Fire Storm (The Gathering Storm Book 2)

by Marlow Kelly

  “Which is all perfectly legal.” Finn hated when a large corporation forced a little guy off his land. But his job was to uphold and enforce the law. He didn’t have to like it.

  “According to the district attorney—yes, but Ben’s lawyer was fighting it. He said the rights were never separated, and Ben owns the land and everything beneath it.”

  “Where does the mayor fit in?” Finn drummed his fingers on his desk.

  “Ben was in some news articles. You can imagine the headlines. ‘Government makes Vietnam War vet homeless.’ Not to mention the environmental impact. When it comes to the mayor, I haven’t figured out his angle. Being mayor of a small town like Hopefalls can’t pay much, although he doesn’t need the income. He made his money working as a landman.”

  Finn rubbed his jaw. “A what?”

  “A landman. They work for the oil and gas companies to secure mineral rights from property owners. His official line is he’s trying to save the town.”

  “Unofficially?” Finn stood and extended his arms over his head, working the kinks out of his neck. Did the Harris’s link to Lucy Portman mean Ben North’s death was connected to the Syndicate? There was something about Harris’s former occupation that made him suspicious, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. He needed more information.

  Ramirez shrugged. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  “Do you think Ben could’ve stopped them?” Finn paced behind his desk.

  Ramirez shook his head. “The district attorney said there has never been a case in Montana where the Eminent Domain process has been stopped.”

  “You’re saying there’s no way Ben could win?” Kennedy perched on the edge of Finn’s desk.

  “No, but he could make them pay through the nose for it,” Ramirez said.

  Finn stopped and stared at Ramirez. “The publicity and hype wouldn’t have helped?”

  “There are, or were, protesters at the entrance to Molly’s Mountain—that’s Ben’s property. One side wanted the jobs. The other wanted to keep the pristine wilderness.” Ramirez’s eyes brightened. His fatigue from a moment ago seemed to have disappeared.

  “Let me guess, the mayor wants the jobs because the town dies without work,” Kennedy stated.

  “Makes sense. The question is, did he kill to bring jobs to the area and ensure his reelection as mayor? Although, I still think there has to be more to it,” Finn added. “Do you know who owns Third Estate Mining?”

  Ramirez stood, and walked to the center of the room, seemingly reenergized. “I’m looking into—”

  “I think there’s another question that needs answering,” Kennedy interrupted.

  Ramirez’s gaze took in her compact swimmer’s body, and then his eyes met hers. “What’s that?”

  “What are Ben’s financials like?” Kennedy asked.

  “I can’t find any. He didn’t have a bank account.”

  “Did you find a hoard of cash when you searched his house?”

  Ramirez shook his head. “No, nothing.”

  “How much land did he have?”

  “Two hundred acres, Molly’s Mountain is huge. Why? Do you think he hid his money on his land?”

  “I don’t know, but lawyers are expensive. I think we need to know where Ben got his money and how he paid his bills. I mean, he must’ve had some form of income.”

  Ramirez ran a hand through his short-gelled hair. “Shit.”

  “We can talk to his lawyer if you want,” Finn offered.

  “I don’t want you interfering in my investigation. Your friend is a suspect.”

  “Is he your main suspect?”

  Ramirez groaned. “No, to be honest I haven’t narrowed it down.”

  “So you have the mayor and—

  “That idiot police chief from Hopefalls.” Ramirez wrinkled his nose as if he’d smelt something bad.

  “Booley? What’s he like?”

  “He’s a joke. The guy has no clue how to conduct an investigation. He doesn’t want to do the work. He just wants to charge the nearest suspect without caring whether or not they’re guilty. We were lucky Officer Hayden is trained and knew how to protect the scene. Why’d you ask?”

  “Curiosity, I’ve heard stories over the years.” This particular police chief had altered the direction of Tim’s life.

  “I have another question,” Kennedy cut in. “What do they want to mine?”

  “I don’t know. Does it matter?” Ramirez rubbed the back of his neck.

  “For your case, I doubt it, but maybe it’s something the FBI should know. And I wonder if this Eminent Domain case has something to do with these three.” She pointed to the photo of Lucy Portman, Lance Ackerman, and the mayor of Hopefalls.

  “Why are they under investigation?” Ramirez opened the door, obviously eager to leave before his case got even more complicated.”

  “We’re collecting evidence in the PDE public corruption case,” Kennedy lied.

  “How is there a link between Ben North’s homicide and Marshall Portman and Public Domain Energy corrupting the Granite City- Elkhead County Police Department?” Ramirez asked.

  That was a good question. One for which Finn didn’t have an answer.

  “We need to ascertain whether Lucy was involved in her husband’s activities,” Kennedy said, avoiding a direct answer.

  Ramirez sighed. His burst of energy from a moment ago was gone. “I don’t think there’s anything there but have at it. I assume you’ll share any information pertinent to my case.”

  “Of course.” Finn nodded. “Text me the details for Ben’s lawyer and then go get some rest. We’ll visit him tomorrow and call you once we’re done.”

  Kennedy locked their office door the moment the detective left. “You were sloppy. Ramirez should never have seen your screen.”

  Finn slumped into his chair. “Luckily, it worked in our favor.”

  “This time.” She sat on his desk next to his swivel chair, facing him, invading his personal space. “Do you think the Syndicate is behind Ben North’s death?”

  Finn shrugged. “We don’t have any evidence to suggest that.” Meaning all they had was supposition and conjecture.

  A cold vice twisted in his gut, his instinct told him the Syndicate was interested in Hopefalls and Molly’s Mountain. He had driven Michael through the small, sleepy town yesterday on the way to Wind Valley Ranch. Damn, his friends were in the heart of the storm.

  Chapter Eighteen

  From the outside, Shady Pines Care Facility seemed more like a luxurious hotel than a nursing home. Wide gates opened to a long tree-lined driveway. The main building was of log construction with small cabins scattered about the property. Ponderosa pines were peppered between the buildings, giving the property a relaxed, woodsy feel.

  “This seems like a nice place,” Dana said as they walked through the sliding glass doors into the air-conditioned interior.

  “It’s pricey, but Dad deserves the best. He always loved being surrounded by the wide open spaces of Wind Valley Ranch, and I wanted him to be able to look out of his window and see trees, even if it isn’t the wilderness.”

  Tim stepped up to the reception desk and greeted the guard as he signed in, “Hey, Randy, how’s it going?”

  “Hi Tim, your dad’s having a good day.” The guard, a round man in his early forties, smiled back. There was no suspicion or hint that Tim was anything other than a caring son visiting his sick father. Even the priest had been pleased to see him, but then again, he was a man of God. He was supposed to be gracious and forgiving to everyone—even sinfully sexy, tempting men like Tim.

  He led the way down a long corridor. The walls were painted light beige and decorated with beautiful, framed Montana landscapes. The facility wasn’t as sterile as a hospital, but it was still antiseptic.

  They reached the end of the hall, turned left, and were greeted by a nurse as she wheeled a cart of fruit cups along the corridor. “Hi, Tim.”

  “Randy said Dad�
��s having a good day.”

  The nurse’s gaze roamed his body, taking in his long form, his shoulders, and his flat stomach. Finally, she settled on his face and smiled. “He had a tough morning, but once we got him to do his exercises, he was much better.” The nurse placed her hand on his arm, leaving it there.

  Dana suppressed the urge to shove her away.

  “The exercise is helping?” Tim stared down the hallway, not seeming to notice her touch or the admiration in her gaze.

  “He’s definitely more lucid afterward.” She checked her clipboard. “I was about to give him a snack. Do you want to do it?”

  Tim smiled and picked up a fruit cup and spoon. Without saying goodbye, he took off, striding down the hall. Dana ran to keep up and almost crashed into him when he stopped suddenly at the end of the hall. He inhaled, seeming to collect himself, and then entered without knocking.

  “Hi, Dad.” He made himself comfortable in a chair next to his father’s bed.

  “Who are you?” Jack Morgan frowned and then stared, unseeing, into the distance. He sat, propped up by the adjustable bed. His skin hung loose on his thin frame. Even reclined, she could tell he was tall like his son. Once upon a time, he’d been a handsome, vibrant man, but now he was a white-haired, vacant shell with rheumy eyes.

  Dana stood by the open door, not wanting to intrude on a private moment between father and son. The room was homier than she expected. A large armchair and a small coffee table sat in front of a bay window that looked out over the grounds. An oak chest of drawers was positioned against the far wall, and a matching nightstand stood next to the head of the bed. The bed was the type used in a hospital with handrails on both sides. It was covered with a beautiful hand-stitched quilt, which was decorated in sunflowers surrounded by a periwinkle blue border. Family photos covered the walls. At first glance, they seemed random, but on closer inspection, all of them showed Tim at various stages of childhood and then as an adult. There was even one of him in his dress uniform. He had fewer wrinkles around his eyes and the creases around his mouth weren’t as deep, but other than that, he hadn’t changed much.

  Dana focused on one of him as a teen wearing a cowboy hat as he sat astride a horse. He had a wide smile. His eyes were light with laughter. It must’ve been taken before Aunt Alice died, when he was like every other teenage boy.

  Tim grabbed the over-bed tray and rolled it until it stopped at Jack’s chest. “It’s me, Tim.”

  “You’re not my son. He’s run away. I told him I’d get a good lawyer, but he ran.” A sob erupted from the old man’s throat.

  “That was years ago, Dad. I came back before mom died. I joined the army and became a Ranger.” Tim pointed to the photo on the wall and then opened the fruit cup.

  Jack’s eyes focused on his son. He grabbed Tim’s hand. “Your Mom was so proud of you. She told everyone you were serving your country.”

  The fact that Jack had suddenly remembered him didn’t seem to faze Tim. “Hey Dad, do you remember that gun you and Ben bought years ago? It was a Colt six-shooter.”

  “Damn it, I gave Ben that revolver. Has that old coot accused me of stealing it? He’s gone senile. That’s what it is.”

  “Did you give it to him before Mom died?”

  “Your Mom died? That’s sad, but I suppose it happens. My mother died in 1974 after…after…” He faded, his lucid moment gone. He seemed lost in his distorted, traitorous mind.

  “Would you like some fruit salad?” Tim scooped a piece of peach onto the spoon and put it in his father’s mouth.

  Jack swallowed and then said, “Who are you? You’re not my regular nurse. She’s pretty. I want the pretty nurse back.”

  Tim smiled and stood. “I’ll send her in to clean up.” He seemed to know how to handle his father.

  “You do that.”

  “Bye, Dad.” He kissed Jack’s head. “I love you. I’ll be in tomorrow.”

  “My son’s a good boy. He didn’t do anything wrong. That Booley is just protecting his own,” Jack shouted as Tim exited the room.

  “What did he mean by that?” Dana asked as they climbed into her truck.

  “By what?” He sounded tired and weary as he fastened his seatbelt.

  “That comment about Booley?”

  “I don’t know.” He turned to stare out of the passenger window. “My father’s sick. On a good day, he recognizes me. I don’t worry about the other stuff. I care about whether he’s eating, that he’s safe, and getting the right treatment.”

  Dana turned the key in the ignition and then sucked in a deep breath, repressing the urge to question him. “Where to?”

  “Back to St. Mark’s.”

  She headed toward the church. It had been an emotionally charged day. Zoe Harris and Mrs. Anderson had accused Tim of mistreating a grieving widow. The widow in question, Eva, wanted to use him as a sex toy and was very put out when he’d refused. His father was sick and hardly recognized him. On top of that, she had been trailing him for the last two days because the police chief of Hopefalls believed he was guilty of murder. It was a lot for him to deal with.

  Her own opinion had gone through a dramatic change since she started shadowing him. She simply couldn’t imagine him committing cold-blooded murder. But then again, she had no clue as to the actual cause of Ben’s death. Maybe he’d died of natural causes, and someone had shot the dead body. Shooting someone who was already dead required an awful lot of hate. If that were the case, then she needed to discover who hated Ben.

  “Are Eva and Booley close?”

  Tim shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”

  “What about when you were kids?”

  “When I was a kid, all I thought about was football. I figured I’d go to school on a scholarship. I imagined people would cheer when I played, and girls would line up to have sex with me.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s shallow, but that’s how a teenage boy thinks.”

  He continued to stare out the window. “I thought I was the best thing in a pair of sneakers. Then I blew my knee in the state championship and had to deal with the fact that I wasn’t as shit-hot as I thought, and my future had changed.”

  She remembered the photo of him in his father’s room, obviously taken before that awful night. He’d been a good-looking boy; his confidence had shone through his smile. He must’ve thought the world was his for the taking, and then everything had fallen apart.

  She shook away the sadness she suddenly felt for the future he’d lost. “So what happened?”

  “I took Dad’s truck and drove up to the ridge to think. I decided even without being a football star, life could still be good. I’d just stay on the ranch and work with Dad. I was wrong about that, too.” His voice was flat, emotionless.

  He hadn’t mentioned stealing the stop sign and causing Aunt Alice’s death. She let it slide. If only because he would deny it, and she wasn’t in the mood to fight with him.

  “Tell me about your fiancée. What was her name?” She’d wanted to ask since the moment he’d mentioned her at the church.

  “There’s nothing much to tell. Her name was Caroline. We were in Afghanistan together. She was killed by an IED. Now it’s your turn. Are you divorced, separated, or what?”

  She stored that bit of information and allowed him to change the subject. “No, I’ve never been married.”

  “What about Logan’s father?”

  “I got pregnant in high school.”

  “Seriously, I can’t picture you as a pregnant teen, but I guess it makes sense. You’re pretty young to have a teenage son.”

  “Logan’s father, Oliver, was the tempting bad boy, and I was the good girl.” She made light of it, but at the time, sex with the school troublemaker had been an irresistible thrill ride. He’d dumped her the moment she discovered she was pregnant, leaving her embarrassed and humiliated.

  “So how did it happen?”

  Her mouth fell open at his question, and it was a moment before she recovere
d enough to answer. “Do you mean how did I get pregnant? I’m not going to draw you a diagram. It happened in the usual way. There were no miracles or test tubes involved.”

  He laughed, the sound warming her insides. Once again, she was struck by how different he was from her preconceived notion. Then an idea hit her, like a fist slamming into her chest. She had to concentrate on her breathing so she didn’t pass out while driving. She’d been chasing an illusion—the fictional persona of Timothy Morgan the criminal. It was a story kept alive by people like Booley. No one in Hopefalls knew who he was because he had limited his contact with the town since his return three years ago. Maybe it was time she put all her assumptions aside and got to know the real man.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dana drove a little slower than the speed limit on the way to pick up Eva. She wasn’t in any rush to deal with the widow’s unpleasantness. Although, to be fair, Eva had been blindsided. At no time had Tim mentioned his plan to take her for counseling. That was something he really should have told her, but then again, she might not have listened. She was so set on having sex with someone—anyone. As a cop, Dana had seen the seedier side of life and knew there were a lot of men who would think nothing of exploiting a grieving woman. Tim had proved himself a gentleman.

  “Are you taking your time?” he asked, smiling.

  “That obvious, huh? I understand why you wanted me around.”

  “It got uglier than I thought it would. I hadn’t seen her since before Frank died. When I stopped at the diner, I thought I was visiting an old friend and paying my respects.”

  “And you had no idea she had the hots for you?”

  His green eyes slanted to her. “God, no.”

  “She was pretty upset with you.”

  “I hope that was just the grief talking, and once some time has passed, she’ll understand.”

  Dana parked at the sidewalk in front of the church. Eva wasn’t outside. They found Father Meade in the meeting room, stacking chairs.

  “Did Eva already leave?” Tim asked.

  The priest shook his head. “She left before the meeting got started. You can’t make people accept help.”