by Nancy Bush
“He comes near Tawny again, I’ll have him arrested.”
“Oh my God,” Tawny murmured in agony.
“Guy . . .” Kristy was at her wit’s end.
Liz said, “You’re talking to my son, Guy. If you have anything more to say, bring it to me or Hawthorne. Jesse’s through talking to you.”
A moment of electric silence. Guy blinked. His mouth opened and closed twice before he clamped his jaw shut. He reared back, staring at Liz as if she’d gone completely bonkers. “Your son? What’s that? What’s that?”
His stupefaction broke the tension of the moment. Jesse and Brad both snorted in amusement. Guy’s neck turned red with embarrassment and fury.
“Stay away from her!” he ordered, stabbing at Jesse with his index finger. He moved stiffly toward the parking lot.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Jesse muttered, sketching a salute.
“Don’t push it,” Liz muttered. “He is Tawny’s father.”
“He has no control over me!” Tawny declared, running into Jesse’s arms. Jesse, after a moment of surprise, held her close, and Liz turned to Kristy, hoping it was okay. Kristy didn’t seem to know what to do.
Liz said to her, “Hawthorne had to leave. Please tell me you brought your car because I don’t think I could stand to ride home with Guy.”
Kristy tore her gaze from Jesse and Tawny. “I brought my car.”
“Mom, we’re going to walk to the ice cream parlor,” Tawny said. “Lots of kids are. Can you pick us up later?”
Kristy nodded a bit blankly. Too much happening all at once, Liz concluded. Steering her away, Liz said, “They’ll be fine.”
“I know,” Kristy agreed, sounding a little bemused. “I know.”
“Jesse’s a good kid down deep where it counts.”
For an answer, Kristy gave Liz’s arm a reassuring squeeze and they headed to her car together.
* * *
By the time Hawk reached Sarah’s house he felt as if the cavalry had arrived ahead of time, heralding his imminent appearance. Sarah and Ed were standing on the porch, caught in the headlights of Hawthorne’s Jeep. Before Hawk could stop the vehicle from rolling, Ed had hauled off and belted Sarah one right across the face.
The man was drunk as a skunk. Stepping between them, Hawk called reinforcements on his cell, then asked Sarah, who was crying and swearing at fever pitch, to go in the house, out of the range of Ed’s drunken fury.
Not that Ed was even all that furious. He was just used to dealing with issues with his fists. He swung a few times at Hawk, cursed Sarah, who refused to heed good advice and just kept on blasting him with invectives while Hawk played referee. It was an almost comical dance they performed: Sarah behind Hawk; Hawk on the phone while keeping himself between the two of them; Ed staggering and swinging.
If Hawk had felt threatened he would have pulled his gun. After all, statistics proved that domestic fights were the most dangerous for policemen, and Hawk knew he was testing the fates by being handicapped himself. However, Ed was too far gone to do much damage unless he found another weapon, and at this point he was spending most of his energy just keeping his balance.
When the cavalry arrived to save the day, Hawk was surprised to see Chief Dortner himself step from the patrol car. “What gives?” he asked.
“Talked to Vandeway,” Perry said cryptically. “Did you find out if McEwan was a poacher?”
“Not yet. He’s drunk and raving. I tried to ask him a few questions, but he’s surly and doesn’t care.”
“He took that old lady’s trees!” Sarah declared. “Just ask him.”
Ed lunged at her, but now his hands were cuffed. Perry nodded for his men to thrust him in the back of the police car. He struggled furiously but was overpowered.
Watching, as they ducked his head into the backseat, Hawk asked Perry, “So, why are you here?”
“You stirred up a hornet’s nest, my friend. Vandeway’s at the station right now, incensed. He’s named Avery Francis as an agent working both sides of the law, and apparently, Francis got nervous when he ran into you at Liz Havers’s place.”
“What?” Hawk was half-amazed. “I hardly talked to him.”
“According to Vandeway, Francis had a thing for Liz until he realized you were part of her life. Since then, Francis has been hanging around trying to figure out what you know.”
Hawk shook his head. “Why was he so worried about me? I told Vandeway all I knew.”
“Well, it looks like Francis might be the guy who shot you,” Perry explained with a grimace. “That’s Vandeway’s theory anyway. You spooked Francis and he’s gotten real unpredictable.”
Hawk thought that over. Avery Francis had shot him and then sent Manny Belding to his death? “Why’s Vandeway gotten so chatty?”
“Because Francis is a loose cannon who could make him look bad. Vandeway’s a tight-ass,” Perry added with a snort.
“So where’s Francis now?”
“Anybody’s guess.” Perry’s face took on an earnest look. “When I heard you were in the middle of this fray, I decided to come see what was up. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Hawk gave his friend a long look. “Francis isn’t the only one who’s spooked,” he guessed.
“Vandeway said Avery shot you. I take that real serious.”
So did Hawk. After a moment, he clapped Perry on the back, grateful for the concern even if he felt it wasn’t really necessary. “I’ll come down to the station and we’ll take care of Ed.”
“Vandeway’s there already. You’re the one he really wants to talk with.”
“Surprised he cares about my health. We’re not the best of friends.”
“You’re still not,” Perry Dortner said as he headed for the patrol car with Ed McEwan inside. “But Vandeway’s in a wringer where Avery Francis is concerned, and he’s jumped to the winning side.”
Chapter Seventeen
With a feeling of complete ecstasy, Jesse dived cleanly into the one decent swimming hole Hummingbird River had to offer. Down, down, down he cut until he sensed he’d better surface before his lungs cried for air and he swallowed a ton of dark green water.
Bursting through the surface, he shook his head like a wild dog. Grinning from ear to ear, he swam lazily on his back, staring into a star-studded black sky framed as if in a picture by the tops of the towering firs.
He was happy. He and Tawny and Brad had gone to the ice cream parlor and had laughed and talked and joked until Tawny’s mom came by—without that jerk-off ex-husband of hers, thank God—and picked them all up and dropped him and Brad at their houses. Tawny had been in her dance costume with a sweatshirt thrown over the top, exposing her long legs. It had felt good just to be seen with her, and her dad’s griping and bitching had only succeeded in drawing her closer to Jesse.
And her mom was cool. He’d been kind of nervous with her at first, her being sick and all. But she was okay and he was half-ashamed that he’d ever felt uncomfortable with her illness. It wasn’t her fault.
As for his mom . . . well, he still couldn’t think of her that way. But if he just kept in his head that she was Brad’s shrink and a pretty cool person, it was okay. He hadn’t known quite what to think when she’d jumped to his defense like that, but seeing old man Fielding nearly bust an artery had been worth it. Jeezus, that guy was a pain. Jesse cheerfully wished him nothing but the worst.
Jesse breathed deeply, content. But then he remembered finding the dead body not all that far from here, and his euphoria subsided a bit. Dad still hadn’t found the killer, and hey, the guy was probably a total psychopath hopped up on fifteen different kinds of drugs. If he was found here, he was literally a sitting duck.
A few clean strokes and Jesse was out of the water, buck naked. He grabbed up his clothes and threw them on. They stuck to his wet body, but he felt safer being dressed. Skirting the darkest depths of the woods, he quickly trotted down the path that led to the edge of the road where his bik
e lay.
As soon as he was pedaling, he felt better. But he wasn’t ready to go home. His dad was probably with the shrink. Liz, he reminded himself. He could never call her Mom. Not for real. But he could handle Liz. Maybe he’d just stop by her house and check in. Why? He couldn’t think for the life of him, but he wanted to, so that was that.
Besides, he was hungry. Didn’t moms always have food on hand for their teenage sons? It was a natural law of nature or something.
* * *
Bumping down the dirt track surrounded by tiny Pacific yews, Hawk asked himself why he even cared whether Avery Francis was at home.
Because according to Vandeway, the guy tried to kill you.
Hawthorne could feel his gun at his hip. His body was pumping adrenaline through his system, though he wanted to remain calm and detached. Could he believe Vandeway, or was the guy passing the buck? It was difficult to tell, so here he was on this midnight chase, though Perry hadn’t wanted him to go.
“Damn it, Hawk. Aren’t you listening?” Dortner had demanded, pacing the length of the station while Vandeway sat primly in the chair next to Hawthorne’s desk. He’d turned to the tightly wound agent. “Explain it to him.”
So, Vandeway, after clearing his throat, had decided to tell Hawk everything that was still left out. “I turned Avery in,” was his first admission. “He came out here to ferret out the poachers, but when he learned about Manny and Barney’s setup, he decided to cut himself in on the deal. He started his own legitimate yew farm, then began accepting stolen yew bark from poachers—such as your newest guest, Mr. McEwan—and fed it through Manny and Barney. It was a sweet little moneymaker.”
“So, his farming was just a front?” Hawk inquired.
“Yes and no. Because of the five-year wait until harvest, Avery had to find another source of income. His government salary wasn’t enough,” Vandeway added dryly. “Of course Manny and Barney didn’t want to share, so Avery moved in on Sarah, hoping to get his own permit. When she couldn’t swing that, he threatened to prove that Manny and Barney had gotten their permits through a certain amount of string pulling and they reluctantly allowed him in.”
At this point Perry, who’d listened quietly to this tale he’d already heard earlier, asked, “You’re not saying that Francis took out Turgate and Belding. That’s kind of like killing the golden goose, isn’t it?”
“Belding had the permits in his name first. Turgate was an add-on. Belding had second thoughts about letting his old pal in on the deal. They fought, and he ended up killing Turgate.”
“Bullshit,” Hawk muttered. He’d only met Manny Belding briefly, but he’d bet his life that Manny hadn’t undercut Barney.
“Francis figured it was just a matter of time until Manny came after him, so he shot at Manny and hit you by mistake. Then Belding fell to his death.”
“You’ve got a lot of theories, but that’s all they are,” Hawthorne growled.
“Facts,” Vandeway corrected, looking down his nose in that superior way that got under Hawk’s skin. “I was with Francis when he shot at Belding and accidentally hit you,” he admitted.
Hawk jumped out of his chair, on the verge of strangling the man, but Perry intervened. “We’re checking into it,” he told Hawthorne, seeking to calm him down. “Our buddy Don was a little late in coming forward.”
“A little!”
“As I’ve said before,” Vandeway declared loudly as Hawk and Perry were heading out of earshot, “it would be best for everyone if the local authorities stayed out of it.”
With two ground-devouring steps Hawk returned to stand in front of Vandeway, bristling all over. “You’re pretty damn close to being arrested yourself, Agent Vandeway.”
Vandeway merely drew into himself, turning aside in affront.
“Now what?” Perry asked as Hawk headed for the door.
“Time to see our other agent friend.”
Dortner’s hand darted out and Hawk’s arm was held in a vise grip. “Don’t.”
“I just want to ask a few questions.”
“It could be a setup.”
“It could be,” Hawk conceded, determinedly loosening Perry’s grip. “But we’ll never know until we check.”
“Call for backup if you need it,” the chief muttered gruffly after a moment of wrestling with whether to allow Hawthorne to go to Avery’s or not.
So, now, here he was, feeling alert and revved up in a way he hadn’t for months. Years, maybe. The thought of facing off with the oily Avery Francis was part of it, his relationship with Liz another part. There were no more worries about the past where she was concerned. All that baggage was set aside. They’d both gone through all the mental postmortems and it was a relief to think about a happier future.
Hawk pulled up to the house, but he could see there was no one home. He knocked loudly on the front door, then circled to the back porch. The door was wide open. The hairs lifted on the back of his neck. His hand drifted downward, searching for his gun, but just feeling its hard surface gave him the willies. Visions. Pictures. Snapshots of Joey’s death. He dropped his hand, cursed himself for his weakness, and stepped inside Avery Francis’s house.
* * *
Liz hummed as she sipped her wine. Too bad it was so darned hot outside; she would love to set fire to the logs in the fireplace. Still, it didn’t matter. There was already something cozy about the room: the buttery glow of yellow lamps; the faintest smell of autumn creeping inside; a cuddly feeling of contentment that made her keep smiling even while her lips were on the rim of her glass.
She expected Hawthorne. Nothing had been said between them at Tawny’s recital, but it was understood. Touching hands with him—just thinking about it both embarrassed and exhilarated her.
She was chuckling a little at herself, really, when she heard the crunch of gravel outside. Thinking it was Hawk, she threw open the front door, but it wasn’t a black Jeep. A second later she recognized Avery’s car. She stifled the urge to run back inside and bolt the door; instead, she lifted a reluctant hand in greeting.
“Hi there,” she said as he walked toward her, head bent down as if he were concentrating hard.
She stepped back into the house as he was coming fast. What? she wondered vaguely. He didn’t stop. He barreled right into her, pushing her farther inside, slamming the door with his foot.
“What the hell?” she gasped.
“Shut the curtains.” His voice was threaded with desperation. “Quick!”
Liz didn’t hesitate. She did as she was bidden. Tremors infected her lower limbs, and when she was finished she stood by the fireplace, quaking a little.
This wasn’t the Avery she’d come to know. This was someone else. Someone—unstable.
Avery Francis. Yew bark. Barney Turgate. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but it made too much sense. “You killed Barney,” she whispered.
“No!” His head whipped up in surprise. Liz drew in a sharp breath when she saw the gun held loosely in his hand. Oh God.
Avery glanced down, seeming surprised that it was there. “No, I didn’t.”
“And you shot Hawthorne,” she realized faintly.
“No, no, listen. You’ve got to listen to me. It wasn’t like that. It’s Vandeway. He’s blaming it all on me, but he’s in it, too! We’re all in it; I’ll take my share of the blame. But, but he’s trying to make out like I’m some kind of cold-blooded killer and I’m not.”
“You’re not?” Keep him talking. Buy time. Think!
“I just wanted my part of the yew bark thing, that’s all. I’m not a killer. I’ve got a few debts,” he admitted. “Some gambling debts.”
Liz nodded. Where was Hawk? He’d said he had a stop to make. To see some guy he’d met before.
His cell phone. With an effort, Liz dragged the number from the depths of her memory. She’d asked him what it was once, not long after his hospital stay. It had been a casual comment because she didn’t want him to know how worried she was. Haw
k didn’t deal well with people being overly solicitous.
But she hadn’t written it down. What the hell was it?
“I needed some cash kind of quick, and Manny and Turgate were rolling in it. It wasn’t millions, but it was ample. I figured, why not? There’s hardly an agent out there who isn’t on the take, you know?”
“Okay.”
“Belding was going nuts. I went to reason with him, that’s all. But he took off screaming—” Here, Avery cut himself off.
“You didn’t intend for him to die,” Liz said in what she hoped was the right tone.
“That’s right!” Avery averred. “He ran off and I shot and hit the wrong guy. What the hell was Barney doing there anyway? Stupid shit. He wouldn’t stay out of it!”
“Manny’s death was an accident?”
“Absolutely.” Avery paced around the room, ending up only a few feet from Liz. She felt choked by his proximity but knew better than to move away. “I’ve got debts to pay,” he muttered, striding toward the kitchen. Belatedly, Liz realized he was opening the refrigerator door. She heard the wine cork open with a pop. Quick as a cat, she grabbed for the phone, dialing Hawk’s cell number—she prayed to God!—and counting the rings, which matched five of her rampant heartbeats.
To her amazement, he answered in his policeman’s voice. “Hawthorne Hart.”
“Hawk . . .” she breathed.
Slam! The phone was knocked from her hand. A moment later, Avery’s hand wrapped in her hair, pulling her close, yanking so hard tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said through his teeth, as if struggling to convince himself as well. “But you can’t call that boyfriend of yours again, understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I understand.”
“Don’t fuck around with me.”
“I won’t,” she said and meant it.
He slowly released her. They stared at each other for several moments. “Now, all I want to do is get out of here with my money, and you’re going to help me.”
“How?” she asked through a taut throat.