Buried Agendas

by Donnell Ann Bell

  “Ten o’clock,” Vic repeated. “Usual place.”

  As the trio separated, Diana raced through the corridors to rejoin her coworkers. Nearing the labs, she slowed to a walk and worked to level her breathing. She found the group cracking jokes to pass the time.

  Their wisecracks barely registered. Her mind was still whirling around the comment “usual place.” Not exactly X marks the spot. Nor had anyone mentioned Leo or said a thing about wrongdoing. But “usual place” did signify a routine, didn’t it?

  Once again, she was left with more questions than answers. But something was happening at ten tonight, and Diana had every intention of crashing the party—even from a distance.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  AT SIX-FIFTEEN, Brad entered the house, immediately drawn in by the spicy aroma of whatever Gloria was cooking for supper.

  Neil’s wife, Nancy, had summoned the entire family to the ranch for dinner. That was an interesting concept, Brad thought, since his dad wasn’t due back from El Paso until tomorrow, and after his grandfather’s eviction from upstairs, Clayton had refused to budge from the den.

  Though, crisis-wise, today had been a good day. Liz still hadn’t returned his phone call, and his one and only message from Diana had been to tell him she’d be taking a tour of the plant.

  Crossing his fingers the rest of the evening would go as well, Brad had barely hung up his Stetson when he discovered the ambush. Susan and his sister-in-law stood in the foyer behind him, ready to pounce. Nancy held a sheet of paper. As for Sue, forget swallowing the canary, her grin was more in line with consuming an ostrich.

  Anxious to sample Gloria’s fantastic cooking, and get a standard hand slap for his trouble, he gave Sue a quick kiss hello. Then, because he might never get back to the kitchen if he didn’t say something, he stared back at the two grinning women and asked, “What’s up?”

  “This.” Nancy thrust the paper at Brad.

  Brad read what appeared to be a MLS listing of a new home in Diamond. “Ah, you two are plotting.”

  “Not only plotting,” Susan said beaming. “Nancy’s found the perfect place for us. We think even you will like it.”

  “Even me.” Brad chuckled. “Must be some house.”

  He let them drag him into the living room, where they shoved him down on the sofa and sat on either side of him.

  Nancy rattled off terms like marble banisters, two master bedroom walk-in closets, a double-headed shower, and a media room. When Brad’s stomach growled, and he looked longingly toward the kitchen, the women really inserted the screws. They stressed location, using terms like perfect, ideal, and one block away from Nancy and Neil.

  Until Brad finally broke and said what they wanted to hear, “Maybe we should go look at it.”

  Nancy clapped her hands together.

  Squealing, Susan sprang from the couch. “I’ll set up an appointment right now.”

  Brad rose. “You do that. In the meantime, I think Gloria wants to see me.”

  Dinner went well, considering, as Brad had suspected, his grandfather had refused to join them, and John’s presence was sorely missed. Brad thought Nancy’s extra glow had come from her house-hunting excitement. But she had another surprise for the group when she and Neil announced they’d be adding a third child to their brood.

  For a time, Brad leaned back at the table, wrapped an arm around Susan, and almost forgot the outside world. Until Gloria entered the dining room taking tentative steps, and shades of yesterday made his pulse quicken.

  “The meal was excellent, Gloria, thank you.”

  “Gracias, Señor Bradley. Señor Neil, un momento?”

  Neil frowned and tossed the napkin onto his plate. He squeezed Nancy’s shoulder. “Be right back.”

  A few minutes later, Neil called from the door. “Brad?”

  He followed his brother into the hallway. “What is it?”

  Neil’s face had gone ashen. “Gray Tafoya’s outside. They’ve discovered a body.”

  LIKE BRAD, GRAY Tafoya, sheriff of Meade County, had won his first election handily. He looked much as he had in high school. At five-eleven, one-hundred-eighty pounds, he had midnight hair and a swarthy complexion. But as admirable as his physical stature was, his dark eyes were what drew you in. With that intense, to-the-point look, Gray didn’t miss much.

  The same age as Neil, Gray had been one of Brad’s older brother’s closest friends. Gray had been Diamond High’s quarterback, Neil the team’s wide receiver. Together, they’d been an unstoppable team.

  But now, standing in the circular driveway of the Jordan ranch, Gray and Neil squared off like they’d been adversaries, never mind friends.

  Attired in a brown sheriff’s uniform, Gray leaned against the squad car, arms crossed, jaw set. Dressed in jeans, Neil stuffed his hands in his back pockets and returned Gray’s unflinching stare.

  “Evening, Gray.” Brad spoke when no one else did. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “That’s what I came to ask your brother, Mayor.” Gray didn’t change his stance, just continued to stare. “Seems one of Neil’s employees got hisself killed.”

  Every pore in Brad’s body oozed sweat. “Who was it?”

  “Leonard Winters.” Gray’s gaze momentarily dislodged from Neil’s, targeting Brad. “Ring a bell?”

  His dinner threatened to bolt, although he saw no point in not answering the question. “I remember him. Sorry to hear that.”

  “How’d it happen?” Neil finally spoke.

  Gray honed in on Neil like a vulture flying low over a carcass. “ME’s calling it murder.”

  “Murder!” Neil’s baritone voice pierced the still night air. “I’ll be damned.”

  The radio in the squad car squawked. Gray reached inside an open window and turned down the volume. Refocusing on Neil, he said, “Folks around the plant say the deceased didn’t think too highly of you. Mind telling me why?”

  Brad intervened. “Is Neil a suspect?”

  “Are you his lawyer, Mayor?”

  “Do I have to be, Sheriff?”

  Brad sized up Gray in the same manner the sheriff was reading him.

  “No one’s accusing anyone yet. Just starting at the top. Funny thing, though, you mention Leonard Winters, and the name Neil Jordan naturally follows.”

  Neil glanced toward the house. “I have nothing to hide, but my wife and kids are inside. I’d prefer we discuss this at your office, Gray.”

  The sheriff shrugged. “Fine by me.”

  “Give us ten minutes,” Brad said. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  Nancy broke into tears when Neil told her the news, and Susan wanted to go with Brad to the sheriff’s office.

  “It might be another late night,” Brad said. “I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  She unhappily relented.

  At eight-fifteen, Brad followed Neil and Gray into an interrogation room, wondering how their fairly simple lives had suddenly become convoluted. Once seated, Gray depressed the button on a tape recorder. “Mind if I record this?”

  “Yeah, he does,” Brad said.

  Gray switched off the machine and flipped open a notebook instead. “Why don’t you tell me why Leonard Winters was so unhappy with you?”

  Neil pursed his lips and folded his hands. “I demoted him a few weeks ago. Suggested he start looking at different companies to find a better fit.”

  Gray’s eyes narrowed. “How’d he take that?”

  “How do you think he took it? Leo gave Jordan everything. The man ate, slept, and breathed Jordan Industries, and I took it away from him.”

  “Why?”

  Neil sighed. “Because of the poor economy, Gray. Rather than letting employees go, I elected to cut costs. Leo was costing us money. Jordan’s a fo
r-profit corporation. Plain and simple? My dad hired the man. He believed Leo could do great things for the company. I didn’t agree. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “Did you hate him?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t answer that,” Brad said.

  Neil shot Brad an outraged look and turned his fury on his old friend. “Leo meant little if anything to me, if you want the truth. If I’m a suspect, why aren’t you reading me my rights?”

  Brad rested a hand on Neil’s shoulder.

  “Right now, you’re a witness,” Gray said. “A valuable one. Do you know anyone who might’ve wanted Leo dead? Anyone who might have benefited from his death?”

  “I don’t.” Neil held out his hands. “Leo was a loner, a rabble-rouser. But I can’t see anyone killing him. Now, if you’d told me he committed suicide, I’d say I’d caused his death indirectly.”

  “By demoting him?”

  “That, and ridiculing him so he’d leave. I let him know I thought his project was a joke, told him he was researching the bugs to death. He squandered millions. Leo’s dream was to produce a nontoxic pesticide. It was smoke and mirrors. In order to kill something, you have to use poison. So I took the project away and gave his formula to a chemist I thought could build upon it.”

  “Did he?” Gray asked.

  “He’s been making impressive strides, yeah.”

  “What’s this man’s name?”

  “Allen Murdock.”

  “How did Mr. Murdock feel about Leonard? Did Leonard resent his replacement?”

  Neil gave his former classmate an exasperated look. “How would I know the answer to that? I have very little day-to-day interaction with chemists.”

  Gray closed the notebook. “That about covers things for now. I appreciate you coming down. Would you mind answering questions as they arise?”

  “Of course not.”

  The three men stood.

  Gray extended his hand.

  Unsmiling, Neil shook it. Brad followed his brother as Gray walked them to the door.

  “Mayor?”

  Brad paused in the doorway.

  “Mind if you and I have a discussion?” He extended a hand toward the chair Neil had just vacated. “Alone.”

  Neil sent them both a quizzical look, but with Gray’s silent signal, a deputy standing outside the door appeared and escorted Brad’s older brother from the room.

  Brad felt a punch to the stomach as the next round of suspicion entered the ring. Did Gray’s dog and pony show have anything to do with Diana? Brad hadn’t heard from her since her phone call this morning. How much trouble could she get into taking a tour of the plant?

  Still, when she’d found those cut-out pictures, she’d made no secret she was worried about Brad’s safety. Had she left afterward and gone off in search of Leo on her own?

  Raising a brow, Brad returned to the chair. “Well?”

  “Got me a quandary here,” Gray said. “On one hand, I’m talking to the mayor of Diamond; on the other, I’m talking to a friend. I hated like hell to come down on Neil. You know that.”

  Brad folded his arms. “Don’t I know it.”

  “Exactly. Like now.” Gray straddled the chair. “How well did you know Leonard Winters?”

  “As I told you before, not well. The last time I saw Leo Winters was in high school.”

  “And when was the last time you saw Diana Reid?”

  Every drop of spit dried up in Brad’s mouth, but he managed to stow his surprise. Where the hell was Gray going with this? “It’s common knowledge Diana and I broke up years ago.”

  Gray picked up the pencil, jotted something in his notebook, then nailed Brad with his stare. “All right. You and I know all the tricks of the trade. You want to use all your lawyerly tactics, we’ll dance, but it’s gonna be a long night.” With the pencil clutched tight between his fingers, Gray snapped it in two.

  Brad leaned forward and picked up a severed piece. Examining it, he said, “Trouble is, Gray, you don’t lead very well. Why don’t you stop stepping all over my feet and tell me what you got.” Brad tossed the pencil on the table. It rolled to within inches of where Gray sat.

  Gray’s eyes narrowed. Until the sheriff told Brad more, the words, You have a right to remain silent, never seemed wiser.

  “Thirty-year-old male discovered in a shallow grave a mile-and-a-half west of Old Carriage Road.”

  “Who found him?”

  “A hunter.” Gray shrugged. “More precisely, his dog. Golden retriever caught the scent of human remains and started digging.”

  “Cause of death?”

  The sheriff flipped through the notebook. “Preliminary report says, ‘Contre-coup contusion to the brain.’”

  “What the hell’s that?”

  “ME says it’s a blow to the head; in his opinion, consistent with a fall.”

  Brad sucked in badly-needed air. “So it could’ve been an accident.”

  “Anything’s possible.” Gray picked up the pencil stub and twirled it between his fingers. “Could be me, but I can’t picture Leonard Winters falling into that hole. And what’s even harder to imagine is some well-meaning Samaritan stopping by to cover him up.”

  Brad smirked. “You know what I mean. Someone could’ve panicked.”

  Gray nodded. “True enough. Lord knows, Meade County’s had its share of panicking lately. Take Mr. Winters’s landlady, for instance. Lady by the name of Ruth Tillman. She’s the woman who reported the victim missing.”

  Brad’s pulse quickened. Gray was slowly weaving the pieces together. All circumstantial, but Gray Tafoya was a damn good cop.

  “This lady wants me to know about a man and woman who came looking for Mr. Winters yesterday. She’s just sure they were up to no good.”

  Standing, Gray turned toward the glass partition. Brad wondered who, if anyone, was on the other side.

  Pivoting back to face Brad, Gray shoved his hands in his pockets. “Thing is, the man matches your description. But that’s where the similarities end.

  “As Ms. Tillman raves on, she starts talking about a fine-looking redhead. Now, I think to myself, that can’t be right. The lady in Brad Jordan’s life is blond.

  “When we end up with a body on our hands, well, then I take Ms. Tillman’s histrionics a little more seriously. As we’re prone to do when something unfortunate like this happens, I call my lab boys.”

  Ah, hell. Brad stared at the coffee rings and cigarette burns scarred into the table.

  “They take Mr. Winters’s place apart, and they find the darndest thing.”

  Brad met Gray’s unwavering stare. “Fingerprints.”

  “That’s right, Brad. Fingerprints. The deceased’s, yours, and Diana Reid’s.” Gray lowered himself back into the chair. “All right, Mr. Mayor, fox trot’s over. Let’s slow dance, shall we? Nice and easy now. How do I get my hands on Diana Reid?”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  WHEN EVENING descended, Diana popped the trunk, took one last look at the surveillance equipment, and quelled her disappointment.

  Today had been a bust. After touring the plant and discovering the ten p.m. rendezvous, she’d returned to the mailroom, intent on getting hold of Buddy’s pass card. But Buddy had proven more conscientious than she’d expected. He never took the device from his belt.

  Short of wrapping her arms around her Goth co-worker, she had no way to retrieve the entry key, and no way to access her way into the labs. This led her back to square one, or Room 111 of the Drifter’s Inn, to be more precise. For a second night, she’d be reduced to scouring Jordan’s perimeter, and the road that led into the plant, in hopes of discovering something unusual going on.

  Face scrubbed, and free of her disguise, she’d braided her hair and dres
sed in black to blend in with her surroundings. But the events of the past few days had finally caught up with her.

  She’d never meant to see Brad, much less involve him in what she was doing. Now that she had, she acknowledged she couldn’t have gotten this far without him. What she didn’t want to admit was that after eight years, her feelings for him hadn’t diminished. After their first confrontation, she’d hoped to learn otherwise—that he was simply a handsome guy she’d made larger than life because of the way she’d been forced to give him up.

  But in the six days she’d been here, she’d found just the opposite.

  Susan Lewis is the luckiest woman on earth, Diana thought, slamming the lid of the trunk.

  In the next instant, though, she learned that tires barreling along gravel were a sure cure for melancholy. She whirled as a police cruiser tore into the parking lot, red and blue lights flashing.

  She jumped behind the Escort as the vehicle’s high beams penetrated the darkness. Then blinded, she shielded her eyes from the light and the kicked-up dust. The cruiser blocked in her rental car, and a uniformed man stepped out of the unit.

  “Diana Reid?”

  She sucked in a breath at the use of her real name.

  “Deputy Sheriff Vigil, Meade County Sheriff’s Office.” Another uniformed deputy emerged from the driver side. “This is Deputy O’Dowell. Would you mind coming with us?”

  “Yes—yes, I would.” She stared back at the men, her heart stammering as badly as her words.

  “I’m afraid the sheriff insists, ma’am.”

  Her whole body went cold then hot. She couldn’t breathe—couldn’t balance her jumbled thoughts. Why were they here? What did they want? Who had turned her in?

  Deputy Vigil reached for her arm.

  Diana stepped back.

  “Please, ma’am.”

  “My backpack,” she said between gasps. “It’s in my car.”

  O’Dowell rounded her vehicle and retrieved it.

  This time when the deputy took hold of her arm, she didn’t resist. As the vehicle rolled in the direction of Diamond, she glanced back at the Drifter’s Inn, numb with worry.