Dangerous Refuge

chapter Twenty-eight



Rhonda Spears was aptly named. She looked like she could cut steel with her fingernails.

“What is this nonsense about my staff and murder?” she asked.

That told Tanner the security staff had Hill’s private offices wired for sound and probably cameras as well. Good idea, as long as you deleted the data daily, if not more often.

“One of your recent hires was murdered in Meyers last night,” Tanner said. “He is connected to another murder as well. Antonio Rua isn’t the kind of man you want connected with the future governor. What made you hire him?”

“You’re talking about Tony Rua?” Rhonda asked.

Tanner nodded.

She opened up some kind of PDA, entered a few words, and read the file. “No wants, no warrants, no arrests, no jail time, no outstanding bills worth mentioning, excellent ratings in unarmed combat, good rating with a pistol, licensed to carry, tested negative for drugs.” She looked up. “I don’t see the problem.”

“Is Mr. Hill expanding his security staff?” Shaye asked before Tanner could point out the obvious—murder was a problem.

“Not at this time. If the odds in Hill’s favor go up several more points, we’ll hire.”

“But you hired Rua recently. Was there an unexpected opening on your staff?” Shaye asked.

“We get recommendations and requests from backers,” the other woman said, shrugging. “If possible, we accommodate them.”

“Who recommended or requested Rua be hired?” Tanner asked.

Rhonda hesitated, her manner plainly saying that if Hill hadn’t cleared it, she wouldn’t be giving out the information. After a moment she scanned through the file until she found the notation she was looking for.

“Jonathan Campbell,” she said. Her attitude said she was out of patience.

Tanner would like to have used the Rhonda-Hill connection to get in to see Campbell, who was no doubt as busy as every other mover and shaker they’d cornered today. But he knew when he’d worn out his welcome.

Shaye had known before they ever got to Rhonda.

“Thank you for your time,” Shaye said. “I’m sure Mr. Hill’s lead in the race will have you out hiring more staff in no time. The Conservancy very much appreciates his support.”

The subtle reminder that Shaye represented one of Mr. Hill’s significant supporters put a smile on Rhonda’s face. “You’re welcome. Mr. Hill has great personal and professional admiration for the Conservancy.”

Silently, Tanner and Shaye walked back through the building, discreetly watched by a member of security.

The instant they were alone in the truck, she said coolly, “May I remind you that I have to work in this valley when you’re gone? The more wells you poison, the harder it will be for me to live.”

He started the truck and drove onto the highway, thinking carefully about his answer. She was mad enough to skin him out and clean toilets with his hide.

And he wasn’t as eager to get back to L.A. as he should have been. The night with Shaye had only sharpened his need, not sated it.

“Maybe a place with such easily poisoned wells isn’t a healthy area to live,” he said carefully.

“Why do you think I left San Francisco?” she shot back. “I have to make it work with the Conservancy or I sign up for food stamps. Got it?”

“Yeah. That’s why I was the one to ask the really unhappy questions. I can take the heat.”

“There doesn’t have to be any heat to take! We’re civilized people working with civilized people.”

He gave her a sideways look. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news—again—but murder is damned uncivilized.”

“Surely you can ask questions without angering people.”

“Look. We could have made nice and kissed ass until Hill rushed off to another important meeting and we were left standing there with tired lips and no place to go but out to lunch. Hill needed a good reason to open his staff files for us. I gave him one.”

Her head hit the back of the seat. “You’re saying there’s no polite way to ask questions people don’t want to answer. And no answers means somebody literally gets away with murder.”

He gave her a wary look. “Right now we have what amounts to a handful of beads. They’re intriguing, but without a way to string them together, they’ll slide through our fingers and get lost in the cracks of everyday life.”

“You’re assuming that Rua was a tool, and the gold was purely incidental to Lorne’s death, not the reason for it,” she said.

“So far, that’s the most logical way to assemble the beads.”

“What on earth is logical about Hill being directly connected to Rua’s murder, and therefore, logically we hope, to Lorne’s murder?”

“I don’t know,” he said impatiently, glancing in the mirrors repeatedly. No one had taken the bait. “That’s why I’m asking questions, touching pressure points. Sooner or later, the killer will start getting jumpy. Jumpy people make mistakes.”

She began to understand just why August had wanted her to stay home. Waving a red flag at a killer bull was a good way to get hurt.

Tanner didn’t let the silence bother him. Much. Instead, he started looking for a place to eat lunch. Maybe her outlook would improve if she got some food in her. People with turbo-metabolisms didn’t do well without fuel. He knew because he was one of them. He had learned that Shaye was another. Watching her destroy breakfast had been a revelation.

He’d discovered that he liked feeding her. Primitive, but there it was. Under some circumstances, he was a real primitive sort of guy.

Silence settled into the cab of the truck. The lack of conversation was neither easy nor uneasy, it simply was.

Shaye looked out the passenger window, trying to decide whether she should scream or laugh or swear, and if so, in what order. Or run and hide.

No.

Lorne deserves better than that.

And so do I. If I have to spend the rest of my life seeing his ruined face, at the very least I want to know why.

Trying not to think about how she had found Lorne, she focused on watching Carson City’s fine old state buildings and casinos slide by, reminding her of a mingling of moneyed gentlemen and brassy tarts. In the side mirror, a smudge of smoke caught her eye. She watched the smoke grow quickly into a column.

Somewhere between Tahoe and Reno a fire was burning. Judging by the rate the column was spreading, it was wind-driven and out of control. It had been a bad fire season already. Now it would be worse.

A nagging sound pulsed in the cab of the truck. The noise was somewhere between that of an early-morning alarm and the grate of sheet metal dragged on a gravel road.

“What the hell?” Tanner asked.

“Crap,” she said. “That’s my ring tone for Kimberli. Hope she isn’t going to yell at me because Hill yelled at her.”

“You can always sic me on her.”

Shaye ignored him and answered her phone. “Hi, Kimberli. What’s up?”

“Are you with Lorne’s luscious nephew?”

“I’m working to uphold the Conservancy’s interest in the Davis ranch, if that’s what you mean.”

Kimberli laughed. “Well, that’s no reason not to enjoy the man. I could just grab him and lick him all over.”

I already did, and went back for seconds. He returned the favor until I screamed. But that’s not something I want to talk to my boss about.

“Is Tanner feeling more charitable toward the Conservancy?” Kimberli asked.

“Hard to tell, but I’m working on it.”

“Do you have any idea how quickly you can win him over?”

“Not at this time.”

“I’ll check back later,” Kimberli said. “Ace may have a line on another rancher who’s tired of fighting taxes and bureaucrats. The land is out in the middle of nowhere and would make a great mustang preserve. Apparently the rancher is a crusty old cocker, just like Lorne was.”

Shaye filled the gaps in Kimberli’s conversation and said, “Tag, I’m it?”

“You do so well with those backcountry sorts. If you have any breakthroughs on your end, call me soonest.”

“Of course.”

Tanner gave Shaye a sideways look as she ended the call. “What did Queen Botox want?”

You. Naked.

“A progress report and a hint of another project for me,” Shaye said.

“I’m your full-time project.”

“Kimberli is big on multitasking.”

“Good idea,” he said.

“It is?”

“Yeah. We’ll grab some sandwiches and figure out how to get an appointment with Jonathan Campbell. Multitasking.”

“I’ll make an appointment the usual way,” she said. “I’ll call.”

“He’s another friend of the Conservancy?”

“He owns one of the biggest development companies in Nevada. He works off any bad karma with regular, hefty donations to the Conservancy. Business has been in the toilet lately, but he’s still an important contributor.”

“The Conservancy is starting to sound like the confessional,” Tanner said.

“A guilty conscience is an expensive thing.”