by George Wier
“Penny,” I said, and sighed. “Can you bring in another chair?”
Penny smiled, turned and trotted off.
“And get Holland on the damned phone,” I called to her back.
*****
There comes a time in every man’s life when he has to stop thinking about acting and simply act. I wanted this thing—whatever this thing was—gone, and in a hurry. I wanted it gone so fast that there would be no question that my family would have to hide out at Nat Bierstone’s ranch until the storm blew over. I wanted answers, and I wanted them immediately. The trouble is, sometimes we don’t get what we want.
The hubbub in my office had died down to a din of mumbling, and there seemed to be a couple of conversations going on at once—me with Shawn and Jessica with Driesel, and at some point I would have to cut that last potential problem off at the knees. I didn’t want a TV cameraman for a son-inlaw.
Into this mix walks Perry Reilly, the insurance agent from next door. I looked up at him.
“Um. Not now, Perry. I’m sorting something out.”
“I was just wondering what the news station and a sheriff’s cruiser was doing here. Has somebody shot someone?”
I gave Jessica a look.
“Pat let me have one of the cruisers for the weekend to get familiar with it. He said since I’m qualifying tonight, I’ll be an officer.”
“He doesn’t know how you drive,” I said. Then to Perry, “As you can see, nobody’s been shot. Yet. Now if you’ll excuse us.”
“Oh. Well. Put it like that. ‘You may go now, Perry Reilly. It was so good of you to drop in, Perry Reilly.’ Man, the thanks I get.”
“Thanks for what?” Jessica asked.
“For looking out for my neighbor.”
At that moment Penny came back in. She exchanged smiles with Perry, and I wondered for a moment. I shook the thought off.
“I can’t get Mr. Holland on the phone, but I have Mrs. Holland.”
“His mother?”
Penny nodded, gave me a lop-sided grin and a shrug.
I picked up the blinking phone line. “Hello, Mrs. Holland?”
“The same. What do you want with my boy?”
“I’m his financial advisor,” I said. “I need to talk to him about a...a matter.”
“What kind of matter?”
“A matter of a financial nature. Beyond that, I can’t say. Confidentiality, and all that.”
“He’s gone. I don’t think he’s coming back any time soon.”
Alarm bells went off in my head.
“Mrs. Holland, can you tell me the last thing—”
She hung up. I held the phone for a moment, stunned. I cleared my throat, and said to the dead phone line, “Alright, Mrs. Holland. I understand. Thank you. Good bye.”
I hung up the phone.
Perry pointed at me. “Ha! She hung up on you, didn’t she?”
“That was lame, dad,” Jessica said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Penny, call Eloise for me.”
“Eloise?”
“Sol Gunderson’s ex.”
Penny nodded and trotted off again.
“Jessica,” I said. “Who at the county knows anything about hazardous waste?”
“I dunno, dad. I could call Patrick and find out.”
“Go outside and do that. Use your cell phone. Don’t tie up the office line.”
Jessica got up and left. Perry took her chair as easy as you please. He ignored Driesel and focused in on Shawn Tannen.
“Hello,” he said, offering her his hand to shake. “I’m Perry Reilly.”
“Oh, please,” I said.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“There was this time that Bill and I went after this satanic cult. There was this dead body I found in the lake—”
“That’s enough, Perry,” I said. “Shawn, my friend and office neighbor is a womanizer of the worst sort. He sees you as prey.”
“Now hold on a minute, Bill,” Perry said, taken aback. “I was just being friendly.”
“It’s okay,” Shawn said. “Men are supposed to talk to me like this.” She turned back to Perry. “What was this about a body?”
“Yeah, I found it. In the lake. You see there was this woman—”
Penny came back in and hastily interrupted Perry. “Eloise said she didn’t want to talk to you or anybody. She hung up on me.”
“That’s fine,” I said.
Jessica entered.
“Dad, Patrick says that he can spare someone for a few hours if there’s a real or potential hazmat issue. Is there one?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I want to find out. Who can he spare?”
“Himself,” she said. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Great,” I said. “It all happens at once.”
Nat Bierstone stepped into the room between Jessica and Penny.
Shawn turned and looked, then hastily stood. “Governor,” she said. Driesel stood as well.
“Hello, Ms. Tannen. No, I have nothing to say. Sorry about that. My time is short. Bill, your wife and the kids are one the way. I’m done over at the Senate. A bit early, to my surprise. We’re leaving as soon as they get here. You’re going too, Penny.”
Penny nodded.
“Hello, Mr. Reilly,” Nat said.
Perry nodded.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair.
“But Governor—” Shawn began, and Nat raised a hand.
“I’ll talk about anything you’d like to discuss when I get back from my ranch. Give your card to Penny and I’ll grant you an interview.”
“That would be most kind, Governor.”
Nat nodded and gave her a gracious smile. He turned to me. “Good luck, Bill. Call me if you need anything.”
“Oh, I’m sure I won’t need anything,” I said.
“Suit yourself.”
Nat turned and left.
*****
Within a few minutes of Nat’s departure, Patrick Kinsey came in. He wore a brown sports jacket over a light blue shirt and his belt was complete with sidearm, spare clips, and handcuffs. His badge stood out prominently next to a plain belt buckle. Patrick was a veteran officer of some twenty years standing with the Travis County Sheriff’s Office. He was also the Chief Deputy.
“Where’s the disaster?” Pat asked.
“Out on the edge of town,” I replied.
Pat nodded to Jessica and handed her his car keys. “Jess, check the loads on all the firearms in my cruiser and clean off the passenger seat for your dad. He’s riding with me.”
“Sure.” Jessica left.
“I could never get her to do anything,” I said.
“I know.” Pat chuckled. He glanced at Perry Reilly. “Don’t tell me he’s coming along!”
“He’s not,” I said. “He’s going to go and sweet-talk an old lady into telling him where her son went.”
“You mean,” Perry began, “you’re gonna let me help?”
“I’m going to let you practice your only skill,” I said. I took a pad and jotted down Chuck Holland’s address, tore off the sheet and handed it to him.
“Wow. Thanks, Bill.” Perry fold the sheet over and stood up. To Shawn he said, “I’d love to stay and talk with you, Ms. Tannen, but duty calls.” Perry took her hand, bent and kissed it.
“I should arrest you for assault, Perry,” Patrick said.
Perry ignored the barb and beat a hasty retreat.
“What gives with letting Jessica have a cruiser?” I asked.
Patrick laughed. “She doesn’t know it yet, but the qualification round today is a smoke screen to get her to show up at the range for a party me and the some of the other deputies are throwing for her.”
“I don’t understand.”
“When she came out to practice the day before yesterday, I was there and had the qualifying instructor shooting at the next station down. He watched her put five in the black in three point two seconds. She did it
five times in a row. I moved the target back five yards and damned if she didn’t do it again. After she left, Sam signed off on her papers. I’ve already run everything through the state and I’ve got her badge in my pocket.”
“Oh my God,” I said. “My daughter is a peace officer.” I felt as though I had been punched in the stomach. I had known it was coming, but somehow it was always off in some elusive future.
Patrick smiled. “That’s right. She can arrest you any time, Bill.”
“She’s on my side,” I said.
“Better be nice to her.”
“If I did, she’d know something was dead wrong and she’d arrest me anyway.” I stood up and addressed the room. “Okay folks, let’s saddle up. We’re burning daylight.”
CHAPTER NINE
It was a fifteen-minute drive out to Sol Gunderson’s goat farm. We had a regular entourage going. I rode with Patrick while Shawn and Driesel followed in the news van and Jessica brought up the rear. I’m sure it wasn’t a sight most drivers saw every day. Typically the news van was supposed be behind everybody.
We turned into the long driveway at Sol’s farm and made for a daisy chain of vehicles. We got out as the sun westered on the far horizon. It had been a warm early fall day.
“Do we need protective gear?” Shawn asked Patrick.
“Not yet. Jessica, bring those two duffel bags from my trunk.” He tossed her his keys and she snatched them from the air.
Patrick brought out a fishing tackle box.
“We going fishing?” I asked.
“Nope.”
After a moment, Jessica slammed the trunk of Patrick’s cruiser and threw the duffel bags on top.
“What’s inside?” she asked.
“Hazmat suits,” I said. I recognized the universal Hazardous Materials triangle embossed on the canvas.
“Yep,” Patrick agreed. “We’ll leave them here for now. I’ve got a geiger counter here.” He held up the small device, which was little more than a small plastic yellow box with a grip handle sticking up from the base. If it’d had a long pole attached with a circle of plastic on the end, it would have been a metal detector. I suppose the technology is not all that dissimilar.
Patrick looked up at Shawn Tannen and Driesel, noted the camera equipment already mounted on his shoulder and shook his head. “Unh uh. You folks can come along, but no recording of any kind until and unless we find something. And even then, I’ll have to clear it with the Sheriff and the County Attorney, which could be either hours or days.”
As both began to protest, I stepped up.
“Alright, as I see it, there’s no story until there’s a story. Right?”
They sort of nodded at that, but in a noncommittal manner.
“So, if we find something, I’m willing to bet that Patrick could expedite things. Clear the way for the media.” I turned to Patrick. “Am I right about that, Pat?”
“Yeah. I suppose.”
The two agreed. After a moment the camera, microphone, light meter and other equipment were locked back inside the news van, and we were off. Once more, unto the breach.
*****
“I don’t know about this shit, Bill,” Patrick whispered to me as we walked down the fence line toward the back of Sol’s property. The hill sloped steeply down on the south side and the five of us had to be careful with our footing going down. Ms. Tannen must have made a quick change in the van along the way, because instead of a skirt over silky hose—hey, I notice things—she wore a tee shirt, jeans, and expensive tennis shoes. Driesel, however, looked as though he was made for spur-of-the-moment excursions into the underbrush.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Them coming along,” he whispered back.
“Oh. The media. I’d rather be in a position to control the story somewhat, than to have them running around town like loose cannons. Who knows what she’d be saying at ten o’clock tonight, if anything?”
“Just so long as you know what you’re doing,” Patrick replied and walked on ahead.
“Yeah, dad,” Jessica whispered as she stepped up her pace to join me.
“You know me,” I said. “I’ve never pretended to know what I was doing. That’d be lying.”
“Maybe so, but you always manage to give everybody the impression that you do.”
“Oh,” I said. I hadn’t ever given it a second thought before. Maybe my little girl had a point.
We entered the high weeds next to Sol Gunderson’s postage-stamp goat ranch. Whoever owned the field didn’t keep it up worth a damn. But then again who would want to when it was right next to the goat haven from hell? A line of oak trees appeared to have died the death, and were awaiting high winds to topple them, branch by branch.
“Watch your step,” I said aloud. “There are probably holes and snakes around here.”
“Did you say...snakes?” Shawn called forward.
“I did,” I said.
“If you folks want to go back,” Patrick said, “now’s the time.”
“Proceed,” Shawn said. I looked back to catch the fearful look on her face.
The land sloped downward into a creek bed. We paused at the edge of the creek and regarded the unmoving water below. It had a smell to it that I didn’t appreciate.
Patrick bent down, slipped the geiger counter out of its case and played it over the ground beneath him.
“Nothing but background radiation,” he said. “Normal. We’ll have to climb down into the creek, or as close to the water as we can. I can take some soil samples there.”
“Sol Gunderson gets his wish,” I said.
“Do you think there are really snakes around here, dad?” Jessica asked.
“Sure there are, and mostly the aggressive ones, like water moccasins. Those buggers attack.”
I noticed her right hand begin to wander toward her gun.
“No worries,” I said. “I’ll make some racket if I see one.”
Jessica sighed with relief.
“I didn’t know you had a thing about snakes,” I said, and grinned at her.
“You’re mean,” she replied. “Of course I do. I’m a girl.”
“Ah. Sorry.”
“No you’re not,” Jessica replied
“Yeah. I guess I’m not.” She had me there.
At that moment Driesel let out a shriek of pain, fell and grabbed his leg. Blood oozed between his fingers. A second later we heard the report.
“Everybody down!”
Patrick dropped his equipment and it fell into the creek. He grabbed for his firearm at the same instant that Jessica’s was up eye level and held rock-steady. She stepped behind a tree and began scanning the horizon.
I got down as well, but my eyes were peeled.
Shawn Tannen was screaming at the blood from Driesel’s leg.
“Shut it, Ms. Tannen,” Jessica said. It was an effective command, because the reporter clammed up as if she’d been slapped.
Jessica peered over the embankment across from us. She backed up a few paces.
“Jessica,” I called. “Get your ass down.”
“You get down, dad. I’ve got this.”
Patrick and I exchanged glances. “She’s got this,” he said. The look on his face was dubious, at best.
I hopped over to Driesel and got him to remove his hands from the wound. To my right, Jessica continued backing up. I examined the wound. There was a great deal of blood, but it wasn’t spurting, arterial blood. There was an exit wound on the other side of his calf.
“22-250,” I said to Patrick. “Sniper rifle.”
“My freaking leg!” Driesel cried through clenched teeth.
“This is what you signed up for, Driesel.”
“I never been shot. It freakin’ hurts, man!”
“You’ll live,” I said. I began looking around for some kind of bandage, my mind going in ten directions at once.
“I think I see him,” Jessica said. “Movement in the trees. Couple of hundred yar
ds away.”
“There’s no way you can get him from here,” Patrick snapped back. “If you can see him, he can see you. Get down!”
Jessica was suddenly knocked back with enough force to send her sprawling. She kept her hand on her gun.
“Jessica!” I shouted.
She shook her head, winced, then sat up.
“Kev—Kevlar...saved my...bacon.”
“Stay down!” I yelled at her. I had my hands around Driesel’s legs and his blood leaked out around my fingers.
Jessica got up, pain and anger etched onto her face. She raised her thirty-eight, took careful aim, then raised the barrel four inches higher. She pulled the trigger.
The report was deafening.
We waited in the equally deafening silence.
“Got him!” Jessica said.
“Got what?” Patrick asked, getting to his feet. He stepped up beside her.
“The fellow in that tree,” she pointed across the narrow creekbed over the opposite embankment and beyond my sight. “He fell out after I shot.”
“Bill,” Patrick said. “I’ll take care of these two,” he pointed to Shawn and Driesel. “You go with Jessica and see if she hit anyone or anything over there. It’ll be dark-thirty in about fifteen minutes.” Patrick handed me his gun.
“Thanks,” I said.
The creek took a few minutes to cross and climb up the other side, but once we were on fairly level land, Jessica and I ran for it.
The grass was high and the foliage was sparse. The tree she was headed for was a lone post oak, sitting atop a high hill. The subdivision from Chuck Holland’s disease cluster map loomed on our left.
“He’s making a break for it,” Jessica shouted and redoubled her speed.
I sprinted to catch up with her. I’d never known her to be able to run so...fast!
I could see a hundred yards ahead. He was hopping one-legged to get to a pickup truck.
“We’re not going to make it,” I called to Jessica, but she ran on ahead as only the young can.
The sniper made it into his pickup by the time Jessica was within a few dozen yards. The engine roared to life and the truck threw clods of dirt into the air getting up to speed. Jessica stopped and raised her pistol.