accessible, but remote.”

  Jamie said, “Okay, now I’m going to share something with you that I know something about: serial killers.”

  “You do?”

  “One of the presenters for my continuing ed program last summer was a profiler. And not the Criminal Minds TV-profiler type. The real deal. There are a few statistics, and although there’s no guarantee these are even close, we’re just two sisters talkin’, right?”

  Jax nodded. “Shoot. “

  “Serial killers don’t contact MEs to ask them to delay a tox screen. Or offer two hundred thousand dollars as bribes. If a serial killer thought someone was on to him, he’d lie low. He’d change his MO or move to another state. If he contacted law enforcement or an ME, it would be to taunt them, to show them he’s smarter than they are. So this guy, or this group, are not serial killers.”

  “So—two sisters having a conversation here—what the hell are you saying?”

  Jamie picked up the newspaper and pointed to the article below the fold. “I’m saying one option we need to consider is terrorism.” Jamie worked to push the words out, and still had a hard time believing she’d said the
m. They sounded so dramatic.

  “A terrorist in Aspen Falls?”

  “Do you have a better idea? Listen, without the bribe, we’d be looking at an equally bizarre possibility—a serial killer—but with the bribe it’s a whole new basket of bones.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Jamie’s phone call early the next morning to Jerry Coble resulted in a meeting for eleven-thirty. That would work with her schedule at the bank. Her afternoon was clear, so if it ran long there wouldn’t be a problem. She didn’t need any more conflicts with her boss.

  Jax had filed a report first thing that morning regarding the bribe, and she planned to be at the sit-down with the sheriff. Jamie wasn’t a hundred percent confident in her supposition they were looking at a terrorist element—especially in Aspen Falls—but she thought they were at least headed in the right direction. This was a lot bigger than Leopold Bonzer.

  Jamie fielded the expected telephone inquiry regarding her ex-husband. The caller sounded bored and young. Obviously they weren’t very interested in doing an in-depth background check, nor had they heard about Andrew’s recent arrest. The phone call lasted less than five minutes. With luck, Andrew might be out of her life for good. He’d have enough to handle with the press in California and his father-in-law should he ever get a hint about Andrew’s past.

  Jamie went on autopilot during the loan committee meeting. Nothing outrageous had been proposed, and she felt fortunate to work for a bank that still wanted to lend money when it made sense. The young man who wanted a loan to start a new art gallery had three things going for him: one, wealthy parents; two, an idea to rent art for a fee, either on a one-time basis to impress people, or to rotate among businesses to keep their selection fresh; and three, wealthy parents. She had a few questions about his business plan, and he promised to get her additional information within a week.

  A little before eleven, Jamie called E-lev 2 to place an order for three take-out lunches of Phad Thai. Elevation in Aspen was only open for dinner, but E-lev 2 provided a nice lunch menu. While on the phone, she decided to be on the safe side and order four. One of the sheriff’s deputies might be sitting in on the meeting and she didn’t want to slight anyone. If there were more than four people, they could figure out how to share.

  By the time she got to the sheriff’s office, she was running late. The clerk at the front desk waved her through to the conference room and she shoved the door open with her shoulder, her arms laden with food, her purse and her briefcase. She nearly dropped everything when she who was seated at the table.

  Jerry Coble said, “ “Thanks for lunch, Jamie. You remember Agent Grant.”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  Nicholas Grant, bruises on his face, eyed the four bags. “Ms. Taylor. I see you were expecting me.”

  “I prepared for the unexpected.” Be nice, Jamie. But she hadn’t liked it much when he winked at her and laughed.

  Jamie sought out Jax and fixed her with a glare. Her sister should have figured out some way to warn her of what she was walking into. They’d talked about the agent’s lack of appreciation for Jamie and her dogs.

  Jax stared right back at her and didn’t blink, and her lips were curled in the slightest twinge of a smile.

  Fine.

  She set the bags down on the table and moved as far away from the FBI agent as she could and still be part of the conversation. Everyone pulled a lunch toward them and dug in. Jax looked pointedly at the untouched bag until Jamie tugged it toward her and fiddled with the contents.

  The sheriff stabbed a forkful of noodles and shrimp and looked at both Jax and Jamie while he chewed. “Agent Grant is working with us in an unofficial capacity and reporting directly to me. I just want to make sure you both know that regardless of his status, we’re lucky to have him and his insights on this case.”

  This just keeps getting better. Jamie couldn’t even take a bite.

  Jax spoke up. “Unofficial?” Jamie threw her sister a mental hug and forgave her for not giving her a heads-up call.

  “For reasons that are nobody’s business, Agent Grant is on leave from the Bureau. He has offered his assistance. I’ve talked with his superiors, and he’s on this team.”

  Jamie remembered the morning she had watched the FBI agent dry swallowing a handful of pills through her binoculars. Better and better.

  A little over an hour later, they’d drilled Jax up one side and down the other about the phone call she’d received. They noted and examined every nuance, every word, and every pause in the conversation. The lunch debris cleared away, they moved on to Jamie’s idea that there might be a terrorist element involved.

  “Two hundred thousand? C’mon.” Nick Grant pushed back from the table. “If we were talking Al Qaida or anything similar, the bribe money would be significantly more.”

  “Unless that’s what they knew you would think.” Jamie shoved her chair back. She wanted to pace. She wanted to get some agreement, some direction.

  She wanted to talk about drug addiction, and why someone with that kind of baggage should be trusted on the team.

  Nick cocked his head and looked at her. Jamie resisted brushing her hair away from her face. “Possible,” he said, “but I don’t think so.”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  Nicholas Grant shook his head. “Not at the moment.”

  Jamie, vindicated for the time being, wished another idea would surface. Anything to get some answers, even if it means letting the dog-hater win.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  He made the drive to Denver easily and checked in to the hotel. It was Saturday and the hotel lobby was full of travelers. His choice normally would have been the Ritz-Carlton Suite, but it was three thousand dollars a night and he didn’t want to call attention to himself. He settled for something smaller and less conspicuous.

  An escort service provided a companion for the evening. He was hungry for a great steak and personal service, and a lone diner at Elway’s would stand out. The stupid girl didn’t understand when, after their meal, he called a cab and sent her out into the night. Under other circumstances, he might have been up for some fun, but tomorrow was a big day. He wanted to review the details of his plan and re-run all of his calculations. He was confident the young woman would find something to do with the rest of her evening and would soon forget the boring businessman with whom she’d shared a meal at one of Denver’s best restaurants.

  At eleven-fifteen, he turned off the reading light and rolled onto his side. Sleep would come quickly.

  Hours later, sunlight sliced into the room where he’d left the draperies open to awaken him. A good omen. He tossed the blankets aside, looked for the television remote, and grumbled while he worked through the hotel’s programming. He rubbed his face and cursed. Need the local weather. Finally, he found a weekend team he recognized and turned the volume up while he went into the bathroom.

  The sports guy, Sam Adams, was discussing the Bronco game and giving his score prognostication. “Denver twenty-seven, Kansas City twenty-four.”

  Yeah, right. Not today, buddy. Not today. This game would be his and both Denver and Kansas City would be left to pick up the pieces.

  The weatherman said, “You might want to take another run at those scores, Sam. We’re looking at some significant winds that could play a role in today’s football game.”.

  Damn. He turned off the water and stepped back into the bedroom.

  “The Denver area is getting an early surprise gift from our friends to the north. We don’t expect to see any moisture out of this, but we will endure some strong, sustained winds beginning about one o’clock and continuing well into the evening hours. If you’re going to the game, you’ll want to be prepared.”

  Damn, damn, damn.

  Between the end of the weather segment and the time it took him to walk into the living room area of the suite to make an espresso, he’d gone to Plan B. His ability to adjust was one of the things that had made him wealth
y. He hadn’t come this far, gone through this much, to quit because of one windy day. There would be more home games at Sports Authority Field.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Jamie reached for her wine and smiled. Ciara had been entertaining them at the E-lev 2 with a story from her latest modeling job. It had been a relaxing Sunday afternoon, and every one of them needed it.

  “And then, at the very last moment, when the asshole had every element in the picture just the way he wanted, with me twisted into a position usually only obtained by double-jointed humans, the electricity went out and he lost his lighting.” She laughed and tipped her martini glass to the rest of the table. “Here’s to mean-spirited photographers everywhere.” She took a healthy swallow.

  Ellen looked at Jamie. “You’ve been quiet. What’s going on that we should know about?”

  “Other than pressure at work, pressure from my ex, and pressure to make home improvements, not much, I’m afraid.”

  Ciara signaled to their waiter for a refill. “What about that gorgeous hunk of male you’ve been seeing?”

  Heat rose to Jamie’s face. “Teague?” She mentally pushed it down.

  “Are you seeing more than one?”

  For some inexplicable reason, the heat went up a notch. At any minute her face would melt away. These are my friends. Why am I so uncomfortable? “Of course not. Teague is the only one I’ve had any kind of real date with in ages, and even that was a dinner date that ended before it began, with my home being filled with law enforcement and friends and neighbors asking all kinds of questions.”

  Jax looked at her, daring her to be honest. “What about Nick Grant?”

  “I’ll tell you all the truth,” she said. “I have a certain amount of physical attraction to Agent Grant, but I’m certain he would be one of my notorious bad choices.” She looked around at the amazed looks on the faces of her friends. “Oh, please. Tell me what you really think.”