Desolation Point

by Lisa Phillips

  “Only I’m allowed to call it that.”

  “Any-way,” Mark dragged out the word. “I’m sure it’s lovely. But people are running from it. At least, that’s what it looks like from my end. Checks handed out from that company, far larger than the value of the property in some cases. Then there are the gifts. Dividend payouts. Kids’ college savings accounts. Grants. Scholarships.”

  “Smells like bribe money to me.”

  “Exactly,” Mark said. “Any way you can think of someone coming into money and not having to pay income tax on it, these people got it. Except one.”

  “My father?”

  “No—” Mark cut himself off. “Your father?”

  “There’s more to this than what I put in that email. But we can talk about that later.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t sound satisfied, though. Mark was the kind of guy who got an itch and didn’t quit scratching until it hurt. Painful—not to mention gross—but effective. Mark said, “One more. A death certificate for a 55-year-old woman who died in a car accident. She used to live in town. It was ruled as having no particular cause. She just veered off the road and hit a tree, head on.”

  “And you believe it’s legit?” Drew figured it was more likely that someone else caused her to swerve and lose control. If she hadn’t been under the influence of something that might’ve impaired her judgment, that is.

  “I’ve seen more suspicious death certs than this one.”

  Drew pressed his lips together. “Doesn’t mean it’s nothing.”

  “And your father?”

  He pressed his lips together. “What I need from you right now is information about who is in on this with Simon Mills. It can’t just be him if it’s been going on for years, people forcing other people out of their homes.” He looked at what remained of the home he’d lived in for nearly fifteen years. “And for what?”

  Cashing in on a house that wasn’t here? This had to be more than fraud.

  Now was hardly the time to run a theory he had by Mark. And that was all it was. Maybe not even a theory. It could be nothing more than wishful thinking that his father might have…what? Killed himself for a good reason?

  “When you were given clearance to be a contractor, we looked into you.” He was quiet for a second, then said, “I know your father killed himself.”

  “That isn’t what this is about,” Drew said.

  He could detach his emotions long enough to realize he wanted closure over his father’s death. This was all hitting way too close to home. Finding that eviction notice and then being at Lookout Point right when bullets started flying.

  People forced out of their homes.

  A woman in an “accident,” and people being paid off.

  There was definitely something he was missing, and whether or not it all tied back to his father committing suicide was a good question. Or maybe he’d even been murdered. Well, what would that mean? Would it change anything about Drew’s life now, knowing that?

  He could find the person responsible. But even if there was justice, it wouldn’t change anything. He’d lived for years with the fact his only remaining parent was gone. And he would carry that until the day he died. God had blessed him with new “parents.” Drew had found a way to love them. To accept the love they wanted to give him.

  If God wanted to add more to his life, he would find a way to make that relationship a part of his life as well.

  The past couldn’t change. All Drew could do now was make every day count. To choose the things that made today better, decisions that would have positive repercussions for the rest of his life.

  “I’ll keep looking into Northcorp Inland Holdings.”

  “Thanks,” Drew said. “I appreciate—”

  “DREW!”

  He spun around, but couldn’t see Ellie. Was she okay?

  Mark said something, but Drew didn’t hear what it was. He said, “Gotta go,” hung up, then raced around the half-collapsed cabin calling out, “Ellie!”

  At the front corner he nearly ran into her. She didn’t look hurt, but her eyes were wide. “What is it?” He reached out. She grasped both his arms and clung to him. “Ellie. Did you see someone?”

  “Yeah, you could say that.” She blew out a breath and shook her head. Like she’d worked through the surprise and gotten herself together. He didn’t blame her for being thrown, but this was the cop he knew she was, underneath the fear. A woman capable of bringing down a knife-wielding man intent on doing her harm. Who took the hits, processed the fear, and got back to work.

  She took another breath and stepped back from him. “Stay where I can see you.”

  “What’s going on?” He looked around but couldn’t see anything that would’ve made her yell for him like she had.

  “I found something. So don’t wander off for a minute.”

  Her voice had a tone, one he didn’t like at all. What was she insinuating? He frowned. She walked to her vehicle and stood with the door open while she grabbed her radio and called in. “Dispatch, come back.”

  He moved close enough he could hear both ends of the conversation. All the while she kept her gaze on him and the cabin. He turned to the front door. What was she looking at?

  “What’s your situation, Deputy Maxwell?”

  Ellie gave the address, then said, “I’ve got a dead body out here.”

  Drew spun around. There was a body?

  The voice on the other end of the radio said, “Uh…” There was a pause, then the voice on the other end of her radio said, “Copy that.” Unsure now. Not a situation that happened for the department in this county very often. Maybe that was why she’d reacted the way she did to the surprise of discovering a dead body.

  “Inside the cabin, hidden from view. Mostly,” Ellie called out. “I didn’t see it until I walked back to the front, going the opposite way around.” She shook her head, liked she’d seen a huge spider out the corner of her eye and freaked out. But she’d pulled it together fast.

  He had to walk almost all the way to the front door. Two broken porch steps. Then he saw it.

  He saw her.

  A dead woman, lying on the floor of his home.

  Chapter 7

  Ellie took two steps toward the cabin. Cold moved through her. She might have been a sheriff’s deputy for years, but she hadn’t seen many dead bodies. And the first thing she’d done? Call for Drew.

  She’d been walking around the cabin. On edge because she’d thought she had seen something moving in the woods—a predator on two legs, or four. She wasn’t sure. She hadn’t wanted to get shot at again, so she’d been tense.

  Then she’d glanced in the door and saw the pale skin. The outstretched hand. She’d reacted—and not in a way she was proud of.

  She pushed out a breath and tried to brush off the indignity of reacting like that. Her. A sheriff’s deputy.

  Drew matched her steps. She stopped and turned to him. “You need to stay back.”

  “Okay.” His face was blank.

  Whatever he was thinking, she couldn’t tell what it was. Did she want to know? Right now she had to set aside her own feelings and properly process this body. Give the dead woman the respect she deserved—the kind of respect every person deserved. Dignity was a human right.

  What she didn’t have time for was Drew’s emotion. He was a grown man and from the sound of what he’d told her so far, he was well versed in police procedure. He should know there was now a whole list of things she needed to do.

  Ellie checked her watch. Maybe one of these days she’d get overtime pay for a good reason and not a terrible one. But that wasn’t likely to happen in this line of work.

  Thoroughly distracted by the random train of thoughts, Ellie took one more breath. When she pushed it out, the air puffed white in front of her. She moved toward the front door, pulling on a pair of protective gloves, and stepped between the frame and the door, which was leaning half-in and half-out of the structure. Or what was left of it.
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br />   Animals and leaves had both blown in during bad weather. Hopefully the animals at least were gone right now. Ellie’s nose wrinkled before she even registered the smell, though it was so cold there wasn’t much odor to speak of. More of a tang. She moved closer and assessed the area around the body.

  And then she saw the face.

  “Drew.” She called out this time, not in the frightened way she had before.

  “What is it?” His voice was closer, but he wasn’t in the cabin. This had been his childhood home. Was he dealing with memories, as well as the details of this case? Maybe she should try and have some compassion for him. Instead, she was getting frustrated over her own failures; taking it out on him.

  She moved back to the doorway and saw him standing in the dirt at the bottom of the porch steps. Leaning down, looking under the porch roof that had collapsed on one side.

  Her stomach churned. Death was not something she could pass off like no big deal the way some cops were able to. She’d never have made it as a homicide detective, and she knew that. Ellie understood and had come to terms with her shortcomings.

  She said, “It’s the receptionist. From the real estate agency office. Natalie Benson.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Seriously?”

  “I think she was shot.” Ellie glanced back at the body. Once in the chest, at least.

  She heard him start to say something, but the sound of an engine cut him off. “It’s the sheriff.”

  Ellie nodded. This death couldn’t be a coincidence. They’d spoken with this woman earlier today. A lot had happened since then, but there was no way their questions hadn’t drawn attention in a town this small.

  The receptionist had given them nothing, though. Did Natalie Benson ask questions of someone else, and they’d shot her because of it? Ellie had only asked her where Simon Mills was so that she could talk to him. As far as they’d known, purely because of lack of evidence, the receptionist was not part of any of this.

  Simon Mills was the one listed on the company board. What part had this woman played? In whatever capacity she was involved, the cost had been grave.

  Ellie ducked under the frame of the door. She met the sheriff halfway from his truck and explained everything. There was no point in beating around the bush right now. Not when he needed context.

  By the time she was done explaining, with Drew adding details here and there, the sheriff’s jaw was clenched.

  “You think all of that adds up to something?”

  “You don’t?” She lifted her hands then let them fall to her sides.

  “What I think is that we have a dead woman here, and the medical examiner is on his way. So we best get to processing the scene.”

  What he meant, was that she should get to processing the scene. So that was what she did, grabbing the bag from the back of her vehicle and lugging it to the cabin. Photos, evidence collection. Notes. This was going to take hours.

  She shot Drew a glance. He seemed more worried about her than the fact he stood there with nothing to do. Shame she couldn’t have him help, but he wasn’t authorized.

  Maybe she should talk to the sheriff about having him deputized. Would he accept?

  The idea that they could work together officially was an interesting thought. One she’d have quite liked to mull over with a cup of decaf coffee on her couch, covered in the throw blanket her mother had knitted while she was going through chemo.

  Ellie unzipped the bag and started pulling out what she needed. She should call her dad again but not to leave another voicemail. It had been long enough since she left the last one that she was getting worried. She’d told him it was urgent. The former sheriff of this county should’ve at least been aware that a questionable company was forcing locals from their homes and buying up their land. He had to know something.

  And for what? Certainly not so they could build condos, or the like. Though maybe that had happened elsewhere. Perhaps there was something else that made this land here valuable. A mine, or possibly fracking. Something they couldn’t see from the house. She had a few ideas what it could be, but that was also all she had. Ideas. Taking a hike through the land might yield an answer.

  There was something going on, though. That she could be sure of. Otherwise they wouldn’t have triggered the shooting the first night, Drew’s tires being slashed or those two guys in the truck, paid to make life miserable for them. Alone, those incidents could be explained away. All together they added up to something.

  And now that they had a dead body on their hands, it was adding up to a whole lot more than just “something.”

  She moved back to the door and called out, “Drew.”

  He looked up from his phone.

  “Don’t feel like you have to stick around. I’m going to be hours.”

  The sheriff strode toward him. “Actually, I’d like a word.” Her boss didn’t acknowledge her. The two men moved far from her. Out of earshot.

  Ellie couldn’t even read their lips, though they were having an intense conversation by the look of it. What was going on? There was no time to ask if she had any hope of getting home before dark tonight. Being out in the open had freaked her out once already today.

  Home was safe.

  Until now, she’d have said this whole town was home. Now that she’d been attacked, more than once, the place she’d always felt safe suddenly didn’t seem so comforting.

  Where are you, Dad?

  She needed to find him. Make sure he was all right.

  Fight the fear, and figure this out.

  . . .

  “She approached me about this.”

  The sheriff shot him a look. “And you wouldn’t have gone digging into it on your own?”

  Drew kind of wished he had. That way, Ellie wouldn’t have a knife wound on her arm. She hid the pain well, but it had to be bothering her. Kind of like the fact they’d been…she had been ambushed. Her life in danger. Shot at, attacked with a knife.

  His tires had been slit. That was more of an annoyance than anything else. With Ellie, they weren’t messing around. The incidents where her life was threatened could have caused her to be seriously hurt, if not killed.

  Slit tires were a warning.

  Murder was something else entirely.

  Drew didn’t like any of it. Enough he was tempted to call Mark on one of the many favors his FBI agent friend owed him. He had saved Mark’s life many times. Not to mention getting the man results on whatever case he was stuck on. Evidence. Surveillance. Drew had done it all, and he was better at it than he’d ever imagined.

  But he still liked the freedom of working for himself. The FBI bureaucracy, and the structure of the organization, was way too much like the military for Drew to do well there. He knew that about himself, at least. And it was why he’d remained only a contractor with a solid contact list of associates. People he’d worked with. People he trusted. People who also owed him favors.

  Seeing that knife flash in Ellie’s direction made him want to bring them all in. Didn’t matter how much it cost him.

  Question was, who did he ask first?

  “That’s what I thought.” The sheriff shot him a smug look.

  Drew hardly even knew what the man was talking about, he’d been so deep in his own thoughts. “Ellie is in danger. Her life has been threatened twice in as many days.”

  “You think Ellie is going to accept protection?”

  Drew didn’t like the tone, the way he said her name. Or whatever he was trying to insinuate by saying it like that. “I think it’s your job to keep your people safe.”

  “You wanna tell me what’s my job?”

  Drew took a breath, because it was better he do that now than get arrested in a minute. Though whatever he wound up being arrested for, it would likely feel immensely satisfying.

  After he took a few breaths, staring at the cabin, he turned back to the sheriff. “If she gets hurt, it’ll be on you.”

  Something flashed across the sheriff�
��s face. Drew didn’t know what it was. The older man said, “Maybe I should deputize you.”

  He knew what Drew did for a living—and who he did it with. Drew wasn’t blind to the fact the sheriff had at some point taken the time to get all up in his business. He would have too if he’d been the one who was sheriff. But this man had never given such an offer before.

  Drew shook his head. “You can’t afford my rates.”

  That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to provide around the clock protection for her, completely free of charge. That was how much he owed her father for finding him after his dad died. First thing he’d done was gently break the news. Then he’d had him pack. After that, he’d driven him straight over to the house where he lived now. Eric and Alma’s house.

  He’d never been given a better gift in his life.

  And yet, the sheriff—Ellie’s father—had kept coming around. Not all the time, more like every few months. Sometimes longer than that. Just checkin’ in. Like he cared about Drew and wanted to know how he was doing.

  The current sheriff had been a few years ahead of Drew in school. Football team captain. Trophies. All-State champions. That kind of stuff. If there had been a pool at their school, Drew would have tried out for the swim team. But there hadn’t been.

  “You talked to the receptionist this morning,” the sheriff said, like that would be news to Drew. “That’s where you were when your tires were slashed.”

  He nodded. “Ellie is the one who talked to her. Though, why asking about Simon Mills would have led to her getting shot at is anyone’s guess.”

  He had no idea. So far everything that had happened could be explained away as someone’s attempt to warn them. Shoot at her but not kill her. Slash Drew’s tires. Those two guys with their knife were a little more serious escalation of things. A way to get them to back off the questions they were asking?

  The sheriff said, “You think Natalie Benson mentioned it to the wrong person?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Who that was, Drew had no idea.