Buried Agendas

by Donnell Ann Bell

  Diana tasted bile. Had Michael found the respirator as promised? Would he risk Walt’s vengeance by putting it inside the van?

  She’d soon find out. Her mind filled with regret. All she’d done was leave brief messages for her mother. She hadn’t heard her mom’s voice in days. Why hadn’t Diana called just to say “I love you?” But that kind of thinking was crazy. She would have plenty of time for their reunion. What had Gray said? It’s a good plan.

  Walt’s shoulder shifted beneath her. He reached into his pocket and tossed Michael the keys. “Open them back doors.”

  The next sounds included the rear panels sliding back. “Want me to take her?” Michael asked.

  “Stop being a mama’s boy,” Walt ordered. “This ain’t a woman no more, boys, she’s nothing but a corpse.” With a thud, he dropped Diana into the van. Her body reeled from hitting the grooved metal flooring. She ground her teeth together to suppress crying out.

  Then, everything stopped.

  “Let’s go. Bingham, you’re next,” Vic said.

  Diana’s eyes flew open. Something told her this wasn’t part of the plan. Beyond the open doors of the van, she saw the plant manager wielding a gun.

  “What the hell?” Walt said.

  “You son of a bitch, you almost cost us our money. Thanks to you, the cops are onto us. You think I’m gonna let you screw up anything further? You’re going with her. Michael, Buddy, find some friggin’ rope.”

  Diana couldn’t see Walt’s enraged face, but noted the heave of his tremendous shoulders. No way would he submit to somebody tying him up.

  Walt roared, “You said Mike and Buddy weren’t coming back.”

  “What?” Buddy screeched.

  “Shut up,” Vic bellowed. “I said that so this loose cannon wouldn’t take matters into his own whacked-out hands again. I’d never take out either of you. We’re in this together. Now, what’s it gonna be, Bingham? Do I pull the trigger here, or are you ready to take a little drive?”

  Walt charged into Vic like an angry bull. The gun went off, and madness ensued. Nothing appeared to stop the crazed men from trying to kill each other. What’s more, both seemed oblivious to the barrage of men racing from the shadows, shouting “Freeze,” or “Put your hands up.”

  As for Diana, she yanked off the bonds, spat out the gag, and scrambled from the van. Unfortunately, her escape was short-lived. Vic grabbed her. Holding her against him, he wrapped a powerful arm around her and pressed the gun to her temple.

  “All right, everybody hold it,” he screamed.

  Diana forgot how to breathe.

  Standing five feet away, two deputies had a bleeding Walt by the arms, Gray’s eyes were narrowed, and Brad looked ready to kill.

  “Let her go,” he said.

  “Not on your life, Jordan.” Vic’s nails dug into her flesh. “You’re not in charge here. Not you, or that pompous, ineffectual brother of yours. This little lady and me, we’re out of here.”

  “We can negotiate,” Gray said.

  “Too late.” Vic pressed the barrel harder against Diana’s skull.

  Wincing, she bit her lip.

  “Who knows, Jordan,” Vic said. “When I take her tonight, she might prefer me over you. Turnabout’s fair play, don’t you think?”

  Brad returned a baffled look, but Diana gulped with ready understanding. Vic was no doubt referring to Susan. He obviously believed Brad had stolen the woman he loved.

  “Drop your weapons, or I swear this snoopy little bitch has made her last broadcast,” Vic said again.

  Diana’s hope for a rescue faded as a multitude of guns scattered to the floor.

  “Hand me those keys, Mike,” Vic said.

  Wide-eyed and wary, Michael obeyed.

  “Now everyone stay back,” Vic ordered as he edged Diana toward the van’s driver side door.

  Diana blinked back tears. Her mind flooded with memories of Brad who looked on through a helpless rage. She swallowed over her grief. “Brad, I never left because of you. Never.”

  “Be quiet,” he said. “The drugs are talking. Not you. This isn’t over.” Hands curled into fists, he took a step forward.

  Vic pointed the gun at Brad. “I wish you would, hero. I’d love to show everybody here that you bleed just like the rest of us common folk.”

  A shadow crossed Diana’s peripheral vision, and just for an instant, Vic looked in its direction.

  Brad seized the opportunity. He dove for Vic, ripping Diana out of his grasp and hurling her out of danger. Once she was away from the melee, Brad tackled Hagen, and his gun went sliding.

  Struggling to get to her feet, she watched in horror. One couldn’t look at Brad’s muscular form and not know he possessed the potential for violence. But she’d never seen it, nor had she ever witnessed him brutally beating anyone before. Berserk, Brad pounded Vic, each blow landing with sickening thuds.

  Though Walt was injured, the two deputies had their hands full trying to restrain him, which left Gray alone to break up the fight. Blood oozed from Vic’s face, and the sheriff strained to pull Brad off. But rage seemed to spur him on. Diana screamed as he flung Gray backward. The sheriff landed within inches of a pickup’s grill.

  Then Casey, the deputy who’d been on top of the tank, arrived. Together, he and Gray managed to pull Brad back.

  “Let him go, Mr. Jordan,” the deputy yelled. “Let him go.”

  Brad drew back a fist, then all at once dropped his hand. Sweat dripped from his brow and his shoulders slumped. He lowered his head.

  Diana rushed to him.

  As he wrapped her in his arms, and the Brad Jordan she knew returned from insanity’s brink, Diana dared to breathe again.

  Chapter Forty

  TUCKED INSIDE BRAD’S idling SUV, Diana leaned back against the headrest and waited. Seemingly every muscle within her ached, but she was alive. Thank God, alive. With a coffee-leather combination replacing the bitter smell of dust and chemicals, she was content just to be. She’d survived almost being dumped with lethal chemicals in the desert, only to learn upon her rescue that her rental car was missing.

  But a missing car was an issue she could deal with tomorrow.

  Tomorrow. She didn’t have the strength to break into song, but she might hum a few bars. She couldn’t wait to see sunrise.

  Currently, it was near midnight, however, and the headlights from Brad’s vehicle and the two remaining squad cars, as well as lights from the plant’s towers, control rooms, and myriad departments broke up the night.

  Brad and Gray stood talking a few feet from the Navigator. Occasionally, they’d pause in whatever conversation they were having to look her way. Obviously the topic of conversation, she lowered her head to study the floorboard, then caught the ugly bruises on her arms. After this incident, she’d had enough of being the center of attention to last a lifetime.

  The two parted company, and Brad headed her way.

  He opened the driver side door and slid behind the wheel.

  During his fight with Vic Hagen, Hagen had gotten off more than a few solid punches. Brad’s left eye was swollen and a deep cut grazed his right cheek. For that matter, Gray and his deputies looked like they’d survived a war, too. As for Diana, let’s just say management wouldn’t be putting her in front of a camera anytime soon.

  She imagined Vic Hagen and Walt Bingham would both require medical attention on their way to the county jail. As for Buddy and Michael, while they might have come away without a physical scratch, their internal scars would, no doubt, be lasting and deep.

  When called to testify, Diana would do her best to come to their defense. Brad, she was certain, wouldn’t be nearly as forgiving.

  Gray’s squad car pulled alongside Brad’s SUV. He rolled down the window and focused on Brad. “Forgot
to ask, you headin’ to the hospital?”

  “Yeah, if I’m not too late,” Brad said.

  Diana shifted to look at him. On closer inspection, Brad’s cheek did look like it might require a few stitches. “I don’t think you’re too late. Your cut is still oozing.”

  “He’s talking about his granddad,” Gray explained. “Clayton Jordan suffered a massive coronary today.”

  Diana’s entire body sagged. “Today, while you were—”

  Brad nodded. “Do me a favor,” he said, facing Gray again. “My cell phone’s dead. Get a message to my brother. Tell him we’re on our way.”

  We? “That’s all right.” Diana opened the door. “I’ll go with Gray. Gray, do you mind—”

  Brad caught Diana by the wrist. “Yeah, he does. He has drums to locate and an arsenal of prisoners to book and interrogate. You’re going with me. Diana, please.”

  Her stomach dropped. “I won’t be welcome, Brad. This is an intensely private time for your family.” The last thing she needed was for her presence to remind Brad’s grandfather to share her father’s secret in a deathbed confession.

  “I don’t expect you to see my family. What I do want is for an ER doc to look you over. We don’t know what Walt Bingham injected you with, and you encountered some nasty blows today.”

  The emergency room. Diana sighed deeply and shut the door.

  “When you’re finished at the ER, call me,” Gray said. “I’ll have a squad car swing by and bring you to the office. Maybe by that time, we’ll have located your car.”

  “All right,” she relented, grateful there would be no unwelcome reunion.

  Gray left ahead of them. Brad started the Navigator, and drove toward the gate. Minutes later, they were flying down the county road in the direction of Diamond.

  Chapter Forty-one

  AFTER MIDNIGHT, JOHN stepped out of his father’s room in the ICU to get some much-needed air and to stretch his legs. The hours sitting by Clayton’s bed should have been dragging. But as he slipped away, so did time, and John was incapable of delaying the inevitable.

  He’d started to pace in an opposite direction when Neil walked off the elevator. He’d left several minutes ago to take a call.

  “Was that your brother on the phone?” As John moved toward Neil, he noticed his face had turned the color of powdered sugar.

  “The call was from Gray Tafoya. Vic Hagen, Walt Bingham, and two other Jordan employees are under arrest.”

  “That’s ridiculous. On what charges?”

  “Murder, attempted murder, kidnapping, chemical dumping . . . Gray had quite a list.”

  John stabbed the elevator’s down button. “Let’s go.”

  Neil looked to his grandfather’s hospital room. “Dad, we can’t. Gramps could die at any time. Besides, Gray’s report was preliminary. We have to wait until all this settles.”

  “The company I grew from the ground up is in trouble, and you expect me to stay here? Think again.”

  “Do you want Gramps to die in a hospital bed alone?” Neil held out his hands. “I’m hoping this is all some terrible mistake. The minute I have the details, I promise, I’ll let you know.”

  Vic Hagen and Walt Bingham? Both men had been longtime, trusted employees. Bingham had twenty-plus years with the company, Hagen at least ten. But Neil was right. What good would it do for both of them to go charging out of here?

  “All right. Go. But, Neil, don’t make a move without me.”

  “No, sir.” His eyes were red-rimmed, and his voice quivered as he spoke. “If Gramps wakes up, tell him I love him.” Neil looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “I almost forgot. Gray asked me to tell you Brad’s on his way, with Diana Reid of all people.”

  Nancy and Susan chose that moment to return from a coffee run. The tray slipped from Susan’s hands. “What?”

  At Neil’s unfortunate timing, John rushed to the nurse’s station. An observant employee handed him a stack of towels.

  John bent to clean up the mess. “I’m sure Brad has a reasonable explanation.” But after everything John had learned in Austin, he wondered.

  Chapter Forty-two

  TORN IN EVERY possible direction, Brad rode the elevator to the ICU. He was worried about the drug Bingham had given Diana, he prayed he was in time to see his grandfather, and after disappearing for hours, he’d had no contact with his fiancée. If Susan had heard—how could she not in a town the size of Diamond?—they had a major issue to resolve.

  On top of these personal issues, toxic chemicals lay buried in the desert, and as mayor, he knew this problem had to take precedence over any other.

  Another sleepless night awaited him. After he said his goodbyes to his grandfather, he was scheduled to meet Gray and the men in custody to find the hidden drums. But at present, the elevator doors drew apart and Brad entered the small lobby reserved for family members.

  The place stood empty of visitors with the exception of Nancy and Susan who spoke in hushed whispers as they sat on one of the hospital’s vinyl sofas. Nancy wrapped her arms around Sue, and Brad’s stomach dropped. Something told him her distress had nothing to do with his grandfather.

  As the elevator doors closed behind him, both women looked up. Nancy rose to greet him.

  “How’s Gramps?” he asked, looking past her to Susan. Hurt was rooted on her face, and he knew she’d heard about Diana.

  “Resting comfortably for now.” Nancy touched his arm. “Brad, what’s happened? Is Neil in trouble? What happened to your face? And is it true, you were with Diana?”

  Brad held his pregnant sister-in-law at arms’ length. “I’ll explain everything later. It’s sordid and complicated. But for right now, can you give Susan and me a few minutes alone?”

  “Of course. I’ll check on your grandfather.” Nancy made a discreet disappearance into Clayton’s room.

  Her departure filled the lobby with an awkward silence, and Brad braced for what was about to come.

  “Is it true?” Susan held her arms akimbo.

  Brad sighed. “How much do you know?”

  Her expression went from hurt to outraged. “Were you with Diana Reid today?”

  He focused on a picture behind her and nodded.

  “After all that I’ve been through with Scott, all of your promises? Why would you do that to me?”

  “It’s not what you think. Diana accessed information against Jordan. She’s been working undercover. I was with her today because she was in trouble. She almost died.”

  Susan squeezed her eyes closed. “What kind of information, and what do you mean undercover?”

  Brad hung his head. This was it. She was about to learn the depths of his deceit. “Diana infiltrated the plant. She was the woman you hired last week.”

  Susan stared, knotted her hands into fists, then whirled away from him.

  He held out his arms, but didn’t dare touch her. “Sue, this has nothing to do with you and me.”

  “I’ve got to get out of here.” She walked to the sofa and collected her purse. On her way out, she brushed by him. “Try looking yourself in the mirror when you say that, Brad Jordan.”

  “Susan.” Brad grasped her shoulders.

  She stiffened. “Let go of me. Before I say something we’ll both regret.”

  He dropped his hands, and without a look back, she crossed the room and disappeared into the elevator.

  Brad closed his eyes. His heart beat dully in his chest. Jaw tight, he checked his emotions, then entered his grandfather’s hospital room, walking from one tragedy into the next.

  Except for a nightlight over his grandfather’s bed, the room was cast in shadows. The old man was hooked up to oxygen. He was gray and old and dying.

  Brad’s throat choked, and he had to look away. The man in t
he bed wasn’t his grandfather, there had to be some mistake. Death had already stolen his mother, his grandmother, and now it stood ready to claim someone else he loved. The pragmatic side of Brad reasoned this stage was necessary; it hurt nonetheless.

  His father acknowledged Brad as he entered.

  Nancy stood and slipped her arms around Brad. “Are you and Susan okay?” she asked softly.

  Comforted by Nancy’s embrace, Brad said, “I honestly don’t know.” He’d seen the worst side of mankind today. He had to think of something joyful. “How’s my niece or nephew?”

  Worry creased her brow. “A lot better than his mama.”

  “Nan, there’s nothing you can do here. Go home. Eric and Sami need you more than we do.”

  “It has been a long day, but I’m concerned about Neil.”

  “This can’t be good for you or the baby. We’ll call as soon as it’s over.”

  “Please do.” She released him, moved to Clayton’s side, and kissed his cheek. Then she said goodbye to her father-in-law and left the room.

  “Is it true, everything I’m hearing?” his father asked as he stood beside Brad. “Four Jordan employees are under arrest?”

  “It’s true.”

  “What happened to your face?”

  “Vic Hagen got a piece of me.”

  “I hope to hell he looks worse than you do.”

  The rage Brad had felt when Hagen held that gun to Diana’s temple was still fresh in his mind. He tightened his lips. “How’s Gramps?”

  “Shouldn’t be long now.” John’s gaze drifted to the shriveled man in the hospital bed. “His breathing is becoming shallower by the minute. A couple of times, I thought it’d stopped. But you know your granddad. He’ll fight ’til his dying breath. Doctor said surgery was out of the question. We’d lose him on the table.”

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, Brad shook his head. “Damn, I hate this helpless feeling.”

  “Why don’t you let him know you’re here? He hasn’t talked much, but he did squeeze my hand a couple of times.”