Peak Oil (33 page)

Porter nodded, slipped his weapon from his shoulder holster, and then dashed through the broken window.

Alexa sauntered to the upended chair, picked it up, and sat down, leaning back comfortably. “You sure are a piece of work.”

Latorre’s eyes flicked up toward her, a pained expression on his face. “What? Why?”
 

“Killing Lily Coulson. Trying to murder your daughter.”

Latorre’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “You’ve got it all wrong, Captain. That wasn’t me.”
 

Alexa scraped the chair forward, fished out the drawings from her breast pocket, folded them open, and held them in front of his face. “This isn’t you?”
 

He studied the picture and then looked up at Alexa, licking his lips. “It looks like me, why?”

She unfolded another, this one of Lily Coulson being beaten, and shoved it in front of him.

Latorre studied the drawings and swallowed, shaking his head. “It can’t be. I would never have hurt her.”

“Liar!” Alexa shouted, shoving a booted toe into his shoulder. “This may be your only chance to confess before the firing squad arrives. Use it well, Lieutenant.”

Latorre laid back, a tear rolling town his cheek as he clutched his stomach. “I found them at our home that evening, tried to help, you must believe me. Lily was already dead; there was nothing I could have done for her.” He sobbed. “Mary-Lou’s head was covered in blood. I rushed her to the Lyndon Johnson General Hospital in Houston.”

Alexa snorted. “Go on.”

“I ran away to the League once I was sure she was okay.” He closed his eyes and then whispered, “He would have killed me too.”

“What about the fire at Pauline’s place?”
 

Latorre struggled to sit up, but Alexa pushed him down with her toe. ”What fire? Is Mary-Lou okay?”

Alexa nodded. “Yes, I saved her.” She stood up and paced the room, her hands behind her back.
 

Latorre sucked in a couple of painful breaths, his voice trembling when he finally spoke. “Captain, we don’t have time for this now.”

“You disgust me, Lieutenant. After all we have been through—”

“Listen!” Latorre screamed, his face ashen from the effort. “My dad framed David Beck. Planted snuff films on his computer. And he’s going to kill him as well.”

“Because he knows about the shale oil that Fitch is stockpiling?”

Latorre swallowed and closed his eyes. “You know about that?”

Alexa pondered his words for a second and then stood up. “You have a chance to redeem yourself, Lieutenant. Where is David Beck?”

He sighed, his head lolling from side to side. “I did nothing wrong.”

Alexa stamped her foot down. “Where is he?”

“Harvey had him moved from the station to the ocelot pen beneath the factory.” He grimaced. “You have to hurry, they’re going to kill him.”

Alexa studied the man cringing in pain and then lifted her wrist to her mouth. “Frydman, I need a medic up at the mansion.” She bit her lip and then spoke into her wrist again. “Dad, I’ve found Latorre and he’s injured. Could you see to him?”

She glanced down at Latorre. “You better not be lying to me, troop. Hell hath no fury—”

He groaned and nodded painfully. “—like a pissed off Legionnaire. I know, Captain.”

Bruce arrived a couple of minutes later and started treating the injured soldier, inserting a drip and stopping the blood flow as well as he could. Alexa helped him load Bis Latorre onto a gurney. Lipner arrived as well, helping Bruce carry the man downstairs and to the awaiting ambulance. She was relieved for the help; it felt like every fiber in her body was protesting against keeping her in an upright position.

She looked out of the window as the doors slammed closed and the ambulance sped off, its sirens wailing. She plopped into the chair as her phone rang. She dug it out wearily. “Hello?”

“Captain, I thought you should know: Mr. Andy Fitch has been arrested.” It was Colonel Porter, sounding excited.

“When?” she asked, forcing herself up and down the stairwell.

“Right now,” he said and hesitated. “Sergeant Allen brought him in.”

Alexa stopped in midstride and then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Neil?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. Here, speak to him,” he said, his voice a mixture of excitement and relief.
 

There was a brief silence and then Neil’s deep voice said, “Hi, Alexa.”
 

She sobbed and sank to her knees, her arms hanging limply to her sides, unable to say a word. It was the most beautiful sound that she had ever heard in her life.

“Ally?”

She blinked and then raised the phone back to her ear. “Neil?”

“I left you a note,” Neil said, sounding apologetic. “At the clearing—”

“Note? Didn’t get a note,” she stammered. “Where were you?”

“I was with you all the time.”

Alexa breathed deeply, trying to control her voice. She stumbled to her feet, a wave of euphoria making her heart beat faster. It felt like she was floating on air, as if someone had flipped a switch and everything suddenly seemed brighter.
 

“Wait there, I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.” She jogged to the Hummer, pinning the phone to her ear with her shoulder. “Don’t disconnect the call, I need to hear your voice,” she sobbed, unable to control her emotions.

She sped out of the ranch, bounced onto the highway’s blacktop, and then floored the accelerator all the way into town. She held the phone to her ear, savoring every word as Neil told her about what had happened, how he had been so close to her the entire time. Tears flowed freely and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand as she sobbed, realizing that she wouldn’t have been alive had it not been for him.
 

He was with me all the time.

Twenty minutes later, she skidded to a halt in front of the police station and then disconnected the call. Neil ambled out of the station and stood on the sidewalk, his arms folded in front of him and a smile on his face. He opened her door and pulled her from the car, picking her up in a bear hug. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. He gently rocked her from side to side as he spoke to her in a soothing tone.

They stood like this for a couple of minutes, Alexa pouring out all her pent-up emotions, babbling incoherently, slowly regaining her composure as Neil hugged her tightly, clutching her to him like a child.
 

Finally Alexa stopped sobbing. She took a deep breath and looked up at Neil, who gave her a wide grin. His front tooth was missing. She frowned and then laughed.
 

Neil watched her, looking embarrassed. He leaned back, studying her face, his thumb brushing her cheek and chin. “Who did this?”

Alexa pursed her lips and slowly shook her head. “Fitch.”

Neil frowned, and then his face became stern, the look she recognized whenever he was preparing to go into a hostile environment. “Let’s go talk to him,” he said firmly, and gently lowered her to the ground.
 

They marched through the sliding glass doors of the police station. “Open,” Alexa commanded the female officer standing guard in front of the cells. The woman raised her eyebrows slightly, hesitated, then turned around and unlocked the door. They must have looked like parodies from a Mary Shelley novel, Alexa with her stitched-up face and Neil banged up and missing a front tooth.

Andy Fitch stood in his cell, his hands behind his back, a sickening grin on his face. “Good day, Capitano, I’m glad to see you recovering so well.” He had a laceration across his brow, probably acquired during Neil’s rough-handed arrest.

“Fitch,” she acknowledged with a curt nod of her head. Neil glanced her way, his lips pursed and a vein throbbing in his temple, but he kept quiet.

Alexa moved close to the bars and then folded her arms. “I need the shutdown codes, Fitch.”

Neil looked at her questioningly, and she mouthed a silent “I’ll explain later.”

Fitch threw his head back and cackled his burbly laugh, slapping his leg. It took a while before the laughter, and then a wheezing fit of coughing, stopped. He chuckled a final time, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked at Alexa. “Someone stole them. You’re straight out of luck, Capitano.”

Alexa slammed the bars with her palm. “You’re lying, Fitch.”

“If I were you, I’d fold and cash in the chips, Capitano. You’ve got nothing to gain.” He shrugged
 
and winked. “And so much to lose.”

Alexa pushed her face close to the bars and then growled, “You’re going down, Fitch.”

“How?” he asked, leaning even closer. “All that’s keeping me in here is the damn mound of paperwork my lawyers are completing as we speak.”

She prodded his chest with a finger. “You can’t deny the evidence. First of all, you’ll stand trial for the murder of Patricia McBride.”

Fitch shook his head and tsk-tsked sympathetically. “No, I won’t. My boy did it, remember? Harvey said you found his bolo tie at the scene. DNA evidence will back it up.”

“What about the shale that you were refining illegally?”

Fitch threw a hand in the air. “Please, you’re acting as thick in the skull as that hellion that Pauline calls her granddaughter.”
 

“What do you mean?”

“All my paperwork is in order,” he said, examining his nails. Then he stuck his thumbs in his belt loops and winked. “I can prove that we refined what we said we did, nothing more, nothing less. All the incriminating stuff has been reduced to ashes by now.”

The man wasn’t giving an inch. “You killed Pauline’s daughter and tried to kill Mary-Lou.”

Fitch shrugged, his eyes narrowing shrewdly. “Chris told you that, didn’t he?” The side of his lips turned up into a half smile. “Again, my bastard son did it. He was convicted of the crime, but he ran away, he wasn’t man enough to face the music.”

Alexa slammed the bar with the palm of her hand. “You won’t get away with this, Fitch.”

He smiled, his lip pulled up over yellowing teeth. “Oh, but I already have, Capitano.” He leaned closer, his face almost touching Alexa’s. “I already have.”

Alexa growled and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, then yanked him back and slammed his face into the bars.
 

Fitch resisted, holding onto the bars, trying to push himself away. “Guards, this crazy bitch is trying to kill me,” he yelled, pushing himself away.

Alexa slammed the bottom of her palm down on his fingers, and Fitch lost his grip momentarily, allowing Alexa to jerk him forward again. His nose slammed into the bar, gushing blood, obviously broken.

The door flew open and the female officer stormed inside. Her eyes were panicked as she took in the scene, and she went for her gun in her holster. Neil grabbed her arm and pinned her against the wall, unholstering the weapon and slipping it into his belt. “We just need a couple more minutes with the accused, Officer.”

Alexa opened and closed her hand. “Keys, please.”

The officer flinched, licking sweat off her upper lip as she patted her belt, and then tossed the keys to Alexa. Alexa unlocked the cell door and slid it open, hovering menacingly over Fitch, who was sliding backward on his bum.
 

“What are you going to—” he cried as Alexa pulled him to his feet by his collar, turned him around, and shoved him toward the side of the cell.

Andy Fitch screamed in pain as Alexa rammed his face into the bars again, this time dislodging a tooth. He tried to claw at Alexa’s face behind his neck, but she swayed to the side and slammed his face into the bars again. After a minute of smashing, the older man grew meek, his face a bloody mess, and he couldn’t stand on his own feet anymore. Alexa dropped him, and he fell to the ground, blood gushing from between his fingers as he clutched his hands to his face. She finished him off with a boot to the side of his head. She nodded, satisfied, as he slumped to the ground.

Alexa wiped the blood spatters from her face and chin with her arm and then walked out of the cell and tossed the keys to the female officer. “Thank you, Officer, we’ve finished interrogating the suspect,” she said with a sweet smile.
 

The officer nodded her head sheepishly as Alexa and Neil strode out of the holding area.

Mess Tent, Camp Prairie

“What happens once Fitch shuts down a refinery?” Alexa asked Missy.

She shook her head, a worried frown on her face. “Captain, a lot of processes are involved in doing a controlled shutdown of an oil refinery.” She slumped forward on the table rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands. “Fitch will most likely do a dirty shutdown, causing the refineries to fail.”

“Fail?” Neil asked, scratching his jaw.

“Blow up,” Missy said, staring at the back of her hands as if they held all the answers.

“You still think that’s his plan?” Alexa asked, gripping a fistful of her hair and releasing it.