Drift

by L T Ryan

  “How’s that?”

  “I was born and raised here but left around the time you apparently arrived in town.” She glanced around at the sparse interior. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brought you out here to Hawk’s Landing?”

  Jed Russell’s head dipped lower. The shag of his hair flopped over his blue-gray eyes. “Long story. And one I don’t much tell strangers.”

  “I think we’re more alike than you realize. Not too many people get to point a gun at me and live to talk about it.”

  “Me neither.” At this, both of them broke into a soft chuckle. “You move quiet as a cat on wet moss in the springtime. I can’t remember a time somebody got the drop on me.”

  “Don’t feel bad. I had good trainers, some of the Army’s best. And old habits die hard.”

  Russell rolled back his sleeve and exposed a faded tattoo across his right forearm, a black shield with a face of an eagle and above it the airborne tab. The ink was more blue than black now, the lettering, and details of the eagle were blurred, but Rachel Hatch would recognize the patch of the 101st Airborne Division anywhere. “Me, too.”

  “Fort Campbell, Kentucky. That was my first duty station.”

  “I’m pretty sure I was there a long time before your day. Vietnam was a wild time to be a paratrooper.” Russell traced his finger over the tattoo one time before rolling his sleeve back down. “How about you? Ever deploy?”

  “Four times. Once to Iraq and twice to Afghanistan.”

  “I thought you said four times?”

  “Nothing gets by you, Jed. There’s another, but that one’s off the books.”

  “Did you see combat?”

  Hatch knew why the veteran soldier asked. There was an invisible barrier between those who served in a combat environment and those who served in actual combat, fighting for your life and the soldier standing next to you. Both deserved respect, but among soldiers, the latter was less common and therefore held in higher regard.

  This time it was Hatch who rolled up her sleeve. Her right arm was a tangled web of raised scar tissue. She kept the underside out of view. “I got a different kind of tattoo. A gift from a not-too-friendly group of people in the mountains of Afghanistan.”

  Russell gave a solemn nod, one conveying both understanding and respect. “Were you with the 101st when you got that?”

  She shook her head as she covered her damaged arm. “No. I was with a different unit at the time.”

  “Which one?”

  “Some things can’t be shared. I think you’ll understand my discretion.”

  The old man pressed no further.

  Hatch surveyed the room again. A series of pictures in a neat line on the fireplace mantle caught her eye.

  Jed followed her gaze. “Those were taken a long time ago.”

  “Where are they now? Your family, I mean.”

  He sighed, and with it his demeanor changed. The crazy look dissipated, giving way to a thoughtful gaze. “Gone. Lost my daughter years back to a rock-climbing accident. Came here with my wife to escape. My daughter Camille would’ve been about your age. She was tough like you, too. In a different world, you might have even ended up serving together.” He stared up at the pictures, focusing his gaze on one of a younger Jed with his arm tightly wrapped around a teenage girl. The two were on top of a snow-capped mountain and looked truly happy. He sighed. “Every nook of our old house carried with it some memory of Camille. So, we left it all behind to start anew.”

  “Did it work?”

  Russell gave a weak shrug. “Not really. We quickly found that no amount of running would give us peace. When somebody is a part of you, as our daughter was for us, then no matter where you go, their memory will follow. My wife was taken from me a year after we moved here. Lost her to cancer. By the time we learned of her condition, it was too late for treatment. All the doctors could do was help with pain and keep her comfortable until the end.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “At least she’s with my daughter. Not sure my take on the great beyond, but the only peace I’ve found is in the hope there’s something out there where our spirits can rest. I’ve been waiting for my time to join them.” He eyed the empty shotgun resting against the wall where Savage had placed it. “Never got the nerve to pull the trigger. Thought about it plenty of times. Not in my nature to quit. But one thing’s for certain, I’ll welcome death when it comes.”

  Hatch battled with her own demons when it came to the dead. Her father’s tragic demise coming at an early age caused her to question the purpose of life and the meaning of its end. None of which she’d ever fully resolved. She held off on debating the topic any further with the man.

  “You said something to the Sheriff the other day when we were on your property. I’ve been meaning to ask you about it. You thought we might be with Nighthawk Engineering. Why would you think that?”

  “Those bastards have been harassing me for years. Ever since they came to town. I own a large bit of land. When they took up business here, everybody was excited to have jobs. A boost to the economy, ya know? Old silver mine towns have a tendency to turn to dust when the well runs dry. But I wasn’t fooled by their knight-in-shining-armor routine. I saw what they were up to.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Well, I understand how a company like theirs works. I wasn’t always the man you see before you. After the Army, I went to work in corporate America. Believe it or not, I rose through the ranks, becoming a CEO of a biotech firm before tragedy brought us to Hawk’s Landing.”

  Hatch’s eyes widened. She never would have guessed this man to have been capable of trading his jump boots for a corporate suit. She was impressed by the transformation.

  Russell pushed his long hair out of his face and gave a tug of his beard for good measure. “I know, right? I look like I was raised by wolves. I even started talking like an uneducated mountain man to add to the subterfuge.”

  “Well your disguise worked. I never took you for management. Tell me more about the harassment.”

  “A few years back, the company started buying up all of the land around Nighthawk Lake. They made me an offer. An offer twice what this land was worth. That type of buyout strategy is common, especially if a natural resource is at stake.”

  “And how did you respond to their offer?”

  Russell smiled and thrust his chin in the direction of the Mossberg. “I politely refused. Told them to stick it where the sun don’t shine. I wasn’t going to leave. I ran after my daughter’s death and learned that didn’t work. I definitely wasn’t going to leave the last place to hold a memory of my wife. I’m terrified if I left, over time, I would lose any and all connection to my life.”

  “I understand that better than you know.”

  “It didn’t stop there. These guys were pushy. The last time they came to me with an offer, it was four times the value. Big money. But I didn’t budge.”

  “And when you turned down all of their financial offers?”

  “Then came the threats. Nighthawk sent some big guys to rough me up and get me to sign the papers.”

  “How’d that turn out?”

  “I showed those young muscle heads what an old paratrooper was capable of. I took some licks, but I gave as good as I got. And those bastards ran off with their tails tucked between their legs.”

  “Did it end there?”

  “That was three weeks ago. Was the last I heard from them. That’s why when you showed up, I figured I was in for another round.”

  Hatch believed him. She noticed the yellowed mark of the nearly healed bruise under Russell’s left eye. “Makes sense. Why didn’t you call the sheriff’s office and tell them about the threats?”

  “The former Sheriff, Larry Jeffries, was as corrupt as they come. I’m sure, without a doubt, he had his pockets full of Nighthawk money.”

  “But Savage’s in charge now. Why didn’t you go to him?”

  “He’d just been appoint
ed. Didn’t have an opinion, but figured if he was elected over Jeffries, then Nighthawk already had him under control. It seems they’ve got a hold on everybody else around here.”

  “My positive opinion of people is hard earned. For what it’s worth, I think it’s safe to say you can trust Savage. He’s one of the good guys.”

  “If you say so.” Russell sat back and looked around his small living room. “For the life of me, I can’t figure why that girl’s cell phone was on my property. Any thoughts?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out since you and I began talking. Doesn’t make sense.”

  His eyes widened. “They’re trying to set me up. Frame me.”

  “Frame you? Why?”

  “If they can put me in jail, I’d default on my mortgage. The bank is tied in with Nighthawk. They’d oust me while I rot in prison. I know it sounds like a conspiracy theory, but—”

  Hatch thought about the photocopied map in her back pocket with Jed Russell’s property circled in red. “No, it doesn’t.”

  “They deputized you just for this case?”

  “Yup. I guess the Sheriff wanted a little extra manpower. Plus, he was tired of me poking around on my own and figured it better to join forces.”

  “And why are you so interested in this investigation?”

  “Because that dead girl was my twin sister.”

  Jed’s gaze lowered to the floor as he nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. Guess we are more alike than I realized.”

  “Guess so.”

  “And whoever’s responsible is going to rue the day they pissed you off.”

  “That’s my plan.”

  The door opened, allowing a chill to sweep across the room. Savage and Sinclair entered, both their cheeks pinched with red from the cool air. Sinclair walked over and stood behind the chair where Jed Russell was seated.

  “Hatch, you got a minute?” Savage dipped his head in a silent beckoning.

  Savage stepped into the kitchen and just out of earshot of Russell.

  Hatch followed. “What’s up? Find something?”

  “I need you to stay cool. I don’t want you to react to what I’m going to tell you.”

  “I’m calm. Just spit it out.” Hatch’s voice was raised just above a whisper. She could feel Russell’s eyes upon her.

  “We found rope. It was hanging loose around the arms of a metal chair. If I had to guess—it was used to tie up Olivia.”

  Hatch listened to the words and then looked over at Russell. She replayed the conversation they’d had just moments before. Either the old man had lied and was a killer, or he was telling the truth and they had a much bigger problem on their hands. Her gut told her which direction to lean. It had served her well in the past and she trusted it now.

  “There’s another thing. Looks like we found the murder weapon.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a syringe on the floor. I’m going to go out on a limb and say whatever’s in your sister’s system is going to match any residue found in the needle.”

  Savage looked past Hatch, eyeing Russell. Sinclair stood nervously behind him, aware of the findings and whatever follow-up course of action they’d planned.

  Hatch gently grabbed Savage by the elbow. “It’s not him.”

  “What are you talking about?” His voice teetered just beneath the threshold of a whisper.

  “I talked to him. He’s not the killer.”

  “Then who is?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m going to ask Mr. Russell to come to the station with us. We’re going to need to do a full interview. I put a call in to the State Police to provide mutual aid and assist in processing the crime scene. They’ve got their crime scene techs on the way. Should be here within the hour.”

  “I think it’s a waste of time to bring Jed in. We should be looking at another angle.”

  “Like what?”

  “Nighthawk Engineering.”

  “You think it’s more plausible that there’s some conspiracy afoot than a trespasser who came across paths with a deranged old man?”

  “He’s not deranged. You brought me on this case for my insight, and I’m telling you to trust me.”

  “We can explore your theory after we’ve had time to talk with Mr. Russell at the station.”

  Hatch didn’t argue further and turned away. She walked over to the seated man and stood before him. “Jed, the Sheriff’s going to need you to come down to the station and give a statement.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Enough that they’re going to need to hear your side of things.” Hatch bent low and gently gripped the man’s forearm at the spot of his tattoo. “It’s not a trick. From one Screaming Eagle to another, you have my word. Just tell them what you told me, and you’ll be back home before you know it.”

  Russell stood without any protest. Hatch followed Sinclair and Russell. Turning to Savage she said, “I’m going to ride in with them and help out.”

  Sinclair looked relieved at Hatch’s offer.

  Savage pulled Hatch aside with a gentle tug on her arm. “Listen, Hatch, we’ve got to run this one by the numbers. I’m more than happy to entertain all possibilities, but let’s gather as much as we can before we shift gears in another direction.”

  “Fair enough.” Hatch offered no further resistance.

  Her next move was already in motion. And she preferred to make it alone.

  14

  The layout was unassuming. A few double-wide trailers in line with a high chain link fence enclosed a fleet of construction equipment. All were embossed with the company’s logo, a black hawk swooping downward set against a full moon.

  Hatch parked her truck. Not comfortable with the idea of driving a sheriff’s vehicle, she drove her own. The badge and gun were concealed under a lightweight gray parka. Her hands rested on them, separated only by the pocket lining. A gust of cold wind blew through, kicking up dust. She blinked it out of her eyes as she headed toward the trailer marked main office. As she stepped toward the door, a man exited a port-a-john off to the right, near the fence line. She recognized the large man immediately by his bandaged nose and hand.

  Bill Chisolm scowled. The dark circles under his eyes gave him a menacing look. Hatch smiled back. Chisolm began approaching as she stepped inside the office space.

  “Can I help you?” a man asked, looking up from a file. He was slender, in his mid-fifties, with a pointy nose and glasses.

  “I’m looking to speak with Simon Chisolm.”

  “And who, may I ask, are you?”

  “Rachel Hatch.”

  The man took off his glasses and gave a warm smile. He stood from his chair and made his way around his large desk over to where Hatch stood. “Miss Hatch, I’m terribly sorry for your loss. The resemblance—I can’t believe I didn’t notice it when you first entered. These eyes aren’t what they used to be. Your sister was a valued employee and dear to our hearts.”

  “Thank you for that. I really need to speak with Mr. Chisolm.”

  The man outstretched his hand. “You are.”

  Hatch shook it and was taken aback by the man’s outward kindness. He was not as she had pictured. Especially after hearing Jedediah Russell’s claims. Maybe Savage was right to probe deeper with the mountain man.

  “Please have a seat, Miss Hatch.”

  “Hatch is fine.” She took an empty chair on the opposite side of the desk.

  “So, what is it I can do for you?”

  “I’m not sure. I’d like to find out what my sister was working on at the time of her death.”

  “Not sure I get what you mean. Your sister, God rest her soul, was an administrative assistant with us. She didn’t have any particular assignment besides keeping me organized.” He fanned his hands out at the stacks of paperwork and rolls of blueprints. “Heaven knows I need it. To be quite blunt, she was a secretary, albeit a good one.”

  “What about co-workers? Any
body she had problems with or a recent disagreement?”

  “Absolutely not. She was loved by all.”

  The door to the office swung open. Standing in the doorway, his massive hulk blocking out the daylight, was Bill Chisolm. “That’s the stupid bitch who did this!”

  Hatch stood and faced the massive man, preparing herself to provide him a follow-up lesson to the one she’d given him the night before.

  “Bill, shut the door and your damned mouth too!” The kind demeanor of the elder Chisolm was now replaced with anger.

  The door shut. The big man continued to seethe, his thick shoulders rising and falling in an exaggerated fashion.

  “You’re telling me this nice young lady did that to you?”

  “She sucker-punched me.”

  “Not exactly, but I definitely caught you off guard.” Hatch winked.

  “You told me it was a bar fight.”

  “Well—” The big man appeared at a loss for words.

  “He probably also failed to mention that he was seconds away from punching his date in the face when I interrupted.”

  “I’m going to file a complaint with the sheriff’s office,” Bill Chisolm said, folding his arms across his massive chest.

  “Would you like to do that at the station?” Hatch opened her jacket, exposing her gun and badge. “Or would you prefer we do it right now?”

  He went wide-eyed at the sight of the silver sheriff’s star.

  “We’ll be doing nothing of the sort. Bill, step outside and let me finish my conversation with Miss—correction—Deputy Hatch. I’ll deal with you later.”

  With that, the large man disappeared through the door he’d just entered, slamming it loudly.

  “I’m sorry about him. He’s really not a bad kid. Just has a bit of a temper on him.”

  “I guess you can see why I came to talk with you.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Bill’s no angel, but he’s my son and I can vouch for him. He got along well with your sister. And if it’s not too inappropriate to say, I think she fancied him.”

  “I’m not seeing it. But I’ve been gone a while.”

  “And you’ve been hired by the sheriff’s department?”