by L T Ryan
They rifled through the files, going drawer by drawer without luck. Until they reached the bottom drawer. In the very back was a thick file, banded closed. Savage retrieved it and set it down on Cramer’s desk.
Releasing the band, the file spread open and several documents slid out. Hatch picked up one of the packets and quickly thumbed through it, scanning for some connection. It was a land deed, but the buyer information didn’t say Nighthawk Engineering. The purchase was made by Danzig Holdings.
“Damn it!”
“What is it?” She looked up from the paper to see the Sheriff staring out the window.
“We’ve got company. Cramer.”
“The town manager is here? At this hour?”
“No. It’s Donny. Probably just doing a security check.”
“I thought he didn’t do anything.”
Savage sighed. “He doesn’t when it comes to work, but Sinclair told me he likes to pretend he’s doing work by putting himself out here. But he really just goes into their break room, watches television, and eats.”
“Regardless, he’s here now. Going to be hard to explain why the two of us are in his uncle’s office after hours.”
“At least we parked on the opposite side of the building.”
Hatch grabbed another stack of paper and began flipping through the pages.
“What are you doing?” Savage reached for the folder. “We’ve got to put this back in the cabinet and slip out.”
“Hold on a sec. Just keep an eye on Don.” Hatch found what she was looking for. She looked up at Savage. “The same company is buying up all these properties.”
“He’s out of his car.” Savage bounced on his heels.
Hatch began putting the files back in the folder when one caught her eye. “Here’s the unsigned offer Jed Russell was talking about. Looks like he wasn’t lying about them offering about four times what the property is worth.”
“Sounds like we’re going to be digging a little deeper on this.”
Hatch finished closing up the file and was working on stowing it back in its original position when Savage whispered, “We’re out of time. He’ll be coming through that door any second.”
She finished clicking the cabinet closed. Savage ducked down behind the desk and Hatch maintained her already crouched position. In the quiet, they heard the old hinges of the front door of the building creak open followed by the heavy footsteps of Donald Cramer. It wasn’t lost on Hatch the strangeness of seeing the Sheriff hide from one of his deputies.
If Savage was correct about Cramer’s night-shift routine, then he’d be entering the main office space at any moment. His boots clapped loudly against the tile floor of the hallway.
The break room was on the opposite side of the office they were in. Hatch was hopeful the careless deputy wouldn’t all of a sudden develop any police sense and notice the office was open.
Savage pulled out his cellphone.
Cramer walked into the break room and clicked on the light. The television came on soon after as the overweight lawman undid his duty belt and set it on the table. “Son of a bitch.” The set went off.
Hatch didn’t have a visual of the man but heard him donning his gear again. She duck-walked around the desk, keeping her profile beneath the glass partition wall that faced the main space of the office. She tucked low near the entrance, ready to spring into action should the deputy enter.
The deputy didn’t enter. He shut off the light to the break room, and Hatch could hear him lumber down the hall and out the door he’d entered only a minute before.
The two waited in silence for several minutes. Savage stood and looked out the window. The deputy’s car was gone from the lot. He gave a relieved sigh. “That was close.”
“That was weird. He came and then left. I didn’t hear a radio call.”
Savage held his cellphone in the air. “He got a message from me to get back to the station ASAP.”
Hatch laughed.
“What was your plan?” Savage said.
“I was going to neutralize him.”
Savage’s face went rigid. “You were going to kill him?”
“I was going to knock him out. And hopefully before he saw either one of us.”
His shock lessened. “Thank goodness for technology then.”
“For once, I agree with that sentiment.”
The two tidied up Cramer’s office, putting things back exactly as they’d found them. They shut the door, made sure it was locked, and then walked out to Savage’s Suburban parked by the back dumpster.
“Mind dropping me at home on the way?” Hatch asked. “We can pick this up tomorrow.”
“Sure thing. What time do you want me to pick you up?”
“Let’s make it seven. I’ll let you sleep in.”
“If seven’s late, I’d hate to see what early is for you.”
“There’s a lot that can be accomplished in those early hours before the rest of the world is up and moving.”
Hatch sat in the passenger seat as a wave of heat and exhaustion crashed over her. It might have been her body finally giving in to the physical stress of the car accident. And everything else. But deep down, she knew it was the emotional release of sharing her story with Savage. He was now in a very small group of people who’d ever been granted access to that memory. And with it an unspoken trust was given to him.
19
Sore would be the understatement of the century for the way Hatch felt. The rigid tension of her muscles when trying to shield Jake at the point of impact was the source for the achiness. It took a great amount of effort to sit up on the leather couch. Move an inch, wait for the knifing pain to subside as the muscles relaxed, and repeat. It was dark. A sliver of the moon doused the end of the couch with pale white light. It wasn’t quite four-thirty in the morning. With no Daphne to aid her sleep, Hatch’s insomnia had returned. Twisting and stretching slowly as she sat with her bare feet on the cold floor, a ripple of cracks and pops sounded as her joints released their pressure.
During her second round through the Army’s Special Forces Qualification Course, Hatch rolled her ankle on a night land navigation training. Alone and in pain, she laced her boot tighter and pushed forward to the finish. Knowing she was under extra scrutiny for being both female and war wounded, Hatch kept the information from the medics. She wanted to give them no excuse to roll her back into another session or dismiss her completely from the program. The injury occurred on day eighteen of the twenty-four-day course. Each day she bound her damaged ankle as best she could and kept her boot tight against it for additional support.
Hatch continued to pass each evolution thrown her way over the six remaining days. Only when she was advised of passing the course did she notify the medical team of her injury. The ankle wasn’t broken, but the surrounding ligaments were torn. She remembered the look on the doc’s face when he saw her foot, discolored an odd mix of purple and yellow, and how his eyes widened when she told him the injury occurred six days prior.
She’d learned some valuable lessons that second time around. The biggest being that pain is a limitation capable of being overcome. The truest test of mind over matter is doing it when things matter the most.
Hatch stood. Throwing on a long-sleeved shirt, shorts, and sneakers, she left the room and headed out the back door. Her muscles seized again at the onslaught of thirty-degree air. The first mile of the jog was stilted. Her body remained tight and her breathing was out of rhythm. With every passing minute, the movement loosened things, and ten minutes in, her body fell into step with her mind’s determined guidance.
She remained at her father’s rock longer than usual, enjoying the meditative state the stillness put her in. She returned to the house to see the sun cresting over the roof. Savage’s Chevy Suburban sat in the driveway. The hood was hot. The engine ticked. She hustled through the door.
Dalton Savage was seated at the table, bookended by her niece and nephew. Her mother came around fr
om the kitchen and into view holding the coffee pot. “Rachel, the Sheriff was just telling us that he’d recruited you.”
Savage silently mouthed, “Sorry.”
“It’s just temporary.” Hatch turned her attention to him. “I lost track of time on my run.”
“You went for a run after what you went through yesterday?” He shook his head. “Kids, if you got me a dictionary and opened it to the word crazy, there’d probably be a picture of your aunt there.”
She waved him off, catching Jake’s eye. “If you only train when it suits you, then you’ll never be ready to function when it matters.”
Hatch walked over and patted Daphne on the head. Then she went over to Jake, who was struggling to butter his toast with his left hand. She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “It’ll get easier. And don’t forget we’ve got some training to do.”
His face shifted from obvious frustration to one of stalwart determination as he moved the butter in a small arc across the crusted bread.
“Your mother makes a heck of a cup of coffee. Better not tell the customers at Clay’s or there will be a mutiny.”
Jasmine giggled. Something Hatch hadn’t heard in ages. And the sound of her laughter brought with it a memory of her father and mother, holding each other right where her mother stood now, her father whispering in her ear sweet words Hatch never heard. It was the last good memory she had of them together. Hatch was twelve then. It was the morning her father died. That memory had been buried in the awfulness of the later events of the day. Hatch was grateful for its return.
“I’m going to shower up and then we’ll get going.”
“Don’t hurry. I’m going to try and fill up on as much of this coffee as I can before we go.” Savage winked at Jasmine.
Hatch heard her mother’s laugh again as she bounded upstairs.
Hatch returned a few minutes later. Her wet hair dampened the area of her shirt near the neckline. “Ready?”
Savage emptied his mug and carried it to the sink.
“I filled a thermos for you.” Her mother handed it to Hatch as she passed by.
Hatch stopped and looked her mother in the eye while touching her elbow. “Thanks.”
Savage thanked her mother, too, and gave each child a sticker badge before leaving. Then the two departed into the crisp morning air and entered the still warm suburban. Hatch shielded her eyes from the intense sun. She carefully sipped the coffee as Savage drove the vehicle down the windy dirt-covered driveway.
She broke the silence. “So, how’d it go with Cramer last night?”
“I read him the riot act about a bunch of incomplete paperwork. The guy really is one of the laziest people I’ve ever come across. He’s got seventeen open cases. Seventeen.” He paused for emphasis. “Most of which could be completed with a sentence or two.”
“He was that way in high school, too. I guess when you come from money, you don’t have the same drive mechanism.”
“Where’d their wealth come from? It’s not like the town had much to offer before Nighthawk Engineering rolled in.”
“From what I remember, the Cramers were silver miners back in the day. Hit a big payload that’s still paying out today.”
“I’m sure the previous generation of hardworking prospectors would turn over in their graves if they saw the byproduct of their success.”
“That’s it!” Hatch almost dropped her thermos.
Savage looked over as he rolled the SUV to a stop in front of the main road. “What is it?”
“Let’s head to the Emergency Room.”
“Are you okay?”
“It’s not me. It’s something I overheard while there. It didn’t click until now.”
“Okay. Was it something I said?”
“Byproduct.”
Savage turned onto the road and headed in the direction of the hospital. “I may be wrong, but if I’m not, this investigation just got a whole lot messier.”
“Messier? How?”
“My guess is Chisolm’s company isn’t as environmentally conscious as they’d like you to believe. I’ll explain on the way.”
20
The hospital was small, but appropriately so for the population it served. There was an older man half asleep in one of the waiting room chairs. He looked half dead. Smelled that way, too. Hatch wasn’t sure if he was waiting to be seen or waiting for a patient. She let Savage take the lead when dealing with the main desk’s receptionist, figuring his position as Sheriff would hold more clout.
“Good morning. We’re trying to find some information on a patient who was seen by the ER yesterday.”
“Sheriff, you know we can’t divulge patient information to you. Unless you have a warrant. Do you have one of those?”
“No. I understand the privacy laws, but this may be critically important to an ongoing investigation.”
“I’d really like to help. But I could get in serious trouble. Lose my job. I can’t risk it.”
“How about we speak to the doctor then?” Hatch asked.
“I guess you could. Do you know which doctor you’d like to speak with?”
Hatch searched her mind to her very brief conversation she’d had with the doctor, trying to recall the stitched name on his lab coat. “I think it started with a T.”
“Well, that would be Doctor Talbot.” The secretary leaned and lowered her voice. “Short and a bit on the plump side with a pinched nose.”
“That’s the one.”
“He’s off for the next three days. He just finished up his rotation.”
“Can we have his address? We really need to speak with him.”
“Afraid that won’t do you any good either. He just got a new boat and is on a fishing trip with his son.”
Hatch bit her bottom lip in frustration.
A nurse walked into the reception area. “Mr. Caldwell, your wife’s ready to see you now.”
The half dead man snorted loudly as he righted himself. He shuffled slowly across the linoleum of the waiting room.
Hatch turned her attention back to the receptionist. “Listen, this information could save lives. That boy who was in the room next to me, he was sick. And I think I know why. If we don’t have the information, then a lot more people are going to be filling these beds.”
“I’m truly sorry. If it’s as you say, I’m sure you could get a warrant for the records.”
“That’s time we may not have,” Savage said.
The nurse cleared her throat loudly, and Hatch cast a glance in her direction. As the nurse began gently guiding old Mr. Caldwell into the doors of the ER she mouthed, “Out back.”
Hatch acknowledged her receipt of the message with a barely perceptible nod of her head. She then faced Savage. “We’re obviously not going to get anywhere here. Best we head out and look at getting that warrant.”
Savage raised an eyebrow, baffled at Hatch’s sudden change in tactic and temperament. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry about not being of more help.”
“No harm done. You’re just doing your job.” Hatch turned and Savage followed.
Outside of the hospital, Savage looked over at her. “You’re up to something. I’m just not sure what exactly.”
Hatch didn’t say anything. She began walking away from where they were parked and around to the back side of the building.
Standing by the back door, Hatch waited as a harsh wind lashed at her face, causing the fresh laceration above her eye to tingle.
Savage took a fistful of licorice from his pocket and popped them into his mouth. “Waiting is always when the craving strikes hardest.” His words were muffled by the chewy mass lining his cheeks.
A few minutes later, the door opened and the nurse from the lobby appeared. Her gaze swept the parking lot multiple times before she stepped out to meet them.
She approached with a file tucked under her arm. The nurse paused before handing it over to Hatch. “I could get in a lot of trouble for this.”
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“Thank you.”
“I overheard you and felt something needed to be done. Doctor Talbot didn’t seem to care much when I tried to explain to him it was the fifth case like that this month. Isolated events happen all the time, but patterned ones need to be analyzed. He told me he’s aware and that it’s being looked into. But I know he’s lying. This medical chart was in his desk drawer. Along with the other four cases. Not normal protocol.”
“You’re doing the right thing in getting us this,” Savage said.
“It’s a copy. All five cases are in there.” Rubbing her arms against the cold, the nurse began a hasty retreat back inside. “I hope you can put a stop to whatever’s going on.”
The nurse disappeared inside, leaving Hatch and Savage to themselves.
Hatch tucked the file inside her jacket and started walking back to their SUV.
“I don’t know what we’ve gotten ourselves into, but one thing’s for certain, Hatch. You’ve got us crossing over into some dangerous territory.”
“Story of my life. Hopefully, it won’t be my last chapter.” Hatch opened the file folder and began thumbing through the medical charts.
“Anything to go on?”
She flipped back and forth between pages. “Looks like each patient was noted as having higher than normal levels of Alkaline Phosphatase. Not sure what that is, but I’m guessing it’s not good. Each patient came in experiencing stomach pain. The youngest, age four, was experiencing some sort of issue with his kidney. That’s the one I overheard yesterday.”
“I guess we start there then.”
Hatch gave Savage the address listed on the medical form. She knew the area. A small trailer community at the city limits.
21
Savage slowed the vehicle as he pulled into Hidden Gem Trailer Park. Hatch took in the sight of the poorly kept double wide trailers interspersed among high pines. Hidden, yes. Gem, no.
A woman gave a wary eye as she swatted a rug hung on a clothesline extending from the corner of her home. Dust exploded into the air around her with each strike, mixing with the smoke seeping out of the corner of her mouth. A cigarette dangled from her lower lip and miraculously, the long ash didn’t fall, in spite of the violent swings of the fan-shaped carpet beater. Its odor greeted them through the Suburban’s cracked windows. Judging by the sharpness of the woman’s glare, the sight of law enforcement was not a welcome one within this community.
