Deadout (32 page)

“What kind of place?”

I knew what she meant. “A house. Jimmy says they're very … organic or whatever. He says they're hard-core.” I didn't ever want to disregard her concerns about chemical sensitivity, my suspicions regarding her current status notwithstanding, but even still, I was struggling not to remind her that we all suffered from bullet sensitivity syndrome.

She bit her lip. “I don't care about the crops, so much, but I need to feed and water the chickens.”

“They'll be fine.”

“They won't.”

“Then we can come back.”

It took fifteen minutes to pack up all of Nola's stuff. She gave the chickens some extra food and water, and we were ready to go.

Nola grabbed the shotgun as we slipped out the back door. As we approached the Jeep, she looked at Annalisa and called, “Shotgun.”

 

58

As we drove, Annalisa's phone buzzed, and a moment later I heard a gasp from the backseat.

“What is it?” I asked, looking at Annalisa in the rearview.

“I just got a company e-mail from Stoma, ‘Stoma Corporation would like to welcome Thompson Company as the newest member of the Stoma Corporate family.' It also says all Stoma operations on the island are being consolidated at the Katama site.”

“They bought them?” I was shocked.

Nola looked at me. “When I tried to call Teddy's dad, the number he gave me forwarded to Stoma Corporation.”

Annalisa leaned forward. “You mean his personal number?”

“It was supposed to be.”

Suddenly, Teddy still being in jail made sense. “Renfrew is rich, but Jimmy told me he'd heard everything was in the company's name, trying to game the system, avoid taxes and stuff. If he's lost the company, it's entirely possible that he's lost his phone, and a lot more than that.”

*   *   *

Jimmy was standing by his cruiser and when he saw us, he nodded and got in, then drove off. As I fell in behind him, Nola and Annalisa quietly looked out the window at the burnt remains of Julie's house.

He led us along a winding road up the side of a hill in the thick woods. Ten minutes later we were following him up a driveway to a sleek but modest A-frame looking out over a steep slope.

“You know where you are?” Jimmy asked.

The road had been windy but the route was simple. I nodded.

He took a key out from under a plant pot and opened the door. The house consisted of a spacious common area with a living and dining area under a vaulted ceiling, and two bedrooms and a bathroom on either side.

Jimmy told us the lay of the place, then stood with his hands on his hips. “I need to get back,” he said. “I'll check in later. But you'll be fine. No one will find you here.”

He reached out and gave Annalisa's arm a reassuring squeeze. “I'll see you soon, okay?”

She smiled and nodded.

As he stepped toward the door, he caught my eye. “Can I have a word with you, Doyle?”

I followed him outside and closed the door behind us.

“Looks like the Padulla woman was doing her nails,” he said, as we stepped outside. It took me a moment to realize he was talking about Julie Patchouli. “Knocked the bottle over and the stuff caught fire. She didn't get out in time.”

“Think that's what really happened?”

“Looks suspicious as hell to me, but I'm suspicious by nature. What do you know about it?”

“There's serious shit going on.”

He laughed. “You think? Even apart from all the shooting you seem to be attracting, Katama's like a war zone between all the corporate security Rambo wannabes and the crazy-ass protesters coming in from off island. Serious shit? Tell me something I don't know.” He laughed again, then cut it short for effect. “Seriously. Tell me something I don't know.”

“This thing with the bees. There's something fishy going on.”

“I already know that. Big fishy, too, involving all sorts of big fish. What's this got to do with Annalisa?”

“She's been poking around,” I said, lowering my voice for some reason. “Trying to figure out what's going on.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Last night Annalisa logged onto their computers using Julie Padulla's user ID. A couple of hours later, we get our midnight visitors.” I hooked my thumb back the way we'd come. “This morning that happens.”

“Jesus.”

“What about Teddy?”

“What about him? He brought his stuff down on himself.”

“What about him still being in jail?”

He shrugged. “Bail was set and he didn't post it.”

“Is that part of the pressure you're talking about? Is someone keeping him there on purpose, keeping him out of the way?”

“I don't know. Maybe.”

“You think I could get in there to talk to him again?”

“Why?”

“See if a couple of days inside has given him any fresh insights.”

He thought about that, then said, “Yeah. I'll call them on my way in, tell them you're coming. Just say you're a friend of the family, okay?”

I nodded. “So who do you think it is, applying all this pressure, anyway?”

He looked at me as he opened the car door. “Stoma, I assume.”

We paused, thinking about that.

“You think they're safe up here?”

“No one's going to find them up here.”

“I want to go out and do some leg work. Try to figure out what's going on.”

He thought about that. “Just make sure no one follows you back.”

I nodded and turned to go back inside.

“Hey, Carrick,” he called out. “One last question.”

I stopped half inside my car.

“So what were you doing over there last night, anyway? At Annalisa's house.”

“Why you asking?”

“I'm just asking.”

I saw a look in his eyes I hadn't seen before and I smiled. “I was just sleeping on the sofa, in case something like this happened.”

*   *   *

By the time I got back inside, Annalisa was standing with her thumbnail wedged between her front teeth, staring at the papers spread out over the dinner table.

Nola tilted her head and beckoned me over to the sofa. When I sat next to her, she looked at me with a sad little smile. “It feels like I haven't seen you in a long time.”

I smiled back at her, rested my hand on her thigh.

“I'm trying to get a picture of all this stuff that's going on,” she said. “I think there's some things I don't know about. So I need you to tell me, what the hell is going on here?”

I took a deep breath and gave her the full version, almost. I felt bad laying it all on her.

“Jesus,” she said breathlessly when I got up to the part where she was pointing a shotgun at me.

“I don't know how, but I have a strong feeling whatever Teddy was up to is somehow related.”

Annalisa had stopped working and was listening. Her eyes were wet, and I realized she'd been reliving the traumatic events. Nola turned to look at her.

“Are you okay?” Nola asked.

Annalisa nodded, sniffing back tears. I wanted to comfort her, but I couldn't, not in front of Nola. I was relieved when Nola did.

They disappeared into the bedroom, and I could hear the soft sound of women reassuring each other. I tried Moose again, but there was still no answer.

A few minutes later Nola came back into the living room and sat down across from me, studying me again. “Sounds like she's been through a lot.”

I nodded.

“How about you? How are you doing?” she asked.

“You know me,” I said. “I'm fine.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I'm fine,” I repeated.

A moment later Annalisa came out. “Sorry about that,” she said, flashing an awkward smile and gesturing toward the papers on the table. “I should get back to work.”

Within seconds she was immersed, staring intently at the numbers on the table.

“What is she looking for?” Nola asked quietly.

I told her about the gene sequence that showed up in the mites, and the possibility that the genetic material was unstable and had jumped from the bees to the mites. “She's looking for evidence of that, but she's also trying to find the data that was replaced, thinking if they went to that much trouble to hide it, it must tell us something.”

“Oh.” She looked over at Annalisa with new respect.

“So here's the thing,” I said. “While Annalisa's going at this from the scientific angle, I have some other things I should check on. I asked Jimmy and he thinks you're safe here. Are you two going to be okay?”

I wasn't entirely comfortable leaving Nola and Annalisa alone, for their safety in case the bad guys figured out Annalisa was there, and for mine in case the two of them got to talking about me. But I needed to figure out what was going on.

“I think so, yeah. Are you going to be okay out there?”

I smiled. “Of course.”

I walked over to the dining area, where Annalisa was standing over the table, deep in thought.

“I'm going out for a little bit,” I said.

She looked up, distracted. “Oh,” she said. “Okay,” as in, “Now go away and let me get back to my work.”

Nola followed me to the door, but no farther. I stepped out, then turned to face her. Against my better judgment, I leaned toward her, but she stepped back and smiled, letting me know that wasn't going to happen. Not yet.

I smiled as well, despite myself.

She looked me in the eye. “Be careful,” she said quietly.

“You, too.”

 

59

The windows were dark at Darren Renfrew's house, but the sense that there was no one home came from something deeper than that. I knocked on the door and rang the bell but there was no answer. I gave it a good two minutes, trying three times with the bell and three times with the knocking.

As I was walking back down the driveway a voice called out, “You looking for Renfrew?”

I turned and didn't see anyone at first. Then I looked up and saw that same sniper up on the roof. Scoping me.

“Yeah,” I called up to him. “Is he home?”

“He might be. He doesn't live here anymore.”

“Seriously?”

He lowered the gun a bit. “I know. Crazy, right?”

“You work for him, right?”

He took a sip of coffee from a thermos lid. “Used to. I work for the company, and it's not his company anymore. Same thing with the house. Owned by the company. They kicked him out, changed the locks, told me to shoot him if he came back.” He laughed and shook his head. “I mean, don't get me wrong: the guy is a class-A asshole, but seems a little harsh.”

“You know where he's living?”

“No idea.” He took another sip of coffee. “I imagine a guy like that, he's probably got houses in other places. Then again, I wouldn't have thought he'd do something like put the house in the company's name. But there you go.” He put down the coffee and raised his gun again. “Anyway, you should get going. Technically, I should have shot you by now.”

*   *   *

The guy at the jail was friendly and polite and I thought once more that the place was too nice for Teddy Renfrew.

Then they let me in to see him, and I thought maybe he'd had enough. His cell was a concrete and cinder block box with a cot and a toilet. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and his head on his knees. When he looked up, his face was pale, the rings under his eyes were dark, and his nose was running.

“What do you want?” he said when he saw me.

“You're still here,” I said.

“No shit.”

I felt a little better about it. “Why do you think that is?”

He gave me a sneer, but I guess he couldn't think of anything snotty to say.

“You know about the bees, right? Stoma has brought theirs in all over the island.”

He looked away from me.

“You know they bought Thompson Company, right?” I lowered my voice. “Teddy, there's something going on out here. Stoma is up to something big. I'm trying to stop it.”

Nothing.

“You know anything about Benjy?”

He looked around. “What about him?”

“He's disappeared. I was wondering if you knew anything about it.”

He rolled his eyes. “I heard he went to visit his mom.”

“He never got there.”

Just for a second, the fear behind his eyes spilled out, then he looked away again.

“If you know anything that can help me, now is the time.”

He kept his eyes down and let his middle finger do the talking.

I drove through Katama on my way back, to see if I could find Moose. Jimmy had told me where it was, but before I got within a quarter mile of the place, I had to pull over. Traffic was completely stopped. Up ahead, I could see plenty of black SUVs and a perimeter of hard-core Darkstar types, all shades, earpieces, and biceps.

Lined up in front of them were the protesters. Some seemed peaceful, a lot more didn't, and there were plenty of signs and placards, like
SAVE THE BEES
and
HELL NO, GMO
. I found Moose helping a guy hold up a sign that said
FRANKEN-FUCK YOU, TOO
.

“Doyle,” he shouted over the sound of the crowd. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you,” I shouted back.

He seemed disappointed to be giving up his great spot, but he followed me to the fringe of the crowd.

“What's up?” he said in a normal voice.

“Have you heard anything from Benjy?”

He shook his head, his eyes suddenly sad.

I put my head close to his. “Things have gotten violent. One of Annalisa's coworkers is dead, and two gunmen broke into Annalisa's house last night.”

He jerked his head back. “Oh my God, are you serious? Is she okay?”