“Excuse me for interrupting,” Christopher said, “but I’m not quite sure why you asked me to be here. How is it that I am involved?”
“Again, you’ll see. Meg, maybe you should start.”
Meg took a deep breath. “As you all know, two weeks ago I found the body of David Clapp on Jonas Nash’s land. And I also found a dead Asian longhorned beetle at the same time.”
“And you have determined that these two events are linked?” Christopher asked.
“They are, and through someone you know: Gabe Aubuchon.”
29
Christopher was clearly startled. “Gabe, from the rearing lab?”
“Yes, that Gabe,” Meg said. “Christopher, you told me that the state agency thought there was something unusual about the distribution of the insects they found in Granford?”
Art looked blank. “What are you talking about?”
Christopher explained how the state agencies had noticed the local beetle infestations seemed too consistent to be natural. “It was suggested, albeit cautiously, that somehow the insects had been planted in several places at the same time.”
“What the heck does that mean?” Art demanded. “Is it illegal?”
“It is, although under what laws is something that has not been tested, as far as I know. I’ve heard of one case in which a commercial nursery knowingly shipped infested trees beyond the quarantine area, and they were prosecuted and fined. They could find no example of an individual acting independently to perpetrate such a thing.” Christopher turned back to Meg. “My dear, are you saying that Gabe Aubuchon is behind this? How do you know?”
Meg looked at Seth, who took her hand. “Do you want to tell this part?”
“I’ll do it. I’ll admit I wasn’t paying much attention to the science side,” Seth said. “All I knew was that an invasive pest had been found in Granford, and suddenly I had all these government agencies showing up and demanding things from the town. I recognize that there are official protocols to follow, though, and the state agency asked me to act on behalf of the town to keep the public informed. It’s my understanding that they’re going to have to cut down a lot of trees, particularly maples, on our public land, which will affect our recreational areas, but there’s not much we can do about it.”
“Hey, Seth, could we move this along?” Art asked. “I’ve got a job to go to, and there’s follow-up to all the fires. Do you know what happened to Clapp?”
“I’m getting there. At the same time, Sandy at town hall had pointed out that there was an unusual power drain over the past year or two—more than a simple household would account for. It turned out to be an old line running to an abandoned house on the north end of town, which was suddenly drawing power. I decided to stop by and check it out, on my way to a job site, yesterday morning. That’s why my van was parked up there, Art.”
“And then you went missing for the rest of the day,” Art said, “and Meg called me, and I told her when I saw the van, and the next thing I know, the two of you come stumbling out from the middle of a forest fire. What the hell happened?”
Meg looked at the people around the table, who were all watching her. “I can tell you what happened, and there are some things that are clearly illegal, but there may be more to it. Can you reserve judgment until you know the whole story? And can we keep this information in this room until we’ve all had time to consider?”
“You mean me, as a law enforcement officer, I assume,” Art said. “You know I can’t make any promises, but I’m listening.”
“Just hear me out first. Yesterday afternoon when I went looking for Seth, I took Max along. I found the van where you told me it would be, and then Max led me into the woods for a mile or so, where we came across that old house Seth mentioned. It was clear that somebody had been using it. Anyway, Max led me around the house to a kind of shed attached to the side of the house. It was locked, so I had to bash the lock off, and that’s where I found Seth trussed up with duct tape.”
She had to swallow hard, as the memory of that awful moment came back with full force. Seth’s hand tightened on hers. “I . . . thought he was dead, for a moment. Obviously he wasn’t, but he was way too hot and kind of disoriented, and I knew he was in trouble. You do the math—he’d been stuck in there all day, and the temperature had to be over a hundred. That’s when I called you again, Art.”
“Right, and you asked about heatstroke.”
Meg nodded. “And you told me I needed to find water and get him cooled off, so I went looking around the building, but it was locked. I could see equipment and stuff inside, and an air conditioner. I was getting ready to break into the house when Gabe Aubuchon appeared.” When Art started to say something, Meg held up a hand to stop him. “At first I thought maybe he was just wandering through the woods looking for more insect sites, but he made it pretty clear that he was the one who’d been using the place.”
“Whatever for?” Christopher exclaimed.
Now Art looked angry. “What’re you saying, Meg? Did this guy Aubuchon kidnap and lock Seth up to die? Seth, what do you know?”
“Not much, Art. Like I said, I followed the electric line in and I found the house, and then there’s a big blank. I don’t remember anything until I kind of came to inside the house, with the two of them dumping water over me and shoving water bottles in my face, and then we had to get out of there because the fire was getting close.”
“Great witness you make,” Art muttered. He turned back to Meg. “So what happened?”
Meg faced him squarely. “Art, right then Gabe had a choice. He could have overpowered me quite easily and locked us both up to die. He could have walked away and disappeared, and I don’t know if I could have gotten Seth out of there on my own. Instead, he helped us. Gabe let us into the building, we got Seth cooled off enough to function, more or less, and then when we saw how close the fire was, Gabe more or less carried him out, back to the road. Seth could very well have died without Gabe’s help.”
Everyone fell silent for a moment. Then Art said slowly, “I never saw anyone else—just you and Seth, when you came through the smoke. There could have been an army back there, and I wouldn’t have known. What did Aubuchon do?”
“When we got close enough to the road to see that you all were there, he said ‘sorry’ then turned and disappeared into the woods.”
“Why don’t you two ever make things easy?” Art leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “So right up front you’ve got Aubuchon committing kidnapping and assault, and maybe attempted murder. Seth, how do you feel about that?”
“I . . . don’t know. I don’t remember a whole lot. If he did all that, I’m angry, of course, but in the end he got us out of there. Meg’s right—I couldn’t have made it without his help.”
Art turned to Meg. “You said David Clapp’s death was connected. How?”
“Gabe told me it was an accident. The guy found him planting a bug on Nash’s land where someone was sure to find it and confronted him, but somehow he tripped and hit his head—at least, that’s what Gabe said happened. You’d know more about the cause of death than we do. Gabe did admit to concealing the body because he wanted the bug found first, but he said he didn’t kill him.”
“Okay, we’ll keep that one on the back burner. What about this whole bug-planting scheme? Is that illegal? Christopher, can you help us out with that?”
Christopher was clearly troubled. “Oh dear—what a mess. Perhaps I should go back a bit and fill in the background, which may help you understand. Gabe Aubuchon was hired to work in the insect-rearing facility at the university, the one you visited, Meg.”
Meg nodded. “Yes, and it was Gabe who gave me the tour. I recognized some of the same equipment at the old house, although on a much smaller scale.”
“Gabe appeared to be a bright and personable young man. His academic record was not stellar, but he made up for that in enthusiasm and dedication. As I worked with him, I learned that he had overcome considerable o
bstacles to attend college at all—he came from a very small town up near the Canadian border, and he was the first in his family to do so. It was a financial hardship for him, but he scraped by. He truly wished to improve himself, and he was a model employee. Very thorough and conscientious. He always covered the lab on weekends—insects need to be fed no matter what the calendar says, and data collected. He never complained. Nor did he ever mention anything about his life outside the lab—I’m not sure he had any other interests, or any personal relationships.
“But then the government announced it planned to cut the funding for that particular project, and there were no other openings under my purview. I would have been happy to give him an outstanding recommendation, but he seemed particularly upset about leaving the university.”
“Christopher,” Meg said, “he admitted to spreading the insects, but he told me it was to save his job.”
Christopher stared into space for a moment. “Then I would surmise that he believed that by creating more infested sites here, the government would be persuaded to extend the project.”
“Hey, guys, this is way out of my league,” Art protested. “You’re saying he grew his own bugs out there in the woods and turned ’em loose in the forest, so official people would think there was more work to be done and he’d get to keep his job?”
“In a nutshell,” Meg replied.
“He was a skilled technician, so he would have had no trouble rearing them himself. Obtaining the live insects would be difficult for most people, since they are carefully controlled, but I would guess he took enough from the lab to start his own colony,” said Christopher. “I don’t believe he removed any significant numbers from the lab, nor did he help himself to any equipment.”
“But you’d guess he stole at least a few from the lab?” Art asked.
“Yes, which would also be a crime, of some sort. I can’t even tell you if it’s a federal or a state issue. They are kept under strict quarantine. But it would not have taken many to establish his first colony. Still, I wonder—” Christopher paused. “None of the infestations discovered were very large, but reports suggested that they started at least two years ago.”
“So Gabe was planning ahead? He saw the writing on the wall that far in advance?”
“Perhaps. He knew when I hired him that his position was not a permanent one, but he must have harbored hope that it would be extended. When that looked unlikely, apparently he took action to ensure it.”
The assembled group digested that information for a moment.
“Well, before we do anything else, we’ve got to find the guy,” Art said grimly. “Meg, you said he was on foot when you first saw him?”
“That’s right. I didn’t hear any vehicle, but I wasn’t exactly paying attention.”
“What was in that building?”
She was beginning to see what he was getting at. “A lot of equipment—including a couple of fairly good-sized refrigerators, and that air conditioner. More than he could have carried in by hand. So it’s likely there’s another access road?”
“Probably. We’ll look. As of this moment, we don’t know whether Aubuchon made a clean getaway in an unknown vehicle, or on foot, or didn’t get away at all.”
“Who’s going to go looking?” Bree said, speaking for the first time. “You? The staties? The Feds? Heck, what about Homeland Security? Terrorism by bug?”
“Good question, Bree,” Art replied, “and I don’t have an answer. Not yet, anyway. I’d bet it’s going to be a real dogfight if all the interested parties start arguing about who gets to go first.”
“What about Detective Marcus, Art?” Meg asked. “What are you going to tell him?”
“About Clapp’s death? I don’t know. Marcus’s office has already written this off as an accident, and you’ve given me no new evidence to override that. Maybe Gabe made some kind of confession to you, but the facts haven’t changed. As for the bug thing, our scenario is based largely on guesswork, and it would be hard to prove—or maybe harder to convince government authorities.”
Art turned to Seth. “Seth, you’re the one with the greatest personal stake in this, at least for yesterday’s events. Do you want to press charges?”
“I’m not really sure. Yes, technically he kidnapped me, or at least restrained me against my will. I don’t know if he meant to kill me—he just overreacted when I showed up unexpectedly. Maybe he was coming back to let me go—we don’t know. But he did end up helping Meg and me in the end, so I’d say that’s a wash.”
“Will the lab suffer, Christopher?” Meg asked.
“Oh dear, I hadn’t even thought of that,” he said. “It will not reflect well upon our quarantine procedures, although no one could expect us to keep a head count of our insects. Theft has never been a consideration.”
“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” Meg said. “David Clapp’s death—it’s already on the books as a likely accident in the eyes of the state police. Seth’s kidnapping—he and I are the only witnesses. Art, you and the fire crews saw only the two of us. If we say nothing, there is no crime. And he saved our lives. As for the bug-planting? Christopher, can that be proved?”
“I’m afraid not. Either way, the official eradication process has already begun. The authorities aren’t as concerned about the source as they are about stopping the spread.”
Meg pressed on. “So it’s possible that none of these events will be acknowledged as crimes? And nobody would go hunting for Gabe Aubuchon?”
“It’s possible, but I’m not sure it’s legal, Meg,” Art said.
“I know, Art. I just wanted to get it out on the table.”
“So what happens next?” Bree asked. “I mean, doesn’t somebody have to do something?”
Art stood up. “I have to get to work. In answer to your question, Bree, I want to take some time to think about this, and all the possible outcomes. And you all think about your positions, too. We’ll talk again tonight. I think this’ll keep that long. If Aubuchon is lying somewhere in the burnt-out part of the forest, he’s not going anywhere. If he’s on the run, he’s long gone.”
And Gabe will be a day farther away, if he’s running, Meg added to herself.
Seth stood up as well. “I’ll walk you out. I’d like to remind myself what rain feels like.”
The two men went out the back door, leaving Meg, Bree, and Christopher sitting around the table.
“Boy, you sure know how to find messes, Meg,” Bree said. “You might have mentioned that you almost died yesterday. This is not a good time to go job hunting.”
“I was a little preoccupied. Thank you for your concern, though—I’m touched.”
“Sorry,” Bree said, contrite. “You know I don’t mean it, right?”
“I do.” Meg summoned up a smile. “And I was never really at risk. Seth was. I don’t know if I can forgive Gabe for that, even though he came through in the end. I don’t suppose he’s a bad person at heart, but he didn’t consider the consequences of his actions.”
“I am so sorry, Meg,” Christopher said. “I never suspected.”
“Why should you?” Meg asked. “He seemed like a nice person. Shows us how little we know about other people. But I suppose in some backhanded way I ought to thank Gabe, because he finally forced me to realize how important Seth is to me. If I’d lost Seth . . .” She couldn’t finish that thought. “He asked me to marry him, this morning. And I said yes.”
Christopher beamed. “That, my dear, is wonderful news, although I won’t say I’m surprised.” He laid his hand over hers. “Don’t dwell on what might have been. It didn’t happen. I’d like to comfort myself with the notion that Gabe tried to do the right thing in the end, else you and Seth might not be here now. I think we all need time to come to terms with these events.” He glanced at his watch. “My word, I have an appointment with the contractor for the new building, so I must go. We’ll talk later today.”
He too went out the back door, and Meg noticed t
hat he didn’t bother with an umbrella. Nor had Art or Seth. But she understood: this rain was very welcome, and getting wet was a happy change. Meg watched as Christopher stopped for a moment to talk with Art and Seth, then returned to his car and pulled out, followed quickly by Art. Seth waved them off, then came back. Inside the door he wrapped his arms around Meg and they just stood there. Meg relished the feeling of his rain-wet, now cool body against hers. If things had turned out differently . . . no, she wasn’t going to go there.
“Yo, guys, I’m still in the room. Want me to leave?” Bree called out.
Reluctantly Meg peeled herself away from Seth. “No, not just yet. Is there anything we have to do today? I mean, in the orchard?”
“You mean, something less than life or death? Actually I think we’ve all earned a day off, and it looks like the rain will keep up for the rest of the day. You two can go do, uh, whatever.”
They went.
30
They made it upstairs, but the events of the past few days had clearly taken a toll, and sleep trumped romance. As she drifted off, Meg relished the rare feeling that there was nothing she had to do right that minute, and that a lot of problems had somehow resolved themselves, or at least crept closer to resolution, and she was exactly where she wanted to be . . . She slept, with Seth’s arm around her.
It was a few hours later when she woke up again. It was still raining, a nice, steady rain. She could imagine her apples sucking it in and swelling by the moment. Not too fast, she hoped, or they would split. But that was beyond her control, and lots of rain was better than no rain.
Was she ready to work through the whole Gabe situation in her mind? Art and Christopher had something to lose, whether it was their legal standing or their professional reputation. What would they choose to do? Or maybe more important for all of them, what was the right thing to do? Not the correct legal thing, but the moral human thing? That was trickier. She kind of hoped that her own answer would become clear to her, but it hadn’t yet.
Golden Malicious Page 23
