by Gregory Kay
Seeing Joe’s bushy eyebrow curl up in a question, Luke gave him a rundown on the earlier events. “He literally ripped that dog apart, just like he did your cat: an eighty-pound pit bull!”
“Good Lord! That big brown and white monster over on North Main? How?”
“I don’t know; I just know he tore it up like a rotten stuffed toy, and scattered the pieces all over the hillside along Camden Avenue by the ball diamond. We didn’t find all of it, either, just like with the cat; he either carried it away or...did something with it. That’s what he’s capable of, whoever he is.” Looking at the house again, he added, “That’s what’s at stake right here.” His teeth bared in a grin that never reached his eyes. “Don’t tell me what you’re going to do, so I don’t have to testify against you in court; you just do what you have to, and I’ll back you all I can. Whatever you do, don’t take any chances with him; don’t let him get in the house!”
Joe nodded, swallowed hard, then said, “You think he’s after Allie, don’t you?”
Luke could only shrug.
“I don’t know, but he might very well be. He was sure after Fiona, and those guys were after Johnny, and...” He stopped, his mouth still partly open. “They saw the Mothman, both of them, and Fiona is investigating it...with me. That explains the note, I guess.”
“What note?” Joe demanded insistently, but the Deputy shook his head.
“Never mind; that’s personal. Whatever is going on, they seem to be targeting the witnesses and investigators for intimidation, and, after what happened to Johnny, they’ve obviously decided to up the ante.”
“So you agree these things are all connected, then?” From the tone of his question, it was obvious that Joe thought so, and Luke couldn’t disagree.
“Yes, even if by two different groups. Neither of those two we had the run-in with out in the TNT are the same as the one who’s been stalking Fiona, and killed Muggs and your cat, but they’re connected; they have to be! The Mothman and the TNT area are the connections, and I need to figure out how.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Yeah; keep a close eye on Allie.”
Joe patted his pistol.
“Count on it! I even think any sorry son of a bitch is going to hurt my little girl, he’s gonna grow an extra asshole, right between his eyes!” He suddenly paused. “She’s got a dentist appointment tomorrow morning; Kathy’s taking her on the way to work. Should one of us take off and stay with her?”
Luke asked who her dentist was, and after he found out his office was downtown on the main drag, he shook his head.
“Downtown in broad daylight, she should be safe. Just make sure she knows not to go anywhere out of public view. How’s she getting to school afterward?”
“Well, normally she would walk, but I don’t think that’s a good idea this time.”
“I don’t think so either,” Luke affirmed, “Tell you what; the library is about a block away. Tell her to wait there – and to stay there – and I’ll pick her up and take her myself, just as soon as I get the chance. I’ve got some stuff to take care of.”
Joe was thanking him, and Luke suddenly glanced at his watch.
“Crap! Can you hold down the fort here? I’ve got to run; I’ve got an appointment.”
CHAPTER 21
Body Fantasies was not at all what Fiona had expected of a tattoo parlor. She had braced herself for some dark, dingy little hole-in-the-wall in a back alley, but what she found was large, light, open, airy, and right on the main drag through the Ohio town of Pomeroy, just across the river from Mason, West Virginia, the town that shared the County’s namesake. Other than the racks of poster-sized tattoo flash, various framed pictures of original art on the walls and a glass counter full of body jewelry, knives, local books, and souvenirs for sale, the place could have easily been mistaken for a beauty salon. Cubicle dividers were set up here and there, defining the various artists’ work spaces without confining them; the buzzing sound of the tattoo guns showed that two of them were working, while a third, idle between customers, played a video game on the shop’s aging PC.
“Hey, Luke! How are you?”
A slender middle-aged woman with long brown hair came out of one of the booths and quickly crossed the floor with a big smile to give the deputy a hug. He assured her he was fine, and then introduced her to Fiona as Rhonda Gordon, Sam’s wife and Body Fantasies’ co-owner. Then he asked her if Sam was in.
“Yeah, he’s upstairs.” She gestured with the slightest nod of her head toward the steps leading up to second floor that extended only halfway out over the shop, its border surrounded with an iron railing.
“Is he busy?”
Rhonda laughed.
“You can go on up; the only thing he’s busy at is shooting the breeze with Whitey.”
“Is business still slow?”
“Yeah, a little. You know how it is, with the economy...”
Hearing the note of sadness as her voice trailed off, Luke told her sincerely that he hoped it got better.
“Yeah,” she assured him, “Me too.”
Once they topped the stairs, Fiona could tell immediately she was in the boss’ private territory; his tattoo station was set up close to the refrigerator and coffee maker, across the room from a department store manikin adorned with various piercings and painted-on tattoos.
“You’d better straighten up; it’s the law!” Whitey called out, rising with a grin from one of the chairs, “Hey Luke, Fiona! I didn’t think you were going to make it!”
“We had some trouble,” Luke told him, then nodded at the other man in the room, “Fiona Pelligatti, this is Sam Gordon.”
“Nice to meet you,” he told her, and she returned a similar pleasantry, noting that, much like his shop, he was not at all what she’d expected either.
From what she’d learned of the man’s background – soldier, mercenary, firefighter, EMT, mayor, Republican activist – she’d prepared herself for crew cuts and spit-shines. Instead, while his tee-shirt – with the words, ‘IT’S NOT EASY BEING A DICK!’ followed by a hilarious series of pictorially-enhanced explanations as to just why life as a male member wasn’t easy – stretched across his tight muscles told her he was in good shape, the long brown hair bound back in a tight braid hanging over halfway down his back made him look anything but military, despite the emergency personnel boots and cargo pants he wore. Still, his large broken nose with the scar running across it told her he’d been in a few fights, although you’d never know it from his friendly, slightly lopsided grin or his twinkling brown eyes.
Sam hugged the deputy – there are a lot of huggers down here! Fiona thought – before gesturing toward the vintage barber’s chair near the racks of equipment. He invited her to have a seat while Luke pulled up a folding chair, turned it backwards and straddled it, resting his forearms on the back. She couldn’t help but notice that the boss’ chair had started life as the swivel stool she’d expected, but the seat had been removed and a broad motorcycle seat mounted in its place.
I guess he works where he’s the most comfortable. What’s that the bikers say: ride to live, live to ride.
“You’re late, man,” the tattooist declared, his grin broadening, making his mustache twitch, “Who do you think you are, me?”
Luke laughed and explained to Fiona, “Sam’s notoriously late; he’ll be late for his own funeral!”
“Now that wouldn’t bother me too much,” he assured them, then added, “What’s happened? You look a little pissed.”
“I am.”
Luke began describing the events since Fiona had arrived in town, and the more he talked, the further Sam leaned forward with interest, the colder his eyes got, and the thinner his smile became until it finally disappeared entirely. He asked a few pointed questions, a few politer but equally-pointed ones of Fiona, then leaned back in his chair and looked at Whitey.
“Shit. They’re still doing it.”
“Yeah; told you, man.”
Fiona looked at both men, then at Luke, who obviously had no more clue than she did. Finally, she asked, “Doing what?”
“It’s a long story,” Sam said.
“I’ve got time; it’s what I’m here for.”
“Alright. I probably shouldn’t even be talking about this, but what the hell? I’ve got too many secrets on my conscience as it is.
“You said it’s the igloo section on the south side of Potter’s Creek Road, right?”
Fiona thought so, but despite her excellent sense of direction, she wasn’t quite familiar enough with the area to say for sure until she saw Luke nod his agreement, and Sam return the gesture in confirmation of what he suspected.
“I was running some paintball games out there a few years ago. You know what paintball is, right?”
“Isn’t that where people put on goggles, take air guns loaded with paint pellets, and chase each other through old buildings, woods, things like that? Kinda like playing army, only with psychedelic-colored bullets.” Fiona had never gotten a chance to play, but it looked like it might be fun.
“That’s it,” Sam affirmed, “I had permission from the local DNR people – Department of Natural Resources,” he added when he saw her blank look, “ – to use a field bordering on that area, and, during a game, a couple of guys wandered off the marked course into the igloos. They came back all shook up a few minutes later, complaining that some men with guns chased them off.
“I went over to see what the hell was going on – to be honest, since we had permission from the wildlife station to use the field, I was planning on tearing whoever it was a new asshole – and the next thing I know, I’m looking down the barrel of an M16.”
“Who was it?”
“The Air Force Security Force: the Air Force’s special operations people, their branch’s version of the Army’s Special Forces, Navy SEALS, or Marine RECON.”
“And you know this because...” Fiona’s voice trailed off in a question, and she was slightly stung by Sam’s look of condescension.
“They were in full fatigue uniform, complete with insignia.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, this guy looked at me and said, ‘Sir, you have to leave this area immediately.’ I tried to tell him we had permission to be there, but he flicked the safety off and said, ‘Now, sir.’ Since he had a loaded assault rifle and I had a paintball gun, I didn’t have much choice.”
“What was the Air Force doing out there?” Luke asked him before she could, “The Army, I can see, since the National Guard base is right there and they do training maneuvers there all the time, but not the Air Force.”
“I thought it was weird too, especially considering what I saw going on behind him before I finally had to get the hell out. One of the igloos was open, and there were trucks going into it.”
“What kind of trucks?” Fiona posed the question quickly this time, before Luke could open his mouth. She knew he was trying to help, but she was the reporter, not him, and even though he meant no harm and the whole thing was doubtlessly part of his cop’s habit, she had her pride, after all.
“Humvees; the cargo-hauling variants. There were three of them, and they were all fully loaded, with whatever was in the beds tarped down tight under canvas. All three of them went in, one right after the other.”
“Wait-wait-wait! I was inside a couple of those igloos today; you could barely fit one truck like that inside, let alone three.”
He nodded.
“I know, and that’s the weird part. As the Humvees pulled in, each of them dipped down in front, like they were going down a ramp; that’s the only thing they could have been doing.”
“Are you saying there’s an underground bunker out there?” she asked, recalling the earlier conversation on the subject.
Leaning back, Sam spread his hands.
“That’s all it could be,” he repeated, “those trucks were tilting downward as entered, and, like you pointed out, there’s no other way they could have fit in there.”
“Do you have any theories as to what they could be doing there?”
“Damned if I know, but whatever it is, they sure as hell wanted it kept secret.”
Whitey pointed out, “Obviously they’ve reopened that World War II bunker complex out there,” getting a nod of agreement from Sam.
“No doubt; my guess is they did it back when they did that cleanup; that whole EPA thing in the nineties was probably just a cover story: a smoke screen to hide the real reason for the construction out there.”
“That would explain the steel-armored mesh they laid down under the soil,” Luke put in.
Fiona asked their opinion of the purpose of the two large pump stations, and Sam told her, “I figure they’re exactly that, only they’re not pumping ground water; they’re keeping the bunkers dry, like a sump pump in a basement. The water table is high out there – you can tell by all the swamps, ponds and creeks – and they’d definitely have flooding problems if they didn’t keep at it.”
“They could even be using that water for coolant,” Whitey said, “I mean, God only knows what they’re up to down there; if they’ve got a big power generator, say...”
“I see what you mean.”
“Then again,” Luke broke in, “the buildings could be cover too, not only to simulate pollution clean up – they might even be cleaning up some pollution, for that matter – but for the power being used by the underground installation. As far as the people and the power company are concerned, the electricity runs into those two pump stations, but do they use it all, or is some of it being shunted off elsewhere?”
Sam looked impressed.
“Good point, Luke.”
Fiona had to admit it was a pretty good point herself, and felt a sudden inordinate burst of pride that it had come from her Luke...she brought that thought to a screeching halt. He’s not my Luke...good grief, why do I hate to even think those words? I finally run into somebody decent, and it’s something that will never work out. Mentally casting her eyes skyward, she asked God, what did I ever do to you?
“Well, whatever it is, they’re pretty damned serious about it,” Sam observed dryly, “These ain’t people you want to be messing with, Luke; this is some serious shit, and I don’t want to see anything happen to you.” Shaking his head, he added, “They’re already trying to scare you off, so if it hasn’t gone too far, I think you ought to let ‘em. You need to back off this thing right now, and stay the hell out of the TNT.” He nodded meaningfully at Fiona. “For her sake, if nothing else.”
Luke sighed; he had his duty, but, for the first time, he was forced to question which obligation took first priority: the one to Mason County or the one to the woman beside him.
“You’re the third person who’s told me that today.”
“Fourth,” Whitey said, “Leave it alone, buddy, and they’ll most likely leave you alone.” Turning his attention to the reporter, he asked her, “Do you have all the information you need from out there, on the ground? Do you really need to go back for anything?”
Fiona thought about it in silence for almost a full minute, and they let her. To be honest, she was scared to death of going back, but she had to get the story. She was also very much aware of Luke sitting there, and she knew if she went, she risked him too, because he would go wherever she went, without question. If something happened to him because of her...
Like it almost did today!
No, she couldn’t face that, story or not. Besides, looking at it logically, she had gotten everything from the TNT she was ever likely to get in the short time she had, unless she intended to sneak into the secret installation itself, like some movie heroine.
Sure, the girl who can’t shoot straight up against some of the government’s best-trained professional killers; I’ve got the feeling that one wouldn’t end like in the movies!
Glancing at Luke out of the corner of her eye, she knew the same thing would happen to him as well, because he would be rig
ht there with her, ‘come hell or high water,’ as he might have put it. That was too high a price for a plan with a nearly-certain risk of failure. Even in the best-case scenario, if he got caught and they decided not to kill him or send him to Leavenworth or Guantanamo Bay or to some secret prison somewhere, at the very least it couldn’t help but cost him his career, regardless of how much information he might have squirreled away.
“I think you’re right,” she told them, “There’s nothing out there I’m likely to be able to find out by going back. I believe we’ll just stick to interviewing witnesses for awhile.”
Sam smiled at Luke.
“Looks like you found yourself a smart one; I think you ought to let her do the thinking.”
Grinning ruefully, the deputy said, “Well, if you’re all going to gang up on me, maybe I’ll do just that.” With a glance at Fiona, he added, “I could do a lot worse.”
That made her blush...and hurt.
CHAPTER 22
“Poor Kathy!”
Luke nodded solemnly at the sadness in Fiona’s voice. Poor Kathy indeed!
They had switched cars again, leaving both the cruiser and his uniform at his house this time, and going in plain clothes and taking his Jeep instead. Now it was parked in a grassy field off a dirt back road on the other side of the county, well away from the TNT, and, unlike the night before, this evening was warm for October, with temperatures hovering in the low fifties. They sat side-by-side on the boxy vehicle’s warm hood, leaning back against the flat windshield. Each of them sipped at a bottle of Samuel Adams Oktoberfest Luke had picked up at a local convenience store; he had also bought some sandwiches, but neither of them was particularly hungry at the moment, not after the day’s events.
Instead they talked, wondering if they were making the right decision by backing away from an obvious conspiracy, but seeing no other option. Eventually, the conversation had led back to the Parks.