Endangered

by Ann Littlewood

  Wanda and Pluvia checked that I was cowed into belief before Wanda started up again.

  “Now, I had two sons and no need of more, but Jerome seemed to feel that since Liana worked out so well, he could bring home another stray.” Bitterness oozed from her voice. “That was Ethan. He was a young fellow, real smart. He was pleasant, but he only stayed with us a week or two. He got himself a place somewhere nearby, and he’d come visit. He must be the root of all this.”

  “That was three or four months ago, right?”

  Wanda’s brow furrowed. “Doesn’t seem that long, but I’ve been foggy in my mind.”

  “Yes,” said Pluvia, “She’s right. Along about last October.”

  I figured she knew because she spied on the place regularly. “Why didn’t he stay?”

  Wanda said, “Liana took a dislike to him. We all ignored it, but she wouldn’t let it go. Finally he had enough and moved out.”

  “Why didn’t she like him?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Pluvia leaned toward her. “Wanda, why are you doing that?”

  Wanda’s eyes filled with tears. “Leave me alone.”

  Pluvia said, “It’s important.”

  “It makes Jerome look so bad.” Her pale eyes threatened to spill over.

  I couldn’t suppress an urge to rescue her. “Let’s see if I already know. Jerome and the boys had made a living growing marijuana for years, but Ethan had new ideas, new ways to make money. It was his idea to set up the meth lab. And he knew how.”

  Wanda sat on the bed with her swollen white hands limp in her lap.

  Pluvia said, “Of course it was. Jerome could never figure out how to do such a thing.”

  Wanda ruffled a little. Perhaps she was the only one who got to criticize Jerome. She turned back to me. “Ethan talked Jerome into spending a lot of money on equipment. I didn’t know what they were doing. I wasn’t well.” Was that the tiniest bit of whine in her voice?

  “They also brought in smuggled parrots and tortoises to sell,” I said.

  “I don’t think so.” Wanda looked confused. “I never heard anything about that.”

  “Well, they did. Tell me about when Ethan moved out.”

  Wanda shrugged a thick shoulder. “He had bought himself a car and he just up and left. Liana was happy as could be.”

  “Triumphant, like she’d won, driven him out?”

  “I guess you could say triumphant. She was pretty unhappy about his plans for making that evil drug in the barn. I spoke against it, too, but of course Jerome wouldn’t listen to me. He said people deserved their misery for being weak. Usually he’d listen to Liana, but Ethan kept talking about the money, and how Jerome could donate it to his causes. Patriot causes. Jerome meant well. He wanted to send money to people he believed in.”

  Meant well. I let that go. “But Ethan came back now and then.”

  “Yes, he did. He usually didn’t come up to the house. He’d meet Jerome in one of the barns.”

  “Was his car a beige sedan?”

  Pluvia said, “Cream color.”

  “Would Jerome call him to make bail and get a ride back to the house?”

  Wanda’s face went sour. “He’d tell Ethan where his money was hidden before he’d tell me or our boys. Not his own family, oh no.”

  I said, “All of the money or some of it?”

  Wanda said, “Just the one batch, I expect. I know he hid it in more than one spot. Jerome made sure the government would never find it. He cared more about that than anything else.”

  Otherwise Ethan and the brothers wouldn’t be looking for it.

  Pluvia patted Wanda’s hand.

  My next question wouldn’t help find Ethan, but I wanted to know. “Do you remember if Ethan ever cut himself, like in the kitchen or something?”

  Pluvia and Wanda looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. Wanda frowned for a minute and said at last, “Yes, there was such a thing. I remember it because it was the one time Liana was nice to that man. It was just before he left. He nicked himself out in the barn doing something or other. His hand was still bleeding when they all came up to the house for some reason. Liana put a bandage on it.”

  I told them about the bag I’d found. “I think he’d used that glass, maybe for a drink of water. Inside it was a tissue that must have had blood from his cut hand.”

  The two women looked at me blankly.

  “It was an ID kit. His fingerprints and maybe his DNA were on file somewhere for crimes he’d committed. I think Liana told him she had hidden it where he’d never find it, and she’d turn it over to the police if he didn’t leave. I bet she was pretty upset when he helped get the meth lab into production anyway.”

  I could tell Pluvia got it.

  Tears spilled down Wanda’s soft cheeks. “Liana tried to protect us from a criminal. Jerome wouldn’t listen.”

  I nudged the tissue box on her bed tray toward her. “Your farm was as safe and remote as any place could be. Ethan must have thought he’d landed in heaven.”

  “He killed my girl. Ethan killed her.”

  Sounded right to me. “So. Where is his place?”

  And they didn’t know. Either of them. No idea.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  I dropped Pluvia off at the Battle Ground Safeway to connect with the friend who would take her back to her cabin. On the way, she practically burbled. “Wanda is almost her old self again. It’s wonderful to have her back. Thank you so much for taking me.”

  I nodded politely. Panic was skittering across my brain on little sandpiper toes with depression and frustration trotting right behind. I’d pinned my last hopes on those two women.

  Pluvia said, “She’ll have a hard time at home, with everyone gone. I’ll do what I can, but sorrows take their own time.” She was quiet for a mile or so. “I wish we could help you find Jeff and Tom. I know they’re in big trouble. I never thought Tom would act like that.” She lapsed into silence, which suited me fine.

  I had a name, but it was certainly false. I had a description that was largely useless—white, average height, dark hair, a thin mustache and a little beard patch, no special characteristics. I pictured a guy a few years older than Liana—closer to Jeff and Tom’s age, probably a meth addict with bad teeth. Not the spider tortoise shopper at the reptile show, the descriptions were too far off. Maybe I’d seen him. Maybe he was one of the men with metal detectors roaming the farm.

  I believed what the two women told me, and many details were now filled in. But the big question, the one that mattered, remained unanswered: where the hell were these guys?

  Deep in hiding, that was where, holed up deep in the fir trees and big-leaf maples, hunkered down in some forgotten cabin that no one would ever find. They’d foray out at night, like feral cats, for food and mayhem and vanish at daybreak.

  I called Gettler from the Safeway parking lot. Might as well tell him what I’d learned. Maybe he could pull something useful out of his official hat. “It’s Iris. I talked to Pluvia, the neighbor.”

  “You didn’t listen to me, did you?”

  “I took her to the hospital to visit Wanda Tipton.” I told him about the third man.

  “Interesting. We haven’t seen any evidence of an outsider. I’ll drop by the hospital and talk to your friend if he’s awake enough by now. He might give us some descriptions. I’ll pay Wanda another visit, too.”

  Denny was too out of it to be useful, and I doubted Wanda would talk to the law. “Better you should run every fingerprint you found at the farm.”

  “Thanks. I’d never have thought of that.”

  Stung, I clapped my phone shut and pointed the Honda toward the Interstate and home. After a few miles, I realized Officer Gettler might be a little stressed himself.

&n
bsp; Somehow I now had a regular hospital route. I took the exit to the Southwest Medical Center to see Denny and Marcie. Linda and Marion hovered outside the room. They wore civilian clothes, which in Marion’s case was surprising—a long, colorful skirt. Linda was in predictable jeans and a sweatshirt.

  Marcie, somehow unrumpled in a pink turtle-neck and tan pants, stepped out of the room to join us in the hallway. She assured us Denny was better, but I couldn’t see any change. He was still limp, the machines still hummed, the tubes still dripped.

  Linda said, “Marion and I can sit with him on our days off. Hap would, too, and Pete and Cheyenne. We can make a schedule.”

  Marcie smiled and shook her head. “Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m fine here. Thanks for offering.”

  We stood around in the hallway, uncomfortable and worried, stymied.

  “Marcie,” I said, “you don’t have to do this alone. Let his friends help.”

  “I have to be here.” It was a statement of fact, not debatable. Marcie’s eyes were hollow and brilliant and serene. “I have everything I need.”

  We took another peek at him and left. In the lobby, we shared a frustrated shrug and went our separate ways. Marcie would do everything humanly possible to take care of Denny, and there was nothing I could do to take care of Marcie. Better to focus on other problems. Like finding Strongbad.

  Ken called while I was in the hospital parking lot on my way out. “Hey, sorry I didn’t call sooner. Didn’t notice the message. How’s your friend? Have you found that dog?”

  I told him what had happened to Denny and about my attempts to find Strongbad. “He’s got a collar with some sort of ID tag, maybe a license. Denny never said anything about chipping him.”

  “Could be they just clouted him over the head to shut him up,” he said without excitement. “He might have run off any direction. He might have tried to trail the car. You could search the route to the zoo.”

  “We did, but not all the way to the freeway. I’ll go back and walk farther along the road.”

  “I’ll meet you at Denny’s house. What’s the address? We can each take a side.”

  Driving to Denny’s, I decided I would not regret sleeping with Craig. Even if I never saw him again, it had been worth it to feel like more than a harassed parent and dutiful employee, if only for a little while. Ken appealed, but Craig moved faster. I didn’t owe either of them a thing. Everyone has baggage and a secret or two.

  Ken was chatting with Cheyenne on Denny’s front porch when I arrived and broke away with such an open, happy-to-see-me face that I almost stumbled. Surprised into shyness, I shook his hand and thanked him for helping out.

  He and I started at the arterial where Cheyenne and I had stopped and worked toward the freeway. Few people were home and those weren’t sociable. We left a flier at each house. The air was cool and damp. Instead of the usual gray ceiling with dull, even light, the sky was mottled and uneven. Daylight brightened and dimmed as the clouds shifted, dark bruises outlined in pale. The rain held off.

  We quit at the freeway. “Worst case, he’s injured and dying in the bushes somewhere,” I said.

  “Best case, he’s holed up at someone’s house eating leftover steak. Come on. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee and a cookie. There’s nothing more we can do.”

  We caravanned to a little café close by. The coffee was acceptable and a big chocolate cookie was the best part of this dismal day. Ken’s fondness for pastries was hell on my waistline. I told him about seeing the Tiptons’ dogs at the humane society.

  “Nice place. They do a good job,” he said.

  I cocked a head at him. “But they don’t know you. At least the volunteer didn’t know your name.”

  “There’s one woman there who cannot get it out of her head that my name is Benjamin, like her cousin the bus driver. Ben, Ken—way too close. I gave up telling her. What’s next on your agenda?”

  “No agenda. I’m stuck waiting. Waiting to hear if Denny’s going to survive. Waiting to hear the Tiptons are in custody so I can go home. Waiting to hear about that damned dog that Denny never trained.” The tortoises were probably being tossed around with other packages at the post office, on their way to some ignorant or ethics-free collector. I put my face in my hands. “I am so angry I want to throw up. I want to kill these people. I can’t think of what to do to make this be over.”

  Ken said, “Sometimes waiting is what you do. Sometimes it’s all you can do.”

  “Hasn’t worked so far. If I wait, something bad happens. If I act, something worse happens.”

  I yielded to his bottomless calm and interested brown eyes. I ate the cookie and told him about my visit with Pluvia and Wanda and my failure to win over Gettler with my plan to trap Jeff and Tom. “I’m sure that someone else is using them as cats’ paws. When those guys were leaving my house, Jeff said they’d better hurry up or they’d catch hell. I wondered who would be pissed off at them. It has to be whoever’s taking Jerome’s place in their lives.”

  He absorbed this. “I’ve wondered how those two managed to evade the law so long. Someone helping them makes sense.”

  My hands were on the table wrapped in an iron grip around my coffee mug. He put his hands on each side of mine, a mini-hug. “Slow down and let the solutions develop. Wait and watch for awhile. Less dangerous, for one thing.”

  I promised to consider that strategy. I felt better and it wasn’t just caffeine and calories. He made me feel calmer and less frantic about the mess my life was in. I’d always been drawn to men who brought a challenge, a dash of risk, men who got my pulse pounding. Not men who slowed it down and made me feel safe. Calm and caution—would that evolve into “boring”? Might take awhile to find out.

  I’d try following his advice, “wait and watch,” only because, for the life of me, I couldn’t think of a single thing to do.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Wednesday, aside from concern about Denny, Calvin seemed unusually cheerful as well as casual about the work. I didn’t feel his eyes on me as I prepared the diets. He didn’t seem at all worried about how many meal worms in this pan, whether the fruit was cut to the right size in that pan, what size the slivers of fish were. He acted as though I knew how to do it perfectly, and he could relax and putter around. It was unnerving.

  At morning break, he disappeared. I called Marcie and learned that Denny was talking a little when he was awake. His meds had been changed, but I didn’t follow the details. “I’ll come after work.”

  Marcie said, “There’s no point—he’s asleep most of the time.”

  “Can I spell you or bring anything?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

  This was her project, her realm, and I wasn’t to be part of it. She was disregarding our friendship as well as all the years I’d known Denny. I didn’t like it. She had to be near collapse from lack of sleep and stress. If she ended up sick or irrational, both of them would need someone to pick up the pieces.

  Craig hadn’t called and I didn’t like that any better. I wanted to hear that we were okay. I wouldn’t mind talking to Ken, while I was wishing.

  Calvin returned and found me scrubbing the aviary feeding platforms. “Neal’s got the job posted. You better get your application in.” He shooed me out early for lunch.

  Jackie, the department secretary, printed off the form for me. “Heading for the big time, huh? Don’t forget us little people.”

  I snorted and was searching for a witty reply when she added, “Neal wants to see you.”

  “Here I am.”

  “He’s Skypeing with the elephant insemination guy. He and Ian and Cheyenne. I think they’re scheduling the next try at knocking up Nakri.”

  “I’ll come back after lunch.”

  “No, he’ll be at a meeting downtown. This thing will be over in ten
minutes.”

  I sat and ate my sandwich until Ian and Cheyenne emerged. Ian pretended I wasn’t there. Cheyenne gave me a cautious smile.

  Neal saw me through the door. “Oakley. Let’s talk.”

  I stepped into his office.

  “Close the door.”

  I closed the door.

  “Not to be trite, but there’s good news and there’s bad news.”

  The bad news had been really awful lately. I sat down. “Let’s have it.”

  He massaged the bridge of his nose. “Did you plan to apply for the senior keeper position that just opened up?”

  “Yup.”

  “I wanted to talk to you privately. Maybe this information is outdated.” He pulled out a folder and rubbed his nose on the back of a hand.

  “What information?”

  “Your personnel file indicates you finished two years of college. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. Is there a problem?”

  “Senior keeper requires a degree. All our job descriptions were updated a year and a half ago. The requirement aligns the position with current standards in the industry.”

  “A college degree.”

  “A bachelor’s degree in a related field.”

  I sat paralyzed with surprise and dismay. This could not be true. My next reaction was that my mother must never hear of this, followed by the realization that I was a dumb-ass moron loser. My eyes prickled.

  Neal closed the folder. “If you pick up an A.A. degree and you’re enrolled in a B.A. program, I might manage a temporary waiver. But you’ve got to get that bachelors to fill a senior keeper position.”

  “What about the fact that I have years of experience in that exact job, and I’m damned good at what I do? That doesn’t count for squat?” Anger pushed the tears back.

  He folded his hands on his desk. “I was pretty sure you hadn’t read the requirements. I wanted to give you a chance to think it over.”