“It’s where I keep my Beechcraft. There’s a grass runway on the other side of the trees.” He used a pair of silver tongs to transfer ice from a bucket to their goblets, and then he filled their glasses with tea.
“You have an airplane here?”
He nodded. “See what you’re giving up,” he said, his lips curving into a teasing smile. “I’m not quitting, you know. In fact, I’d like to do something special for you. Like fly you to Baltimore for a weekend. Doesn’t your son like baseball? We’ll stay at the Hilton and watch an Orioles game from your balcony.”
Just when she didn’t think Ian could surprise her again, he did. A trip to Baltimore . . . an opportunity to talk face-to-face with Dr. Meriwether and see where she’d be working. And if TJ could see a professional baseball game, it might change his mind about moving. It was an opportunity too good to pass up. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“Yes will do. How about this weekend?”
Ian was moving too fast for her. “Are you a pilot?”
He bowed slightly. “Yes, ma’am, as is Danny and our new chief accountant, Geoffrey Franks.”
Tony’s replacement. For a second she faltered then caught herself. A company like Maxwell Industries couldn’t leave the job hanging.
“He will never take Tony’s place,” Ian said softly.
“I know.” His tenderness touched her heart.
“So, can we fly to Baltimore this weekend?” he asked.
“Not this one. TJ reminds me every day at least ten times that he has a play-off game with his team. If they win, they’ll go to State. Maybe the next weekend?”
“It’s a date. I’ll make all the arrangements.” He offered her a white-chocolate-chip cookie.
Leigh took the cookie and nibbled around the edges. She was too excited to eat. Baltimore.
He refilled her goblet with tea. “I didn’t see your bodyguard when I picked you up.”
She frowned. “Oh, you mean Ben? He’s too busy . . . he just sends one of his deputies to escort me back and forth to the clinic.”
“How’s that going?”
“Busy. Wonderful. I love engaging in an actual relationship with my patients.”
“Imagine how much better it’ll be at Johns Hopkins.”
Maybe so. She thought about the twenty-year-old college student who came in earlier in the day to get information on abortion but who left with a changed mind and a follow-up prenatal appointment. That was one case she’d like to be around for at delivery time. She’d miss some things about Logan Point. The thought startled her.
“Oh, by the way, what was the fire marshal’s conclusion on the fire at Tony’s house?”
Tony again. And the question reminded her of one of the reasons she wanted to leave Logan Point behind. “Arson.”
“You’re kidding. What led to this conclusion?”
“A steel-tipped arrowhead similar to the one found in the jail fire. And traces of kerosene.”
“Does Ben have any leads?”
She shrugged. “If he does, he hasn’t told me.”
Ian offered her another cookie. “Did he ever discover who ransacked your house? Or found the missing flash drive?”
She stared out at the lake. A sailboat tacked into the wind, its white sails fluttering. “I’m not sure the drive ever existed. And I have yet to figure out why Tony was meeting with Ben. Why didn’t my brother tell me what it was about?” She turned her gaze to Ian. “Do you have any idea why Tony wanted to talk to Ben?”
“No, although it did seem that he was bothered by something lately.”
“I know. He wouldn’t talk about it, but one night he had a nightmare. Woke me up yelling something about a dog.”
Ian’s pupils widened slightly. “A dog? Did he explain?”
“No. And a week later, he was dead.”
Ian’s expression softened. “This has been a sad chapter in your life.”
Leigh’s breath stilled, and she closed her eyes against the pain. Ian leaned forward and squeezed her hand. His kindness unleashed the tears she held back.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“I rarely get to choose the time or place.” She blinked back more tears that threatened.
“I know this isn’t the time, but . . .” Ian sighed. “Leigh, I care very much for you.”
She pulled back. “I . . . I—”
“I’m not asking for a declaration of love from you.”
She pressed her fingertips to her lips.”Oh, Ian. I don’t know what to say. I enjoy being with you, but I’m not in love with you.”
“That could change.”
“I don’t see how. I’m leaving soon. Can’t we just be friends?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I can settle for friendship right now, but be warned. I will wear you down.”
“You’re not used to hearing no, are you?” She was beginning to understand that was part of his attraction to her.
“My experience with no is that it usually ends up meaning not yet.”
According to his phone and the GPS chip on Wade’s key ring, Lester Cummings’s old rattletrap was a good mile ahead of Ben. He’d put his cell phone on speaker so he could listen to the conversation between Wade and Lester, and so far, the old farmer didn’t seem suspicious. But then, Wade had only been making small talk. It would’ve been much easier if Ben were the one riding with Lester instead of his chief deputy.
“Where is this dog?” Wade asked.
That’s what Ben would like to know. According to the GPS, they were on Sloan Road, a narrow, twisting, and sometimes one-lane sand road at the edge of Bradford County. Much farther and they’d be in Tennessee.
“Almost there,” said Cummings, his two-pack-a-day voice low.
“Why don’t you just sell me one of your dogs?”
“Don’t fight my dogs.”
“Who said I wanted to fight this dog we’re going to look at?”
A long silence followed, and Ben wished for the hundredth time he’d vetoed this idea.
“You telling me you don’t?” When Wade didn’t answer, the older man chuckled. “That’s what I thought. We’re almost there. The road’s gonna be a little rough from here on out. And when we get there, leave that Glock in the truck unless you want your head blowed off. This fellow tends to shoot first and ask questions later. And he don’t know who you are, just that you’re a friend of mine, so don’t make me regret bringing you out here.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t, but I don’t like leaving my gun behind.”
“You’re with me—he won’t shoot you.”
At least Wade still had his ankle gun. Ben backed into an old logging road. There was just no way to get any closer without being seen.
“This it?” Wade asked.
“Yep. Get out real slow and follow my lead.”
Truck doors slammed, and the sound of walking rustled over the phone. Then dead silence. Had he lost contact? What if someone had been behind Ben’s truck and made them?
“Where is he?”
Ben relaxed at Wade’s question.
“Yonder.”
Where was yonder? Sweat popped out on Ben’s face. He uncapped a bottle of water and took a long draw.
“Smokey, this here is that friend I was telling you about. That the dog you got to sell?”
Ben could imagine Smokey sizing Wade up.
“If Lester says you’re okay . . .” Ben’s phone crackled, and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he lost contact again. He’d give it one minute, and then he was on his way in.
A minute passed, and he licked his dry lips and put his truck in gear.
“You got a handsome dog there, Smokey. You say his name is Bo?”
Wade’s voice came across the airwaves, and Ben almost fell back against the seat. Don’t scare me like that, Wade. He must’ve bent over to pet the dog and lost reception.
“What’s your asking price?”
“Ain’t got
but one price.” Smokey’s voice was soft with a steel undercurrent. “Four.”
Four thousand dollars. Wade didn’t have that kind of money on him. The sheriff’s office didn’t have that kind of money. Period.
“Before I spend that much money, I want to see what he can do.”
Now Wade was pushing it. Why didn’t Smokey or Lester respond? There had to be a way to get a camera on Wade before the next meeting. He had to see what was going on. If there was another meeting.
“What do you think, Smokey?” Lester’s gravelly voice asked the question.
Smokey didn’t answer. Don’t push it, Wade.
Lester spoke up again. “We got that big fight next week.”
“I’ll think on it. Let you know.”
“I have the money,” Wade said.
“Like I said, I’ll think on it.”
The sound of walking again. They must be leaving. Lester’s old rattletrap fired up, confirming his hunch. A few minutes later, he heard Lester’s voice.
“Too rich for your blood, Dep-u-ty?”
“I got the money. You didn’t expect me to pay that much for a dog and not see what it can do, did you?”
“Naw, guess not. Maybe you’ll get an invite next week.”
“Where’s it going to be?”
“Who knows. You get the invite, I’ll take you.”
Ben glanced at the GPS. He had to move. He pulled his truck onto the highway and sped toward town. He had to hand it to Wade. He’d carried the meeting off, and he might even get an invitation to what sounded like the annual biggie. Time to call another meeting in Memphis.
16
Ben hung up after talking with U.S. Marshal Luke Donovan and turned to Wade. “They want to meet at eight. We’ll go in separate vehicles this time—you might be under surveillance, so watch your back.”
Wade adjusted the ball cap on his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ve heard what they do to people they catch infiltrating their rings.”
“Well, for the record, I still don’t like what you’re doing.”
“I ain’t too happy about it either, but somebody has to stop these pigs. You can’t do it—you’re too straight up to make it believable.” He grinned. “That’s where my good-ole-boy reputation comes in handy. Lester and Smokey didn’t have any trouble taking the bait.”
“Just be careful.” Ben stood. “I’m going to Maxwell Industries to talk to Billy Wayne’s brother. Want to tag along?”
“I think I’ll run by and check on my mom.” Wade stopped at the door. “Oh, and tell Marisa thanks for taking her those tea cakes. She enjoyed the visit.”
Ben nodded. “Mom said she enjoyed it too.”
Fifteen minutes later, Ben scanned the parking lot at Maxwell, not seeing Ian’s black SUV. But he did see Danny’s. The Maxwell boys had different tastes, but either vehicle would probably cost more than Ben’s yearly salary. Tiffany Davis was on the telephone when he walked into the reception area. He flashed a quick smile when she held up her finger.
“Yes, Ian will be back around three, I believe he said. I’ll give him your message.” She hung the phone up. “Sheriff, what can I do for you today?”
“I wondered if I could speak with Junior Gresham for a few minutes.”
She made a few clicks on her computer. “Is he in trouble?”
“No. Just a few questions.”
“Well, you’re in luck. He’s working the loading dock today. Do you know how to get there?”
“I’ll show him.” Danny Maxwell’s voice came from behind Ben.
He turned around. It’d been awhile since he’d talked one-on-one with Danny. They just didn’t run in the same circles. And there’d been that high school athletic rivalry that ended simply because they’d taken different directions for college. The most he’d seen of Danny was a couple of years ago when he came to church with Livy’s cousin. Then she’d left for the mission field in Mexico, and Danny sort of disappeared. Maybe it was time to put the past behind them. He held out his hand. “Good to see you, Danny.”
“You too, Ben.”
Danny’s grip was firm, the calluses on his palms surprising Ben. But then, judging from the circumference of Danny’s biceps, he probably acquired his rough hands from lifting weights.
“Follow me. The loading dock is this way.” Danny walked past Ben toward the back of the plant.
“Have you heard from Bailey?” Ben asked when he caught up with him.
“A letter every now and then.” Danny’s clipped words warned Ben away from the subject. He pushed open the door that led outside to the loading dock and looked around. “Anybody seen Junior?”
One of the workers pointed toward another building. “He’s in the receiver building.”
They turned and headed toward a white metal building. “How well did you know Billy Wayne?” asked Ben.
“Well enough. He couldn’t be beat when it came to computers.” Danny unlocked the door.
Ben followed him inside the building, and it locked shut behind them. Several tables with the dark gray lower receivers awaited stamping with serial numbers. “Where do you add the trigger?”
“During assembly in another building. This is our most secure building—wouldn’t do for one of these receivers to get in the wrong hands before they were stamped with a serial number.”
“Yeah. My dad had an email a few months ago from a sheriff in Texas about an assault rifle without serial numbers. It was found after a shoot-out with drug dealers.”
Danny shook his head. “No serial number, no paper trail to a manufacturer or distributor.”
“I know.” Ben took a copy of the ticket from his back pocket and handed it to Danny. “Do you know if this is Billy Wayne?”
Danny stopped and examined the photo. “Hard to tell, but Junior should be able to tell you.”
He nodded toward a stocky man in his midtwenties loading the receivers into boxes. “Junior, take a break. Sheriff here wants to talk to you.”
Junior Gresham took his time getting to them. He stopped three feet from Ben and planted his feet as he slowly removed his heavy work gloves. “I already told your deputy everything I know about Billy Wayne.”
Ben handed him the photo. “Is this your brother?”
“Which one? I got three. Sorry, make that two now.”
Heat flushed through Ben. “Billy Wayne.” Junior glanced at the paper and handed it back to Ben. “Maybe. Looks like his cycle, and I’ve seen him in that Spiderman suit.” He took a round tin from his back pocket and opened it, then tucked a pinch of tobacco into the right side of his bottom lip. “Yep. Pretty sure it’s him—he wouldn’t let nobody touch that new Kawasaki of his.”
Ben masked his disappointment. If this was indeed Billy Wayne on the photo ticket, then he didn’t kill Tony—he couldn’t be two places at the same time. He could have been the one who ransacked Tony’s house, though. But why? None of this made sense.
“Thanks,” he said. He turned to Danny. “You too. I’ll find my way out.”
“No problem. I’ll walk back with you.”
Silence walked with them, hanging heavy, like the humid air as they made their way back to the main plant. “Uh, do you ever hear from Bailey?” Danny asked.
“Through my sister. They’re tight. I think she received a letter last week.”
Danny nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Did she say anything about coming home?”
Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. I can ask.”
“No, don’t do that. I’m thinking about making a trip down to Mexico soon. I’ll check on her then.”
“I don’t mind asking, just let me know.” When they reached the parking lot, Ben glanced around for Ian’s SUV, but it still hadn’t returned. He wanted to ask him about Tony’s replacement, Geoffrey Franks. “Do you know where I might find your cousin?”
Danny’s mouth twitched. “I think I overheard him making arrangements with my father’s cook for a picnic. Then he c
alled Dr. Somerall.”
Ian took Leigh on a picnic? “I thought Ian was engaged.”
This time Danny laughed out loud. “Not as of a couple weeks ago, and I haven’t seen the woman yet who will get him to the altar. Ian is all about the chase. And apparently he’s after the doc now. That bother you?”
“No, why should it?” Danny still knew how to get under his skin.
“I don’t know, maybe because you seem to have an interest in the doc as well? You probably don’t have anything to worry about with Ian, though.”
Ben snapped a curt nod. “Thanks for your help today.”
“Anytime, Sheriff. And I’ll let Ian know you were looking for him.”
Halfway to his truck, Ben stopped and turned around. Danny hadn’t moved. “You may be able to answer my question. This Geoffrey Franks that took Tony’s place—what can you tell me about him?”
“Not much. He’s worked here since he was seventeen. Ian can probably give you more information, since he deals with the employees. I do know he’s Junior Gresham’s first cousin—his mother is Jonas’s sister. And he worked in the office with Tony ever since he got out of college, about four years ago. But if you’re thinking he killed Tony, you’re off base. Geoffrey would be too squeamish for that. He doesn’t even hunt.”
Ben nodded his thanks and walked to his truck. He needed a fresh brain to pick. Livy. Maybe they could get together tonight after the meeting with the FBI and U.S. Marshals. He sighed. He was pretty sure the gun they found at Gresham’s would not match the bullet, and Detective Olivia Reynolds was not going to be happy about this latest development, either.
For that matter, neither was Ben.
17
Saturday morning Ben went through a mental list of deputies who could escort Leigh to TJ’s late-afternoon ball game. Most were off duty and spending time with their families. Wade and Andre were coaching the team . . . maybe one of them. No. They both would be distracted. Maybe she didn’t even need an escort. Nothing had happened in the past week. Maybe whoever was wreaking havoc on Logan Point had lost interest. Yeah, and maybe it would snow in August.
A Promise to Protect (Logan Point Book #2): A Novel Page 23
