No Way Home Page 6

  “Or else what?”

  “That’s all Hope said. Or else. I told you it wasn’t anything specific. But it was enough to shake her up, and from what I know of Hope Springfield, she doesn’t shake easily.”

  Yet she hadn’t mentioned the threats when Pete spoke to her about her husband’s “accident.” “Did you know Dale was supposed to attend a meeting yesterday?”

  “I knew there was to be a meeting. I didn’t know who all was attending. But I’d have been surprised if Dale hadn’t planned on it.”

  “Joe Mendez was there.”

  Sylvia took another swig of water and nodded. “I at least try to put on the appearance of being neutral. Joe has no such qualms about letting his opinion be public knowledge.”

  “What about Howard Rankin?” The third supervisor.

  Sylvia gave a disgusted snort. “Howard’s all for drilling. Says the influx in capital will more than make up for the inconveniences.” She made air quotes around the last word.

  “The promise of easy money is a powerful negotiating tool.”

  She glared at Pete. “Not you too.”

  He held up both hands. “Just stating a fact. I truly am neutral.”

  Zoe reappeared in the doorway, leaning against the jamb as if her knees were about to buckle. The flush had vanished from her cheeks.

  Pete pushed off his desk and skirted Sylvia’s chair to reach for Zoe. “What happened?”

  Her moist gaze met his, shifted to Sylvia and came back to him. “That was Rose. She just got a phone call from a sheriff’s deputy out in New Mexico. They found Logan’s girlfriend’s body.”

  Sylvia staggered up from her chair. “Oh, dear lord.”

  Pete caught her by an arm, fearing she was about to fall.

  “What about Logan?” she asked.

  Zoe moved stiffly toward them, taking Sylvia’s free hand. “He’s missing.” Zoe looked over Sylvia’s head at Pete, and he read the rest in her wide blue eyes.

  They suspected Logan was dead too.

  Six

  Rose’s kitchen was silent except for the soft tick tick tick of the battery-operated clock’s second hand. Zoe had offered to make coffee, but Sylvia said she needed a shot of bourbon, not caffeine. Since Rose didn’t keep liquor on hand, they’d settled on ginger ale. Sylvia sat at the table, turning the glass around and around, but not drinking.

  Zoe could see Allison sitting in the living room, hugging her knees to her chest. The scene was eerily reminiscent of last winter’s tragedy in the Bassi household.

  Except this time, Rose was on the phone with the airlines. On hold. Searching for flights online had yielded nothing. No seats available. From the look on Rose’s face, Zoe believed she might just mortgage her house and her soul and charter a private jet to New Mexico.

  “Yes,” Rose said, breaking the silence. “I need four seats.”

  Four? Rose, Sylvia, Allison…and Zoe? What good would she be in New Mexico? Not to mention she had Dale’s case to work.

  “No,” Rose said after a pause. “Four.” She let out an exasperated growl and looked up at Sylvia. “I’m on hold again. They’ve managed to find us two seats, but are trying to tell me four is impossible.”

  Sylvia pushed her water glass away. “You and Zoe take them. I’ll get a flight for me and Allison as soon as I can.”

  “I think Rose and Allison should go,” Zoe said.

  Rose gave her an accusatory look. “I need you.”

  “But I’ve never been to New Mexico. Allison would be more help.”

  Sylvia reached across the table and took Zoe’s hand. “You’ve worked with Pete and the cops here. You’d know what to ask. Who to talk to.”

  In New Mexico? “Not really.”

  Sylvia gave her hand a hard squeeze. “Look. I’d really prefer Pete to go, but he can’t. We all know that. If you go, you can keep in touch with him by phone. By computer. You can be his eyes and ears. Allison can’t do that.”

  Zoe looked at the girl curled up in the living room. She’d lost so much already and only recently found herself again. Facing the loss of her older brother might push her back over the dark edge.

  “I need you, Zoe,” Rose said, her voice plaintive. She stiffened, her attention back on the phone. “Yes, I’m still here. Only two.” She gave a loud sigh. “Okay. The name on the first one is Rose Bassi.” She gave her address, fixing Zoe with a pleading stare as she did. “And the second one…”

  The weight of the dilemma pressed down on Zoe’s heart. She closed her eyes for a moment then opened them, meeting Rose’s. And nodded.

  Rose said into the phone, “The second passenger is Zoe Chambers.”

  Pete found little of interest in Dale’s cell phone. All of the names Tiffany had given Pete at the Roadhouse were saved as contacts, but Dale hadn’t made the effort to organize the rest of his contacts into identifiable lists. Pete assigned nightshift Officer Kevin Piacenza the task of running down every name stored on the phone.

  Dale apparently had made the effort to delete his call logs, however, leaving Pete unable to determine who might have made threats. He’d have to wait for the phone company’s help on that one.

  Baronick hadn’t gotten back to him about the Shannon Vincenti case as promised. When Pete phoned for an update, the detective gave him a snarky “The day’s not over yet,” and hung up.

  A homicide and a drug overdose in his township. No clear suspects. Plus Sylvia’s grandson in some sort of trouble in New Mexico. It hadn’t been a stellar Monday. As Pete stood just inside the Veteran’s of Foreign Wars social hall listening to the rumble of a capacity crowd waiting for the meeting to start, he sensed the remainder of the day wasn’t about to improve either.

  Zoe slipped in without noticing him. He watched as she signed the attendance sheet and accepted one of the folders being handed out to everyone in attendance. Her back to him, she scanned the room. Rather than attract attention by calling out, he strode up behind her and touched her shoulder.

  She spun and managed a tired smile. “Hey. I was wondering if you’d be here.”

  He waved her over to his original spot, out of the way of new arrivals. “Any word on Logan?”

  “Nothing.” She leaned against the wall as if her legs could no longer hold her. “Looks like I’m heading west in the morning.”

  “What?” he asked, stunned.

  “You know Rose. She can’t sit still and wait. Can’t say I blame her this time.”

  “What does she hope to accomplish by going out there?”

  Zoe raised one sensuous eyebrow at him. “You don’t have kids.”

  True. “Why are you going?”

  “Rose asked me to. She thinks I might know the right questions to ask.”

  “That’s what New Mexico’s law enforcement is for.”

  “I know. But she’s my best friend. She needs my help. So I’m going.”

  A million jumbled thoughts collided in Pete’s mind. Zoe had managed to get into big enough jams when she was in the same county as he. The idea of her being well over a thousand miles out of his reach terrified him. And New Mexico? He didn’t have any buddies from the force out there to keep an eye on her.

  “It’s your fault, you know,” Zoe said.

  “Why?”

  “You’re the one Rose would rather have helping her out, but she seems to think I’m a suitable substitute. Since I have you on speed dial and all.”

  Speed dial wasn’t going to help either Rose or Zoe if they ran into real trouble.

  “So can I call you if I need help out there?”

  He looked down at her upturned face and realized she was probably worrying about the same things. “You have to ask? Of course you can.”

  “Good. And I need a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “The Dale Springfi
eld case.”

  “What about it?”

  She lowered her gaze. “It sounds morbid, but I was kinda looking forward to working it. Franklin was letting me take the lead on the coroner’s investigation, even with it being a high-profile one. And in spite of the fact that I knew and liked Dale.” She shrugged. “Now I’m not gonna be here. Do you think you could keep me in the loop while I’m away?”

  Pete wanted to put an arm around her, but considered the number of witnesses in the room and settled for gently nudging her with an elbow. “You bet.”

  “While we’re on the subject, have you come up with any suspects?”

  Before he could answer, a booming voice snapped his attention away. “Fancy meeting you two here.”

  “Yancy,” Pete said, reaching toward him. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”

  He shook Pete’s hand. “Not sure it’s a good thing, having the local law looking for me.” He nodded at Zoe. “How’s my angel of mercy?”

  She stepped away from the wall and gave the man a hug. “I’m good. Looks like retirement agrees with you.”

  Yancy released her and patted his left arm. “Being alive agrees with me. Got you to thank for that.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  Pete clamped a hand on Yancy’s shoulder. “Mind if we talk for a minute before the meeting gets under way?”

  The retired fire chief scowled at him. “I guess not. What’s this about?”

  Pete aimed a thumb at the doors. “Too noisy in here.” He leaned down to speak into Zoe’s ear. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

  Outside, stars filled the clear November night sky, and the warmth of an Indian summer day had quickly turned frosty without a blanket of cloud cover. Pete zipped his jacket.

  “What do you want to talk about?” Yancy asked.

  “Dale Springfield.”

  Yancy turned solemn. “Oh. Yeah. I heard on the news his death’s been ruled a homicide. Big loss to the whole county, especially those of us fighting the gas-drilling movement. Don’t know what I can tell you though.”

  “You had a meeting yesterday.”

  “We did. At the Roadhouse. But I imagine you already know that.”

  “How well did you know Springfield?”

  “Personally? Not well. Met at the first one of our meetings. He was smart. Articulate. Charismatic. Natural born leader, you know?”

  “Was there anyone in the group who didn’t get along with him?”

  Yancy pondered the question. “Not really. At least not that I was aware. Like I said, I didn’t know him outside the meetings.”

  “How about his wife?”

  “Hope? Beautiful woman. Quiet though. I think she liked being the power behind the throne.”

  “And they got along?”

  Yancy lifted his chin to glare down his nose at Pete. “How many times I gotta tell you? I didn’t know them outside of the meetings. They didn’t air their dirty laundry in front of us. Beyond that, I wouldn’t have a clue. I know you’re investigating the man’s murder, but you’re looking in the wrong direction.”

  “Oh?” Pete held Yancy’s hard gaze. “Where should I be looking?”

  “At the other side.” He gestured toward the building. “Stick around and watch the fireworks. Those guys pushing the gas companies’ agendas weren’t at all happy with County Commissioner Springfield. Or the rest of us for that matter. But Dale was the brains. He compiled facts and reports and data. All the shit they don’t want these folks to know about. If anyone wanted to shut him up permanently, it was one of them.”

  “But which one?”

  “That’s your job, Pete. Not mine.”

  “Have you heard of any threats? Anyone in particular making noise against Springfield? Or any of you?”

  “Nope. Just general sniping back and forth. Hard feelings all around. We’re talking big money. Any time there’s millions—hell, billions of dollars at stake, there’s gonna be a lot of rancor.”

  Pete looked out at the parking lot. Not an empty spot to be seen. “I know a lot of people who would kill for less.” But he was only after one of them.

  While waiting for Pete’s return, Zoe thumbed through the contents of the folder she’d been given. Glitzy full-color flyers and pamphlets proclaimed the virtues of clean natural gas and independence from foreign fuel. Additional sheets listed frequently asked questions and debunked claims of water and air contamination.

  Closing the folder, she surveyed the crowd. Lots of familiar and unfamiliar faces. Leroy Moore owned over two hundred acres next to the Kroll farm and had been pushing hard to bring drilling—and the subsequent potential for millions in royalty payments—to the area. Next to him sat Warren Froats, the cantankerous former police chief, who had been equally vocal against it.

  She spotted Mr. and Mrs. Kroll seated several rows back. It was good to see her former landlords out, since both had only recently recovered from hospital stays. They’d never been especially active in local affairs, but like Leroy, stood to gain big time if the gas company leased their land.

  Hope Springfield sat in the second row, dead center. As always, her hair and makeup were flawless. Zoe couldn’t see what the widow was wearing, but knew the attire would be top-end and form fitting.

  In her hip pocket, Zoe’s phone vibrated. She tugged it out and checked the screen. A text from Noah. “Will make sure the barn work is covered.” Good. One less thing to worry about.

  Before putting the phone away, she noticed the time. A few minutes past seven. Sylvia and the two other supervisors had taken their seats at a long table in front of the standing-room-only crowd. The last time a township meeting had drawn this kind of attendance was the night Sylvia had been accused of theft and fired as police secretary. Checking the angry expressions in the audience, Zoe wondered if, like that night, a killer lurked in the room.

  The door swung open, and Pete and Yancy came back in. She tucked her folder under one arm as Pete moved to her side. Yancy signed the attendance sheet, accepted an identical folder, and looked for an empty seat.

  Howard Rankin picked up the gavel and banged it on the table. “Let’s bring this meeting to order.”

  The rumble of conversation in the audience settled to near silence.

  “We’ve been asked to push the reading of the minutes and the treasurer’s report back a bit,” Howard said. “Mr. Cody Bodine of Federated Petroleum Resources is here to speak and to answer questions regarding their request for zoning variances to allow drilling in Vance Township. Since he has to leave by eight thirty, and I suspect this issue will take every bit of his allotted time, I want to let him lead off tonight’s agenda.”

  In the rear of the audience, a man wearing a fluorescent green sweatshirt with a logo of a drilling rig inside a circle with a line through it stood. “It won’t take that long.” His booming voice carried to the rafters. “I say we vote no and be done with it.”

  The responding rumble of angry shouts, both for and against the suggestion, forced Howard to rap the gavel again. “That’s not going to happen without hearing from both sides. Let’s try to be civil.” He fixed a laser-sharp glare at the man in the sweatshirt. “So sit down and shut up.”

  Zoe could see the protester’s mouth move, but couldn’t make out his muttered comment as he took his seat.

  Howard nodded to a man in the front row. “Mr. Bodine, you have the floor.”

  A tall man stood and moved toward the supervisors before turning to face the crowd. He wore khakis and a pale blue polo shirt under a sports jacket that couldn’t conceal his well-toned physique. “Thank you all for coming out this evening,” he said with a definite Texan or Oklahoman drawl. “I’m aware you all have some legitimate concerns, and I’m here to address them and hopefully put your minds at ease.”

  The sweatshirted man leapt to his feet aga
in. “You can put our minds at ease by getting out of our county. We don’t want you here.”

  Someone in the crowd shouted, “Let Bodine talk. I wanna hear what he has to say.”

  More comments from both sides forced another bang of the gavel.

  Bodine raised both hands. “Look, folks. I understand this is a hot topic, but there’s a lot of misinformation out there, and I’d like to help clear up some things.”

  As the gas company spokesman launched into his presentation with well-practiced zeal, Zoe shifted toward Pete, bumping his arm with her shoulder. “About those suspects?”

  He tipped his head to speak into her ear. “That’s part of the reason I’m here.”

  “Who are you looking at?”

  “I don’t know yet. Springfield was such a passionate opponent to gas drilling, and it’s such a polarizing issue, I have to believe his activism may be what got him killed.”

  Most of the residents in attendance looked angry enough at the moment to commit murder. “Hope’s here,” Zoe said. “Dale’s wife.”

  “I know. I spoke with her yesterday. She’s another one on the anti-drilling side.”

  “Still, I would’ve thought she’d be planning her husband’s funeral.”

  “Maybe showing up for this meeting is her way of honoring his memory.”

  Zoe shot a puzzled look at Pete. “I figured she’d top your suspect list. Spouse of the deceased and all.”

  Pete’s mouth slanted into his lopsided smile. “Didn’t say she wasn’t.” He glanced around and settled his gaze on a nearby set of double doors. He caught Zoe’s arm. “Come on.”

  She let him lead her into the darkened kitchen.

  He kept one of the doors propped open to watch the meeting. “Since you brought up the subject of Mrs. Springfield, what can you tell me about her?”