Dead of Spring: An Alexa Williams Novel

by Sherry Knowlton

  “Shoreham.”

  “Yeah, Shoreham. You could have been arrested. Or hurt when they doused you with Mace and hosed the crowd with water. You’re the breadwinner for our family. You have responsibilities. What would Walden and I do with you in jail?” Randi put her hands on her hips and stuck out her lower lip. “I’m afraid you’re going to lose your job. What does the DER think about you running around the country protesting nuclear power? Don’t they run nuclear power in Pennsylvania?”

  “Not really.” Will took a Coke from the fridge. He knew his anti-nuke activities kept him away from Randi and the baby. But she refused to understand how important this was. “They regulate and monitor some of the operations of the nuclear industry.”

  “Now you’re telling me you have to go to a concert in New York City while I stay home with the baby. How exactly is that a protest? It sounds like you just want to go to the city with your pal Andy for a boys’ weekend.” Randi curled her lip in contempt.

  “The concert is going to be out of sight. Jackson Browne. Bruce Springsteen. Graham Nash. You name it. A whole group of musicians have banded together against nuclear energy in a group called MUSE, Musicians United for Safe Energy.” Will took a sip of soda. He refused to let Randi put him on the defensive. He was doing this to keep his family safe. After TMI, she should understand. “But, we only got tickets for the concert because we’re going to be there for the protest the next day, on September 23. Thousands of people are gathering to make their voices heard. Numbers like that are the only way The Man will listen. Andy and I will book early to get the train back on Sunday night. We’ll only be gone two days.”

  Randi shook her head. “Do you hear yourself, talking about The Man? I hardly recognize you anymore. The long hair. The beard. The ripped jeans.” She broke into tears and lifted Walden into her arms. “What happened to the good, clean-cut man I married?”

  “Three Mile Island,” Will whispered to his wife’s back as she fled the room.

  Chapter Thirty

  “When Teddy Roosevelt and Gifford Pinchot launched the conservation movement back in the early 1900s, they recognized the importance of preserving land for the good of all. Our public lands are held in trust for all citizens and for the other living creatures that share the planet with us. These lands are essential to our well-being. They provide green spaces where we can hike or swim or simply commune with nature.

  “That trust has already been broken here in Pennsylvania when past administrations allowed the oil and gas industry to use public lands for corporate purposes. The past can’t be undone. But, now, we have a chance to halt further expansion of the fossil fuel industry into the Commonwealth’s most pristine spaces. We must stop the legislature from destroying our state parks and other state lands with further drilling.

  “My father was a big fan of Henry David Thoreau, who wrote ‘In wildness is the preservation of the world.’ Thank you for coming out today to send a message to our senators and representatives. Don’t destroy our wild spaces with fracking. Instead, tell them to vote No on Senate Bill 5100 to preserve our world.”

  Caught up in Walt Jordan’s speech, Alexa felt a shiver run down her spine as he roared his closing lines. Rapt, the crowd of nearly twenty thousand people had been silent. Now they broke into frenzied cheering. A chant of “Frack No; Five One O O” broke out, building until the wave of sound bounced off the capitol building and amplified the volume.

  Alexa stood near the makeshift stage in front of the capitol’s main entrance. When she’d called Darby to ask about the rally, the activist had given her a pass to sit with the rally organizers. So far, Alexa had done little actual sitting, leaping to her feet in support of the various speakers. As Walt left the stage, she turned around to check out the rally. Below, the huge crowd covered the expansive steps and spread out into Third Street and State Street. When she turned back to the stage, Alexa jumped to see Walt Jordan standing in front of her.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you. Great weather. A day like this has really helped with turnout.” Walt grinned.

  “Wonderful speech. You’ve got a real gift.”

  “Only because my cause is pure.”

  “I’m glad. I hate to think what would happen if you were up to no good. You had these people eating out of your hand.”

  “It’s nice to see you here.” Walt put his hand on Alexa’s arm. “I heard about Trooper Taylor. I’m sorry for your loss. From all accounts, he was a good man. And his death exposed another seamy side of the fracking industry. Someone was up there in Michaux State Forest, trying to score an advantage. It’s like they have inside knowledge that SB 5100 is going to pass. I wish I knew who was behind the illegal exploration and your trooper’s death. Goddamn fracking companies.”

  Alexa asked, “Do you know who they have on the inside? I guess these companies have a God-awful amount of money to play with. But spending money to explore a long shot. That doesn’t add up.”

  “I agree. But I’ve been working overtime on this―and I believe there is genuine controversy about the bill in the House. At this point, we have a shot at defeating it.”

  “What about the Senate?”

  Walt frowned. “I’m not sure. There are five or six senators who’ve spoken out against the bill. But if the leaders turn up the pressure, none of them are known for falling on their swords.”

  “Senator Gabler’s the chair of the committee now. Can’t he just keep it from coming up for a vote?” Alexa asked.

  Darby had approached in time to hear the last part of the conversation. She lifted her eyebrows in a skeptical expression. “You’re assuming Gabler’s on our side. Right now, he’s officially neutral―but I’m not so sure we can count on him.”

  By one o’clock the speeches had ended, and the rally had shifted into a feel-good entertainment phase. A local band, called the Green Covenant, had played several environment-focused bluegrass numbers. Alexa enjoyed the next performance, an aging rock band from New York that sounded a lot like Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. The lead singer, a skinny guy with wild gray dreadlocks, announced that the band, Levi Bloom and the Flatbush Boulevard, had been at Woodstock. The band’s name sounded familiar. Alexa made a mental note to ask her mother about them.

  One of the rally organizers reminded people to call or write their legislators about Senate Bill 5100. Then, a third set of performers moved into the crowd, carrying drums. As the drum circle formed and broke into a wild, pounding rhythm, Alexa decided to leave. She waved a good-bye to Darby and headed back to her car.

  People on the steps below were moving away from the center to accommodate the drum circle while others were moving forward to join it. To avoid the chaos, Alexa walked toward the capitol and cut right, heading toward the parking garage. As she passed the south entrance to the capitol, she saw Keisha hurrying up the stairs.

  “Keisha. Were you at the rally?” Alexa called.

  Keisha stopped and turned. “Part of the new job. Since I’m now executive director of the committee that’s considering Senate Bill 5100, I decided to hear the opposition.”

  “I expected one or two of the main sponsors to show up and present their position.” Alexa walked to the foot of the steps.

  Keisha stayed at the entrance and reached for the door. “Not likely. They all left town on Wednesday night when the session ended. I don’t see any of the sponsors being very interested in what a group of environmental activists has to say on the subject anyway. Most of them see this as an economic issue, pure and simple. Plus, we’re going to hold a hearing on the bill. That’s the time for public input.”

  “Interesting.”

  Keisha’s tone took on a hostile edge. “What are you doing here anyway? Isn’t sex trafficking your little cause?”

  “I’ve begun to take an interest in fracking. Some friends have been touched by it, so I’ve decided to become more involved.” Alexa kept her voice noncommittal.

  “Hmmm. Well, all I can say is the issue’s a lot
more complex than these tree huggers understand. It’s interesting to watch Walt Jordan try to position himself as the Great White Hope against fracking. I wonder whose pocket he’s in. The solar and wind interests? The coal lobby? You’ve seen enough to know that, in politics, special interests are usually pulling the strings. He’s no different.” Keisha opened the door and stepped inside the capitol before Alexa could respond.

  Wending her way back home on back roads, Alexa enjoyed the early May weather. She had put the top down on the Mini convertible and smiled at the feel of the soft breeze washing over her bare arms. A short distance from home, she pulled into the gravel parking lot of Keck’s store to pick up milk. She had just turned off the engine when her cell phone rang.

  “Alexa? This is Jeannie.”

  “Is everything OK?”

  “Yes. Tessa is responding to this new treatment. She seems to be a little stronger. Plus, we’ve had several conversations with the new lawyers. They plan to file some sort of papers with the court next week. From past experience, they believe Monongas may approach them about a settlement almost right away.”

  “I imagine Monongas will take a few weeks to look into the complaint. But if a settlement is what you’re aiming for, that would be good.”

  “Tom wants to take them to court and thinks we’ll walk away with millions of dollars. I’d rather settle―if it’s a decent sum―so we have money right now for Tessa’s medical bills.”

  “Langley and Sloane should be able to advise you on the best course, Jeannie.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting ahead of things. But that’s not why I called. I’ve been asked to testify at a public hearing in Harrisburg next week. The Senate energy committee is holding a public session on that new fracking bill.”

  “I just heard about the hearing earlier today.”

  “Representative Jordan asked me to testify and tell Tessa’s story. The lawyers say it could help our case to make her story public. So I wanted to let you know I’ll be in the area next week. The hearing is on Thursday, so I’ll stay in Harrisburg on Wednesday night. Maybe we could have dinner? My parents are going to keep Tessa.”

  “Why don’t you stay at my place? I’ll cook dinner. I need to look at my schedule, but I can probably arrange things so I can come to the hearing.”

  “I’m not imposing?”

  “No way. I have plenty of room, and it’s beautiful at the cabin this time of year.”

  “Then I accept. And it would be wonderful to have your moral support when I testify. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m already nervous.”

  Later that evening, Alexa and Scout sat on the deck, listening to the peepers and the wind in the pines. Despite the calming atmosphere, Alexa kept thinking about her troubling conversation with Keisha. She’d been taken aback by Keisha’s recent attitude. The woman’s remarks about Walt Jordan had been surprising, but Alexa knew Keisha saw most things with a jaundiced eye. It was more troubling that she’d lashed out at Alexa. Not that she and Keisha were best friends, but they’d developed a good relationship working on the trafficking committee. They’d gotten along well, and they’d bonded that terrible night when Senator Martinelli died at their feet. But Keisha’s manner toward Alexa had changed. In today’s encounter, she’d been downright rude.

  Maybe Alexa had overestimated the working friendship. Maybe Keisha had played the role of colleague when needed for business―but dropped the pretense now that the commission had ended. Somehow, that explanation didn’t ring quite true, even for someone as calculating about her career as Keisha.

  Scratching Scout’s ears, Alexa tried to pinpoint when Keisha’s attitude had changed. “When I got shot,” she exclaimed, her words floating away in the wind. Alexa had been baffled by the way Keisha had rebuffed her warning after the hot tub incident. Alexa had feared the shooting was connected to Senator Martinelli’s death―and that Keisha could be next on the list. But Keisha had been dismissive and even a little angry at the idea of police watching over her. The young woman had been abrupt with Alexa ever since, even when they’d discussed Lauren’s drowning. She wondered whether Keisha was pissed about the fracking bill―or whether it was something more. It felt like the staffer was making a deliberate effort to create distance between them.

  Watching the shadows of the pines creep closer and closer to the cabin, an unexpected thought brought Alexa bolt upright in her chair. All along, Keisha had acted antsy at any mention of the police, from the moment Detective Marshall first questioned them. What if Keisha had recognized the voices of the men arguing that night? What if she knew who killed the senator?

  Chapter Thirty-one

  “You worked wonders in rescheduling all of those appointments. And no one complained too much?” Alexa looked at her assistant across the desk.

  “Do unto others is what I always say. If you ask nicely, people don’t mind changing an appointment. They know someday they might be the ones asking.” Melinda bustled toward the door, then turned. “You have that brief due on Monday, though.”

  “I’m going to ask Vanessa to do the last bit of research, and I can finish it on Friday―or even over the weekend if necessary.”

  When Melinda closed the door behind her, Alexa turned back to checking emails. In addition to the slew of work-related messages, Alexa read two personal notes. Trooper Cannon’s email notified Alexa that Spanky Fulton’s trial had been scheduled for early June. At this point, he would be tried for all his offenses except shooting at Alexa. They were still developing that case. Alexa shook her head in disgust. Developing sounded like a euphemism for didn’t have a case yet. At least the guy was still in jail.

  Darby had sent a message with a link to a news article about the rally. The reporter called it a “powerful message to the fracking industry from a coalition of environmental groups and conservation enthusiasts.” Her email also mentioned she was forwarding information about the Senate hearing on Senate Bill 5100.

  Alexa scanned her inbox for the second email from Darby but couldn’t find it. So she opened up her Spam folder, and there it was, right at the top. Finding this errant email prompted Alexa to review the entire Spam folder. Although their dedicated server emptied Spam older than sixty days, Alexa tried to cruise through the folder at least once a week. It was astounding how many client emails got sidetracked in Spam amidst the ads for Viagra, pleas from Nigerian princes with moneymaking schemes, and sketchy online dating come-ons. The firm had asked their tech company to fine-tune the filters to keep the good emails out of Spam, but they hadn’t managed to fix the problem.

  In the busy weeks since the commission had wound down, Alexa had neglected her periodic Spam checks, so it took her awhile to page through the entire folder. She found a few items from the bar association along with another email from Darby containing information on fracking lawsuits. She marked them all as “Innocent” and moved them to her inbox. Continuing on, Alexa’s heart sank when she found an email from LaurenH.

  Biting her lip, Alexa opened the email from Lauren Hildebrand’s personal email account. She had sent it on April eighth, the day after the final commission meeting. The day before she drowned.

  Sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to you after the Commission meeting. Keisha dragged me off. I suspect she overheard some of our conversation in Senator Gabler’s office and didn’t want me to tell you the rest. Although I don’t think she’s in on it, I believe she knows. But, Keisha never wants to do anything that would jeopardize her career. And, I get it. Nobody would ever hire her if she dropped a dime on a powerful Senator and an even more powerful lobbying firm.

  Like I tried to tell you, I think that something illegal is going on around this fracking legislation. But, I could be wrong. I know that you could help me figure things out. If I’m right, you could tell me what to do with this information.

  Please don’t call me at the Senate office. Today is my last day. You can reach me tomorrow and next week on my cell phone.

  Alexa sat ba
ck and wiped a tear from her eye after she read Lauren’s phone number. The intern had tried to reach her, but Alexa had failed the girl―all because of a faulty Spam filter. She printed out the email and raced down the hall to Graham’s office, a welter of thoughts crowding her brain. “Is he alone?” she asked her brother’s assistant.

  At the woman’s nod, Alexa sailed into his office. “Graham, I need urgent advice.” She handed him the email.

  “Hey, Lexie. What’s this? The Loomis case?”

  Alexa shook her head. “This isn’t law firm business. Do you remember that young intern I told you about? The one who helped me on the trafficking commission?”

  Graham looked a bit befuddled as he tried to switch gears. “The one who drowned?”

  “Yes. Spam just spit out a message from her, from beyond the grave.”

  Graham read the memo then looked up in surprise. “Do you know what type of illegal activity she’s talking about?”

  Alexa moaned. “I don’t. We had this conversation the day before she wrote this email. We were interrupted just as she was about to tell me what was illegal. I tried to reach out to her that afternoon, and again the next day, but she never returned my messages. Or so I thought, until today.”

  “We need to get that Spam issue fixed. I’ll talk to them again.”

  “We do. Please focus, Graham. The bigger issue is what should I do with this email?” Alexa remembered her earlier suspicion. “Maybe Lauren didn’t drown. Maybe someone killed her to shut her up. Right after her death, I talked to the Harrisburg police about the possibility of foul play, but they were treating her death as a drunken accident. I’m assuming the autopsy revealed nothing to dispute that conclusion. But this email provides motive.”