03 - Organized Grime (23 page)

“It could have been. I don’t know, really. No one I know has taken credit for it. I think something else is going on. Something bigger.”

“Something bigger than ecoterrorism?”

He scowled. “I hate that word.”

“Isn’t that what it is?”

“There shouldn’t be anything ‘terroristic’ about trying to save the earth.”

I remembered my cover and nodded. “You’re right. I’ve just been watching the news too much. All of their language is stuck in my head right now.” I took a sip of my drink. “Have you talked to your friend Sierra lately?”

“Yeah, I saw her last week. She showed up at my place.”

I nearly choked on my latte. “Really? I thought she was wanted by the police.”

“Yeah, she is. The FBI, actually.”

“Why’d she stop by your place?”

He twisted his head. “You’re not a narc or something are you?”

I snorted. “A narc? Really?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions.”

I leaned back, trying to look uninterested. “Sorry. Sometimes I’m too curious for my own good. My mom used to always say I should be a reporter because I ask so many questions.”

“I get that.” He nodded, as if appeased by my explanation. “No, she just stopped by to say she was not guilty. Then she asked about another mutual friend of ours.”

“She must think your friend is the guilty one.”

“Perhaps. I haven’t talked to him in a few days either. He dropped off the radar, so maybe he is guilty.”

“Is he a friend from your environmental group?”

“Nah. He worked with Sierra at Paws and Fur Balls. Get this. His name is Tree. Isn’t that the best name for someone who’s a tree hugger?”

My throat burned. Tree. Tree was involved in all of this?

“Why was she looking for him?”

“She wasn’t. She wanted to look through his stuff.”

His stuff? “So why did she go to see you?”

“Tree used to be my roommate.”

Bells began dinging in my head. “I didn’t know you had a roommate.”

“He moved out a couple of weeks ago.”

“Is his stuff still there?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I gave it to Goodwill.”

Did Sierra think Tree was guilty, that he’d followed through with his nefarious plan? Was that why she wanted to see his belongings?

He leaned closer. “Why do you sound so interested?”

I shrugged, realizing I had let on too much probably. “Other people just fascinate me. That’s all. I got carried away, I guess.”

He studied me another moment before leaning back in his chair and nodding. “I’ll tell you what. You can come with me tonight. This can be a little initiation to see if you’re ready to join ranks with me and some of my friends.”

All the moisture left my throat. “Really? You would let me do that now.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I will.” He glanced at his watch. “I still have another hour and a half. Until then, let’s talk about something else. Tell me about that kitty litter.”

***

I locked the door to the coffeehouse bathroom and pulled my cell phone from my purse. My head swirled from my medication. I shouldn’t have taken it; should have traded clear thinking for a little discomfort. Even with this new development, which would have normally been an adrenaline surge, my energy felt depleted. Still, I would see this through till completion.

 I leaned against the graffiti-lined stall and dialed Parker’s number.

“Parker, I’m with Bruce Watkins right now,” I whispered.

“The eco-terrorist?”

“Yeah, him. I think he’s going to do something to one of the contractors who worked on that development on the Elizabeth River.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because he invited me to help him.”

Parker muttered something not so nice under his breath. “You can’t go with him, Gabby.”

“This could be our chance to get the evidence we need to frame this guy and finally find Sierra.”

“Gabby…”

I shook my head. “Don’t say it, Parker. She’s alive, and I’m going to find her.”

He remained silent a moment. “You’re in over your head.”

“I’m already in over my head, so I might as well learn to swim.”

“Let me put a wire on you.”

“There’s no time. He’s waiting in his car for me.”

“At least take Riley with you.”

My throat burned. “I can’t. But Parker, try to be there to catch this guy red-handed, okay?”

“I don’t even know where ‘there’ is.”

I didn’t know what to tell him. “Leave your cell phone on mute. I’ll leave my phone on so you can hear everything. You’ll figure out where we’re going.”

I slipped the phone in my pocket, waited a minute to make sure Parker had actually muted his phone, and hurried out, not wanting to spend any more time in here lest Bruce become suspicious.

I took a deep breath and, as I stepped out of the bathroom, I felt like I was stepping right into a death trap.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Despite the cold, I was sweating as I rode with Bruce into the night. This had to be my worst idea ever. The idea was so knuckle-headed that I felt guilty even asking God to protect me through it.

Bruce rattled on and on about global warming, carbon emissions and the overpopulation of the earth. I barely heard him. Instead, I soaked in everything we passed. I tried to offer commentary so Parker could get a clue.

“Oh, William’s Barbeque Barn. Best barbeque around, I’ve been told.”

“There’s that seafood restaurant I like to eat at, The Marina.”

“Look, you can ride a monster truck there! How cool is that?”

We headed toward Chesapeake, then through Chesapeake toward North Carolina. He pulled off the bypass and drove into wooded farmland. The road narrowed, surrounded by trees and a murky looking creek.

His eyes seemed beady and snake-like as we slithered into the night. “I’ve got everything we need in the back.”

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to remain cool. “What exactly is everything?”

He smiled. “You’ll see.”

I really didn’t want to add “felon” to the list of words to describe me. Especially not before my interview with the medical examiner.

Finally, he pulled off the road and down a dusty lane. A half a mile later, he parked in the woods. He quickly got out, and I followed suit. The sounds of nature surrounded me and just then I realized how secluded we were. He could kill me here, and no one would find me for days. Nausea churned in my gut. Worst. Idea. Ever.

He pulled a bag out of the trunk. I tried to ascertain what was inside. I supposed it could be a bomb or some gasoline to start a fire. But I didn’t think it was.

Just what was Bruce planning? And had Parker figured out where we were headed yet? Had he put an all-points bulletin out on Bruce’s car and had law enforcement officers been tracking him? Maybe he put a trace on my cell phone? Something? Anything?

We began trudging through the woods. My head pounded. My eyelids felt heavy. And, even with the pain medication, my ribs ached.

Tree branches slapped me in the face. Roots tried to trip me. Water soaked the leg of my jeans.

Finally, he stopped at the edge of a nearby clearing. In the distance, I could see lights twinkling. It was a house. Who was inside? A man with a family? Little kids who’d already been tucked into bed? No way would I let Bruce hurt someone with me here to stop him. No way. But I had to plan my moves carefully.

Please, Parker, find us. Fast.

He dropped the bag and grinned at me. “We’re going to leave him a message that he and his family won’t ever forget.”

“How’d you even get this guy’s address?”

“Tree left the information.”

“How did Tree get it?”

“His uncle owns Harrison Developers.”

I paused. “His uncle is James Harrison?”

Bruce nodded, looking a little annoyed. “Yeah, but he hates the guy. He wants to see him destroyed.”

I tried to absorb that information.

Bruce handed me something. “Take this.”

“A hammer? What’s this for?” Awful images danced in my head.

“You’ll see.” He nodded toward the house. “Come on.”

He took off and I had no choice but to follow him. My heart lurched when I saw a swing set in the backyard. This man did have children. I wasn’t going to let Bruce hurt them, even if it meant my own well-being.

Bruce squatted behind a car in the driveway. I tried to do the same, but my ribs ached. My face throbbed. The cold bit me down to the bone.

He unzipped the black bag at his feet. I braced myself for whatever was inside. He reached into the folds and emerged with… a stake? Did he think this man was a vampire or something?

“The picture fell off,” he mumbled. He reached into the bag again. “Take this one instead.”

“Picture?” I looked down at the object in my hands. A picture of a dead sea turtle? “What…?”

“These are the animals that are being killed because these people are destroying our wetlands.”

Pictures? This whole thing had been about putting pictures of dead animals in this contractor’s yard?

I might have laughed if I didn’t feel so awful.

Before I could react, lights flooded us. Men surrounded the car. And, out of a bullhorn, I heard, “This is the FBI. Put your hands in the air.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

The next morning, I stared at my computer, trying to figure out where to go next with my investigation. I couldn’t even think of anything to do an Internet search on. In my frustration, I nearly wanted to throw my computer out the window.

That would do no good. I could barely lift the beast, especially not with my arm still sore. I’d taken off the sling, but my appendage still ached. It didn’t help that I didn’t take my pain medicine this morning. I wanted to be able to think clearly, though. And I wanted to be able to drive, especially since my interview was today.

The events of last night replayed in my head. Bruce had simply been going to do the equivalent of an environmentalist forking or toilet papering of a yard.

Bruce may be crazy, but he wasn’t our guy.

And based on the way he’d sputtered out insults at me, he wouldn’t be calling me again anytime soon. I wouldn’t be shedding any tears over that one.

More than anything, I wanted to race across the hall, pound on Riley’s door and tell him about everything that had happened. He’d always been my confidante. Not talking to him was killing me. But this was for the best, I reminded myself. My world and Riley’s world would never merge, no matter what Sharon or anyone else thought.

My cell phone rang and brought me out of my misery. “Trauma Care,” I answered.

“I’m trying to reach Gabby St. Claire.” The male on the other end spoke quickly, like he was hurried.

“This is she. What can I help you with?”

“I was hoping we could talk.” The man breathed heavily on the other end. Was he trying to scare me? Or was he nervous?

“Who is the second person in this ‘we’ equation?”

“My name is Clifford Reynolds.”

I sat up straight. “Clifford. You called back.”

“Sorry it took so long. I… I was hesitant.”

“Why?”

“Lots of reasons.”

“Why do you want to talk to me now?”

“Because I can’t talk to the police. I’m hoping you can help me, though. I’m in a boatload of trouble.”

I wanted to tell him he should get a lawyer. But instead, I agreed to meet him. I’d get whatever information I could from him first. Then I’d advise him.

“Can you come to my office down at City Hall?”

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Does that work?”

“I’ll see you then.”

***

 I stared at Clifford, who was still by all accounts a mouth breather. I pushed that thought aside as I stared at him from across his desk. The man wasn’t trying to scare me as I’d wondered earlier. This man was scared. “What can I do for you, Clifford?”

He squirmed in his leather chair. His eyes looked everywhere around his tidy office until his gaze finally met mine. “I think I’m going to die tonight.”

Woe. This was big. “Why would you think that?”

He wrung his hands together on top of his desk calendar. “Here’s the deal, Gabby. I don’t want to die and the person behind my death to get away with it. I have to say that these people are dangerous, though. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.”

These people? The ecoterrorists?

“Okay, I’m a big girl. I’ve beat death a couple of times already.”

He stared at me, his brown eyes dull. I could tell this conversation was hard for him. Finally, he blurted, “I’ve done some bad things.”

I crossed my fingers on my lap, trying to gather my patience. Was this man to be taken seriously? Or would this be another let down, like the one from last night? “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve done and let me be the judge of that?”

His lips pulled into a tight line, and I could tell that whatever he wanted to say was heavy on his mind. He did a half-swirl in his chair, until the window behind him illuminated his profile. After a moment, he turned back to me. “I’m in charge of permits for the city. I give my stamp of approval whenever someone wants to build something—anything from a shed to a housing development.”

I nodded, getting a better idea of where he was going. “Okay…”

“The area where Harrison Developers wanted to build in Chesapeake should have been off-limits. That land has been preserved for years. It’s important that we keep our wetlands intact. They help to filter the water that goes into our rivers and, from there, the bay and the ocean.”

“I understand that.”

“I’m not proud of this, but I was offered 10K if I granted the permit for them to build there. Harrison Developers was going to make millions on the development. So I found a loophole and I pushed the permit through.”

“Wow. Did you say ten thousand? That’s a lot of cash.”

He nodded and wiped his forehead where beads of sweat had formed. “I know. It was dangled in front of me. I’ve had some financial troubles, so it looked like an easy way out.”

“Who bribed you, Clifford?”