Poison Town Read online

  It was starting to make sense. Why else would Cecil have stonewalled them when they were trying to connect Demler-Vargus with the arson at the Doyles’, Spivey Brinkman’s disappearance, and all that was happening to the Randalls?

  “So what happened?”

  “Oliver was in the process of filing a lawsuit against Demler-Vargus when he went down in a plane crash in Sawtooth National Forest, not too far from his home in Boise.”

  Derrick got chills.

  “He was the pilot and the only one on board,” Jenness said. “He owned a little Cessna four-seater. They called it pilot error.”

  Derrick’s stomach flipped. “Jenness, what are you saying?”

  “That’s just one example. My dad knows a lot of people on the east side, people who’ve worked at Demler-Vargus for a long time and have lived in this neighborhood forever. It’s become pretty clear that Cecil Barton has no intention of running negative stories about Demler-Vargus. In fact, Dad said if the interview with you didn’t get anywhere, he was going to WDUC radio and the big newspaper in Columbus, for starters.”

  “This makes so much sense,” Derrick said.

  “Since my dad … isn’t here, I wanted to let you know. But I’m sorry to be the one to say that about your own boss or whatever.”

  “It’s good you did.”

  “And I don’t know that my dad has proof. It’s just what he’s come to believe.”

  “I’m grateful, Jenness. Thank you for calling. I’m hoping to God your dad turns up alive and well, very soon.”

  They hung up, and Derrick went over and knelt by the fire. He rubbed his freezing hands and reached them toward the heat.

  He had a hollow feeling inside … and a decision to make.

  Could he do this? Did he have the guts to pursue Demler-Vargus? He could get killed. Was Cecil really involved? How would he handle that? Jack would know what to do.

  But Derrick could quietly ignore all of this. Act like he’d never talked to Jenness. Not mention any of it to Jack. Go about his job. He’d be safe, and so would Zenia.

  He inched closer to the comforting heat, staring at the flames.

  He admired Jack so much. The guy would not back down; Derrick knew that at his core. Jack would stand up and speak out for the truth, for the victims, even though he had Pam and the girls to worry about. Jack trusted God and steamrolled ahead. He did what was right.

  What had Derrick accomplished? What had he really done with his life?

  He had an opportunity to help people—the Randalls; the Brinkman girls and their dad; and all those other poor people on the east side who had no voice, who were being taken advantage of and made ill, all for the sake of big corporate dollars.

  Staying silent, forgetting the whole thing, would be so easy—so safe.

  That’s what Derrick had always done.

  He stared at the fire, feeling something akin to it burning inside him.

  It was time to fish or cut bait.

  * * *

  When the nurses wheeled Galen back to his hospital room, he was grumpier than a grizzly and couldn’t sit still in the bed. “I feel like a dern pin cushion,” he said. “Son, you got me into this, now you can git me out.” Travis tried to calm him and comb his hair, but his father pushed his hand away. “I’m fine. I just wanna go home. That was the deal.”

  “Here, Daddy, you’ll feel better with your glasses on.” Travis put the glasses on him, but they were miserably crooked.

  Galen ripped them off and glared at Travis. “Son, your bedside manner is atrocious.”

  Claire had found a microwave and brought Daddy his coffee, along with a big powdered doughnut. She pulled a chair right up next to him, sat, and served him.

  “Now that’s more like it, right there.” He took a bite and smiled at Claire, who patted away the white powder that drifted down to the front of his light blue nightgown.

  “I told Travis you remind me of his momma,” Daddy said.

  Claire lit up. “Well, that is a compliment. I remember Mrs. Randall.”

  “Ya do?” Galen’s head tilted.

  “Yes, sir. One time I saw her at our school—I think she was dropping something off—”

  “I probably forgot my lunch.” Travis snickered.

  “Don’t interrupt, son.”

  “Sorry, Claire.”

  Claire gave Travis a slow nod, agreeing with Galen.

  Travis chuckled.

  “Anyway,” she said, “this huge kid, Freddy Sikorski, was picking on a younger boy, calling him names. And right when Mrs. Randall came down the sidewalk, Freddy shoved the younger boy down to the pavement.”

  “No,” Daddy said.

  Claire bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Yes! She got one look at what was going on, and she grabbed Freddy by the wrist and dragged him inside. My friends and I followed them, and she took him straight to the principal’s office. That was back when they still paddled kids, and I think he got it good from Mr. Tanker.”

  Daddy shook his head. “That’s my girl.”

  “I can’t believe you remember that,” Travis said. “I can just imagine Momma doin’ that.”

  Claire handed Galen his coffee. He took it with shaking hands and managed to get a sip. He wouldn’t have taken it from Travis. Daddy really liked her.

  “How are the boys doin’ at the shop?” Daddy asked. “Have you talked to ’em?”

  “LJ called a couple hours ago to see how you was doin’. Things sounded okay. But he was still waitin’ for Bo to drag his lazy bones out of bed.”

  “Dadgummit. When is he gonna make that boy grow up?”

  “Well, I’m assumin’ they’re on top a’ things now.”

  “You should know by now not to assume anything when it comes to yer brother.”

  “I’ll give him a ring.” Travis went for the phone next to the bed, but it rang just as he got to it.

  “Trav, LJ. How’s Daddy?”

  “Cranky as all get-out, but good. Waitin’ for the doctor. Hopin’ to get outta here soon. How ’bout you boys? Bo rise from the dead yet?”

  “Yeah, I got him on that Dodge; he’s in his glory workin’ on that thing. He’s got a couple cars he’s supposed to be detailin’—”

  “They’s gonna have to wait, LJ. We need him on our stuff first.”

  “I know, I’ll have to break it to him.”

  Travis rolled his eyes. “Anything else new?”

  “No, and I’m hopin’ nothin’ else shows up. You better git your skinny buns back here.”

  “Doin’ my best.”

  “Thanks for takin’ him, by the way,” LJ said.

  “Sure thing. Good to have Claire here, too. She brightens it up.”

  “Hey, I forgot to tell you, Coon dropped by.”

  “What now?”

  “Our meeting with Demler-Vargus got moved up. It’s tomorrow afternoon, two o’clock, instead of Thursday.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “Nope, and I didn’t ask. Sooner we do this deal, the better. It’s time we git this monkey off our backs.”

  Travis turned and looked out the window, staring at all the cars in the snow-covered parking lot below.

  Another gray day. The lot was a slushy mess.

  “Yeah.” LJ laughed. “Old Coon didn’t look too good.”

  “Really? What was wrong with him?”

  “Said he fell down some stairs. Had a big bandage on his forehead, one on his chin, bad bruise on his cheek.”

  Fell down some stairs? Or got the pulp beat out of him?

  “This thing ain’t sittin’ right with me,” Travis said.

  The thought of receiving a check from Demler-Vargus made him feel filthy, just like the grimy, salt-covered cars below.

  “Oh, come on, Trav. This is what we’ve
been waitin’ for. Come about this time tomorrow, you’re gonna be a wealthy man, and all this junk will be history. I was thinkin’ maybe we could even get Daddy outta here for a spell, maybe take him on one a’ them fancy cruises to the tropics.”

  At the very core of his being, Travis felt like a traitor about to sell his soul at the expense of others.

  They said good-bye, and Travis put the phone down.

  “Everything okay at the shop?” Daddy said.

  Travis nodded. “Yep.” He crossed his arms. “Ralston Coon stopped in. Our meeting with Demler-Vargus got moved up. Tomorrow at two.”

  He took a deep breath and turned his gaze to Claire. Her mouth was reduced to a slit, and her green eyes burned into him.

  “Well,” Daddy said, “I suppose that’s good news. At least we’ll finally get a little payback from old Goliath. That’ll be something, anyway.”

  Travis nodded and managed a smile.

  But Claire didn’t say a word.

  She didn’t have to.

  Every fiber of her being shouted danger.

  Chapter 27

  Tension filled the small space between Jack and Derrick at a lamplit table for two at Ella’s, the hip coffee shop on the square in Trenton City. Derrick had phoned Jack an hour earlier, insisting they meet, which gave Jack a second wind. Now they sat with their heavy coats draped over the backs of their chairs, sweater sleeves rolled up, sipping coffees, comparing notes, and staring at each other in disbelief.

  “First things first.” Jack looked at his watch. “I’m gonna do this interview with Bendicksons, and I’m gonna confront them about everything we have.”

  Derrick craned toward Jack, his eyes huge. “But what are we gonna do with all this info? Cecil’s dirty; Jenness and Amy confirmed it. He’s not printing anything about Demler-Vargus.”

  “I know. Now it’s him we’ve got to get dirt on. It’ll come, it’ll come; we just need to keep moving forward a step at a time. The key is getting evidence on all this stuff; once we’ve got that, we can take it anywhere.”

  Derrick took in a deep breath.

  “In my mind,” Jack said, “the biggest thing is we’ve got to get Amy on the record. And the only way that’s gonna happen is in person. There’s no way she’s gonna talk on the phone anymore. She’s scared stiff.”

  Derrick looked at his watch. “I’ve got the rest of the day off. I could be there in an hour.”

  Jack nodded excitedly. “I was thinking that, but never thought you’d go for it.”

  “I told you, I’m in.”

  Jack wished Derrick’s body language lined up with his words; he looked apprehensive.

  “We need everything she says on record. You got a recorder?”

  Derrick nodded.

  “We need her to say it was Cecil’s idea to cover up all the leads on Demler-Vargus … Better write all this down.”

  Derrick was already in motion.

  “We need her to say the whole pregnancy story was Cecil’s idea. Who paid Amy to keep quiet, and how much? Did the payments come from Cecil? From someone at Demler-Vargus? Who? And who paid off the Doyles? How much?”

  “Slow down.” Derrick scribbled furiously.

  “It looks to me like Demler-Vargus started this cover-up by trying to pay people to keep quiet: Cecil, Amy, the Doyles—”

  “I wonder if anyone else at the paper is on the take. Nigel?”

  “Good question. Ask Amy.”

  Derrick continued writing.

  “At first they weren’t hurting people,” Jack said.

  “But then it started to get away from them.”

  “Exactly. I don’t know if they tried to pay Spivey or not; if they did, I’m assuming he didn’t take it. But I think he’s the one who forced them to take it to the next level, because of all he knows.”

  “By next level, you mean …”

  “Murder. The Doyles. Maybe Spivey? That’s why I’ve been so afraid for Galen and the boys.”

  “Yeah,” Derrick said. “And now they got us in their sights.”

  “Not to mention Amy. Whoever knows about Demler-Vargus and isn’t on their side is getting silenced.”

  Derrick shook his head and blew out a breath.

  “What?” Jack said.

  “I’ve never been in on anything even close to this big.”

  “I know, me neither.”

  “I wanna know if Amy knows anything about Merv Geddy and his son,” Derrick said. “Did she know Oliver was filing a lawsuit? Did she cover up that lead … his plane crash?”

  “Write it down.” Jack nodded.

  Derrick did.

  “We also need her, on the record, talking about the production of Streamflex. That might be the biggest thing. Why hasn’t OSHA or the EPA caught it? Could they be in on the cover-up?”

  Derrick was writing so fast and in such sloppy handwriting that Jack wondered if he could possibly decipher it later. Jack bent down to tighten his ankle holster. The tile floor had puddled where the snow had melted off their shoes.

  “I got an email from Patrick, that Live5 reporter in Charleston,” Jack said.

  “And …”

  “Police found a fire safe hidden in the Doyles’ house. There are some DVDs in there, and one is labeled Demler-Vargus.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Uh-uh. Police have it, but Patrick is trying to get his hands on it, and some other stuff. He’ll let me know if and when they do.”

  “Has his station officially called it arson yet?”

  “Tonight at eleven.”

  “Wonder what Cecil will think of to not cover that story …”

  There was so much swirling around in Jack’s mind, he felt blotchy. He started throwing his things into his leather shoulder bag. “Look, I gotta make my way over to Demler-Vargus.” He took an enormous breath. His heart raced.

  “This is big, dog,” Derrick said.

  “Tell me about it.” Jack stood, put his satchel in the chair, and got his coat on. Derrick rose and did the same.

  “You got Amy’s address, right?” Jack said.

  “Yeah. Why don’t you call me when you’re done there. I’ll still be on the road, probably.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Jack hoisted the satchel over his shoulder. “Maybe we should meet up later tonight when you get back, if it’s not too late. Compare notes. By then I’m thinking we’re going to have one heck of a story.”

  Derrick blew into a fist. “Sounds good. If I get going now, spend an hour or two with her, I should be back by ten or eleven.”

  Derrick looked tense—perhaps even scared. Jack was feeling the same way. They were at a turning point. The remaining hours of the day would be critical. Jack looked around at the crowded room. “Sit down for a sec. Let’s pray.”

  Derrick hesitated, but when Jack sat on the edge of his chair, Derrick did the same.

  Jack put his head down, not waiting for Derrick’s response. “Father, Derrick and I need You now,” he said quietly. “Please keep us and our girls safe. Give us wisdom, discretion, understanding. Put your angels around us. Help us get the information we need, and help us know what to do with it. Amen.”

  They stood.

  It was the first time Derrick had smiled since they’d met up, and Jack wasn’t sure why. Was he making fun of Jack’s prayer, or did he approve?

  Jack led the way out of Ella’s.

  They stood beneath the large brown awning, immediately able to see their breaths. Cars streaked by in a blurry haze of rain and snow.

  It was time.

  They shook hands, patted shoulders.

  “Good luck,” Jack said.

  “Good luck, dog.”

  They jogged into the rain in separate directions, unsure what the rest of the day, and night, would b
ring.

  Chapter 28

  Pamela hadn’t felt so excited in weeks, perhaps months. She tried on dresses and shoes and even new coats at Marshalls, and her mom insisted on picking up the tab for a rust-colored sweater dress for her date with Jack. They looked at perfume and makeup at the Ulta store in Trenton City, then bundled up and dashed several doors down to the neighborhood Starbucks.

  “You needed a few hours out on the town.” Margaret sipped her caramel macchiato.

  “Did I ever,” Pamela said. “Thanks, Mom. I mean it—this has been fun.”

  “It’s done me wonders too.”

  The place was hopping. Nearby were two women talking intimately over a small table, several people tapping away at laptops, and others reading and listening to music. It was the ideal place to cuddle up on a blustery afternoon.

  “How are you feeling?” Margaret smiled and eyed Pamela’s tummy. “Any symptoms?”

  “I feel fantastic.” Pamela took the lid off her Zen tea to let it cool. “The first three months with Faye were awful, remember?”

  “Oh yeah. Your dad felt so bad for you.”

  “Were you sick with me?”

  Margaret’s head tilted as she thought. “Not much. Maybe a little queasy over certain foods and smells.”

  “I’m so excited about tonight. I can’t even remember the last time we went on a date.”

  “Don’t you have a good babysitter in the neighborhood?”

  “You remember Tommy and Darlene next door? They watch the girls every once in a while. They used to do it more.”

  Every time Pamela thought of Tommy Sweeney she was reminded of the day Granger broke into their house almost two years ago. She’d whisked the girls to the Sweeneys’ house and barged right in, seeking safety.

  Margaret was talking, but Pamela was no longer listening.

  She found herself searching the Starbucks for Granger … for the man who’d run them off the road the day before …

  Her heart kicked up a notch.

  Calm. Be calm.

  She breathed in deeply, set her shoulders back, and exhaled without her mom noticing.

  Every now and then, fear just ravaged her, shook her entire being.