by Terri Reed
“What about the people you hurt?” Jeff asked.
Sherman shrugged. “Again, not our intent.” He turned his gaze to Tessa. “We need your help to figure out the right insecticide to use for the plants that won’t harm the wildlife.”
“And you couldn’t just ask for help?” Tessa mopped up the spilled tea with a paper napkin.
Aaron snorted. “We couldn’t very well let anyone know we’re here, now, could we?”
Which was why the shooters had forced him and Tessa into the woods. But did they intend to let them leave? No. Sherman and his henchmen had no intention of letting them go.
Tessa tapped Jeff’s leg. She’d obviously connected the same dots he had. No one knew where she or Jeff had disappeared to and would probably never know. Once Sherman and his men had what they wanted from Tessa, she and Jeff were as good as dead. Their bodies would be buried somewhere deep in the forest or left out for bear food.
They needed to play this out and pray God would provide an opportunity to escape.
How strong is your faith?
Tessa’s words replayed themselves in Jeff’s head.
His fingers curled around hers. He had nothing but faith to go on here. Would it be enough?
* * *
“And if I don’t help you?” Tessa dreaded the answer.
Sherman exchanged a glance with Aaron. “Then we’ll have to find someone else who will help us.”
She shivered at the implied threat in his words. If she didn’t help, she was of no use to them. And if she was of no use to them, they might as well kill her and Jeff now and possibly kidnap her colleagues. She couldn’t let that happen. She’d do what she could to buy Jeff time enough to figure out a way for them to escape.
His strong, capable hand held hers, comforting and sure.
Maybe she was placing too much trust in him. Too much faith. He was only a man after all. One man with no weapon. And she was the means to keep him in line so he wouldn’t force a confrontation and end up with a bullet in his heart.
But Jeff believed in God. Believed that God would protect them.
What if Jeff was wrong? What if faith wasn’t enough? What if they were doomed no matter what they did?
Despair threatened to paralyze her. She shook it off. As long as there was breath in her body, she had a chance at survival. If helping Sherman and company figure out their insecticide problem bought her and Jeff time, that was what she’d do. Jeff had said God would expect him to be smart and take action. She assumed that went for her, as well.
“I don’t have to see your operation to test the chemical components of the insecticide you’re using,” she said.
Jeff gave her hand a squeeze. “You could have a bad batch of insecticide. I would guess the operation has been in place a long time.”
Sherman nodded. “My great-grandfather settled on this parcel of land before the government gobbled up all the acreage and turned it into a wilderness park. Right where we are now, there used to be a log cabin built by my great-grandfather and my grandfather. But they were kicked off, and the cabin was torn down.”
“How did you rebuild without anyone knowing?” Jeff asked. “And build so much?”
“Friends in high places,” Sherman replied.
Meaning greased palms and payoffs. Tessa knew that sort of thing happened, but she’d never been faced with the evidence of corruption. “Why?”
Sherman tilted his head. “Why what?”
“Why are you here? Why are you growing marijuana?”
Aaron sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Money. Why else?”
“But there has to be more to it than that,” Tessa said. “From what I can tell, you don’t live an extravagant lifestyle.”
Sherman folded his hands and leaned his elbows on the table. “You are very perceptive, Dr. Cleary. There are many uses for the plants we grow. Not all of them illegal.”
“You grow medical marijuana?” she asked. Many states in recent years had legalized small amounts of the substance for medicinal as well as recreational uses. Washington State was one of them. But Sherman’s expansive operation was on government land and yielded more than the regulations of grows allowed.
“We do. Much of what we grow is the plant Blue Dream of the sativa species of cannabis. It doesn’t have as heavy an effect as the more potent indica species, but it is efficient for medicinal purposes.” With a nod to Aaron, he added, “And lucrative.”
“Very,” Aaron agreed.
“Take Dr. Cleary and Agent Steele to the warehouse,” Sherman said.
Aaron’s lips pressed together, clearly not wanting to do as his boss instructed. Sherman arched an eyebrow. Finally, he pushed back from the table. “Come on.”
Jeff rose and offered her his hand. She appreciated his manners even in this stressful situation and had to admit she felt safer when she held his hand.
They left the small house and walked with Aaron to the warehouse.
“Why are there no women here?” she asked, again noting the lack of visible females.
Aaron paused, his dark eyes glinting in the waning sunlight. “Too much of a distraction.”
His gaze ran the length of her, sending a chill of revulsion rippling in its wake. She pressed closer to Jeff, thankful for his steady presence. She sent up a silent prayer of gratitude. If Jeff hadn’t insisted on accompanying her, she’d be here alone.
“This is where the plants are harvested.” Aaron held open the door to the warehouse and gestured for Tessa and Jeff to enter.
Tessa hesitated before stepping through the doorway. Like Alice stepping through the looking glass, Tessa feared she wouldn’t be able to return from the trip inside the workings of Sherman’s marijuana grow.
“It’s harvest time,” Aaron stated, leading them inside. “When the white pistils turn brown or red, depending on the species, we cut the stalks and hang them to dry.” He pointed to the many leafy plants hanging upside down from racks in the ceiling.
Long tables had been set up, and two dozen men sat on stools, clipping the larger leaves from the stalks, until only the buds remained. She met the gaze of the young man who’d brought them their food. Kyle looked away and continued to work, using the small shears to nip away at the plant in his hands. There were several stray sets of scissors left unattended on the tables, their sharp points attracting her attention.
“They are doing what we call scissor work,” Aaron explained. “Clipping the water leaves off and shaping the buds.”
As Aaron moved farther away and continued to explain the harvesting process to Jeff, Tessa pretended interest in the Christmas-tree-shaped product lying on silk screen trays. She stepped close to a thin, sickly-looking man in his mid-to late-thirties.
Using Aaron’s theory that females distracted, she leaned a hip against the table and peered at the man while her hand rested on top of a small set of clippers with a blue handle. “You don’t look well. Are you okay?”
He jerked his head up, his blurry-eyed gaze startled as if he’d only now realized she was there. “Uh, yeah, uh, I’m okay.”
“Dr. Cleary,” Aaron called, “please don’t disrupt their work. We have a schedule to keep.”
Her hand tightened around the clippers. She moved away from the table and jammed her hands into the pockets of her jeans, then subtly untucked her blouse so it hung over the pocket, concealing the scissors. Rejoining Jeff and Aaron, she prayed like crazy she could keep the small shears hidden until she could figure out how to use them to escape.
SIX
Jeff stared at Tessa with a wave of curiosity cresting over his determination to keep his expression neutral. The extra tension on her lovely face alerted him that she was up to something. She gave him a tight smile and clutched his arm, pressing into his
side.
Something hard jabbed into his hip.
With her gaze on Aaron, she shifted her shirt to the side. The head of a pair of clipping shears poked out of her jean pocket. Pride and admiration flared bright in his chest.
The woman was even more resourceful and brave than he’d first imagined. He liked that. Liked her, which only made him more determined to somehow get them out of this situation in one piece.
“Take them,” she whispered.
As much as he’d like to palm the scissors for later use, he wouldn’t take away her only weapon. “Keep them,” he whispered back. “Just in case.”
She looked at him with a questioning frown.
Jutting his chin toward Aaron, he whispered, “Go for the throat.”
Her lovely eyes widened as the meaning in his words sank in. A visible tremor rippled through her.
Aaron glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed. “Get a move on it.”
Tessa adjusted her shirt over the shears. Jeff kept her close. For her protection, he told himself. Though he couldn’t deny how right it felt having her melded to his side as if they belonged together. Which they didn’t.
There was no future where they ended up together. If—no, when—they got out of this mess, they both had careers to return to.
But he would do everything in his power to ensure they had a future.
Aaron led them to the rear of the warehouse and out the back door, stopping at another toolshed. This one housed the insecticide spray cans right next to a large water pump. Several hoses fed out of the pump and through a hole in the back of the toolshed.
Tessa pointed. “Well, there you go.”
Jeff scoffed, “I get genius alert when I see those two things together.”
The corners of Tessa’s mouth curled into a smile at his sarcastic tone.
“One of these hoses leads to the irrigation system,” Jeff said, remembering the piping they’d seen running along the ground providing water to the stalks of marijuana they’d found. “The pump must be attached to a water source.”
“Very good, Agent Steele,” Aaron mocked. “You get the gold star.” He barked out a vicious laugh. “Oh, wait, you already have one.” He reached across and ripped the badge from Jeff’s shirt.
A rush of anger crashed through Jeff, making his fingers curl into a fist. The guy didn’t know a star from a shield. Seeing his badge in Aaron’s filthy hands made Jeff’s blood boil.
Tessa grabbed hold of his hand as if she feared he’d retaliate. He held perfectly still. He was smart enough to pick his battles.
“You’re taking lake water and then replenishing it with the tainted water,” Tessa said. “That’s how the toxin is getting into the lake.”
Aaron snorted. “The lake’s too far away. There’s a stream fifty yards northeast.”
“Which runs into the lake,” Jeff pointed out, though he was unable to keep scorn from lacing his words.
Aaron made a disdainful face. Obviously, the guy didn’t care one way or the other that they were poisoning the water and causing harm to both nature and humans.
Tessa released her hold on him to examine the labels on the insecticide cans. Her eyebrows bunched together in apparent puzzlement. “Is this the only pest control you use?”
Aaron shrugged. “As far as I know.”
“Don’t you oversee the operation?” Jeff asked.
Narrowed dark eyes bore into Jeff. Tension crackled off Aaron like live electricity. The AK-47 hanging from a strap across his chest shifted as his hand closed over the grip. “You calling me a liar?”
Tessa’s hand clamped on Jeff’s arm in silent warning. He clenched his jaw shut, biting back a reply that could potentially get them killed.
“This is neem oil,” Tessa said quickly. “It’s a naturally occurring pesticide found in the seed of the neem tree. It wouldn’t cause the toxicity that I found in the dead fish.”
“What about people?” Jeff asked, diverting his attention away from Aaron.
“Some skin irritation if directly exposed. Maybe digestive issues if swallowed.”
But not respiratory distress. The unspoken words hung in the air.
There was something else at play here. Some other substance invading the flow of liquid streaming down the mountain slope to the lake. But what?
“Could something else have been added to the neem oil?” Jeff asked.
“It’s possible.” She turned to Aaron. “I need my sample kit from my duffel bag. I can at least test what’s here to see if it has a different chemical component to it.”
Aaron stared at her for a moment before curling his lip. “You can ask Sherman about that.”
Jeff sensed there was some animosity between the two men.
Aaron shut the doors to the shed. “Let’s go.”
He escorted them toward the main house. Jeff stared at the greenhouse. Several men exited. One looked their way. Tessa let out an audible gasp. Jeff sent her a questioning glance. Aaron must have heard her, as well, because he whipped his gaze to her.
“Twisted my ankle. Loose rock,” she said hastily and produced a sudden limp. Then pointed to the greenhouse. “What are you growing in there?”
“More of the same,” Aaron muttered, nudging Jeff in the kidney with the barrel of his rifle.
“You’re using hydroponic growing,” Jeff said.
Aaron grunted but kept poking Jeff to keep him walking.
“I’ve heard of hydroponics but have never seen it,” Tessa said, keeping pace while playing up her imaginary limp. Jeff wondered what had her so freaked out.
“The plants are grown in an inert growing medium, like rock wool or clay, rather than soil. The plants are fed with a nutrient-rich solution. It gives the grower more control of the harvest time and yield,” Jeff explained.
“We should look in there, too,” Tessa said.
“It’s off-limits,” Aaron snapped just as they reached the house where Sherman and Emil waited for them on the porch.
“You know a thing or two about our business, agent man,” Aaron said.
“It’s not rocket science,” Jeff shot back. But everything relating to the growth, processing and distribution of drugs did play a huge role in a border agent’s workday. It was his job to know a thing or two.
“Maybe not, but it does require some chemistry and dedication,” Sherman said. “Thank you, Aaron.”
Aaron grunted and walked away. Once he was out of earshot, Jeff said, “The insecticide used for the plants isn’t the cause of the toxin.” He pointed to the greenhouse. “We need to look in there.”
“I’d like to see the hydroponic system you have,” Tessa chimed in.
“I’d like to show it to you,” Sherman said with a smile aimed at Tessa. He grabbed the wheels of his chair and rolled toward the ramp.
Emil stepped in front of Sherman, forcing the older man to brake. Sherman frowned. “What is it?”
“Going into the greenhouse is not a good idea,” Emil said. “Aaron keeps a tight rein on the product in there.”
“Who runs this organization?” Sherman asked, his voice deadly soft.
“You, sir,” Emil said.
“That’s right.” Sherman waved Emil out of the way. “It’s about time I looked in on things in the greenhouse. Dr. Cleary, Agent Steele, come along.”
Emil moved aside, but the uneasy expression on his normally stoic face sent Jeff’s senses on high alert. Something about the greenhouse upset the enigmatic Emil enough to speak against his boss.
Keeping Tessa close, Jeff hurried them after Sherman, who wheeled his chair with swift, strong arms.
“We built the greenhouse to attempt a new method of growing,” Sherman explained. “Personally, I’m good with the product we’re producing
the old-fashioned way. But progress is progress. It’s become a competitive business.”
The greenhouse wasn’t fitted with a ramp like the rest of the compound. Emil reached past Sherman to open the door, then he grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and maneuvered Sherman into the greenhouse. Jeff let Tessa precede him. When he stepped inside, the enclosed humidity hit him in the face. The low hum of the water pump echoed off the frosted windows. Bright lights bathed tall plants in a warm glow. A dozen men froze and stared at Sherman before slinking into the shadows. One man fled out the back door.
A short, younger man bustled forward. His nervous glance bounced from Sherman to Emil and back to Sherman. “Sir, can we help you?”
“Carl, Dr. Cleary needs to see what you are feeding the plants,” Sherman said.
“Of course,” Carl said. “We use the best nutrient solution there is.”
He led them to a corner cabinet. Tessa inspected the boxed solution. Her eyebrows pinched together. “I don’t get it. This looks to be in order. But I’d need my test kit to be sure.”
Two of the workers had moved to stand side by side in front of a large section of plants. Their anxious expressions stirred Jeff’s internal alarm system. What were they trying to hide?
Jeff shimmied past a row of tall marijuana plants and stepped closer. The two men shifted nervously. Glancing past the taller guy’s shoulder, Jeff noticed that the marijuana plants in this section were raised on trays and underneath were containers filled with different types of foliage.
The guy blocked his view. Jeff pushed him out of the way.
“Hey!”
“Agent Steele, what are you doing?” Sherman called out.
Emil stalked toward Jeff but Jeff paid him no heed, his attention on the containers. He recognized the spiky leaves of the damiana and the fuller leaves of Althaea officinalis, the plant that marshmallows originally came from.
Both herbs were used in the production of a synthetic street drug. When dried, the plants were laced with a chemical version of tetrahydrocannabinol, JWH-018, which worked on the same receptors in the brain as marijuana. Only problem was the new drug was more potent. Lethal. And illegal in all fifty states. His chest tightened with dread.