Desperate Measures

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Jennie joined the others around the dining room table. The teakettle whistled, and Mary brought it and a canister of tea to the table. Megan and Lisa had already told them about Crystal’s brother agreeing to take Jennie to meet with his sister.

  “I know we shouldn’t have gone, but we wanted to find out what had happened to Scott.” Megan picked out a raspberry tea bag and began dunking it. “Talking to Crystal seemed like a step in the right direction. We had no idea she was a member of ARM.”

  “I thought she might be,” Jennie said. “This whole thing is my fault. I should have called Agent Tucker. I didn’t because I knew he’d never let us go. That was my first mistake. My second was going with Crystal alone. All I could think about was finding Scott. I should have called the FBI as soon as I heard about Sal. As it turned out, I didn’t have to. Tucker had a tail on Sal the whole time. Which turned out to be a good thing.”

  “And did you find Scott?” Tom asked.

  “Yes.” Jennie blew on her ginseng tea and took a sip. It went down smooth and warm. “Crystal and Aleshia helped him escape from the hospital. They thought he was with ARM. I don’t think I was in any real danger from them—at least not right then. I’m not sure what would have happened if and when they found out the truth about Scott working for the FBI. And I’m sure they would have eventually.” Jennie told them about the conversations she’d had and about the Sutherlands’ truck being used to run Scott down. “I don’t think it was Aleshia, but it had to be someone with access to the truck. Maybe Christine, Jim, or Stan …”

  “Or me,” Tom said. Jennie did a double take.

  Tom shook his head. “No, Jennie, I didn’t do it. The point I was trying to make is that anyone could have taken that truck. Bob kept an extra set of keys in the shop.”

  “That’s what makes this case so confusing. The one thing I do know is that neither Aleshia nor Crystal set fire to the road.”

  “Whoa.” Tom held out his hand. “I think you’d better back up. How did you get from discussing politics with Aleshia to a fire?”

  Jennie filled in the details. When she’d finished, Tom thoughtfully drank the last of his tea. They’d taken the news fairly well, Jennie thought. Much better than her own parents might have.

  “Well.” Tom set his cup down and stretched. Glancing at Mary, he said. “I think we’d all better get to bed, don’t you?”

  “That’s a wonderful idea.” She got to her feet and gathered the empty cups.

  The girls looked at one another.

  Megan pushed her chair back. “Aren’t you going to yell at us and tell us we shouldn’t have driven up there?”

  “No. I figure Agent Tucker took care of that. The only thing I plan to do is not let you girls go anywhere else until you head for home.” He held out his hand. “Jennie, your keys. Megan, you too.”

  Jennie handed them over without protest. Megan did so with an exaggerated groan. They were getting off easy. With the way she felt now, Jennie had no intention of going anywhere. The only thing she wanted to do was go home and forget—no, she wouldn’t forget. She’d call Agent Tucker or Tess every day. Sometimes she hated being so tenacious. She didn’t let go of things easily. That was one of the things she had in common with Gram and her father. None of them could walk away from an investigation. They had a propensity for justice that at times made them obsessive. Hang it up, McGrady, she told herself again. Just walk away and leave the case to someone who knows what they’re doing.

  Without another word, Tom locked the kitchen door and began turning off the lights. Jennie followed the girls upstairs and into the bedroom.

  “I still can’t see where we did anything all that wrong.” Megan shut the door and flopped down on her bed.

  “It’s a hard call. At the time, I thought we were doing the right thing. Looking back, I see that it was a stupid idea to go. I put us all in danger. I should have just talked to Sal and convinced him to tell the Feds where Crystal was. It turned out okay, but what if the FBI hadn’t shown up?”

  “Jennie’s right. Not about being to blame—we all made the choice to go. In fact, we talked you into it. Someone out there killed Mr. Sutherland and tried to kill Scott. Maybe they were trying to kill Jennie and Agent Tucker too. I vote we forget about it and try to enjoy the rest of the weekend. Maybe we can go swimming tomorrow or at least sit in the hot tub.”

  “The hot tub sounds so good.” Jennie pulled her shirt over her head. “Do you think your folks would mind if we used the Jacuzzi tonight? I’m starting to feel really sore.”

  “Sounds good to me too. I’ll ask.”

  While she was gone, Jennie finished undressing. “I need a shower.”

  “No kidding,” Lisa said with a smile. “Go ahead. We’ll wait for you.”

  When Jennie got out of the shower, Lisa and Megan had their suits on. “Dad said yes. We just need to be quiet, and we can’t stay out there for more than half an hour.”

  “You guys go ahead. I’ll get my suit on and be right there.” Several minutes later, Jennie stuffed her smoke-tainted clothes into a plastic bag and dropped them into the laundry room on her way out. Tomorrow she’d wash them.

  Megan and Lisa had just gotten the lid off the hot tub and were getting in when Jennie joined them. “Turn off the porch light so we can see the stars,” Megan said.

  Jennie did. A full yellow harvest moon provided more than enough light, and the darkness magnified the brightness of the stars. The 104-degree water felt hot going in, but Jennie adjusted to it quickly. The pulsing jets and heat soothed her frazzled nerves and nearly put her to sleep. Lisa and Megan began talking about Kyle and Algie. Jennie didn’t feel much like conversing, so she leaned back, looked up at the stars, and thought about Ryan. He loved nights like this. They would often sit out on their rocks overlooking the ocean and talk about life. Was he sitting there with Camilla now? Were they talking about God and solving the world’s problems? Tears gathered in her eyes. She lifted her hands to her face and washed them away. Jennie didn’t hate him anymore—she never really had. He was right, of course. They were still friends. She missed him and vowed that as soon as she got home, she’d call him and tell him. If he wanted to date Camilla, he should. Just like she should figure out how she really felt about Scott. Was it just physical attraction or something deeper? She missed him, too, and made a mental note to talk to Agent Tucker. If he wouldn’t disclose Scott’s whereabouts, maybe he could get a message to him.

  By the time they trudged back up to the bedroom, she felt like a mass of pliable clay. She fell asleep before the lights went out.

  Jennie awoke with a start at six A.M. She’d slept soundly and hadn’t even dreamed—at least not that she could remember. She stretched and wished she hadn’t. Every muscle in her body hurt. Jennie found a comfortable position on her stomach and debated between staying in bed and getting up.

  Lying there in the stillness of the morning, she waited for her brain to kick in. She thought about what Megan had said the night before. “It’s not your job, Jennie.” So true. She wasn’t a detective yet and might never be one. Still, she wanted so badly for the killer to be caught. Don’t let whoever did this get away, God, she prayed silently. Gazing out the windows, she added, And keep Scott safe. So far her resolve to mind her own business still remained strong, but then, she hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. Jennie looked over at Megan, still sleeping and looking like a sweet cherub with riotous curls framing her face. On the bunk below, Lisa had a similar angelic expression. Jennie smiled, wondering if she looked that innocent and attractive while she slept. Probably not.

  Climbing down from the top bunk, she padded to the dresser, turned on a small lamp, and looked in the mirror. Squinting at her reflection, she muttered, “Definitely not.” Her hair was a matted mess from having gone to bed with it wet. She dug a brush out of her bag and, going to the window, brushed out the snarls. The sun was jus
t rising, coloring the fluffy clouds on the horizon in a rosy hue. It would be light soon. In the room next door she heard water running. Tom would be getting ready to go out to the barns.

  Jim’s car sat in front of the other house. Lights were on in the living room. He would be getting ready for work as well. She frowned. Was he out on bail, or had he been released for lack of evidence? How long had he been out? As early as yesterday? Early enough to head for the mountains and rendezvous with Aleshia?

  She went back to the dresser and turned out the light so she could watch without being seen. Last night she’d come to terms with not trying to solve the case, but now, looking at Jim’s car, she was having second thoughts. While it didn’t bother her to back off, it did bother her to know that Bob Sutherland’s killer was still out there—and that it could be Jim Owens.

  There was one way to find out. Jennie tightened her hold on the brush and hurriedly finished her hair. She secured it at the nape of her neck with a scrunchie, then pulled on a fresh pair of jeans, a turtleneck, and a sweat shirt.

  So much for staying out of the investigation, a sarcastic voice in her head seemed to say. I am, she thought back. I’m just going to help with the chores. While I’m at it, I might look at the taillights on Jim’s car. And maybe find out when he was released.

  22

  “You’re up early this morning.” Tom walked into the kitchen as Jennie was buttering a slice of toast.

  “Yeah. I was awake, so I thought I’d help with the chores.”

  “Trying to make up for last night?” His teasing smile told her he was no longer angry.

  “Maybe,” she teased back. “But look at it this way. If I’m working with you, I can’t get into any more trouble.”

  “You have a point.” He pulled a stained one-piece orange coverall off a hook and began pulling it on over his jeans.

  “Would you like me to fix you something to eat?” Jennie put the margarine away and ambled to the porch.

  “No, thanks.” He pulled the suit up, maneuvered his arms into it, zipped himself in and reached for his boots.

  Holding the toast in her mouth, Jennie looked for and found the boots she’d worn before and slipped them onto her stockinged feet. Brushing the crumbs from her hands, she said, “I notice Jim’s car is here. He must be out of jail, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “When did they let him go?”

  “Yesterday, around dinnertime. He called just before Mary and I left for Salem.”

  “Guess you’re glad about that. I mean, with him being your hired hand and all.”

  “I am relieved. Said all along he couldn’t have done it.” Jennie still wasn’t convinced of that. He could have had an accomplice—like Aleshia. “I hope they find out who did.”

  “So do I, Jennie.” He pulled open the door and waited for her to step outside. “So do I.”

  As they walked behind Jim’s car, Jennie imagined the car she’d seen on the mountain. The taillights were about the right distance apart and rectangular. The car was a dark maroon. He could have done it, but she didn’t think he would have been able to follow them. The timing was wrong for that—just like it was for Mr. Sutherland’s murder. Still, he could be involved. He could even have hired someone to do it.

  Maybe he is secretly involved with ARM and was going to meet Aleshia. He could, as she’d thought before, be Sonja. What better cover than to work on a fur farm? Agent Tucker had said the word was out on the Internet about Scott’s involvement with the FBI. Had he gotten that information and gone to warn Aleshia and Crystal?

  Jim opened the door, scattering Jennie’s thoughts.

  “Mornin’, Tom, Jennie.” He bounded down the stairs and fell into step beside Jennie.

  “Morning.” Tom nodded. “Glad to see you made it back.”

  “Confessing like that was a pretty stupid thing to do. I was just afraid Aleshia might have done it. She didn’t, of course,” he said quickly.

  “How can you be so sure?” Jennie asked.

  “For one thing, like Christine said, Aleshia wouldn’t have put Sasha’s carcass in the freezer or the trash. She wouldn’t have touched it. If she did anything, it would have been to bury it.”

  Jennie started at the idea. He had a point.

  Jim nodded toward her. “Heard you had an interesting night last night.”

  Jennie shrugged. “Word gets around fast. How did you find out?”

  “I was at the sheriff’s office when the call came in about the accident.”

  “Accident?”

  “Um—yeah. We didn’t get many details, just that there was an accident involving you and that FBI agent.”

  “It was definitely not an accident, Jim,” Tom said. “At least not to hear Jennie tell it. Someone ambushed them—poured gas over the road and tossed a Molotov cocktail into it. Then tossed another at the truck. Tucker swerved to avoid it. Strange business,” Tom added. “Sounds to me like something ARM might do.”

  “Could be,”Jim said. “More’n likely, though, someone is trying to make it look like ARM is responsible. ARM doesn’t—or hasn’t before—attacked individuals. When they do hit, it’s usually to make a statement or to release animals. They’ve always taken credit for their acts.”

  “What about the fire bombs and damage they do to places that serve meat?” Jennie asked.

  “They make sure there are no people around.” Jim paused to open the shop door.

  “That’s not entirely true anymore. Remember the raid just west of here?” Tom reminded him about the hit made a few days before. “According to the memo from the Fur Commission, armed terrorists stormed the place and left the owner’s son for dead. What’s with you, Jim? Sounds like you’re defending them.”

  “You know better than that. I’m just not convinced that ARM is responsible for everything that’s been going on out here. I’ll admit they seem to be getting more violent, but to murder somebody in cold blood?” Jim frowned. “I don’t know. Aleshia still insists ARM had nothing to do with her dad’s murder or with the hit-and-run. I tend to believe her.”

  “So you’re saying ARM instigated the raids but nothing else?” Jennie asked.

  Jim nodded. “That’s my opinion.”

  “You might be right,” Tom acquiesced. “If that’s the case, one of our own might be a killer, and I hate to think that might be possible.”

  Jim shrugged. “It happens. Just because it isn’t ARM doesn’t mean the person who killed him was a local. Could have been a random act of violence. It also could have been one of the Hispanic gang members he’s been spouting off about lately. He wasn’t quiet about that, I can tell you.”

  Tom admitted that might be the case. “Bob has made his share of enemies.”

  Jim agreed. “There was that kid he fired just a day or two after he hired him—Sal something or other.”

  “Sal Chavez? Crystal’s brother?” Tom asked.

  “Yeah. The kid was looking for a part-time job. Christine hired him. Bob wasn’t excited about the idea, but he agreed to take Sal on. I’m not sure whether Bob fired him because he’s Mexican or because he wasn’t doing his job. Either way, the kid couldn’t have been too happy about it.”

  Jennie digested that last bit of information. She wondered if Tess or Agent Tucker knew about the gang business or Sal’s being fired. Curious—Sal being Crystal’s brother and all. Had he applied for the job so he could scope the place out? Or had he gotten the job because Crystal was Aleshia’s friend? Could Sal have been seeking revenge? Somehow murder didn’t fit the smiling face and the carefree attitude that Sal seemed to have.

  Talk about whether or not ARM would resort to murder stopped as they set about doing the morning chores. Jennie received instructions from Jim and spent the next hour feeding the mink. The entire time, she wavered back and forth about who might have killed Mr. Sutherland and w
hy. Was Jim the killer? Had he instigated it? Were he and Aleshia working together? Maybe they were working with Sal and Crystal. Maybe you should forget it, McGrady. Admit you’re not getting anywhere and let the police handle it. Setting her questions aside, she decided she would call the sheriff and let her know what Jim had said about Sal.

  When she’d finished, Jennie put the tractor away and found Jim and Tom in the shop skinning pelts. At least a dozen dead animals lay in a heap at one end of the counter. Jennie’s stomach rolled. She focused on the concrete under her feet. She would never be able to handle that kind of work. Both men, however, acted as though skinning the animals was as normal a task as brushing their teeth. For them it was.

  If Aleshia was so against fur farming, Jennie again wondered how she could stand to be engaged to a man who killed the animals she loved for a living. It didn’t make a lot of sense.

  “If you don’t mind,” Jim said, “I’d like to go over to the Sutherlands’ for a few minutes when we’re done here to see how Aleshia and Christine are doing. This whole thing has been rough on both of them.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Tom grabbed another mink. “You can take the rest of the day off if you want. We have guests coming. Won’t need you until tomorrow morning.”

  “Thanks. I’m hoping I can talk Aleshia into getting out of ARM. It’s a good time. She didn’t much like being arrested. She’s starting to get disillusioned, what with the increasing violence and the raid on her parents’ place.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t hold my breath. Amazes me that you two are still together.” Tom shrugged. “To each his own, I suppose.”

  Jim chuckled. “It gets interesting at times, and we have some pretty hot debates. Thing is, I love her, Tom. And she loves me. We don’t have to agree on everything.”

  “That’s true enough. Mary and I disagree on a number of issues. Still, if she became a member of ARM, I’m not sure I could handle that.”