The detective absently rubbed at the scar on his face. “Happy to help, but you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”
She tilted her head in the direction of the truck with the logo in front of them. “I plan to start with Wellborne Industries.”
The detective jerked the steering wheel and then swore under his breath as a tanker truck coming from the opposite direction swerved to miss them. The other driver let them know his displeasure by laying on his horn. Ron said, “Well, shit, lady. You don’t mess around, do ya?”
He blew out a puff of air. “That’s the biggest outfit we got out here. You’re going to be pretty popular around these parts, if you ask enough questions. Got a person’s name for me?”
Jo bit her lower lip and shook her head. “That’s part of the problem. One of the victims is in a coma. The other victim gave us the briefest information before he was killed. He mentioned they were talking to a man in the compliance department.”
Detective Fischer scratched under his knit hat. “Always did like a challenge. Let’s get you settled for the night and then we’ll get a fresh start tomorrow morning.”
Jo looked out the passenger window and saw a network of flames rising from the pumpjacks and drilling rigs. In the waning hours of the day, it was an impressive sight.
Jo yawned and realized how wiped out she was. She said, “Sounds good. You can just drop me off at the nearest hotel and I’ll see you in the morning.”
The detective’s laughter boomed in the enclosure of the truck. “Lady, this here is Williston and you are in the middle of the biggest oil boom this country has seen in a hundred years. Where in the hell did you think you’d find a place to stay?”
He pointed toward the lit-up parking lot of the Walmart store as they passed. “Until just a few months ago, you couldn’t even get into that parking lot, because it was crammed full of RVs setting up house. Every hotel, motel, flop house and apartment building in the surrounding counties is filled up for the next couple of years, at least. They keep building new hotels all the time, but they fill up as fast as they open them. You are going to stay at my house, with my wife and me.”
Jo opened her mouth to protest, but the detective cut her off. “Really, it’s fine. Micki - that’s my wife - is looking forward to meeting you. She has dinner waiting on us.” He smiled and patted his rather large belly. “My Micki is a helluva cook, as you can probably tell by looking at me. Besides, you’ll be doing me a favor. She gets pretty sick of all the testosterone around here these days. She’ll be glad to have another woman to talk to.”
***
By the time Jo settled in the spare bedroom in the Fischer’s sprawling ranch house, it was well past eleven. Dinner with Ron, Micki and their three boys had been an entertaining, sometimes boisterous affair, punctuated by an amazing home-cooked meal. Micki had made a huge pot roast, with three side dishes, including mashed potatoes and gravy. Jo almost moaned out loud when Micki placed a large slice of flaky apple pie, topped by a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream in front of her. Jo hadn’t eaten so much food in a very long time and the waistband of her pants was now uncomfortably snug.
It dawned on her that soon enough she would not be able to fit into her work pants at all. Which made her think about talking to John. She didn’t want to talk to him about her news just yet, not until she was absolutely sure. This was not a conversation to have over the phone. However, she felt a need to hear his voice, just the same. She glanced at the clock beside the bed and was disappointed to realize it was too late to call him. Jo knew he had an early surgery scheduled the next morning and was probably already asleep.
Just as she was about to head into the bathroom, her cell phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was Frisco.
“Hey, Jo. Get into boomtown okay?”
“Not a problem. What a crazy place this is, though. I’m staying in the home of one of Williston’s detectives, since they tell me it’s impossible to find a hotel room around here.”
“No kidding. Well, I won’t keep you, but I thought you might like to hear about the tox results on Billy MacGregor.”
Jo was surprised. “You got those back already?”
“Yeah, well somebody owed me a favor and you know…”
Jo sat down on the bed. “Thank God for favors owed. So, what did they find?”
“It was definitely heroin, but what surprised me is what they didn’t find. I half-expected the heroin to be laced with fantanyl or some such crap. You know they usually cut the heroin with an opiate like that, or morphine. But it was pure, Jo. The lab tech said some of the cleanest they’ve seen. Close to 99.8 percent pure, if you can believe it. No wonder the kid died.”
Jo shook her head in disgust. “Purity levels of heroin keep increasing while prices drop - a double-whammy. No wonder overdose rates on are out of control.” She thought for a moment. “Still, drugs that pure…do you think he had the cash to obtain it?”
She could hear Frisco’s puff of air through the phone. “Yeah, I wondered about that myself. So I dug through his bank account. After looking at his finances, I can’t believe he could make rent most of the time, let alone buy grade-A prime heroin. He had a part-time job working at a bookstore, but doesn’t look like he made much more than minimum wage.”
“He could have stolen the drugs or money to get them.”
“Always a possibility, but there weren’t any priors on his record.” He paused and then continued, “I saved the tastiest tidbit of info for last.”
Jo sat up straight. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“After MacGregor’s body sat at the morgue for a few hours, a few bruises showed up on his upper thighs and arms, like someone sat on him or at least held him down shortly before time of death.”
Jo could feel her heart pounding. “So John was right. Looks like Billy MacGregor was murdered.”
“Yup. Right before he could tell you anything more and maybe give you a copy of that documentary.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Turners Bend
Christmas Week
JANE WAS NOT PRONE TO PANIC, much less hysterics. She was good in crisis situations. Whether it was her training or her innate temperament or her Nordic blood, Chip was not sure. He did not withhold anything from her, told her everything about the meeting with Franco, Masterson and Fredrickson. It did take some of the wind out her Christmas planning frenzy, but she immediately set into action. First she called the Chief Frederickson.
“Walter, check Hal’s hunting shack; you know where it is. He may be there. If not, remove all the guns and ammo. I’ll feel better if he doesn’t have access to those weapons. Bring me one of the shotguns.”
Next she called a local handyman. “Mark, Dr. Jane here. I wonder if you could come out today and put motion detector lights in around our house and yard and install deadbolt locks in the back and front door. I’ve been meaning to do that for some time.” She paused. “Good, see you soon.”
She rubbed her temples. “Chip, I refuse to let this ruin our holidays. We have the kids and guests to think about. We can’t make the kids over-anxious, but you and I will have to be vigilant and double check doors and windows. I used to be able to predict Hal’s behavior, but I don’t know where his head is anymore. He’s a loose cannon.”
Garrison Keillor knew what he was talking about, thought Chip. Women in the Midwest were strong. He was also sure Ingrid and Sven were above average. As for the good-looking men, he thought Keillor may have missed the mark on that one.
***
The next day was bright and sunny. The temperatures remained below freezing. It had finally snowed and Turners Bend would have a white Christmas.
Behind her back, Chip began calling Jane the “Christmas Grand Poobah.” She was in a take-charge mode and the whole household was at her mercy. At 5:00 a.m. she was up making lists and at breakfast she assigned duties for the day.
“Baba, stop eating the Christmas cookies,” she said. “Start dividing
them into those tins so Chip can deliver them today.”
She thrust a list into Chip’s hand. He read through it. “Why are we giving cookies to Mabel and Flora? Won’t they be making cookies and giving them to us?”
“Yes, of course. We’ll end up with as many or more cookies than we give away. It’s just the way it’s done. Although we will be getting fudge and divinity from Flora, not cookies.”
“How do you know?”
Jane sighed in exasperation. “Chip, just trust me and go with the flow, please. Now, Ingrid you must practice your Christmas Eve cello piece, and then you can start washing all the good china and glassware by hand.”
“But it was clean when we put it away. Why does it need to be washed again?” asked Ingrid.
“People, people, people, work with me here. I can’t do all this by myself. Now where is the Christmas dinner guest list?” She shuffled through her lists. “Oh, here. Lucinda and Lance, Mable and Iver, the four of us and Sven. He sent me a text last night. He will only be home for a week, and then he has to return to Minneapolis…something about his fracking project.”
With list in hand, she turned to Chip. “While you are in town stop into Agent Masterson’s office and invite her to dinner. We don’t want her to be alone on Christmas. You better invite Deputy Anderson, too, since he’s always skulking around here and providing us police protection.” She rolled her eyes. “Lord, help us. He just so over-eager most of the time.”
Consulting her list again, she added, “And don’t forget the Tom and Jerry batter.”
Chip had further reason to be in awe of his wife. Jane told Sven and Ingrid what was happening. She didn’t sugar-coat it, but only told them what they needed to know for their own safety and well-being, reassuring them no harm would come to any of them.
“How did the kids react?” Chip asked her.
“Ingrid with denial and concern for you. She doesn’t want to believe her father would hurt you.”
“And Sven?”
“With an uncharacteristic outburst. He called Hal a bastard and said he hoped he would be caught and sent away for a long time. Then he cooled down and asked if I was okay.”
“Are you, darling? You’re so controlled it scares me a bit,” said Chip as he drew her into his arms.
“I refuse to live in fear, Chip. I want the best possible Christmas ever. All of us, including Baba, together for the first time. I won’t let Hal take that away from me, from us.”
She lifted her head and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. She tasted like sugar cookies and smelled like vanilla.
Her positivity seemed to brush off on Chip. There were still too many unknowns and suppositions. Maybe Hal was still in Colombia, maybe California. He certainly hadn’t been spotted in Turners Bend, and lots of law enforcement people were searching for him. He became wrapped up in Jane’s Christmas planning and began to let his
guard down for the holidays.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Head Shot
Williston, ND & Minneapolis, MN
Late October
JO WASN’T SURE WHERE she was when she woke up; she just knew the coffee down the hall smelled wonderful. It took her a moment to remember she was in Williston, North Dakota, in the home of Detective Ron Fischer and his family. For the first time in a while, she felt refreshed and not sick to her stomach. I smell bacon.
Peeking at the alarm clock on the nightstand, she was glad to see she hadn’t overslept. She shoved back the heavy quilt that had kept her snug in bed and stepped into the guest bathroom to quickly freshen up.
When she walked into the kitchen, Ron’s wife was helping their youngest son Jacob into his Halloween costume. Jo knew from their dinner discussions the previous evening that all three of the Fischer boys were excited to show off their costumes at school for the Fall Festival. Jo smiled. “Glad to know we’ll all be a little safer today with Iron Man on the job.”
Jacob turned to Jo and rewarded her with a big grin, showing the gaps in his smile where he had recently lost some teeth. “Hi, Jo!” He glanced at his mother, who shook her head in slight disapproval. “Um, I mean, good morning, Special Agent…um, Jo?”
Micki, his mother, covered up a snicker with her hand. “Special Agent Schwann, Jacob. Now, run along and get your brothers. You will be late for school if you don’t get a move on.” She lightly smacked him on his backside and watched as he tore through the hallway.
Jo said, “Great kids, Micki. It’s been a pleasure staying here with all of you.” She frowned. “I hate you are going to so much trouble on my behalf, though.”
Micki walked over to where Jo stood by the refrigerator and briefly touched her shoulder. “Glad to have you. With all the guys in this house, I’m usually outnumbered. Having you here evens things out a bit.” Her smile was warm and open. “Hey, can I grab you a cup of coffee? Breakfast will be ready in a sec. Hope you like bacon and pancakes.”
Jo pushed away from the wall. “Coffee would be great, thanks. Can I help with anything? First dinner last night and now breakfast….”
Micki brought the coffee pot and a mug over to Jo. “Nah, you just sit at the table and relax. I’ve already fed the boys. Besides, Ron tells me you’ve got a busy day ahead of you.”
“Yes, we do.” As she took a sip of coffee, she reflected that while her investigation currently lacked some key details – such as the name of the compliance person who had spoken to Rick Wilson and Billy MacGregor – she hoped they would make great progress today.
Micki continued to bustle around the kitchen, and poured pancake batter onto a griddle. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get into this business in the first place?”
“Well, that’s a long, boring story. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
Just then, all three boys burst into the kitchen. Michael, the oldest, whined, “Mom, my batman mask keeps falling off. Can you tape it on or something?”
As Jo listened to Micki and the boys, she couldn’t help but think of how different her own life would be next Halloween. If she was right about being pregnant, maybe she’d be helping her child into a costume in another couple of years. She was surprised the idea didn’t scare her as much as she thought it might. As a matter of fact, she found she was looking forward to it.
Ron walked into the room and admired his sons’ costumes. “Wow. We’ve got Batman, Iron Man and Spider Man, all at our house. Now, where did those darn kids of mine run off to?”
The boys giggled and Jacob said, “Aw, Dad, you’re so silly. It’s just me, Michael and Connor.”
“Oh, well. You sure had me fooled for a minute there.” He looked up at the clock on the kitchen wall. “Better get going boys, the bus will be here any minute now. You’ve got lots of super-hero adventures waiting for you at school.”
They grabbed their coats and backpacks and ran out the door.
Ron turned to Jo. “Morning, Jo. Sorry about the delay in getting out.” He kissed his wife’s cheek as she loaded up their breakfast plates. “Looks great, honey.”
The three of them ate in companionable silence for a while, and then Jo said, “You’ve got a nice life here, with a wonderful family. But I’m curious, how did you get into law enforcement? This looks like a working ranch.”
“You’re right about that. Actually, this ranch belonged to my dad and his dad before him. I grew up in this house. But I joined the army, fell into a job as an MP and ended up as an investigator on base. I found I was pretty good at it, but didn’t want to stay in the army. So, I headed back home and got a job with the Williston PD. We rent out most of the farm land now for grazing and crops.”
“I noticed you don’t have oil drills on your property.”
Micki stood up from the table and began clearing away the empty plates. “We’re about the only ones around here who don’t get monthly royalty checks from Wellborne Industries. Everyone bitches and moans about the noise, the traffic, the crime, but I don’t see anyone handing their checks ba
ck.”
The detective briefly scowled at his wife. “Micki thinks I’m a damned fool for not renting out our land to the oil companies.”
“Do the ranchers here still own their mineral rights?”
Micki stuck a hand on her hip. “Nah. Most mineral rights were sold off years ago. The royalty checks are to pay rent for the land under the drill pads and a few have scoria quarries.”
At Jo’s quizzical look, Ron explained. “Scoria is the red clay they use like gravel to build the new roads we need for the extra truck traffic.”
He turned to his wife. “Micki, you would hate having those damned oil wells on our land as much as I would. Don’t you wonder what pumping all that crap into the ground is doing to our water? No sir, I’d rather skip a Caribbean cruise or two to make sure we have safe drinking water coming out of our well.”
Jo thought of the online video she had seen about contaminated fracking fluids getting into the water supply in Pennsylvania. She shivered slightly as she recalled watching a homeowner set his tap water on fire as it left the faucet. She said, “Have there been any problems with groundwater here?”
Ron glanced sidelong at his wife and then returned his attention to Jo. “Not that I’ve heard. Yet. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to wallow in the stuff. I like my body parts just the way they are, thank you very much.”
As Micki put the last of the breakfast plates in the dishwasher, she mumbled, “Still would be nice to have some extra cash to put aside for the boys’ college fund.”
Ron compressed his lips and his face was more florid than usual, but he said nothing in reply.
Jo decided it was time to tactfully change the subject. “Ron, we should head over to Wellborne Industries, don’t you think?” She turned to the detective’s wife. “Thanks for another great meal.”
Micki’s lips curled into a smile, smoothing out the frown line that had appeared during the disagreement with her husband. “My pleasure, Jo.” She smirked. “Try to keep my big guy out of trouble today, will you?” She reached up and gave her husband a light kiss on his cheek.
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