Deep Extraction

by DiAnn Mills

  “Sally, I have to take over,” Tori said.

  She glanced away. “I understand.”

  “What’s going on?” Erik attempted to push himself up. “Has Dad been hurt?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Tori said. “He shot himself in the right thigh, and he’s been treated. He’s really worried about you.”

  “Shot? Why? How? What are you not telling me?”

  Tori despised questioning a dying man—who was also a friend. “I’m sorry about what I have to ask. But it’s my job. Were you aware of a conspiracy to kill Nathan?”

  He frowned. “Is that what you think? While I’m dying of pneumonia and MS, I hacked Nathan’s pacemaker?” His head sank onto the pillow. “Tell me Dad’s not a person of interest.”

  Sally kept a firm hold on his hand, while Tori continued. “He confessed to hiring a hacker.”

  Erik moaned. “He despised Nathan, even blamed him for the MS. What has he done?”

  “Your dad confessed to arranging Nathan’s death, but the person he hired didn’t follow through. We’re trying to find the responsible party. Do you have any idea who else could have been involved?”

  “No.” Weariness settled on his face, pinching his features. “Can life get any worse? Dad needs a solid attorney.”

  “The court will appoint one.”

  He shook his head. “I have no idea what’s going on. My dad’s not a killer. There must be a mistake.”

  Tori swallowed the thickening in her throat. “I’m doing my best to learn the truth. Did you develop the fracking method that Nathan claimed as his own?”

  “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “Your dad said he stole it.”

  He peered at Sally. “Is this the only reason you came, to see if I’d planned Nathan’s murder? Of course. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  She held on to his hand. “Tori promised your dad she’d see if you were okay, and I asked to come along. I had no idea about your illness until your dad told me.”

  “Okay. Tori, tell Dad I love him and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  Most likely Albert would spend the remainder of Erik’s life in prison. “Of course. We need to go so you can rest.”

  Sally kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

  “Excuse me, Erik. I should have checked to see if you had visitors. You doing all right?”

  Tori whirled around. Franc Lawd stood in the doorway.

  COLE AND TORI entered the FBI interview room where Franc Lawd awaited questioning. Contempt swept through Tori at the way he lustfully eyed her. He denied all dealings with the gang, the bombings, the shootings, and the murders of Nathan Moore, Preston Ustach, and Jose Aznar.

  No surprise.

  Cole approached Lawd. “The sniper who killed Preston Ustach rode a motorcycle. Was that you?”

  “I don’t own a motorcycle. Told you I had nothing to do with any of those things.”

  Tori was tired, and this jerk made her angry. “You obviously are on a first-name basis with Erik Weiman.”

  “We nurses like to make friends with our patients.”

  “Mr. Lawd,” Cole began, “were you aware of the initial bombing of the drill site prior to Nathan Moore’s death?”

  “It hit the news, so the answer’s yes.”

  Cole had taken over the interview, and that was fine with Tori. She refused to believe Lawd’s hands were clean. “Who killed Preston Ustach and Jose Aznar?”

  “We’re back to zero. If I had any idea who killed Moore, Ustach, or Aznar, I’d tell you.”

  Cole closed the file. “Mr. Lawd, you’re a person of interest in three murder charges, assault, and an accessory to various crimes.”

  “You have no evidence.”

  “Mr. Lawd,” Cole said, “you claim to be a member of the medical community, which means saving lives, not taking them. It is in your best interest to come clean. The only thing going for you at the moment is I don’t see a tat signifying the Hermanos de Pistoleros.”

  “I’m being detained illegally, needlessly, and I have a job to get to.”

  Cole rose from the table. “I’m holding you in custody until you’re ready to talk.”

  Tori wasn’t about to barge in on the interview. Cole had the upper hand, and the twitch under Lawd’s right eye indicated he might be ready now.

  Lawd swore.

  “Is that language you use with your patients? What will the publicity do for your career?” He nodded at Tori. “He’s not worth our efforts. Let’s go.”

  “Okay, what do you want?”

  “Answers to the same things we’ve asked you before, plus a few more. How exactly are you involved with Albert and Erik Weiman? What do you know about the murders and other crimes? Are you affiliated with the Hermanos de Pistoleros?”

  Lawd held up his hand. “I’m ready.”

  Cole took a seat and pulled out his phone. “Do you have a problem with this being recorded?”

  “No. Go ahead. I haven’t done anything to be labeled a criminal.” He scratched the back of his neck. “My career is too important.”

  Tori couldn’t hold back any longer. “What have you done, Mr. Lawd?”

  He took a deep breath. “I became acquainted with Erik and Albert Weiman during one of Erik’s many hospital stays. As his day nurse, I often talked with them, and we became friends. I liked the father and son, valued their closeness. A few months ago, I walked into the room while Erik was sleeping to find his dad emotionally upset. He’d spoken to Erik’s doctors, who offered him no hope for the MS. I offered to do a little research and discovered the experimental work done in Germany.”

  “You made him aware of the MS treatment?” Cole said.

  “Yes. In private, I relayed the information to Albert, but he said the trip was impossible because of the cost. Then he told me what Nathan Moore had done to Erik. I suggested he visit Moore and explain the situation, which he did. But Moore refused to help. Albert asked me to snoop around his rig in Texas City. See if there was anything Albert could use to persuade Moore to pay. I agreed. You know what happened there. I was thrown off the site. Didn’t learn anything derogatory about the man. When someone bombed the rig, Albert voiced his concern about Erik’s inheritance being devalued. Wanted me to take another look. I was to head that way when a shooter killed Ustach. You two showed up at my apartment, and I let Albert know I could no longer be a part of whatever he’d arranged.”

  Cole leaned back in his chair. “Did Albert kill Nathan?”

  Lawd shook his head. “I doubt it unless he’d been drinking and out of control.”

  “Have you witnessed him drunk?”

  “Yes. Watching his son die drove him to alcoholism.”

  Tori and Cole left Lawd in the interview room. She sorted through what he’d said. “We’re back to the original question that started this case. Who killed Nathan? Albert doesn’t remember his actions. We’ve proven Hanna didn’t hack the pacemaker, and Lawd’s role appears to be friendship.” She held up a finger. “And the Hermanos de Pistoleros are hired killers, not techies.” She fumed. “Why can’t we pick up César Vega? He can’t hide forever.”

  “I’m going to call Manny. See if he remembers anything from the bar we could remotely use.”

  She rubbed her aching neck muscles. “I’m heading over to Sally’s. She wants me to help her put away photos of Nathan used for the funeral. A part of me says it’s a waste of time.”

  “No more of a waste than the three of us sorting through college stuff tonight.”

  “Max says every detail solves a murder.”

  SHORTLY AFTER 2:30 P.M. Thursday, Tori followed Sally to her and Nathan’s master suite. Sally carried a large manila envelope containing the photos used during Nathan’s funeral. Tori understood the hesitancy of putting the pics in their resting places, as though burying Nathan one more time.

  “We’ll put these away and sit by the pool,” Sally said. “We haven’t had a poolside chat for a long time. Mayb
e I’ll have the document from Mr. Farr’s office by then.”

  “I’m available for a short while.” She smiled into Sally’s thin face. “I can put the photos wherever you want—or do you store them in special albums?”

  “Most have designated places, but I don’t have the energy to organize them.”

  “We’ll do it together, and the job will go faster. Should I brew us some tea?”

  “Since when do you drink tea?”

  Tori wanted to break the edge on the solemn occasion. “Only when I have a cold, but it sounded like a plan.”

  “Fresh ground coffee beans brewed to perfection when we’re finished, and I baked ginger cookies earlier.”

  Sweet Sally. She’d get through this yet.

  Inside the huge suite decorated in turquoise, cream, and accents of brown, Sally gestured to the sitting area, where photo albums lay strewn across the floor. “See what I mean? It’s a mess.” She tilted the envelope, freeing the pics. Picking up one of Nathan holding Lance as a baby, she shook her head. “We were so happy then, or so I thought.”

  “Hold on to the good times, Sal.”

  “I’m trying.” She handed Tori a leather album and the photo of Lance and Nathan. “This one goes in there, but I have no idea what page.”

  “I’ll find it.”

  Sally picked up her wedding album, soft white leather with two gold rings embossed on the cover. She leafed through it with soft moans. Tori continued to search for the empty page for the photo in her hand.

  The doorbell rang and shortly thereafter, one of the bodyguards called Sally’s name. “There’s a delivery requiring your signature.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be right down.”

  Nathan, please don’t announce more tragic news to your family. “I’ll be here waiting,” Tori said.

  In a few minutes, Sally returned with a sealed envelope. She sank onto the floor beside Tori and gingerly opened it. “It’s a letter from Nathan written to me and the boys. His own handwriting.” She focused on its contents. With a sob, she lifted a tear-glazed face to Tori. “Can I read this to you?”

  “Of course.” Could it lead to the killer?

  “Dear Sally,

  If you’re reading this, then I’m dead. I hope the cause was my heart and not a murder. Threats were mounting from those who wanted me gone, but I couldn’t figure out who despised me enough to really murder me. The ironic reality is I’d angered enough people in my life that the list is extremely long.

  Apologizing for what you’ve learned about me is useless. Perhaps an explanation will help you understand my family was not at fault.

  When I discovered Lance had been in my computer files and he’d likely learned about my indiscretion with Anita, I escalated my plans to open a second office in London. I’d purchased a flat shortly after making financial arrangements for two North Sea wells, and thought it would be an escape if you and I needed space. Or even for us to put our marriage back together. I didn’t despise my habits or myself enough to end my affair and tell you the truth, but I wanted to be a better man. Truly.

  Leaving you financially secure is the best way for me to apologize for my unfaithfulness and deceit.

  If Erik Weiman is still alive, would you check on him? He’s the best friend I ever had next to you. At the writing of this letter, he’s very ill with MS. I owe him an incredible debt. At the bottom of this page is a bank number for him to collect eight million dollars, tax free. I should have taken care of it myself a long time ago. His father asked for help, but my pride got in the way. I stole a patent from him and never had the guts to admit it. There’s a hole in my heart where selfishness resides. I always fought to be the best at everything and hurt far too many people in the process.

  Lance, you’re a fine young man. If you learn anything from my life, it’s the danger of thinking more of yourself than others. Life is an uphill climb, but running over good people is not the way to peace of mind.

  Jack, you have your mother’s heart. She loves unconditionally, and I took advantage of her. Keep her values but look deep into yourself before making commitments.

  Sally, you’re so much better off without me. I hurt you and loved you at the same time. Honestly, I fail to understand my own actions.

  One thing I’ve always recognized is my love for all of you. Move forward and hold your heads up high. You are the courageous ones. Survive to live.

  Love,

  Nathan”

  Sally folded the letter. “The boys need to see this. Maybe it will bring closure.”

  Or he’d lied again. Tori kept her thoughts to herself.

  The letter still offered no clue to who’d killed him. Quite the contrary, he had no idea either.

  TORI, SALLY, AND COLE assembled in the dining room of the Moore home Thursday evening to talk through what Nathan had revealed in his letter about how he treated Erik. Max had wanted to offer his assistance, but he and Janie had previously arranged a meeting with their adult children. His new commitment to family took priority.

  Tori suggested rummaging through the stacks of high school yearbooks and college memorabilia in Sally’s attic to jar memories of events and activities that took place in Nathan’s and Erik’s lives. Tori helped her gather the books, photographs, pamphlets, and miscellaneous material and scattered them the length of the sixteen-foot wood-and-metal table. The musty smell overpowered Tori’s senses, but she’d get used to it, especially if it meant answers.

  Lance stood in the entranceway, his hands in his back jeans pockets. “I’ve never seen any of these. Can I help?”

  Sally declined. “We’re looking for information that could point to your dad’s killer. The discussion could be . . . inappropriate.”

  “I was the first to discover the . . . stuff.”

  A boy trying so hard to be a man.

  Sally studied her son. “Not everything about your dad was deceitful. There were admirable qualities, plenty of them. But in the course of our searching, some things will have to stay among the adults.”

  “Please, Mom. I’ll find out sooner or later anyway. I’m mature, nearly fifteen.”

  Any other time, Tori would have found his comment funny, but any humor was smothered in reality.

  “Where’s Jack?”

  “Doing a world history report for the tutor.”

  Sally hesitated, then pointed to a chair beside her. “All right. But at my discretion, you may be asked to leave the room. We’re looking for connections between your dad and an old friend. They went to high school and college together.”

  “Erik Weiman, the son of the man who tried to kill you, the man you and Tori went to see at the hospital.”

  Sally sighed, no doubt regretting all Lance had been exposed to. “Yes. How much can you handle?”

  “Don’t shelter me, Mom, ’cause it only makes finding out the truth harder to accept. Actually, good things about Dad would be an okay thing.”

  “I hope I’m not making a terrible mistake. Do you agree to my terms?”

  He saluted her. “Got it.”

  Once they were all seated, Cole flipped open the lid to his laptop. “I’ll document the highlights of what we find. Am I correct the four of you attended the same high school and college?”

  Sally picked up a high school yearbook. “No, Tori and I met Nathan and Erik as freshmen at the University of Texas. The guys went to Bellaire High School here in Houston.”

  “What do you know about Nathan and Erik in high school?” Cole said.

  Sally stared at the wall and appeared to think back. “Both of them told me the same stories. They were highly competitive for awards, grades, and sports. I have no idea how it began.” She peered at the senior year pic of the class officers. “Freshman year, Erik was president and Nathan vice president. For the next three years, Nathan held the office as president, and Erik vice president.” She lingered on the Spanish club pic. “They alternated roles here for presidency and vice prez.” She traced her fingers over Nathan�
�s face. “If the two kept score of their accomplishments, Nathan won by a narrow margin. He graduated valedictorian and Erik salutatorian.

  “Erik told me by college he was finished with the competition. He wanted the friction to go away. Hard for me to understand how they were good friends.” She paused, the puzzle evident in the lines around her eyes. “Nathan thrived on being the best. Always has. After we started dating, he and Erik continued their friendship, but I noticed a lot of sarcasm between them that I hadn’t heard in the past. I thought it was because Nathan caught Erik cheating on me. I should have asked.”

  Cole’s typing continued, and Tori appreciated him documenting portions of the conversation and not her.

  “Did Erik attend your wedding?” Cole said.

  Sally reached for Lance’s hand. “He was best man. Considering what we’ve learned, I wonder why Nathan insisted Erik be a part of the ceremony.”

  “Spite,” Lance said.

  Sally tossed him a disapproving stare.

  Tori recalled the wedding . . . Erik’s toast to the couple. How difficult that must have been for him.

  The four browsed through the yearbooks and memorabilia together, beginning with Nathan and Erik’s freshman year of high school.

  Lance examined pictures of his dad as though seeing him for the first time. “Jack really looks like Dad. Sorta weird.”

  Sally leaned over the yearbook page and covered her mouth. “Look at the resemblance. We’ll put these aside for Jack.”

  A time of healing in the midst of chaos.

  Sally sorted through a box of college souvenirs and picked up a photo of the two men at a frat party. They toasted beers to the camera. “Both majored in geology. Both received their master’s degrees after we were married. Erik never said a critical word about Nathan. Their goal was to one day open an oil and gas business together.”

  Cole handed various other loose photos to Sally. “What happened then?”

  “They put together a business model. Nathan didn’t want his parents contributing to the venture. I’m sure they’d have called the shots, and Nathan wouldn’t have been able to handle their interference. He’d always complained about them dangling money in front of him so he’d comply with whatever they wanted. They weren’t fond of me. Nathan said it was because I didn’t have the right pedigree. Their relationship was rocky while we were married. His parents passed within a year of each other when Lance was a baby. When they died, it was hard for Nathan to attend their funerals.” She breathed in deeply. “So back to Nathan and Erik. One day Nathan announced Erik had decided to form his own company. He’d admitted he was still in love with me and thought it best to distance himself. The two parted. Nathan appeared to mourn the loss.” Her countenance fell, and Tori wanted to make everything in her world right. But that was an impossibility.