by Diane Castle
The search results were ominous. Now in emergency mode, Fitz didn’t bother trying to cover his tracks. He was giving orders, even in writing, clearly and explicitly. Emails between his subordinates told the whole story.
Fitz had launched a county-wide search for Lewis. He had called Chief Scott and told him that Lewis was missing after having met with us early this morning, and that it wouldn’t surprise him if Lewis were dead. He had advised Chief Scott that Miles, Nash, and I were most likely armed and dangerous, and Scott had issued orders to shoot us on sight.
Then Fitz had gone into cover up super-drive, sending out emails to every government regulator he had a special relationship with. He argued that the emails the press had were taken out of context and that the voice files were fabricated. He also claimed that the sources of the information, namely, us, were wanted murderers and that local law enforcement was hunting us that very moment. He argued that the word of murderers couldn’t be believed.
“That’s jumping the gun, don’t you think?” I said.
“Well,” Cameron said, “it’s a convenient assumption for him, isn’t it? We already know he had trust issues with Lewis. If we hadn’t shot him, Fitz might have done it himself. It would be convenient for him to have someone to blame in advance.”
We turned back to Cameron’s computer screen, which was hopping with activity. It appeared that Fitz had put his media team into overdrive issuing press releases with statistics about how any criminal investigation into PetroPlex would cost billions of dollars in stock losses, eliminate tens of thousands of jobs, and throw the national economy into a dive.
The spin machine had fully spun to life. If he could successfully convince people they should be afraid of losing their jobs, he could swing public opinion in his favor in a heartbeat. That was always the go-to scare tactic Big Oil used.
“What now?” I asked. “If we stay here and Scott starts going door to door, we’re bound to be found.”
“I think it’s time to get out of town,” Nash said.
Cameron started to pack up his equipment.
“You’re driving,” Nash told Dick. “We’re fresh out of cars.”
“What?” Dick said. “I can’t drive. I’m not leaving.”
“Just because you’re not being directly threatened now doesn’t mean you’re safe,” I said. “Once Fitz gets out of panic mode and takes a minute to think about things, he’s bound to realize you were the source of the tapes.”
“Well, that’ll give me enough time to get to the bank, pull out some money and. . . call in some favors.”
Dick, seeing that Nash was about to physically restrain him, darted up the root cellar stairs. “Don’t worry!” he said. “I’ll be right back!”
Nash, on his bad foot, wasn’t fast enough to catch him. I tried myself, but I wasn’t strong enough. Miles and Cameron, deep inside the root cellar, were just too far away. Dick left us stranded there without him.
CHAPTER 32
Cameron, unperturbed as usual and confident that Dick would be back shortly, unplugged everything and packed it up, except for one computer and its wireless connection equipment. Lucy bucked up and down happily, thinking that all the packing meant she might get to go for another ride in the car.
“How long do you think we have?” I asked Nash.
“Well, it’s a small police force, so manpower is limited. Probably what will happen is that Chief Scott will go knocking on doors, the telephone grapevine will get going, and before you know it, the whole town will be up in arms and out looking for us.”
“Great,” I said. “So that gives us what. . . like thirty minutes?”
Cameron planted himself back down in front of his computer screen.
“What’s happening?” Miles asked.
“Hold on,” Cameron said. “There’s so much happening so fast, it’s hard to keep up.”
He scanned the screen. Miles and I joined him and hunched over his shoulder, reading. Words sped across the screen faster than I could follow.
“Uh oh,” Cameron said, bringing the scrolling screen to a stop. “Look at this. They’re on to Dick.”
Sure enough, Fitz had texted Chief Scott to be on the lookout for Dick. “Quick,” I told Cameron. “Gimme your cell phone. We have to warn him.” Cameron was the only one of the four of us who had a phone left.
Cameron tossed me the phone, and I dialed.
Dick didn’t pick up.
“He probably isn’t picking up because he doesn’t recognize the number,” Miles said. “He hates it when he doesn’t recognize the number.”
“Who doesn’t?” Cameron said.
“If he gets picked up, do you trust him not to give away our position?” Nash asked.
“I don’t,” Miles said.
“But he’s the inside guy,” I countered.
“Yeah, but he loves money. If the price were right, he might say anything.” Miles folded his arms and stared at me. “And you know PetroPlex can hit the right price. Who’s to say he wouldn’t go triple agent on us?”
Nash blew out a sigh. “We have to go after him.”
“What are you gonna do?” I asked. “Hijack his car?”
“If I have to,” Nash said.
Wow. His “by the book” attitude sure had done a one-eighty over the last couple of days.
“What about transportation?” I asked.
“I think I saw Derrick’s old motorcycle upstairs,” Nash said. “I can hotwire it.”
“You can?” I asked, astonished.
“Can’t catch the bad guys if you don’t know their tricks,” Nash said.
“Wait! Cameron said. “Take my cell phone. I’ll risk calling you from Gracie’s landline if I learn anything new.”
“No,” Nash said. “You keep it. I might need to contact you. And if I get in a tight spot, I’d rather not risk a cell phone ringer giving away my position.”
He disappeared upstairs. After a few minutes, I heard the roar of a motorcycle engine growl to life and then fade away into the distance.
We waited, all but biting our nails and watching the computer screen for any kind of news. I felt naked and exposed with the line of contact between us and Nash severed. What if he got into trouble? What if something happened to him?
I told myself I didn’t care. I told myself I was still mad at him. But the fact is, I cared. In fact, I was only mad at him because I cared about him. I wouldn’t have been half as angry if I felt nothing for him and he’d kissed and run.
And what about Dick? If something happened to Dick, I might not shed a lot of tears on his behalf. I still didn’t like him, inside guy or not. But if anything happened to him, I was out of a job. I couldn’t afford to bankroll my cases myself—that would take hundreds of thousands of dollars I just didn’t have. And it’s not like other jobs abounded, especially for lawyers who’d been on a losing streak like me. My career would be over. Nobody would believe me if I told them all my recent losses weren’t my fault.
Ten minutes went by. Then twenty. Then thirty.
“This town is not that big,” I said. “Something must have happened.”
“I don’t see anything on the network,” Cameron said.
I stared at Cameron’s cell phone. It refused to ring.
“Wait,” Cameron said. He had pulled up the PetroPlex security camera feed.
“OMG,” Miles said. “There’s Dick, walking in, plain as day.”
“Did you just say ‘OMG?’” I said. “Tell me you didn’t just say OMG. What are you—twelve?”
Miles ignored me. “Check Fitz’s phone records,” Miles told Cameron. “See if there were any calls between Dick and Fitz.”
Cameron did so. “Yep,” he said. “Right there. Ten minutes ago. The call lasted eight and a half minutes.”
“What on earth?” I said. “You think they got to him, or do you think he’s trying to pull off some crazy hero stunt?”
“Like what?” Miles asked. “You think he believes he co
uld really go in there and talk Fitz off a ledge?”
Cameron’s phone rang, and I jumped.
Cameron connected the call and put it on speaker.
“I can’t find him,” Nash said. “He’s not at the bank.”
“He’s at PetroPlex!” I said. “We just caught him on the security camera walking through the doors.”
“With an escort?” Nash asked.
“Nope. All alone,” I said. “Where are you calling from?”
“Gas station pay phone,” Nash said. “Dick’s gotta be headed straight for Fitz’s office. I’m going in after him.”
“Nash, no!” I said. “It’s too dangerous!”
The line disconnected.
“Arrrrgghhh!” I slammed the phone down. “He is going to get himself killed!”
“I thought you were mad at him,” Miles said. “I thought he was giving you the slient treatment.”
“I am, and he was, but--“
“Now you’re a thing and you care,” Miles finished.
“We are not a thing, but I still care,” I said. “That’s the problem.”
Miles nodded knowingly.
Cameron clicked through the security feed images one by one, trying to keep a trace on Dick. Sure enough, he walked deep into the heart of corporate headquarters, and no one stopped him.
It’s amazing what you can get away with if you walk into a building looking like you know where you’re going, and Dick could pull off that trick like nobody else. If you project the right attitude, no one questions you. And Dick was projecting the right attitude. He strolled right into Fitz’s office unchallenged.
“You got sound on this?” I asked.
“Nope,” Cameron said. “Image only.”
We watched as the two men talked. The conversation started out pretty tame, but got heated quickly. Dick was gesturing wildly and waving his finger around in Fitz’s face.
Fitz stayed calm for awhile, but even on the poor resolution of the security feed, I could see that his face was getting flushed. His gestures became more rapid, more frequent, a staccato complement to Dick’s histrionic overtones.
We watched as Fitz opened his desk drawer, pulled out a gun, and pointed it at Dick.
Dick raised his hands and froze.
At that moment, Nash limped into the frame, gun drawn, aimed at Fitz.
“And he thinks I’m out of my mind,” I said. “This cannot end well.”
Fitz said something to his desk phone, and in seconds, PetroPlex security, all clothed in black, swarmed Nash and took him down easily, thanks to his bad foot. But they couldn’t get to Dick in time.
Dick rushed Fitz.
Fitz pulled his trigger, and Dick crumpled to the ground.
The pit of my stomach sank. Bodies were piling up around me left and right, and I was helpless to do anything about it! I could not stand the thought of one more person dying today—especially if that person were Nash.
PetroPlex security seemed oblivious to the obvious murder. I peered more closely at the camera footage. I thought I saw a familiar face in the sea of all that black.
Sure enough, I recognized black-suit man from Cameron’s car garage. Well, that explained a lot.
“Are you recording this?” I asked Cameron.
“Yep. I’ve got every frame.”
That was good. If we got out of this mess alive, the footage might come in handy later.
Fitz put the gun away and sat back down at his desk, calmly picking up his phone.
CHAPTER 33
The fresh outside air calmed Delmont down some. He threw his cigar on the ground and stamped it out, then pulled out his cell phone and took a look at the display. The old battle-ax had been ringing his phone all morning. There were fifteen missed calls, all from her. She probably wanted the inside scoop on what was going on with PetroPlex. She just hated it when she couldn’t be the fount of all the town gossip.
When the phone rang again and interrupted his mini-outdoor getaway, he felt a surge of anger. Sixteen calls in the space of an hour was too much. He’d pick up the phone and let her have it, and then when he got home tonight, he’d reconsider making that accident happen after all. A man just couldn’t live under constant badgering like this. It was unnatural.
Delmont jammed his finger down on his cell phone receiver without bothering to look at the caller ID and started yelling. “Listen here, woman! I ain’t got time to talk to you right now!”
“Can it, Delmont, this is Fitz.”
Delmont cleared his throat. “Oh,” Delmont said. “You again. What is it this time?”
“Dick Richardson just walked into my office and went ape, wanting to make some kind of a deal.”
“Get outta here.”
“No, I’m serious. The guy had the nerve to try to call in his poker favor. Now! In the middle of all this!”
Delmont raised his eyebrows. “What’d he want?”
“He wanted me to call the dogs off Chloe and Cameron. Can you believe that?”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I wish I were.”
“What did you do?”
“Well, I would have laughed him right out of my office, but then he started talking about how he had a whole lot more tapes than the ones he gave to Gilbert. He said if I didn’t lay off Nash and Taylor and start taking responsibility for all this garbage that he’d release the additional tapes and make things a whole lot worse for me than they already are. The he rushed me. What was I supposed to do? I shot him.”
“Right there in your office?”
“Well, where else was I supposed to do it? He attacked me!”
Delmont swore. “I thought I told you, no more bodies!”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, that fool Nash came in after him, but I didn’t shoot him. Somebody else had already shot him in the foot, so he was easy to take down. If he doesn’t lead me to Cameron Gilbert, though, I can’t say that I won’t shoot him in a more fatal location.”
“Do it in another town, okay?”
“We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m going to get rid of the body. Your friend Chief Scott is flipping out about this. I need you to try to calm him down.”
Delmont pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit up. “I already talked him off a ledge once this morning. I ain’t gonna promise I can do it again. And anyway, what about me? You keep things up like this, and I’m gonna need somebody to calm me down real quick.”
“Look, don’t worry about it. You take care of things on your end, and I’ll take care of them on mine.”
“You better,” Delmont said, and hung up. He turned around and headed back for the office.
CHAPTER 34
As I sat stranded in Gracie’s root cellar and stared at the PetroPlex security footage, I felt more helpless and more powerless than I had in my entire life. And now I wished I hadn’t yelled at Nash last night. What if I never got the chance to make amends? What if Nash and I really could have had something, and I had ruined it forever?
Goodness knows it was hard enough for me to find men. Most of them ran away when they found out I was an attorney. But Nash hadn’t. He hadn’t been intimidated at all. That was pretty rare for a non-attorney male. As for attorney males, the good ones were few and far between.
As PetroPlex security hauled Nash out of the frame, Cameron paged through various other screens, trying to keep up.
They dragged Nash down the hall and threw him in some kind of a holding room, locking him in and leaving him there.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
Cameron was pulling up schematics of the building.
“What can we do?” Miles asked. He looked miserable.
I couldn’t stand the thought of just sitting idly by and letting the scenario at PetroPlex play out. Fitz hadn’t hesitated to pull the trigger on Dick. I didn’t feel very optimistic about Nash’s future under those circumstances, even though he was a cop. I wondered if his cop status was
the reason he was still alive at the moment. If he had been an ordinary civilian, would Fitz have just killed him then and there instead of throwing him into a locked room? Or was it that he was going to use Nash to get to us?
A glimmer of an idea started to form in my mind.
I rummaged through the rest of Nash’s stuff and found another gun. Carefully keeping it aimed at the ground, I turned to Miles.
“Miles,” I said. “Give me your car keys.”
“Why?” he asked. “My car is in my driveway halfway across town.”
“If I run, I can make it in forty-five minutes.”
“Oh, okay,” Miles said. “Only forty-five minutes? Well here you go.” He tossed me his keys and then let loose on me. “Forty-five minutes is like, an ETERNITY in Nash time. You think Nash has forty-five minutes left? Because I don’t. And besides that, what if someone sees you running across town? What if Chief Scott finds you? What if the neighborhood brigade calls you in?”
I raced up the cellar stairs and into Gracie’s house, Cameron and Miles right behind me.
“Chloe, you can’t!” Miles called after me. “What are you doing?”
I tore through Gracie’s house and into her bedroom, rummaging around in her closet. I felt like I was doing a lot more rummaging in other people’s bedrooms these days than I thought I’d ever do in my whole life, but oh well. It’s the way it was.
I found a pair of dark aviator sunglasses and a Stetson hat that had most likely belonged to Derrick. Piling my hair on top of my head, I jammed the hat down as far over my ears as it would go. The hat hid a lot of my face as well as my distinctively red hair. With the large aviator glasses, I would be almost unrecognizable.
I shut the closet door for privacy and exchanged Gracie’s frumpy pants for a pair of cutoff jean shorts, cinching them around my waist with a belt so they wouldn’t fall off. It was hot outside, after all. I didn’t want to be running in long pants.
The biggest problem was the shoes. Gracie’s shoes didn’t fit me, so all I had were the high heels Miles had bought to go with my suit a couple days ago. I’d have to make do with them the best I could.