Authors: Creston Mapes
Claire was eyeballing Travis from the TV room and must’ve seen the concern on his face, because she excused herself, handed Daddy his radio, and came into the kitchen. Travis covered the mouthpiece and leaned the earpiece down where she could listen.
“Where are you, Jack?” he said.
“Leaving Trenton City PD. Had to see Officer DeVry in person.”
“Jack, I wish you hadn’t gone to the police. We’re supposed to meet with Demler-Vargus tomorrow afternoon for the big payoff!”
“Travis, forget about that! They’re done paying people off. They’re furious. They’re going to be after me. I know way too much. We all do.”
Claire gritted her teeth and shook her head. “I told you!”
She was right. The supposed deal with Demler-Vargus was foul—possibly had been from the start.
“Do you understand?” Jack said.
“Yeah, Jack, we hear you. Claire’s on the line with me.”
“This isn’t just a news story anymore; it’s a police case. Cecil’s bad too—and who knows who else at the
Dispatch
. I can’t go back there. Amy Sheets was getting paid off too. We tracked her down in Columbus; Derrick’s there now, trying to get her to go on the record with all she knows.”
“Holy cow.” Travis was trying to digest it all.
“If looks could kill, I’d be dead,” Jack said. “Those guys are desperate. I’m afraid of what they’re going to do.”
“What are you gonna do now?” Travis said.
“Get home as fast as I can. Get the family and get out of there. I suggest you do the same.”
Claire looked up at Travis. “We can go to my house,” she whispered. Then she said it to Jack. “We can all go to my house, Jack! They don’t know about me. It would be safe there.”
Travis squeezed Claire’s shoulder. “Daddy’ll never leave; neither will LJ. Jack, you and your family can come here. We’re armed. Between all of us, we can keep someone on guard for the night. How long’s this gonna last?”
“DeVry is on this thing. He’s got the captain involved, and they’ve got a team together. I’m hoping they raid Demler-Vargus. I told him if they want to find Spivey Brinkman, they need to get in there and get to the bottom of it.”
“Well, you just come on over if you need a place to go,” Travis said. “We got sleeping bags and plenty of grub.”
“Let me think about it,” he said. “We might take you up on it. Thanks, Travis.”
“I’m gonna call Coon and tell him the meeting’s off,” Travis said. “He’s gonna blow a gasket.”
“He’ll thank you later.”
“You think he’s in danger too?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“He can join the party, then, if he wants.”
“I need to call DeVry and tell him you guys are supposed to meet Demler-Vargus tomorrow,” Jack said. “He needs to know about that.”
“So much for our big payday,” Travis whined.
“By the way, what did the doctors find out about your dad?” Jack said.
“They found Fenarene in his system.”
“I had a feeling. I’m sorry.”
“Yep. They want to do more tests, but he wasn’t up to it today. We was in there before dawn.”
“Galen?” Claire hurried into the TV room where Daddy had risen from his chair and was shuffling toward the kitchen, clutching his transistor radio.
“Maybe I should give the Brinkman girls a heads-up,” Travis said. “They live right out back of us, ya know. You think they’re in any danger?”
“You better do that,” Jack said. “They knew Cecil was on the take. And they knew about another important piece of the puzzle I haven’t told you about yet. You remember a guy named Merv Geddy?”
“Sure, he and Daddy was buddies. I know his son.”
Daddy’s eyes were like saucers and his mouth was hanging wide open as Claire led him to the doorway of the kitchen.
Jack was talking, but Travis wasn’t listening anymore.
Daddy bashed the doorframe with his shoulder and leaned there, trembling, holding up his radio. “They just found Spivey Brinkman …” His head dropped. He shook it. Forced himself to look up, tears gushing over. “He hanged himself … from the bridge over the Lincolntown River.”
Chapter 31
Derrick hoped he hadn’t made the hour drive to Columbus in vain. He rang the doorbell at Amy’s high-rise condo for the fourth or fifth time but heard nothing from inside.
He knocked again, louder. “Amy, it’s Derrick Whittaker. Please open up. I just want to talk.”
Derrick looked both ways. No one was in sight. The quiet hallway of the eighth-floor condo was decked out with maroon, black, and white carpet, recessed lighting, large plants, and textured wallpaper. Amy was definitely in the high-rent district.
He finally got the nerve up to try the door, but it was locked. He got his phone out and redialed her cell. All he got was endless ringing, and he did not hear Amy’s phone ringing within the unit.
He made his way back to the elevator and took it down to the lavish lobby. He crossed beneath massive chandeliers, across the white-and-black tiled floor, to a carpeted area with several sleek tables and black leather sofas and chairs.
He set his shoulder bag down. Amy had to go up that elevator or the steps to get to her place. He would wait. He took off his coat and took a seat on the edge of a chair. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see Jack’s name in the caller ID.
“Hey, dude. What’s up?”
“You make it?”
“Yeah. Amy isn’t answering her door. I’m watching for her in the lobby. How’d it go with Bendickson?”
“I’ll tell you in a second, but first you need to know something else … they found Spivey Brinkman—dead.”
As Jack explained how they found Spivey hanging above the icy waters of the Lincolntown River, Derrick’s heart melted for Jenness and Tatum—those poor girls.
“Initial reports said suicide, but DeVry says it may have been staged,” Jack said. “Dude, this thing is real, and it’s happening fast—like right now. Demler-Vargus is scared, and they’re getting messy.”
A wave of fear practically knocked Derrick from the chair. His face burned. He wanted to be home, close to Zenia, not in this strange, dark city.
Jack continued. “Bendickson’s son, two lawyers, and a henchman were with him. I couldn’t get them to admit anything, but they are so dirty, man. I thought they might not let me leave. They ended up throwing me out, threatening me. They’re desperate.”
“You told DeVry all this?”
“Yeah, the police are fully engaged.”
“You think Zenia’s safe?”
Jack hesitated. “I don’t know if any of us are. You need to be careful. Amy said she thought someone was following her, and that makes sense; she’s the key witness in this whole thing.”
Derrick scanned the lobby. Several ladies were talking by a small fountain, and a man in winter garb was working on a laptop.
This was way more than he’d bargained for. He wasn’t some superman. He was a reporter. And he was scared.
“I’m not going back to the paper,” Jack said. “I’m going to get the family and go somewhere, a hotel or something. You and Z can come if you want, when you get back tonight.”
“What are you saying, man?”
“I’m saying Demler-Vargus is out to stop every leak, right now, no matter what it takes. They’re in crisis mode. They silenced Spivey and the Doyles. That leaves Amy and the Randalls, Coon, and Spivey’s girls.”
“And you and me!” Derrick said. “And Z and Pam … Shoot, this is nuts! I need to get back!”
“Derrick, hold on, man. We need Amy to talk. Can you hang in there a little longer?”
“Jack, I’m not cut out for this, man. I’m gonna call Z, make sure everything’s okay …”
“I can go get her after I get my gang, if you want. She can come with us wherever we go.”
Derrick didn’t want to scare Zenia if there was no definite threat. But he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if she was harmed and he had done nothing to protect her.
“I tried to get the Randalls to pack up and get out, but Travis said no way; LJ and Galen won’t budge. They’re getting their shotguns out.” Jack chuckled, trying to lighten things. “Their place might be the safest spot in town!”
“I gotta think this through,” Derrick said. “Let’s wait one more hour and see where we are.”
“You got it. Listen, watch your back. Of all the people involved in this thing, Amy might be the most dangerous to them.”
“Dude, don’t even say that …”
A rail-thin woman pushed with all her might to come through the circular doors. She stopped and looked back outside, the wind blowing her beige overcoat and scarf.
Derrick’s heart leaped.
“Hold on, Jack.”
Could that be Amy? She turned back around. Yes! But the belt around her waist was so tight … she’d become a skeleton.
“I see her.” Amy’s once shiny blond hair was dark and stringy. Her young face had aged fifteen years and was sickly pale.
Derrick stood. She noticed and turned toward him, like a scene from a movie, as if they’d planned to meet.
“I’ll call you later.” He put the phone in his pocket and walked toward her slowly, arms outstretched, like a trainer approaching a wild animal.
She shook her head. “No.” Her sunken eyes came alive, darting about the lobby. “Why did you come here?”
“Amy, please.” Derrick continued toward her, gingerly. “Can we go up to your place where it’s quiet, and talk?”
“This was not a good idea.” She scrubbed her forehead with her knuckles and ran the hand through her oily hair. Her lips were cracked. She looked as if she hadn’t eaten in days.
“Amy, things are happening really fast.” He scanned the room. “We need to talk in private.”
She trembled like a frightened dog, unable to get another word out.
Derrick wanted to sympathize with her, but the warning signals were blaring in his head.
“Amy, listen to me! Spivey Brinkman is dead. We need you to tell the truth, on the record. It’s time.”
Her scared eyes fixed on Derrick’s. “Spivey Brinkman? How?”
Derrick was approaching frantic. He sensed danger, sensed people watching. He needed Amy to snap out of it.
“He was hung from the Lincolntown Bridge. We don’t think you’re safe either.”
“Of course I’m not safe! I told Jack they’ve been watching me for days! They know my routine. They know everything about me. And they’re outside right now!”
Derrick wished he were anywhere else, but he was in the middle of it now; he needed to be calm—and smart.
“Look, Jack has the police involved.” He looked around and told himself to keep his voice down. “What if you pack a bag and I drive us back to Trenton City right now?”
Amy stomped her foot and shook her head, on the verge of tears.
“Just tell the truth!” Derrick said. “Who knows, maybe you can do some sort of a plea deal? You spill your guts about Demler-Vargus in exchange for a lighter sentence—or no sentence; maybe just community service or something. I don’t know, but I know we’ve got to move!”
“My brother was right.” She peered up at Derrick with watery eyes, her chapped lips quivering. “Why didn’t I listen to him? I’m such a fool.”
Derrick found it odd that the man on the laptop was still bundled up in coat and hat, yet working away on his computer. Could he be one of Demler-Vargus’s people?
“Greed.” Amy’s eyes were glazed, as if she was hypnotized. “That’s all it was. And ever since the very second I agreed—it’s been nothing but poison.” As if a hypnotist snapped her out of it, she gave a humorless laugh and looked right at Derrick. “Poison. Just as bad as anything Demler-Vargus is churning out.”
“Okay, look, Amy … I don’t feel comfortable out here in the wide open—”
“You’re right, you’re right.” Finally a tinge of color filled her cheeks. She sniffed and seemed to sober up. “If you help me, I’ll tell you whatever you want.”
“On the record.”
“On the record.” She began walking, fast. “Come on.”
Derrick grabbed his coat and bag. He couldn’t believe he was following this unstable, “wanted” woman up to her condo. He checked back. The sour-looking guy on the laptop was staring at them.
Hurry up, hurry up.
Derrick was revved up to the max. Part of him was anxious because the end of this nightmare was within reach. If he hurried and played it smart, he would be home soon. But part of him was so scared that he was actually shivering. People were
dying.
Amy was a prime target. And—if he dared to admit it—so was he.
Chapter 32
“How are you holding up?” Pamela asked as she maneuvered the Accord into a space in the snowy parking lot outside of Farley’s Home Store. She couldn’t help but wonder if her mom was going to be able to make it without a drink.
“Pam, please, it’s not like I’m some …” Margaret turned around to make sure the girls weren’t listening, then whispered, “…
drunk
or something. I’m fine. I’ll let you know if there’s anything to be concerned about.”