Dead of Spring: An Alexa Williams Novel

by Sherry Knowlton

  Alexa turned back to the legal issues. She knew she could track down the right representation for the family. Monongas deserved to pay for the con they’d run on these people who had leased their land for fracking. Most of all, they needed to pay for the medical bills and other harm they’d caused young Tessa. The girl could die.

  Chapter Seven

  “Fetch.” Alexa tossed a stick and followed Scout into the grove of pines. Her boots crunched through a patch of icy snow still clinging to the shaded edge of the forest. Inside the towering arch of trees, no snow had filtered onto the carpet of pine needles. A calming silence filled the pine cathedral. “Good boy.” When the panting mastiff returned the stick, Alexa patted the giant dog on the head and threw it back toward the cabin. She stopped, just inside the pines, and closed her eyes for a moment soaking in the silence.

  “Alexa, where are you?” John’s voice came from the deck.

  “Out here, in the pines.” Alexa sighed when the quiet shattered. John ran down the steps and walked in her direction. When Scout spotted John, the dog dropped the stick and ran toward him, tail wagging.

  “Hey, Scout.” John laughed. As he approached Alexa, he said, “I decided a walk might be nice after all. I spend too much time in front of the TV on Sunday afternoons. With football season over, I’m just watching out of habit. I’m not all that crazy about basketball anyway.”

  Alexa picked up Scout’s stick and moved forward. “Glad you changed your mind. We were going to walk to the far edge of the woods.”

  “Great. I haven’t been out here much. It’s sort of eerie, these tall pines blocking out the sun.” John shivered.

  Alexa gave a thin laugh. “You go into dangerous situations all the time, but you let these trees creep you out? This grove of pines is one of my favorite places. Graham and I played in here all the time when we were kids.”

  “I guess growing up on a farm, I’m more comfortable with open fields.” John darted a nervous look at Alexa. “Speaking of farms, my mom invited us up to State College for Easter. It’s two weeks from today. I’d like you to get to know my parents better.”

  “Do you have that weekend off?” Caught off guard, Alexa stalled.

  “Right now, I’m scheduled to work on Friday and Saturday, but I could talk to my boss. I’ve got a lot of vacation days.”

  Alexa frowned. “I already told Graham and Kate I’d have dinner with them. I know you’d be welcome too. I didn’t know you planned to go home for the weekend.”

  “But, it never occurred to you―to come home with me?” John’s voice was tight.

  “Kate’s call last week was the first I’d even thought about Easter, to tell you the truth. It’s just not something that’s high on my radar screen. My parents usually have a big Easter dinner, but Kate stepped in since they’re still in Italy.” Alexa’s tone took on a distinct chill, like when an opponent in court pissed her off.

  “Easter’s a big deal to my parents.”

  “Then you should spend the day with them.”

  “But my mom really wants to get to know you,” John cajoled.

  “It’s not like we’ve never met. Maybe we can get together when the weather gets warmer.”

  “You know, when we move in together, we’re going to have share holidays between our families; make concessions.”

  Alexa sighed. “John, I am not ready for that kind of commitment. We’ve talked about this so many times.”

  “Right.” John muttered. “I should have worn a warmer coat. I’m going back to the house. Maybe finish that trout fly.” He turned and shuffled through the pine needles in the direction of the cabin.

  “Scout, stay.” Alexa held the dog by his collar for a moment and confided, “I just can’t deal with John’s constant pressure about living with us.” Her good mood had evaporated. She kept replaying the conversation as she hiked through the pines. Hell, John spent most of his time at the cabin anyway. Why did he need to move in? She fretted about the situation until, frustrated, she turned back.

  When she and Scout reached the cabin, John’s car was gone. Walking into the empty house, Alexa switched off the basketball game blaring from the television and collapsed into a chair, angry with John. He kept pushing for more in this relationship than she was ready to give. This crap was getting old.

  After a few minutes, Alexa shrugged off her bad mood. She lifted her laptop from the kitchen counter and typed in a search for fracking lawsuits.

  “Melinda, I have a project for you.” Alexa leaned forward over her desk.

  “Okey dokey. How was your weekend, boss?” Melinda raised her pen, ready to take notes on a lavender-hued legal pad. “We went to see that new Pixar movie. My husband wanted to see it more than the kids. I just don’t get those computer-animated characters.”

  “To answer your question, I spent a lot of time driving this weekend,” Alexa responded. “I visited my friend, Jeannie Demeter. She and her husband signed a lease with this fracking outfit for extra income. Now they’re left with a field of pumping stations in front of their house and a critically ill child. Little Tessa looks so frail. Every time I looked at her, I saw my niece and nephew. I can’t imagine Courtney or Jamie being so desperately ill.”

  “How awful.” Melinda wiped a tear from her eye.

  “I’d like you to track down an environmental attorney for me. Maybe call the Wildness Cooperative office in Harrisburg first. Find out if they have an expert in fracking or know about any lawsuits. Check with the Sierra Club’s state office too. The third option would be the National Resources Defense Council―their headquarters is probably in DC. Then find a time I can meet with one of their people. In person would be better, but phone is an option.”

  “Doesn’t Leonardo DiCaprio work with the NRDC? Maybe you could have him come here to our office?” Melinda suggested with a hopeful expression.

  “Yeah, sure. In between movie shoots, right?”

  Melinda giggled. “I’ll get on this right away.”

  “Thanks, I’d like to meet with someone this week, if possible. I’m going to ask Vanessa or Ted to do a search for personal injury lawsuits involving fracking.”

  Melinda came through, as always. On Tuesday morning, Alexa headed for Harrisburg, glad to rely on the comforting heft of her Land Rover in the solid stream of truck traffic on I-81. Her vintage Land Rover Defender had been riddled with bullets last summer when she and her mother fled from goons employed by a sex trafficking ring. Alexa had feared her trusty vehicle had driven its last mile. But she’d had it hauled back down to the place outside of Philadelphia that had once refurbished the engine for her. Now the Rover was as good as new, maybe better, with a pristine body. Alexa had never liked the original white color, so she had the vehicle painted a custom blue that reminded her of the sky at dusk. She’d bought a used Mini-Cooper convertible to drive while they repaired the Rover, so Alexa and Scout were now a two-car family.

  Alexa found a parking spot in the Walnut Street garage and walked to the restaurant. A tall, tanned woman waved when she entered the room, so Alexa squeezed toward her through the cramped space. When she reached the table, Alexa asked, “Darby Kaplan?”

  “Hi. I take it you’re Alexa Williams? I recognized you from your LinkedIn photo. Have a seat.”

  “Thanks for meeting me. Did my assistant tell you what I’d like to discuss?” Alexa pulled out a notepad.

  “She did. I take it you’ve got a client who’s being screwed over by the hydraulic fracturing industry?” At Alexa’s nod, Darby flashed a sardonic smile. “Welcome to the Marcellus Shale, the State of Independence from adequate taxes and regulation.”

  Darby’s spin on the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania’s tourism slogan left little doubt about her position on fracking. Alexa replied, “I’ve read news reports and some of your Wildness Cooperative articles on fracking. It’s something else to see it in operation like I did last weekend. It’s destroying the landscape. And my client blames her daughter’s cancer on frackin
g.”

  “I don’t doubt it. I’ve seen a lot of horror stories come out of the Marcellus Shale. The toxic chemicals. The methane emissions. It’s sort of like the Vikings or the Visigoths sailing in to pillage and rape the land and its inhabitants. In this case, the government has helped them dock the boat and then turned a blind eye to the mayhem. So, how can I help?”

  As the two women ate their salads, Alexa briefed Darby on Jeannie’s situation. The head of the state chapter of the Wildness Cooperative gave the lawyer a mini-course on fracking in the Keystone State.

  “When they perfected the hydraulic fracturing techniques, that suddenly made the shale gas in the Marcellus Shale viable. That kicked off a new wave of these companies coming in and buying up leases from farmers and others. Things really got crazy when the state decided against taxing gas production. Most of the states with fracking levy a tax to offset the impact on infrastructure like roads and bridges. We’re also finding that the environmental impact may be much larger and much longer lasting than they anticipated. You’ve probably heard about the almost daily earthquakes in Oklahoma. They’ve traced them to the injection of fracking wastewater into ground shale. The impacts vary here in Pennsylvania, but there are certain themes that run across counties and locations―water contamination, dying animals. Hell, in Dimock, families could even set the water in their taps on fire because of the high methane levels.

  “Most people, like your client, are tempted by the money―which often turns out to be well below what’s promised. And very few of them anticipate the havoc it will create on their land, their water, and their health. It’s a real shame.”

  “So Pennsylvania still doesn’t tax any of it?” Alexa frowned.

  “There’s no tax on gas production. A few years back, they finally passed a law that levies an impact fee on every well drilled. They’ve collected almost a billion dollars from those fees, which mostly go to the municipalities with the biggest infrastructure impacts from fracking. The rest goes to the State. Plus, the State gets money from the leases on state land.”

  “You mean state parks?”

  “Yep. And state forests and game lands. Bambi and the elk and bear have to coexist with drilling platforms and toxic chemicals. Actually, the State has leased out oil and gas rights on state lands for decades. When they opened up bidding on Marcellus Shale leases on state lands, the State did get a lot of new money for improvements in state parks and state forests. But you have to consider the cost-benefit ratio. I don’t think drilling and ruining our most pristine public lands is worth any amount of short term money.”

  “I read something about the new governor putting a ban on drilling in public lands.”

  “He did issue an executive order. The governor’s order leaves in place all the wells that existed before that order. There’s a move afoot in the Senate to pass a bill that reinstates shale gas drilling in state parks. If the Senate passes Senate Bill 5100, the House will follow in a heartbeat.” Darby sighed. “I hear they might have enough votes to override the governor’s veto―especially with Martinelli gone.”

  At Martinelli’s name, Alexa sat bolt upright. “What does he have to do with it? Martinelli’s the senator who committed suicide, right?”

  “Yeah. As the chair of Environmental Resources and Energy, Martinelli always focused on energy issues. For years, he’s been a fracking industry fanboy. A couple of weeks ago, one of his aides told me Martinelli had reversed his position―that he planned to oppose the state parks bill. With his track record, that sudden change of heart sounded pretty farfetched. But, if true, he could have kept the bill locked up in committee forever.”

  “What about Senator Gabler, the new chair?” Alexa asked.

  “When it comes to fracking, he’s an unknown quantity. He’s shown a tendency to vote in line with his party; and now he’s gotten this plum position. My bet is he’ll move the fracking bill.” Darby curled her lip in a half smile. “Here’s hoping I’m wrong.”

  When the server cleared their empty plates, Alexa reached into her purse for a credit card. “Darby, you’ve been extremely helpful. I’ve learned a huge amount about fracking. But I’m looking for a next step to help my client. Do you know of any existing class action suits out there we could explore?”

  Darby took a moment to respond. “I would have to ask Aldo Hauck, our expert on all things fracking. He’s much closer to the on-the-ground stuff than I am. There might be a citizen’s group suit out in Tioga County. I’m not sure it’s against Monongas. Let me get back to you.”

  As the women exited the restaurant, Alexa handed Darby a business card. “Thanks for your time. You can contact me here if you learn about any lawsuits.”

  On the drive back to the office, Alexa pondered her conversation with Darby. She’d hoped to hear about an existing class action lawsuit Jeannie and Tom could join. Maybe Darby’s staff person would come through. But her mind kept wandering to this issue of fracking in the state parks. She couldn’t imagine why Silas Gabler would care much about fracking. He represented Franklin County, to the west of her cabin. Not part of the Marcellus Shale boom. Why had he and Keisha been so willing to move onto this new committee when this controversial bill had the potential to ignite a political firestorm?

  Chapter Eight

  “I’m so out of the loop. I haven’t talked to any of you this week. I created this huge photo mural for our living room wall. Jim and I have been working on that for days. Move the furniture. Prepare the wall. Move the furniture back. Find out it looks like shit because it blocks the new mural. Rearrange furniture.” Melissa’s halo of auburn curls shook as she acted out the saga with her hands. An accomplished photographer, Melissa owned a gallery in town.

  Haley took a sip of Fiji spring water with lemon. “Oh, I miss the chai,” the striking brunette breathed, watching Alexa take a sip of the creamy tea. “I don’t know if smelling the aroma makes it better or worse.”

  “Look, little mama. You’ve made it this far. Just about three more months to go, right?” Alexa looked at Haley’s baby bump. Despite her pregnancy, Haley still managed to look stylish in her Lululemon yoga outfit. She worked in public relations at the local Chamber of Commerce and dressed like a Talbot’s catalog model. “Look at you. Melissa, you should do a photo shoot of Haley and call it the Perfect Pregnancy.”

  “You two can make fun of Haley, but I am in awe. Pregnant, she’s nailing all these difficult poses, and I’m still struggling with Tree,” Tyrell Jenkins interjected. He had enrolled in their Tuesday night yoga class a few months back and often joined the three childhood friends for their after-class get-together at the Om Café.

  “You kept your balance on Tree Pose just fine.” Alexa blushed at her unthinking comment. She found Tyrell’s presence in yoga distracting at times. The tall, lithe social worker was one of the most physically beautiful men she’d ever seen. With his burnt umber complexion and short, spiraled dreadlocks, he was always surrounded by a group of admiring women. Alexa had long ago decided she wouldn’t join that group. But, she cheated sometimes by admiring him during yoga.

  Tyrell either didn’t pick up on Alexa’s admission that she’d been watching him in class or chose to ignore it. “Nice try. My Tree Pose can’t hold a candle to your form. I’m just glad you take private lessons with Isabella for all those out-there poses you do.”

  Melissa laughed. “I’m with you. Most of the class would be up the creek without a paddle if Isabella told us to do Wheel Pose or Scorpion.” She looked at Alexa. “We’ll leave all the advanced stuff to you.”

  “Enough banter,” Alexa commanded. “I have something serious to discuss about the Human Trafficking Commission.” She launched into an update. When she informed the group the commission would end in a month, she could see Tyrell and Melissa frowning. Tyrell worked for an advocacy group: Resolve to Stop Illegal Sex Trafficking, aka RESIST. Melissa volunteered with the organization. Both had pushed Alexa hard to get involved with the commission.

&nb
sp; Tyrell fumed. “Why? Why would they stop something so important midstream?”

  “It’s complicated, but it boils down to a change in committee assignments for a couple of senators. The commission got caught in the middle.”

  Melissa looked disgusted. “I should have known. Politics trumps compassion and people in need.”

  “I’m not going to defend any of it. But I couldn’t change it if I wanted to.” Alexa shrugged. “If it helps, there are extenuating circumstances. This all stems from a senator’s death last week.”

  “Everybody was talking about that at work.” Haley shifted in her seat. “Didn’t he commit suicide in the capitol or something? Gruesome.”

  “He did. Senator Martinelli jumped from one of the upper floors in the capitol rotunda. He landed right at my feet.” Alexa closed her eyes at the memory.

  “What?” Haley yelped. Alexa looked up.

  “No way.” Tyrell looked astonished.

  But Melissa sounded like a disappointed schoolteacher. “My God, Alexa. What have you gotten yourself into now?”

  “Nothing. Like Haley said, it was suicide. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Believe me, it wasn’t pretty.”

  Haley turned pale and took a quick sip of water. I don’t feel very well all of a sudden. I’m going home.”

  Tyrell stood. “Why don’t I drive you? I can walk home from your place. It’s only a few blocks.”

  After Tyrell and Haley rushed out the door, Alexa looked at Melissa. “Let’s get out of here. I appreciate Jim dropping you off so you could drive one of my cars home. Do you want to drive the Land Rover or the Mini?”

  Following the taillights of the Mini over the narrow country roads to her cabin, Alexa considered Melissa’s reaction. She couldn’t deny she had a tendency to land in the midst of trouble. And, sometimes, her inability to let things go made it worse. “No,” Alexa said aloud. “It’s just my healthy curiosity.” But, this time, Melissa was wrong. Senator Martinelli’s death had nothing to do with Alexa Williams.