Deadly Payload (Rim Country Mysteries Book 4)

by Karen Randau

  I repeated what I knew.

  “Lena’s in trouble, and that doctor knows it,” Cliff said. “He’s trying to protect her or someone else. He could be a victim, but I don’t think he’s a suspect.”

  “What about his fresh shave?” I asked.

  “Maybe he got up late. I don’t know. Let’s talk about Frank Miller.”

  “I can’t find much on him.” I repeated what I knew. He assumed the identity of a dead baby. He got his first driver’s license and a social security number when he was middle-aged. “I got interrupted before I could finish my research on him. It looks like his main source of income is Social Security, supplemented by a modest annuity. He’s on Medicare and lives in a one-bedroom cabin twenty miles north of the Rim Vista reservoir.”

  Cliff snapped his fingers. “Look up when the Russians left Afghanistan.”

  The withdrawal began in mid-1988 and ended in early 1989. “Frank first showed up in the U.S. right after the Russians left.”

  “Follow the money,” Cliff said.

  During the rest of the drive, I continued my research on Frank Miller by logging into Cliff’s police database.

  “Yikes.” My stomach knotted as I stared at the screen. “Frank Miller spent his last two working years as a janitor at a pharmaceutical plant in the same town where Melissa’s parents lived.”

  I looked up the company, Anderson Park Pharmaceuticals in Beachwood, Ohio. I navigated to their website but dropped my phone onto my lap when I read the history page.

  I balled up my hands.

  “Rita, what did you find?” Cliff laid his hand on my left fist.

  “Dr. Earl Park founded Anderson Park Pharmaceuticals. When he died, it went to his son, Dr. Kyle Park. Major Kyle Park retired from the American Army after serving with Mary Zagby and Jason Wall in Afghanistan.”

  In his biography, Park explained an experience that prompted him to dedicate his life to researching cures for rare illnesses.

  Bringing my best friend to the morgue and an innocent single mom to the hospital in critical condition gave me my life’s purpose, he claimed. I honor their sacrifice for our great nation by finding cures to rare diseases.

  “What a crock of bull,” I yelled at my phone. “You killed your best friend, tried to kill Mary, probably killed a bunch of villagers in Afghanistan, and dedicated your father’s company to getting rich off other people’s suffering.”

  My cell buzzed, alerting me to a text from David. He forwarded a message from Lena: Tell Rita to go home or Taylor and I will die.

  Why did a bunch of Russians want me to go home?

  37

  Cliff seemed to share my concern about everyone telling me to go home. “We should stop off at the station and talk to Ronald. Let’s see if he knows anything about this apparent Russian sleeper cell and why they didn’t stand down or go home after the Cold War ended. That could be the key to finding Lena and Taylor. Did you bring our computers?”

  “They’re in the back.” I gestured behind me.

  “We should have the techs check them out and upgrade the encryption on them and our phones.”

  The ride around the mountain curves seemed longer than usual. As the saguaro cactus of the Phoenix desert gave way to the ponderosa pines of the Rim Country, my mind conjured up disturbing images of people mistreating my friend Taylor. With no cell service on this stretch of the road, I couldn’t continue my research or make calls. Even the breathtaking mountain views failed to inspire peace and tranquility.

  I laid my head on the headrest and closed my eyes to refocus on things I knew rather than scare myself with speculation about Taylor’s fate.

  As we topped the hill and entered Rim Vista, I had an idea. “Maybe we should check out the house up the hill from ours. I know Ronald’s team already did, but it could prompt something in us since we’re more familiar with the neighborhood.”

  “Good thinking.” He turned into the near-empty precinct lot and chose a spot under the new solar panels that formed the covered parking.

  I grabbed the backpack carrying our electronics and followed him to the building’s glass door.

  He paused at the security keypad. “It feels great to be back here. While I was in the Rim Vista hospital, I doubted I’d have the chance.” He entered the passcode and held the door open for me to step through first. “If you hadn’t taken me to Phoenix, I probably wouldn’t have survived.” He gave me a quick thank you hug before letting the door close behind us.

  In the greeting area that featured a cushy chair beside a child-size table, chair, and toy box, Cliff approached the glass reception window and searched for the friendly woman who routinely greeted him.

  “Ronald said most of the department was out sick,” I said. “The remaining staff apparently shun fruits and vegetables. Funny how unhealthy eating kept a few people healthy. I take it Isabelle isn’t one of the junk food lovers.”

  “Uh huh.” His shoulders slumped forward. “Hope she’s okay.” He stepped to a thick wood door to the right of the desk and entered another passcode.

  Inside the bullpen area, Cliff faltered at the sight of empty desks that coworkers should have occupied. “Wow.”

  I folded my arm around the bend of his elbow and led him around desks and down a hall lined with offices and windows. We stopped for the traditional knock on the doorjamb of Chief of Police Ronald Williams.

  Ronald’s eyes looked droopier than the last time I saw him, even for a basset hound lookalike. They filled with recognition and energy when he saw us. “Cliff!”

  He got up so fast I expected him to run to Cliff and hug him. Instead, he gave him an exuberant handshake with a hefty pat on the shoulder. “You’re looking great. Wish I could say the same for myself.” He gestured toward the vacant bullpen. “You’re the first to come back.”

  He took a shallow breath, lifting his left eyebrow and one corner of his upper lip. “You’re back, right?”

  “Doc says I can work part-time for a week and increase as I feel up to it. He said not to overdo it.” Cliff walked toward the two guest chairs in front of Ronald’s gray metal desk. “I didn’t expect my energy to drain from a drive up the hill.” He sank into a chair, his hands on the armrests.

  Ronald and I followed Cliff’s lead.

  “By the way,” Ronald said. “We got the DNA results on that cigarette butt we found in the house up the street from you. The person isn’t in any of our databases.”

  I rembered the cigarette Frank Miller ground out at Hawthorne Farms. “Maybe Cliff and I can go to Hawthorne farms and find another one from someone I saw drop it. If it’s still there. For now, though, we have another situation.”

  I laid my left palm on the top of Cliff’s hand as I spoke. He held my thumb with his while I described the text David forwarded me from Lena. “That doctor we visited in Phoenix seemed to beg me to go home, then I got a text threatening both Taylor and Lena if I didn’t.”

  Cliff squeezed my hand. “Rita, let’s look at the live security feed from our house.”

  I pulled my computer from the backpack and set it on Ronald’s desk. “I don’t want to invade David’s privacy…” I turned to Cliff. “He and Emma are at our house because of the warning from that woman I told you about. Melissa. She died on our fence from ricin poisoning when Ronald and I were trying to have dinner.”

  Cliff again expressed regret he wasn’t there for me when all this happened. “David’s inside, I hope, and we only have cameras outdoors.” He leaned toward me. “Right? Did you make any changes?”

  “I upgraded the fence so no one could climb over it, like I told you at the hospital. I did nothing to the cameras.”

  I pulled up the live security feed and leaned back while Cliff and Ronald squinted at the screen for what felt like five minutes, their heads inches apart.

  Ronald pointed at the image. “What’s that?” He pulled a magnifying glass from his center drawer.

  “That’s awfully Sherlock Holmes-ish.” Cliff gave
a teasing wink before refocusing on the screen.

  “Old and tired eyes is all.” Ronald raised the glass to an object on one of the fence pickets, scrunched his eyes, then jerked away and handed the magnifier to Cliff.

  “If that’s what I think it is, there’s enough to reduce the whole neighborhood to a crater.” Cliff plopped back into his chair, his face pale.

  “What do you think it is?” I jumped up, rolled Ronald’s chair away from the screen, and leaned in. Cliff handed me the magnifying glass and pointed me toward the object.

  “It’s a bomb. Maybe plastic explosive. I’m not sure what that blinking light is. Could be the detonator, or a timer.” Ronald lifted his desk phone and punched the keypad. With a tone calmer than I could have managed, he told someone named Menendez to get to his office. “Run. Don’t walk.” He started to hang up but stopped. “And bring Philip Quayle with you.” He dropped the handset into its cradle.

  “Who are these people?” I asked, mostly to myself.

  “I’m guessing former military,” Cliff said. He turned to Ronald. “According to Rita, their equipment is outdated or not expensive, but if that’s plastic explosive…” He shook his head. “Geez. That much would be hard to get.”

  “Why would the Russians send spies here with some old equipment, a spy shop device like that listening apparatus they planted at our house, and something as deadly as that?” I asked.

  “Maybe the Russians didn’t,” Cliff said.

  “You mean a rogue?” I sank back in my chair.

  A Hispanic officer with a wide chest and weary eyes rushed into Ronald’s office. He spotted Cliff and offered a handshake, transitioned to a one-second semi-embrace, gave him a firm slap on the back, and said, “Welcome back, brother.” He turned to Ronald, beaming. “Reinforcements at last?”

  “Kind of. He’s part-time for a few days.” Ronald turned his attention to his door, where our friend Philip Quayle entered.

  Philip offered another man hug. I realized Ronald, Menendez, and Philip might have been holding down the fort since everyone else got sick. Their rumpled hair, puffy faces, and wrinkled uniforms made them appear exhausted. I remembered seeing at least six officers at my house when we discovered the listening device. Was that all who remained on the whole Rim Vista police force?

  “Quayle,” Ronald said. “I need you to go pick up the man and the little girl who were with Rita when we found the listening device on her roof. Park at the bottom of Washington Street and wait for them to come to you. Bring them here.”

  Philip Quayle dashed away.

  Ronald faced me. “Rita, call your houseguest and keep him cool and collected. Tell him to act like he’s taking his niece for a stroll to the playground down the hill from you. There will be a maroon unmarked police sedan waiting for him.”

  I dialed and spoke the second David answered. “Listen and don’t say a word.” I gave him the instructions as Ronald had directed.

  While I spoke to David, I tried to listen to what Ronald said to Menendez. I caught enough to know Menendez was to use a bomb disposal robot to take the explosive away from our house.

  With Menendez and Philip gone, Ronald sat with his elbows on the desk and his hands on his forehead. “This is nuts.”

  “Are there any computer techs available?” Cliff asked. “No telling where we’ll end up after this. We need the best and most up-to-date encryption.”

  Ronald called for another officer, a fleshy guy with scruff on his face and thick black-framed glasses. He took our equipment and said he’d be back in about an hour.

  We returned to watching the live feed from our house. Menendez arrived with the robot within thirty minutes. The robot removed a wire, then put the explosive into a padded bomb disposal box. Someone dressed in a padded suit, whom I assumed was Menendez, carried the box away.

  “Let’s look at the recording from earlier today.” I gritted my teeth so hard it hurt. “I want to know who would do this terrible thing.”

  The video from an hour before daylight showed a person in black clothing, gloves, and a face mask attaching the device to our fence.

  “I didn’t see him leave, did you?” I asked. “It was too dark to see where he went.”

  We crowded around the screen and replayed the footage again and again.

  “Where did he go?” Cliff backed away from the screen.

  “Do you think you two shouldn’t go home tonight?” Ronald asked.

  “We have the most secure home in town,” Cliff said. “Let’s talk it through.”

  My urgency to solve this case shot up a few notches.

  38

  Philip Quayle returned to Ronald’s office a half hour later, trailed by David and Emma.

  The child’s face brightened when she saw me. “Yay!” She ran to me and climbed into my lap. “Uncle David stayed home today. Now I get to see a police station.” Her smile and the glimmer in her eyes reflected innocence. I needed to protect that.

  “Hey, guys,” I said. “I think I’ll take Emma to play with the toys in the lobby while you fill David in and figure out where we’re sleeping tonight.”

  Emma held my hand and skipped as we weaved around desks in the bullpen, moving toward the lobby. She stopped at each desk, asking about the people, the chairs, the empty coffeepot in the back of the room, and where policemen practiced boxing.

  In the lobby, we approached the container full of toys that looked less than sanitary. She pulled out a puzzle that was missing one of its twelve pieces. Not wanting her to pick up the disease she had so far avoided, I plucked a packet of sanitary wipes from my purse and received a sense of safety from the antiseptic scent as I cleaned her hands and the toys she pulled out.

  “You said my mommy would come home soon.” She flashed an accusing glance before poking her head deeper into the toys to search for the final puzzle piece. With two tiny fingers, she held up the last fragment, placed it into the puzzle, and set it on the table. She held up her hands for me to sanitize them and stared into my eyes as I did. When I finished, she placed her fists on her hips. “Mommy didn’t come home, and now she doesn’t even look at me through the window. You said she’d be back. You lied.” She fiddled with the colored balls on a bead maze.

  As I unwrapped another clean wipe and swiped at that toy, a memory flashed in my mind. The man at the hospital who tried to inject Cliff used one of those.

  What kind of terrorist sanitizes his killing tool?

  I set down the wipe and met Emma’s questioning glare. “Your mom is still in the hospital. Last time I saw her, she looked fantastic. I’ll bet she’d love to talk to you.” I slipped my phone from my pocket.

  Her eyes widened and sparkled. She dropped the beads, clapped her hands, and shifted her weight between her feet while I placed the call.

  Mary’s voice sounded clear and strong.

  “Emma wants to say hi, but stay on the line when you’re done. I have a question.”

  Emma beamed while taking the phone from me. “Hi, Mommy, I’m at the police station.” At the end of their visit, which included details about running from her house to ours, walking down the hill to get into a stranger’s car, and playing with yucky toys at the police station, Emma handed me the phone with a happy grin.

  “Emma enjoyed your talk,” I said to Mary.

  “Should I worry about everything she said?”

  “We have it under control. You focus on getting well. She needs you.”

  “It lifted my spirits to speak to her. At least tell me why you’re at the police station?”

  I walked toward the corner of the room and cupped my hand around my phone and mouth, so Emma wouldn’t hear me as I explained the situation. “The guys are in the office of the Chief of Police talking about what to do next. Have you by any chance ever heard the name Anatoly Yashkin?”

  Choking accompanied Mary’s audible gasp. I listened while she struggled to breathe and continued coughing.

  At last she came back on the line. “OMG,
” she wheezed, coughed, and sipped.

  “In my flashbacks, Captain Wall says and a trolley washing. I’ve never connected it to anything until you said that. I remembered what Wall said when he called me while Brandish and I were talking to the Afghan lady. He asked if a doctor named Anatoly Yashkin was with us. The woman was yelling so loud that I covered my ear and walked away so I could hear Wall. I confirmed that only she and Brandish were around. Wall shouted, ‘You’ve been set up. Get out of there. Now!’ I ran and looked back. When the cow exploded, I fell backwards. Brandish’s leg blew into my face, boot first. Who is this Anatoly guy?”

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out. Had you ever heard the name before that call from Wall?”

  “No, and no one ever mentioned it again.”

  Cliff and David entered the lobby, and I ended by promising to keep Mary informed.

  “We’ve determined that our house is the safest in town with all of our security equipment,” Cliff said with a yawn. “The guys updated our encryption software, and I put our monitoring app on both Ronald’s and Philip Quayle’s phones.”

  He handed me an index card. “We’ll take turns watching for any strange activity that the cameras pick up. That’s the schedule.”

  I accepted the card. Cliff’s first shift was ten until midnight, then another at six in the morning. “You need sleep. I’ll take your ten o’clock shift tonight.”

  David held Emma’s hand while we walked to my Lexus. “How convenient that you have a car seat,” David said as he opened the back door.

  “When all this started, I had my granddaughter in the back,” I said.

  Cliff started toward the driver’s side, but I grabbed his arm and steered him to the passenger seat. “Why don’t you rest your eyes while I drive to our house?”

  During the drive, I smiled at having to sit at a stop light behind two other cars. Until now, almost no other vehicles were on the streets. Who would have expected traffic to give me joy? I thought of my mother’s promise to pray and lifted my eyes to the cloudless sky and said a thank you for the antidote. As I returned my gaze to the traffic, I offered a silent request to help me understand why the terrorist in the hospital room sanitized the end of Cliff’s IV tube as he tried to inject something.