The Last Day (16 page)

Nolan Bixby asked, “What the hell does ‘Gizmo’ mean?”

“Nothing good,” Todd said, with perfect certainty.

THIRTY-EIGHT

“We should call the police,” Natasha said, after learning about the hiding place.

“You sure should,” Leslie agreed as she poured Ward a cup of coffee.

“What do you think?” Ward asked Todd. “Some nut has been watching our house for a long time. Would Dibble or Lander Electric hire a private eye to spy on us over time like that?”

“This will be under the sheriff's jurisdiction, and the truth is we're only talking trespassing. It might be some private eye. Some of us will do anything to get a result. I think you should call Gene Duncan and see how he thinks you should handle it. Given all that's happened, I think he might want to report it to the FBI. Let them process the evidence.”

“There's something else,” Ward said. “I was about to tell you when you saw the guy outside. Some weird things have been happening. Some of Barney's things have been moved around over the past week. A baseball from his room ended up in Natasha's bed under a pillow. She thought I did it. A stuffed bear of Barney's vanished from Natasha's room. A watch of his vanished from Natasha's jewelry box.”

“And there's no other explanation? Nobody else has access to the house?”

“No. And we found a handmade casket with a figure of a young boy in it in Barney's room. We are sure Barney didn't have that, and we certainly didn't put it there.”

“I've been having hand tremors that started about a month ago,” Natasha said. “They're getting progressively worse. And Ward's been
losing time and doing things he doesn't remember.”

“It's like I lose my nights, don't remember dreams, feel dull in the mornings.”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Natasha said, “but now in the light of everything else that's happened, I'm seriously thinking that we're being drugged.”

Todd was silent.

“I can't believe I'm saying this. Look, since our symptoms are very different, I think the drugs we've been getting are as well,” Natasha said. “Isn't it possible that someone out there might be giving each of us the different drugs, different ways? Isn't it possible?”

“It's possible,” Todd said. “If someone's been in here, he certainly could be moving things and even drugging you both. Maybe he's doing it and watching his handiwork. Yes, it sounds paranoid, but I think you have reason to be paranoid.”

“That's scary,” Leslie said. “Sitting in a hole for days on end, carving a word into the clay over and over, is way beyond creepy. If the crazy bastard has been coming in here when you weren't
home, he could have come in when you were, or hidden in here and …”

“Maybe he knows what only one of us drinks or eats. He spikes hers with one drug and mine with another,” Ward said.

Todd stared at him and nodded slowly. “So let's see if we can figure out what that might be.”

“Well, she drinks wine. I don't care for it,” Ward said.

“Daily,” Natasha said. “That's the only thing I can think of. I know how far- fetched this is, but it makes sense, doesn't it? Oh, and I drink orange juice and Ward has a citrus allergy.”

Todd nodded. “And you, Ward? What's only yours?”

“Scotch. That and bottled water. Natasha drinks our well water. I don't mind the taste, except when I pour it into my single malts.”

“Gather up the bottles you have, and I'll take the samples and drop them at a lab I use.”

“Shouldn't they get the FBI to test them?” Leslie said.

“You could let the FBI test them. I'm not saying you shouldn't. But I'll do it, too, in case they screw it up or don't actually do it. Are you ready
to trust them? They may just think this is a smoke screen designed by Ward to throw them off him.”

“I don't trust the FBI,” Ward agreed, surely.

“But, on the other hand, if someone's been in and has done that, it might help convince them of your innocence with the virus,” Natasha told Ward. “And they might be convinced we didn't spike the drinks ourselves. I mean, there's no real evidence you are guilty of anything. And this same person might have put the virus in your computers. I mean, they have to see that's possible, and would explain everything.”

“Why would he be targeting both of us, not just me?” Ward said. “I think we should let the FBI see the hole out there, and if they seem receptive, we can tell them that we think we're being drugged.”

“I'll take samples of the wine, the OJ, and the Scotch, and we'll give them the rest and see if we get the same results. They'll have to check it out. It isn't proof that there's someone else doing it, but coupled with the hole out there, it sure gives your lawyer ammunition for reasonable doubt.”

“I'm a doctor with access to drugs and compounds,” Natasha said.

“But they haven't accused you of anything. Just me,” Ward said.

“I'll call Gene,” Ward told them. “He'll know what we should do, legally speaking, and he can call the FBI and explain it to them. He can probably get them to come out here.”

“And we can see if someone has figured out our alarm system's code,” Ward said. “It's a top-of- the- line system and we always arm it when we leave, and at night when we settle in. With all the home invasions around, I figured that because people might think Natasha keeps drugs here they might come to find them.”

“Has it gone off recently?” Todd asked.

“No. A few times when we first got it and made stupid mistakes. Not in three or four years, though.”

“There should be a record of entries. Even if he entered your code, or somehow added his own, the entries should have registered with the monitoring service,” Todd said. “Get me their information and I'll get the log and we can see if it was disarmed when you weren't here. Go ahead and call Duncan.”

Ward reached for the portable phone.

“I'll sweep the house for bugs,” Todd said, standing. “I carry some sweeping equipment in the truck that'll tell me if there's anything here. And I'll take pictures of the hide and what he left there. And if you'll empty some water bottles and get a funnel if you have one, I can collect the samples.”

“But wine bottles have corks,” Leslie said.

“A syringe would take care of that,” Todd told her bluntly “We'll know if there's anything in them later today. A toxicology screen doesn't take long, and I'll get it rushed.”

Ward dialed Gene.

“I was just about to call you,” Gene said, by way of answering.

“You need to come to the house right now,” Ward told him.

“What's up?” Gene asked.

Ward said, “We should talk face- to- face.”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

THIRTY-NINE

Ward accompanied Todd Hartman as he swept the house and collected three small listening devices from the kitchen, den, and dining area. Someone had been in the house. Todd placed the bugs into a foam- lined envelope.

“These are high- quality bugs—minis that transmit to a receiver. The range is limited to two or three hundred yards at the most. He can place a gatherer inside that zone, and from that device he can transmit anywhere. He's definitely been listening to your conversations.”

Todd collected the wine bottles, orange juice containers, and Scotch bottles. He lifted one of the unopened orange juice cartons and, turning it upside down, squeezed it. A tiny stream of orange liquid arced across the room. Someone had been in the house.

“You were right, Todd, he used a syringe,” Leslie said.

“Who used a syringe?” Gene asked as he walked into the room, red- faced. After Natasha told him what they'd figured out, Gene accompanied Todd
out to the hide. He studied the binoculars, the sharpening stone, and the carvings. Ward saw Gene open his phone and make a call. After five minutes in the heat, they went back inside.

“Todd has pictures of everything so we have a record,” Ward said.

“We need to give the remaining liquids to the FBI, but I agree that Todd should definitely have his samples checked. Not that I don't trust the FBI, but they haven't given us any reason to. Lander Electric wouldn't do this,” Gene said conclusively.

“The Dibbles are behind this,” Ward said. “It's the only thing that makes sense. If not Flash, then Trey is behind it. I know it in my bones.”

“I talked to Flash,” Gene said. “He said the last offer is still on the table unchanged. Doesn't seem like he's taking advantage of this.”

“That was nice of him,” Natasha said angrily. She wasn't ready to let a Dibble off the hook.

“Don't you think you could cut him some slack?” Gene said. “If he'd been involved, do you think he would keep his offer firm? Ward, as your attorney and friend, I'd advise you to consider his offer. Who knows what else might happen
that would negatively affect the company's value.”

“Gene, I'm surprised at you,” Natasha said. “Haven't you considered that it may be the best way for Flash to distance himself from the dirty tricks? Maybe he knows Trey is responsible and wants to protect him. He knows any damage to the company's reputation won't last once Ward is out of the picture.”

Ward stared at his wife as if seeing her for the first time. He had long ago accepted the fact that Natasha was a lot smarter and more perceptive than he was. The knowledge that she was ready to fight the world at his side warmed him and steeled his resolve.

“You ready to let Lander Electric off the hook? They could be behind this. They could have hired this stalker, or investigator—no offense to your profession, Todd—or whatever he is,” Gene said.

“Maybe they are responsible,” Natasha acknowledged, “but I can't see where the virus, or Ward's innocence or guilt, would affect our wrongful death case.”

Ward smiled quietly at her use of the word “our.”

Gene said, “Unless they think a jury will believe that a man who can get off looking at naked children is the sort of nut who would kill his own son so he could collect insurance, which there wasn't any, or sue them because of it.” Hearing Gene say that gave Ward a hot, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. And it pissed him off. And someone had been in the house. And that terrified Ward McCarty more than he could possibly have imagined.

FORTY

Todd went to his truck and returned holding two cell phones. “I have these for you to use. They're encrypted, so Gene and I can call you and you can call us without worrying about being monitored. The numbers are on the labels on the backs. When this is over, you can go back to using your lines. These'll work with your chargers.”

Ward and Natasha took the cell phones and looked at the numbers on the backs of the units.

Gene came into the room and said, “What other brand of shit are we going to step into?”

Ward was thinking about Alice Palmer. The girl could certainly add gasoline to the fire that appeared to be no more than coals, and if she went to the federal prosecutor, he might use her as additional proof of Ward's sexual interest in youngsters. Ward was about to mention her to Gene when Natasha did. “Todd, tell Gene about Alice Palmer,” she said. “And the missing car.”

“Who?” Gene asked.

“I'll let Todd tell you,” Ward said.

After Todd ran it all down, he played the tape of his conversation with Alice for Gene. The lawyer shook his head and said, “For pity's sake, can it get any worse? You should have told me this earlier, a lot earlier.”

“Isn't that the truth,” Natasha said. She was staring out the window.

“I figured Todd could handle it. So far he's batting a thousand.”

“It's under control,” Todd added evenly.

Natasha said, “I guess that hole out there explains why I felt like I was being watched. Sunday I thought I saw something move out
there in the shadows. Jesus, I thought it was an animal.”

“Do you have a gun in the house?” Todd asked.

“Of course not.” Natasha was incredulous. “Why would
we
own a gun?”

“Well,” Todd said, “whatever was out in that hole is the best reason I can think of.”

“Ward? With a gun!” Gene said, laughing out loud. “I doubt he knows which end the bullets come out of.”

“That much I know,” Ward said.

The gun Todd took out of his briefcase was a black steel short- barreled revolver.

“This is a five- shot, thirty- eight-caliber Smith and Wesson,” he said. “This is how it works. Pay attention.” He pushed forward the textured button on the side of the weapon and held the gun so his new students could see what he was doing as he spoke. “You hold this and push on this side of the cylinder and it swings open.” He rotated the gun so they could see that it was empty before he placed five red plastic bullets on the counter, rounded tips pointing up. With measured slowness, Todd took them one by one
and placed each into an empty chamber until all were inserted, then closed the cylinder.

“I want you to practice loading and unloading this gun until you can do it fast. The gun will not go off unless the cylinder is closed and the trigger is pulled. The hammer can be cocked manually or just squeeze the trigger and it fires double action.”

Todd opened the gun, ejected the dummy bullets into his hand, laid them on the counter, and closed the cylinder.

“You can safely practice loading and dry- firing with the dummies.” He reloaded the gun rapidly. “It isn't good for a hammer to fall on an empty chamber.”

“Why is that?” Ward asked.

“In the old days revolver firing pins could break if they didn't strike a primer. The new pins on revolvers are stronger, but every machine has an infinite number of movements before it fails,” Todd said. “No sense tempting the laws of metallurgy.” He pointed the gun at the refrigerator and pulled the trigger once, then again.

He handed it to Ward butt first.

Ward looked down the barrel.

“It doesn't have much in the way of sights,” Todd said.

“How do you line them up then?” Ward asked.

“Don't need to, close in. This has a short barrel, so for all intents and purposes the sights are useless. Just point it like you'd point your finger at something you're looking at and your brain will aim it for you. Natasha, load it and point at the stove.”