Black Oil, Red Blood

Chapter 29



I tried repeatedly to start up a conversation with Nash on the way back to the root cellar, but Nash refused to bite. He met my attempts at friendly chatter with stonewall silence.

“Okay, can we talk about this?” I finally asked.

“What’s to talk about?”

“What’s not to talk about? Listen, about Dorian. . .”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nash said. “Like I said, I can see that Dorian is still fresh for you. I shouldn’t have. . . done what I did.”

“Arrrgh!” I said. “Dorian is not fresh. Dorian is two years ago.”

“You’re still angry, which means it’s fresh.”

“You know what makes me angry? Do you? You! You make me angry! Who are you to tell me how I feel? You have no idea what’s going on inside my head! How dare you think you know everything there is to know about me! How dare you say the things you just said and do the things you just did and back off immediately! You have no right to jerk me around like that!”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Maybe if you had made it clear that you were still emotionally involved with your ex—“

“I’m not! Why can’t you understand that?”

“He kissed you. He seemed to think he had the right to do it. Why would he act that way without a reason?”

“He had a reason,” I said. “He thought he could cover the fact that he was up to no good by pretending he still cared about me. That’s all you saw.”

“That’s not what it looked like.”

“I don’t care what it looked like! I’m telling you what it was!”

“Well, what about me?” Nash asked. “Maybe I’m not ready. Did you ever think of that?”

“You’re the one who kissed me. I didn’t kiss you. So don’t go making this all my fault when you’re the one who started it.”

Nash said nothing.

I felt bad for snapping at him, but seriously. This was not my fault. If he hadn’t been ready, he should never have rushed it. I wouldn’t have pushed him, as much as I might have wanted to.

I was starting to think that maybe he had trust issues, thanks to his past. Like, maybe having been driven from his home town by corruption only to find himself in the midst of even more corruption, he had a hard time believing that anyone’s motives could be pure and good—even mine. Maybe he felt that if he let his guard down for one second, he’d be burned again. That seemed possible.

“You can trust me,” I said.

Nash still said nothing.

“For real, it’s okay,” I said.

I looked over at him. He didn’t turn his head. He refused to respond.

“You have to talk to me some time, you know. It’s going to be a rotten day in the root cellar otherwise.”

I saw a muscle in his jaw clench, but other than that, I got no response.

Despite further attempts to get him to talk, he gave me the silent treatment all the way back to Gracie’s.

When we crawled down the stairway, I tried to bury my feelings of frustration and appear cheerful. I called out, “Lucy! I’m home!”

Miles’ voice came back to me with a Cuban accent. “You’ve got some ’splainin to do!”

Lucy launched herself at me, tail wagging, tongue hanging out. She bucked up and down, happy to see me. I scooped her up and gave her a kiss.

“How could you go off and leave me like that?” Miles said.

“You wanted to come?” I asked. “I thought you wanted to get your beauty rest.”

“Of course I didn’t want to go,” Miles said. “But you might have at least said goodbye. These days, who knows if you’re ever coming back?”

“Nice,” I said. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“Did you find the tapes?” Cameron wanted to know.

“No,” I said. “We looked everywhere and couldn’t find a thing.”

Miles was looking Nash and his sour expression up and down. “Geez, whatsamatter with you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Nash said.

“We ran into Dorian at Schaeffer’s house, and now Nash is all pissed off and giving me the silent treatment.” I put Lucy down and she ran back over to Miles.

“Ooooooohh,” said Miles knowingly.

Nash rolled his eyes.

I filled them both in on the situation at Schaeffer’s and turned to Cameron. “Did you have any luck back here?”

“Actually, I think I found something,” Cameron said.

“What have you got?” Nash asked.

“I found an email from Gerald Fitz to Mayor Fillion expressing concerns about the loyalty of his VP.”

“Lewis?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Cameron said, excitedly. “Think about it. If the insider were Frederick Lewis, he would have more access to Fitz than anyone else at the company. It would have been easy for him to make recordings of private conversations. It fits.”

“So what do we do about it?” I asked.

“We talk to him,” Nash said.

“Wow,” I said. “Are you sure you’re capable of doing that? I mean, it involves actual speech and all.” I knew I shouldn’t have been so acerbic, but I was really tired and the filters on my mouth weren’t operating at maximum capacity.

Nash ignored me. “I say we all get some sleep and see if we can catch him at his house before he leaves for work in the morning.”

Mister big man. Laying down the plan. Ordinarily, I might not have been irritated, but now, I was. “Who says you get to make all the rules?” I asked. “Who says me and Miles and Cameron don’t get a say?”

“Rawrrr,” Miles said, making a cat noise and holding up claws. “Somebody needs a nap.”

Cameron’s eyebrows raised at this exchange, but he didn’t say anything.

“Okay, Chloe,” Nash said patronizingly. “What would you like to do?”

I really didn’t have a better plan. “I say we go catch him at his house before he leaves for work in the morning and see if he’ll talk to us.”

Nash sighed. “Fine,” he said. “That’s just fine with me.”

With that, he stalked over to a cot and went to sleep.





***





In the morning, Miles refused to get up. He lifted one eyelid, muttered something about the dangers of sleep deficits, and said “goodbye.” That was it. So I figured he wasn’t going.

Cameron was still monitoring data, looking for anything else that might be helpful. Nobody thought that one person should go to Lewis’s house alone, so that left me and Nash, together alone again.

We pulled up to our destination at 6:30 A.M.

Frederick Lewis lived in one of the biggest houses in Kettle—an old Victorian-style mansion with white lace trim on country blue siding and a perfectly manicured lawn. It was set in the middle of a massive estate, surrounded by acres and acres of land. No neighbors. What a luxury that would be! A covered patio surrounded the entire house, and the patio itself was surrounded by magnificent rose bushes that were all in bloom.

I inhaled deeply. I loved the scent of roses. They were by far my favorite flower. So romantic. The very thought of romance brought back all the memories from the night before, and I glared at Nash.

“What?” he asked.

I just turned away. Two could play the silent treatment game.

I had borrowed some clothes from Gracie’s closet this morning. They were way too big and much frumpier than I would have preferred, but I had been wearing the black suit pants and purple cami for two days, and they were starting to reek.

Standing in front of the door, Nash spun me around and felt for the gun tucked into my pants at the small of my back.

“Safety’s off,” he said, shortly. “Heads up.”

I nodded.

He checked his own weapon and rang the doorbell.

We waited, but no one answered.

We knocked, and waited some more, then knocked louder and waited again.

Finally, Lewis answered the door. He was unshaven and in his bathrobe. His eyes widened when he saw me.

“Chloe! Wow! Come in.” I took this as a good sign and shot Nash a glance to communicate my feelings about it.

We walked in and let Lewis lead us to a plush, Victorian-styled living room with ornate chairs, velvet drapes, and everything—obviously styled with a woman’s touch. And yet, I didn’t hear anyone else in the house.

“Who is your friend?” Lewis asked.

Nash extended his arm for a handshake. “Detective Jensen Nash.”

“Oh yes,” Lewis said. “I know you by reputation, of course. I’m afraid my wife is out of town visiting her mother, otherwise there would be coffee ready.”

“We’re fine,” I said.

“Good, good,” Lewis said. “Glad to hear it. That you’re okay, in general, I mean.”

Nash frowned. Lewis seemed a little nervous, but that didn’t strike me as unnatural under the circumstances. It was very early in the morning, and we had surprised him, after all.

“So what brings you here this morning?” Lewis asked.

Nash started to say something, but I put my hand on his knee, letting him know I’d handle it.

“I think you know,” I said.

“Yes, well, if it’s about the case, Dorian has full authority to—“

“It’s not about the case,” I said. “Well, kind of, it is, I guess.”

“Schaeffer’s info. . .” Lewis said uncertainly.

“Yes. We know about his inside guy and the tapes. It’s okay. We’re on your side and here to help.”

“Chloe—“ Nash said.

Lewis cut him off. “Right. The tapes. I have the tapes.”

I let out a big sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“Do you know what’s on them?” Lewis asked.

“Chloe,” Nash started again, but I waved him off.

“No,” I said. “Your guys killed Schaeffer before he could even tell me about them.”

“My guys?”

“Well, not your guys, obviously, but PetroPlex. The bad guys. Once we get the tapes to Cameron, he’ll be able to get them converted to digital and distributed to the press, and then we can all get the heck out of Dodge.”

“Cameron Gilbert?” Lewis asked. “You’re working with him?”

I nodded.

Lewis let out a low whistle. “That guy is a computer genius,” he said.

“I know.”

“Did he mean to unleash the virus? Do you know how many problems that caused?”

“No, that was an accident,” I said, “and it wasn’t Cameron’s fault. I’m sorry if it put you in any hot water.”

Nash jumped in again. “Chloe, we need to talk. Outside. Now.”

I continued to ignore him. Heh. This silent treatment thing was totally working for me. We’d just see how much he liked it.

Lewis swallowed. “No hot water,” he said hurriedly. “Did anyone see you come here?”

“No,” I said. “It’s so early. Nobody was out.”

Lewis nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Why don’t I go upstairs and get the tapes for you so you can get out of here before anyone notices. I’ll just be right back.”

Lewis disappeared up an ornate staircase.

“Are you out of your mind?” Nash whispered. “Have you got any idea how much information you just gave away?”

I debated about whether or not to answer him. In the end, I decided that right now, defending myself was more important than continuing to play some childish game. “You have to give information to get it,” I whispered back. “And besides that, he’s got the tapes. It all worked out. We got what we wanted.”

At that moment, a little red laser dot appeared right in the middle of Nash’s forehead.

I groaned.

“What?” Nash asked. “Have I got something on my face?”

Without moving my head, I shifted my eyes towards the staircase. Nash followed suit.

“Chloe Taylor,” Nash said. “You talk way too much. From now on, I’ll do all the talking.”

“Well, wouldn’t that be a refreshing change,” I said.

“Stand up slowly,” Lewis said from the staircase.

We complied. “Slowly take out your weapons and put them on the ground in front of you.”

“We’re unarmed,” Nash said.

“Give me a break,” Lewis said. “This is Texas. Guns out, or I shoot first and ask questions later.”

Nash slowly pulled his gun out of his jacket and put it on the carpet in front of him.

“Chloe, you’re next,” Lewis said. “Move slowly, or I shoot your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, inching my right arm around to the small of my back. I pulled out my gun and put it on the ground in front of me, then returned to the standard hands-up, don’t shoot position.

“Kick the guns behind you.”

We did.

“Now Chloe,” Lewis said. “I want you to take the detective’s handcuffs and cuff him to the stair railing over here. Then I want you to take his second set and handcuff yourself also.”

I sighed. “He doesn’t have any handcuffs,” I said.

The laser dot moved an inch to the left of Nash’s face, and Lewis fired.

“Do it!” he said. “Or you’re both dead!”

“No handcuffs, I swear!” I said, eyes shut. “We kind of left them on Dorian Saks last night. He’s stuck at Schaeffer’s house right now.”

Lewis fired his gun again. This time, Nash flinched.

“What have you got to gain by shooting us?” Nash said. “Thanks to Chloe and her big mouth here, it should be pretty obvious by now that we’ve got nothing on you or your company. You shoot us, then you have to deal with two bodies, a lot of blood, stains on the carpet. Your wife’ll be mad, and the police will be tromping all through your house, and it’ll just be a big hassle. Plus, what if they try you for murder? You let us go now, and you don’t have to worry about any of that.”

“I can’t take that risk,” Lewis said. “If Schaeffer had a mole, and the mole finds you, things could get ugly.”

“That’s a big if,” I said. “We have no idea who the mole might be, if he even really exists at all. All we have is Schaeffer’s word on that.”

“You could be lying.”

“Of course we’re not lying,” Nash said. “If we had any idea who the mole actually was, we certainly wouldn’t be here. You know we thought you were the mole. Look, it ought to be pretty obvious to you by now that we are no threat.”

Lewis didn’t look so sure. Holding his gun steady in one hand, he pulled an iPhone out of the pocket of his robe and speed dialed someone. The call connected.

“Hey, I know it’s early,” he said into the phone, “but you’ll never guess who turned up on my doorstep this morning.” A pause. “Chloe Taylor and Cop Nash. Yeah, they think I’m some kind of company mole and that I have some tapes that Schaeffer was going to use as evidence against us. Large scale press release. They’re working with Gilbert.”

Another pause. “I know,” he said. “It’s Gilbert that’s the most dangerous.” Another pause. “Okay, when I find him, I’ll let you know.”

Lewis hung up.

I grasped at straws. “They don’t trust you, you know,” I said. “Cameron intercepted an email from Fitz that questioned your loyalty.”

“Chloe,” Nash said. “Shut up.”

“That is why I am going to make you take me to Cameron Gilbert so I can get rid of him.”

“We’re not taking you to Gilbert,” Nash said.

“You are,” Lewis said, and just like that, he shot Nash in the foot.

Nash crumpled to the ground.

“Stop! Stop!” I fell to the ground beside Nash, pulling off his shoe and trying to staunch the flow of blood.

Crap! This was all my fault! I was tired. Despite the few hours of sleep I’d had last night, I felt like I hadn’t slept in days. I just hadn’t been thinking straight. I thought I had seen an end in sight and rushed in way too fast. I should have been more careful.

It looked like Lewis had hit the very end of Nash’s big toe—a flesh wound. That was better than if he’d shattered some bones, but even under the circumstances, I knew Nash had to be in tremendous pain.

“Help him up,” Lewis said. “Get him to the car, or his kneecap is next. After that, it’s your foot. Then your knee. And so on.”

Nash was apparently unwilling to risk any more gunshots. “Car,” he said, throwing his arm around my shoulder. “Now.”

“But Nash—“

“Trust me,” he said.

Well, that was a tall order coming from someone who clearly had trust issues that he was taking out on little ol’ me. But what choice did I have? I grabbed his arm and helped him up.

Together, we did a kind of three-legged limp towards the front door and out to the car. Lewis grabbed a roll of gardening twine from the front porch, and once we were at the car, he ordered me to tie Nash’s hands behind his back. I did so, trying to keep the knots loose.

Lewis checked the knots and tightened them up, all the while keeping his gun’s laser sight trained on me.

Once he was satisfied with the knots, he waved the gun towards the driver’s seat. “Drive,” he told me.

I got behind the wheel, and Lewis got in the seat behind me, holding the gun to my head.

“Where do I go?” I whispered to Nash.

“I can hear you, you know,” Lewis said.

“Take him to Cameron,” Nash said.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes, really,” Nash said.

Lewis pressed the gun into my head even harder.

I turned the key in the ignition and put the car in gear, heading towards town, not towards Gracie’s root cellar. Surely Nash didn’t really mean take him to Cameron. I wondered how long I could keep up the deception before Lewis got suspicious. Did he have a whole lot of experience with this whole hostage driving thing? Surely not, I hoped.

I had only gone a couple of miles when I noticed that someone was following us. It was a black car with heavily tinted windows. Impossible to see who was inside.

“Where are we going?” Lewis demanded.

“To Cameron,” I said. “Like you want.”

“Where is that?”

I had a feeling there was going to be one heck of a gun bruise on my scalp if I lived to tell about it.

“Ease off the barrel, will you? You’re giving me a headache. “

Lewis eased off the pressure, but only a little. “Tell me where we’re going, or Nash gets it in the knee. Right here in the car.”

I swallowed hard. “My office,” I said. “Cameron’s holed up in my office. We’re almost there.”

I had no idea what we were going to do when we got to my office, but I just didn’t feel right about actually taking Lewis to the root cellar. I couldn’t give Cameron up that easily. Plus, there were also Miles and Lucy to think about.

I checked the rearview mirror uneasily. The dark car was still following us. Lewis seemed to be oblivious.

“If you’re lying to me,” Lewis said, “you’ll regret it.”

“Not as much as you’re about to regret waking up this morning,” Nash said. He spun around in his seat and shot Lewis in the forehead.

I screamed and let go of the wheel, gripping my chest to make sure my heart hadn’t popped right out. “Again? Again with the bullets in the head? Really?”

Nash reached out and steadied the wheel.

“I saw you leave your gun on Lewis’s floor,” I said.

“What, you think I only carry one gun? Good thing Lewis is obviously not a professional crook. A violent one, anyway,” Nash amended. “He didn’t even check for the knife in my back pocket, or my backup firearm.”

“A knife, too?”

“How do you think I got my hands free? Nicked my finger though. Darn hard to maneuver a switchblade when you can’t see what you’re doing.”

I shook my head. “Good Lord. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“You didn’t really expect me to telegraph what I was about to do, did you?”

“I guess not,” I said.

“You guess not?

“That’s what I said.”

Nash sighed.

“And now there’s another body on our hands,” I said. “These things are kind of starting to pile up.” I was really going to have to start winning some cases so I could afford a therapist.

“Better them than you and me,” Nash said.

He did have a fair point. Since the black car was still trailing along behind us, I thought it might be a good idea to bring it up.

“Somebody’s following us,” I said.

“I know. Keep driving.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere but back to Gracie’s.”

I drove downtown and past my office. Then I took a right turn and drove several blocks towards the court house. I swung around and drove past Caliente, the grocery store, and then back by the office again. The black car stayed on my tail. The car was definitely following us. This was too circuitous a route to be a coincidence.

I wished Kettle had some dark alleyways full of garbage cans and punks—the kind you can pull into during a high speed chase, swerve back and forth a couple times, and lose the tail. But Kettle was open and spacious and made for easy driving. I decided I needed to get out of town and into the countryside.

I hung a left at my office and took Opossum Road to the outskirts of town.

The black car stayed right behind me, following noiselessly along like an eerie shadow.

Nash flipped open the passenger’s side vanity mirror and adjusted it so he could keep a close eye on the car.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I think I wish I were driving,” Nash said. “You drive like a girl.”

I glanced sharply over at him, trying to figure out whether he’d said that with a hint of a grin, or if he was just being a jerk. I thought I maybe detected a hint of a grin, but I put the pedal to the metal anyway.

“I’ll show you who drives like a girl,” I said.

My back tires spun on the pavement, and to the serenade of screeching rubber, we were off.

A matching tire screech sounded behind me, and the black car stayed hot on our heels.

I fishtailed right onto Farm Road 1538, kicking up a cloud of dust behind me.

The black car followed suit, swerving right and then left, but still managing to keep up.

Nash flipped on the radio and turned it way up loud.

“What are you doing?” The noise of electric guitars and a heavy rhythm threatened to drown out my voice.

“Car chase music!” Nash yelled.

“Are you serious?”

“A little extra motivation!”

“I don’t need extra motivation! Running for my life with a dead guy in the back seat is motivation enough!”

“Then what are you still doing out on the open road? You have to get off these long stretches, or we’ll never lose this guy!”

I veered left onto a smaller two-lane road that led deeper into farmland area. At a hundred-and-ten miles an hour, I felt a little out of control of the car. If my tail was bothered by the speed, it didn’t show. The car kept on keeping up.

“Fence post!” Nash hollered, pointing at a thick metal pipe lying across the road.

I couldn’t swerve fast enough to miss it. It popped up under my car and hit the innards with a sickening thud, and then flew out behind me.

I watched my rearview mirror anxiously, hoping it would fly up and catch the pursuer in the windshield. It smacked into his grill and spun sideways, back to the side of the road.

I’d been watching the rear view mirror so anxiously I had forgotten to look where I was going.

“Cow!” Nash pointed at it, jabbing his finger toward it repeatedly. “Cow!”

I swung right off the road and narrowly avoided a deadly collision. I managed to steer through a hole in the fence into some open pasture. The car bumped and bounced across the dried up grass, kicking up a cloud of dust behind us. This definitely didn’t feel better than the open road.

I checked the rear view mirror again.

The black car veered left around the cow and missed it on the other side. Then it hurtled through the hole in the fence right after us. Not good.

“You look forward, I’ll look backward!” Nash yelled.

I raced farther into the pasture, keeping an eye out for more holes in the fence, looking for a way to get out. The field was huge, but surrounded by barbed wire. I was penned in.

The car bumped along the uneven ground as we sped along, half airborne. Lewis’s body bounced around on the seat behind us like a lottery ball in the picker machine.

A herd of cattle loomed ahead of me. I honked my horn and they fanned out, creating a big wall of cow—the very opposite of what I had hoped would happen. I had hoped they would all run away and clear a space for me. I braced myself for impact.

Nash reached over and yanked the steering wheel right. We went into a spin.

“What are you doing? Let me drive, already!”

“I would, if you weren’t trying to kill us! A cow through the windshield is not a good idea.”

I fought frantically to get control of the spinning car. After two full turns, I straightened it out and swerved right.

The black car hit the brakes and made a cleaner turn. It edged in to try to cut us off.

I spun the wheel again and changed directions. The new route took me right into the wall of a barn.

Wooden siding crashed around us, and I narrowly missed a bale of hay.

A shovel handle speared my windshield and planted itself an inch to the right of my face in the padded headrest.

I shut my eyes tight as we went through the other side of the barn.

“Open your eyes!” Nash said.

I did, and discovered that we’d acquired a new hood ornament. A severed pair of longhorns, which had most likely been used as a barn door ornament, stuck upside down, horns first, into my hood.

The black car kept pace.

I squinted past the longhorns on my hood, scanning for a hole in the fence, and found one.

I floored it and headed straight towards the hole.

“You’re going too fast!” Nash hollered over a thrumming electric guitar baseline. “You’re going to miss the road!”

Too late, I hit the brakes. I sailed through the hole in the fence, across the road, and into a stretch of barbed wire.

We both ducked as the wire dislodged the longhorns and slingshotted them into the windshield. Miraculously, they glanced off the shovel tip before bouncing into the windshield and cracking the glass even more.

I felt like I was driving blind. “I can’t see!”

Nash reached over and grabbed the handle of the shovel, giving it a good yank. Once again, I shut my eyes—this time, against the waterfall of glass coming down on me.

I heard Nash bash out the rest of the windshield and toss the shovel behind us. It landed with a thump.

Since the rearview mirror was now gone, I twisted my head around for a look at what was going on behind me. The black car swerved around the shovel and kept pace.

“I told you, you look forward, I’ll look back!” Nash said.

Returning my attention to the pasture, I spotted a cattle crossing, which provided a break in the barbed wire fence, and sped towards it. “Can’t you shoot this guy or something?”

“I only have five bullets,” Nash said, “and it’s a handgun!”

“So?”

“So, accuracy is already low at this range, and you’re bouncing the car so much I’d never hit him!”

“Let me get back on the pavement!”

I slowed up a bit as I reached the cattle crossing and fishtailed back onto actual pavement. It was a one-lane road with no paint and no curbs. The edges of the pavement just crumbled out into the dirt. Obviously not a public street.

Nash twisted in his seat and pointed the gun backwards. He shot once.

Our back window shattered, but he didn’t appear to have hit the black car.

The black car slowed pace a little and hung farther back.

“Hit his tires!” I said.

“What do you think I’m aiming for? Slow down a little! He’s falling back.”

I slowed, but the black car did too, keeping pace, but also keeping its distance.

The Texas countryside was nothing but wide open spaces, which meant this guy could hang a half a mile back and still be able to see us. I didn’t see how we were going to be able to lose him under the circumstances.

“We’ve got to get him closer or I won’t hit him!” Nash said. “Speed up some, and when I say ‘go,’ slam on the brakes. Got it?”

“Got it!” I floored the accelerator again and heard the echo of the black car’s engine straining to keep up.

We zoomed along on the blacktop. I waited for Nash’s signal.

“Go!” he said.

I punched the brake with both feet and hung onto the steering wheel, trying to keep the car moving in a straight line.

I heard the black car screeching behind us.

Nash fired off three shots.

“Did you get him?” I twisted around to look.

“I don’t think so!” Nash said. “Go! Go!”

I put the pedal to the metal again.

“Dude!” I said. “You’re a cop! You’re supposed to be able to shoot better than this!”

“It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies!” he said. “I’d like to see you try to hit the broad side of a barn at high speed, let alone a five inch wide span of rubber.”

“Try again!” I said.

“I only have one bullet left. We need to hang onto it until it’s our very last resort. Keep driving.”

I leaned forward in my seat, scanning the land in front of me for any advantage over our pursuer.

Smack.

A giant bug hit me right in the center of the forehead. Bug guts dripped down into my eyes.

Nash laughed and reached over and wiped it off.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if that had just happened to you,” I said.

Splat.

Now Nash was wiping bug guts off his cheek. He stopped laughing.

“See?” I said. “How unfair is it that the car behind us still has its windshield?”

On the horizon, the road changed color. As we sped towards it, I saw that the pavement ended and the road turned to dirt. When I hit the end of the pavement, a cloud of dust kicked up around the car. Nash and I struggled to breathe, coughing uncontrollably.

“Grass!” Nash choked out. “Get on the grass!”

I jerked the wheel to the right and we were bumping along in the grass again.

That gave us a distinct disadvantage, as the car behind us was able to keep up its speed on the dirt road. It gained on us.

Nash readied his gun.

The car drew closer.

Nash fired just as I hit a bump. His bullet went wide, and he swore. “You could have told me you were about to hit that!”

“I couldn’t see it! It was covered with grass!”

Nash faced forward again. “Creek!”

“I see it!” I said. “We have to jump it!” I turned the radio up.

“Are you crazy? You’re driving a Toyota hybrid, not the General Lee!”

“I can make it!” I said, pressing harder on the gas.

“There’s no incline! Stop!”

It was way too late to stop.

The car careened over the edge of the creek bank.

We were airborne for only a couple of yards.

The car chassis crashed down on the rocky bank, bounced twice, and spun to a stop in the shallow water.

My torso slammed into the steering wheel as the airbags deployed. Nash slammed forward into the dash and groaned. Lewis’s body thumped against our seatbacks and crumpled into a heap in the floor. His arm twisted through the seats and his dead hand came to rest between us on top of the cup holders. Eww.

Behind us, a little man in a suit stepped out of the black car.

“Taylor?” he called. “Is that you? Why haven’t you been answering your cell phone?”

I turned to get a better look at the guy.

It was Dick.

He scrambled down the creek bank and popped his head in my window. “Are you okay?” he asked.

I nodded.

He patted me on the shoulder. “That’s good. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to catch you. So how do you like my new car? That window tint is something else, isn’t it? It’s supposed to keep the heat out in the summertime. Works real good, too!”





***





“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “You could have killed us!”

“Calm down, Taylor,” Dick said. “I’ve been trying to get you on your cell for two days.”

“It burned in the fire,” I said.

“Well, hellfire and tarnation.” Dick reached a hand into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a little baggie containing eight or ten mini analog tapes. “It’s just that I thought you might want to get a hold of these.”

I stared, aghast, at the tapes. “You?” I said. “You’re the inside guy?”

Nash let out a low whistle.

“But I hate you,” I said.

“Which is the way I wanted it,” Dick replied. “Didn’t need you all up in my business at the office. You’da been likely to get yourself hurt. And me too. Wouldn’t of hired you in the first place if I could have handled all the business myself.”

Dick helped us out of the car and onto the creek bank, where he inspected Nash’s wounded foot. “You need to get to the hospital,” Dick said.

Nash waved him off. “No, no. It’s just a flesh wound. I’ll be okay. We have to get back.”

“You working with Cameron Gilbert?” Dick asked.

I massaged the muscles in my neck, which were rapidly stiffening up. “How did you know?”

“Deductive reasonin,’” Dick said. “Lawyer’s toolkit. I was on my way into the office this morning when I noticed the hybrid. Not many of those around here, and you know how I like cars. So I took a closer look to see who was driving, and well, I’d recognize your red head anywhere. Then I saw Frederick Lewis sticking a gun to you in the back seat, so I started following you.

“I knew you didn’t know anything worth killing for on your own, because PetroPlex had recovered Schaeffer’s paper files and burned the rest down with your house, and I had the tapes. The other big threat to PetroPlex is Gilbert, and I knew he’d released the virus.”

“That was an accident,” Nash said.

“Is that so?” Dick asked. “Can’t see as how that really matters. The damage was done. Anyway, since Lewis was forcing you to drive somewhere, I figured it was most likely to wherever Gilbert’s hiding out. The hybrid’s Gilbert’s, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“I been trying to find Gilbert ever since Schaeffer got killed, but that sorry S.O.B. is a darn sight hard to find, and he’s the only person I know and trust who has a full press contact list and the technology to blast all the info out.”

I frowned. “You mean, email?” I asked sourly.

“Whatever,” Dick said. “You kids and all these newfangled computers. I don’t know how it all works.”

“Why didn’t you come to me with the tapes before?” I asked.

“I knew you didn’t know anything, and I didn’t want to involve you,” Dick said. “PetroPlex already had you on the radar, and if you got any more active, I was afraid you might come to harm. I didn’t know you were working with Gilbert.”

“We weren’t, until two days ago,” Nash said. “How’d you get the tapes?”

“Wait,” I said. “Let me guess. Poker games?”

“Yep,” Dick said. “At first I just tried to get in real good with all these guys hoping to make settlements easier. It got a lot easier than I thought.”

Dick told us about all the deals that happened over the poker table.

“Then,” he said, “the Miller case cropped up and Schaeffer came to town and started nosing around. Next thing you know, he was hanging out with Cameron Gilbert, and then Gilbert quit his job and disappeared. Lewis and Fitz threatened to make my life real hard if I didn’t call off Schaeffer.”

“Imagine that,” I said.

“That’s when I decided I needed to take action. I’m my own man. Nobody tells Dick Richardson what to do. I knew PetroPlex was scared of Schaeffer and Gilbert, and I figured I had a good ‘in’ with Schaeffer on account of the fact that he was already working for me. I thought maybe if I played my cards right, I could use Schaeffer to get some leverage against PetroPlex and beat them at their own game. Get ’em off my back. I knew PetroPlex was looking to find Gilbert on account of some computer virus he was threatening them with, so I convinced ’em that by keeping Schaeffer around and by keeping my eye on him, they’d be able to find Gilbert a lot easier. Then I called up Schaeffer and told him I was on his side. I was a double agent.”

“You think he really believed you?” I asked.

“He believed me after I played him my tapes.”

“When did you start recording?” Nash asked.

“A couple weeks ago, when I started hearing more about this virus. Fitz and Lewis weren’t talking about it directly at the poker table, but it’s amazing what people will say when they think nobody’s listenin’. I had taken to planting tape recorders in my bar on nights I hosted games because the PetroPlex executives were really starting to lean on me. Also carried one in my pocket and turned it on whenever I could. I was looking for leverage. Fitz and Lewis would go refill their drinks and have whispered conversations. When they went home for the night, I’d play the tapes back. I started hearing things about a plot to raise prices on the energy market. That was about the same time I starting thinking it might be a good idea to convince Schaeffer I was on his side.

“I contacted him, and we talked on the phone briefly. He didn’t trust me right away—paranoid, you know—but after a while he started to settle down and open up. He told me about his contact with Cameron and their plan to do a large scale media release, and he asked me if he could use the tapes as evidence. This was the day before your summary judgment hearing. I told him I’d bring ’em to court in the morning and slip ’em into his briefcase while PetroPlex was making arguments.

“I don’t know exactly what happened next, but somebody at PetroPlex got nervous and offed him. While I was trying to figure out what to do next, your house got torched and you disappeared. I’ve been looking for you and Gilbert ever since.”

Wow. That was quite the story. If only I’d known earlier. I don’t know that I’d have been able to do anything to prevent Schaeffer’s death, but I sure as heck could have stayed out of Cameron’s old car garage and saved myself some run-ins with thugs. Plus, Nash wouldn’t have been shot. I was still mad at him, but I felt bad about his foot, nevertheless.

“We have to get the tapes back to Cameron,” I said.

“Where you guys holed up?” Dick asked.

“Gracie’s root cellar,” I said. “What are we gonna do about the body?”

“Leave him in the creek for now,” Dick said. “I’ll holler at Old Man Jonas up the road and ask him to call it in. I think I saw him looking out the window when you drove through his barn earlier, anyway.”

I looked at Nash. “You okay with that?”

Nash nodded. “As long as it gets called in right now.”

Dick made the call while we listened in. Then we helped Nash up, and the two of them limped up the hill to Dick’s new car. Nash settled into the front seat, and I curled into the back.

It was almost 8:00 A.M. I wondered if the crime scene techs had found Dorian yet.

We drove the distance back to Gracie’s root cellar and went underground.





***





When Lucy saw Dick, she growled. “Good dog,” I said, patting her on the head.

When Miles saw Dick, he hopped out of his cot angrily. “Bloody hell!” he said. “What is he doing here?”

“Nice to see you too,” Dick said.

“He’s the inside guy,” I told Miles.

Cameron let go of the mouse and looked up from his computer. “Who is he?”

“My boss,” I said. “Dick Richardson.”

“Don’tcha recognize me from my TV commercials?” Dick asked. He struck a pose and said, “I’m Dick Richardson, and I’ll fight for you.”

“Get outta town,” Cameron said. “I never would have found you. You’re not on the network!”

Dick pulled the tapes out of his pocket again and handed them to Cameron.

“Unbelievable,” Cameron said. “Thanks.”

We filled Cameron and Miles in on the latest developments. I apologized to Cameron for trashing his car in a creek bed, but he seemed unperturbed, as usual. He was more low key than any guy I’d met in my life.

While we told the story, Cameron converted the tapes to digital format. He attached them to an email packet that also contained copies of internal PetroPlex records and emails between executives, along with a cover letter that explained what everything was. Then he imported all his press contacts into his email from a database file and hovered his mouse cursor over the “send” button.

“Ready, guys?” he asked. “This is it!”

I stared at the computer screen, mesmerized. Did I dare feel any kind of relief? Would this call off the PetroPlex dogs or just whip them up into an angrier frenzy? Would we be free to leave the root cellar in a few hours, or would we be trapped here indefinitely?

“I can’t believe this is it,” I said. It had been an unbelievable three days. “We finally did it! How can it all be over with just the press of a button?”

“Modern technology is a wondrous thing,” Cameron said.

He pressed the button. I held my breath as I watched the progress bar showing the file upload. When the empty bar filled all the way up with blue, I let out a sigh.