Long Time Gone: Konigsburg, Book 4

by Meg Benjamin

  And Morgan had almost seen him the second time. In fact, maybe she actually had seen him without realizing it. So the bastard had thrown her down the hill.

  Erik would find that goddamned truck if it took him the rest of his time in Konigsburg. And then he would turn the driver over to Helen Kretschmer for re-education after he’d undertaken some general ass-kicking of his own.

  As he pulled into the winery parking lot, he realized he was looking for Morgan’s SUV—and not seeing it. He felt a quick stab of disappointment.

  Nobody was inside the tasting room when they first walked in, but the door to the office swung open and Kit Maldonado walked out.

  Nando grinned. “Hey, chica. You seen any big trucks coming down from the hills within the last couple of weeks or so?”

  “How big?” Kit frowned, one wrinkle marring her smooth forehead. “You mean like those extended cab things?”

  Nando shook his head. “Not a pickup. More like delivery trucks, commercial stuff.”

  Kit shrugged. “Not that I recall. But I can’t really see the main road in here, just the hills.”

  Erik turned to look out the window with its view of the vineyards. He could just see the line of the dirt road from Powell’s pasture across a hill to the left, alongside what Morgan had called the Cynthiana vineyard. “Have you ever seen anybody driving way back there above the vineyard?”

  Kit frowned again. At this rate, those wrinkles were going to make her look at least nineteen by the end of the day. “A truck coming down over there? No. Not that I remember.”

  “What truck? Where?” Ciro Avrogado walked in carrying a case of wine. He glared at his son. “What are you doing here?”

  Nando grinned back easily. “Being a cop. You seen any trucks come down that road from Powell’s during the last couple of weeks, Pop?”

  Ciro squinted toward the window. “That road? What damn fool would take his truck down that? It’s a goat track.”

  Ciro scowled in Erik’s general direction. Erik smiled back. “This particular damn fool went down it twice. The second time was the day Morgan got hurt at Powell’s pasture.”

  Ciro’s gaze sharpened. “Was he the one who hurt her?”

  Erik shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll know when we talk to him.”

  Ciro looked back out at the hillside, then shook his head. “I haven’t seen anybody up there, but I might not notice. We’re pretty busy this time of year getting the grapes in. You might ask Esteban, though. He’s out in the yard more than I am. He might have seen something.”

  “Who did what to Morgan?” Kit was frowning again. “I thought she fell down the hill.”

  “She did. But she might have had some help.”

  Kit stared at him wide-eyed as the tasting room door swung open and the subject of the conversation walked in. Four pairs of eyes immediately swung her way.

  “What?” Morgan’s eyes widened and she glanced down at her hands. “Did I spill something on myself?”

  Ciro walked over to her, ignoring Erik and Nando. “What’s the verdict on the wine?”

  “The sangiovese is a go. He wants to wait a couple of weeks on the primitivo.”

  Ciro nodded. “Right. I figured that would be it. Labeling time.” He rubbed his hands together, smiling as he turned to Nando. “Good thing you’re here. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

  Nando shook his head. “I’m still on duty, Pop. And I need to go back to town for my truck.”

  Ciro narrowed his eyes, then turned to Morgan.

  She groaned. “Not this afternoon, please. I just got back from Austin. I’ll work on it tomorrow, I promise.”

  Erik glanced at his watch, then put an arm around her shoulders. “C’mon. I’m off duty in ten minutes. You can come and visit Arthur.”

  Three pairs of eyes nailed him to the wall. He suddenly felt like ducking.

  “Where is Arthur that she needs to go visit him? Why isn’t he here where he belongs?” Ciro’s voice was heavy with suspicion.

  “Arthur’s staying at Erik’s place until his fur grows back. I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. Let’s go.” Morgan turned back toward the door.

  Kit gazed up at Nando with enough heat to start a small bonfire. “You want a ride back to town?”

  Nando’s lips spread in a slow grin. “Sure.”

  Erik glanced back at Ciro. “If you think of anything…”

  “Yeah. Right.” Ciro was staring back and forth between Nando and Kit, his brow furrowing. Finally, he turned back toward the winery and shrugged. “I’ll get that labeling run set up. Maybe Esteban can start on it tonight.”

  Checking on Arthur took maybe five minutes, largely because Arthur wasn’t much interested in being checked on. He glanced drowsily at Morgan, allowed her to scratch his ears, and then fell noisily asleep again. At that point, Erik realized he didn’t have any food in the house and his stomach was growling almost as noisily as Arthur was snoring. Not exactly the road to romance.

  The Dew Drop was surprisingly empty when Morgan and Erik got there—Docia and Cal sat at a side booth, Biedermeier and a few other men hunched over their stools at the bar.

  Morgan frowned as she slid in beside Docia. “Where is everybody?”

  Docia shrugged. “Pete and Janie went to San Antonio for the weekend. Lars and Jess never come in anyway since they’ve got the kids to take care of. And ever since Kit moved in, Allie’s been spending most of her time at Wonder’s. She even cooks for him. I hear she got him to clean up his kitchen.”

  Cal grinned. “Figures. Wonder will do anything to get Allie to cook. Besides, she’ll be living there full-time after they get married, right?”

  “I don’t think they’ve decided where they’re going to live. Allie’s got a fantastic kitchen at her house. I don’t think Wonder will want her to give that up.”

  Cal sipped his Dos Equis. “Wonder’s yard is better. Maybe they can alternate.”

  Docia rolled her eyes but said nothing.

  Erik raised an eyebrow at Morgan. “Hungry?”

  “No, I had a sandwich with Mom before I left Austin. But I’d love something to drink.”

  “Wine?”

  Morgan’s lips curved upward. “Beer. I think I’m wined out.”

  Erik got a Shiner and a Dr. Pepper from Ingstrom, along with a dubious-looking Frito pie. Good thing his stomach was used to crap. He settled in beside Cal, handing the Shiner to Morgan.

  She smiled her thanks. “Why were you and Nando out at the winery this afternoon? Any trouble?”

  Erik narrowed his eyes, trying to decide how much information to pass on in a public place. “We were doing some checking out at Powell’s. Do you remember a heavy truck up at the pasture the day you fell? I thought you said you heard one.”

  Morgan frowned, shaking her head. “I heard a motor, something driving away, but I didn’t see anything. It could have been a heavy truck.”

  Erik turned to Cal. “How about you?”

  Cal shrugged. “Too busy carrying Morgan back up the hill. I didn’t see any truck there except yours.”

  “Was someone there?” Morgan leaned forward, her brow furrowed.

  “Maybe. Somebody had been there earlier, messing with the stock tank.”

  “Somebody poisoned Powell’s stock tank?” Cal’s voice rose slightly. A couple of heads turned toward them from the bar.

  Erik grimaced. “I don’t think it was somebody out to hurt Powell.” Although now that he thought about it, finding Joe Powell’s enemies might be easier than finding a dumper who’d chosen a “target of opportunity”. Given Powell’s tendency to fly off half-cocked at everybody who crossed his path, he must have left some disgruntled people in his wake.

  Morgan’s eyes widened. “Was somebody actually trying to hurt me?”

  Heads turned again. Erik gritted his teeth. “I don’t know. I’d guess not—I’d guess he was just trying to get away without you seeing him. So far as I can tell, nobody was trying to hurt anybody.” Ex
cept maybe some goats and the occasional cat.

  Docia leaned her swollen body back against the booth, rubbing the small of her back. “Gee, this is getting interesting. Also totally confusing.”

  Erik sighed. “Look, I can’t say much more about this. I just wanted to know if either of you saw anybody driving around out there.”

  “No, but there’s more traffic back around Powell’s place than you’d think.” Cal sipped his beer. “Powell has his goat feed delivered, and hay for his horses. His ranch hands live in town, so they’re always coming and going. Hell, he gets FedEx and UPS just like the rest of us.”

  Erik frowned. “So if you saw a truck back there when you were working with the goats…”

  “I wouldn’t think anything about it. A Rolls-Royce I’d notice. A truck?” Cal shrugged. “Nah.”

  The Frito pie was about as bad as Erik had feared. He ate half of it before giving up. Powell’s animals might not have been deliberately poisoned, but Ingstrom’s customers were in mortal danger.

  Morgan smiled. “If you want, I can fix you something back at Cedar Creek. I think there’s some soup in the freezer.”

  Erik dropped the remains of the Frito pie into the trash can on his way out. Ingstrom scowled at him.

  The road to the winery was familiar by now. Erik drove on autopilot and spent most of the time watching Morgan when she wasn’t looking—and sometimes when she was.

  “Can you tell me what’s going on at Powell’s, or do you have to keep it a secret?”

  He sighed. “It involves you too, potentially. Somebody dumped some chemicals back in Powell’s pasture—stuff that’s supposed to be disposed of in a particular way.”

  “So it was an accident? But why would someone be back there with chemicals?”

  He shook his head. “Not an accident. Illegal dumping. Instead of contracting with a company that’s licensed to dispose of nasty stuff, you pay a dumper to take the stuff off your hands. Then the dumper takes it somewhere and gets rid of it.”

  She stared at him, eyes wide. “But if it gets into the ground water, it could poison the water supply.”

  “Yep.” He turned his gaze back to the road ahead. “Which is why I’d like to find this SOB. That and the fact he pushed you down that hill at Powell’s.”

  Morgan sat frowning beside him. Her eyes looked dark again, like she’d just had another weight added to her shoulders. One more thing the dumper could take responsibility for. And Erik too, since he’d passed on the news.

  She closed her eyes for a moment. “We’ll need to check at Cedar Creek. If he dumped at Powell’s pasture, he might have dumped at the vineyards too. Right at harvest time.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Looks like he used a fair-sized truck, though. Could something bigger than a pickup get into the vineyards?”

  “Some of them.” Her eyes were still closed. “Depends on the road and the location. I’ll have to tell Ciro. He knows the vineyards better than I do. He can start checking them.”

  Erik decided he might as well talk about all the unpleasant possibilities at once. “Would Arthur range as far away as Powell’s pasture?”

  Morgan’s eyes flew open. “Arthur? You mean the oil?”

  He nodded. “Oil was part of what was dumped at Powell’s. Would Arthur go that far?”

  “I don’t know.” She touched the tips of her fingers to her lips. “Usually he sticks around the vineyards—lots of rodents and lizards to catch.”

  Erik pulled into the parking lot next to the winery. Sunset turned the vineyards gold, casting long shadows along the vines. “Up for a walk?”

  She sighed. “Sure.”

  They started up the drive behind the winery building toward the equipment sheds and the nearest vineyard, scanning the ground.

  “What am I looking for?” Morgan asked. She turned up the hill toward the Cynthiana.

  “At Powell’s it was a big black circle. Is this Arthur’s favorite vineyard?”

  “Sometimes. This one and the one to the west.” She turned in that direction and stopped. “Oh crap,” she whispered.

  Erik stepped beside her. A drainage ditch ran between the road and the vineyard. They stared down at a black stain running half the length of the ditch.

  He blew out a breath. “Easy for him to use. All he’d have to do would be to run a hose down into the ditch and then use it to pump out the chemicals.”

  She pressed a hand to her mouth. “We’ll have to test the ground water—and the grapes from this vineyard before we harvest them. We’ll have to destroy the grapes if they’ve been affected. Crap, crap, crap!” She closed her eyes for a moment.

  “You probably won’t have to do that. This drainage ditch is downhill from the vineyard. Chances are runoff would flow away from the grapes, not toward them.”

  “I should have thought of that, shouldn’t I? I’m such a great winery manager! I can’t even tell the difference between uphill and down.” Her lips trembled slightly.

  “C’mon, Bambi,” he murmured, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “Give yourself a break.”

  She sighed. “Who should I call about this?”

  “Ciro.” He began walking her back toward the winery. “And a woman named Andy Wells at the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality. But you can’t do anything now—TCEQ will be closed for the day. It’ll still be here in the morning.”

  “Damn it all, who could do this?” She turned to look at him. “And when? Skeeter and Fred aren’t good for much, but they do make a lot of noise if anybody drives up after dark.” She stopped for a moment, staring back toward the vineyard. “Erik, I may have heard him, myself.”

  “When? You mean up at Powell’s?”

  She shook her head. “Two nights ago. After I was at your house.” Her cheeks blazed for a moment, and he suppressed a totally inappropriate grin. “I heard a truck up in the hills. I thought it might be a grape delivery and turned on the yard lights.”

  “Did you see it?”

  She shook her head again. “After I turned on the lights I heard it stop and then go back up the road.”

  Erik studied the road that ran alongside the vineyard until it turned back toward Powell’s pasture. “Is this a main road in from Konigsburg?”

  “Not really. It goes back into the hills, then intersects with a farm-to-market road. Some people use it when they’re heading to Johnson City.” She climbed the steps to the tasting room entrance, then stood still for a moment, resting her forehead on the door. “Oh lord, just what I need—another cheery thing to complicate my life.”

  Morgan ran through her mental checklist. Call Ciro. Call TCEQ. Call Dad. Her chest felt tight. Her shoulders ached.

  Maybe she was cursed. That would explain why every time things seemed to be working out, something else went haywire. The wood door felt cool against her forehead. You’ll get through this. Just open the door.

  Beside her Skeeter and Fred nudged against her leg, whimpering to be let inside.

  Suddenly she felt Erik’s fingertips sliding across the back of her neck, smoothing away the damp hair. “C’mon, Bambi, let’s go in and get something to eat.”

  Right. She’d promised him dinner. And that wouldn’t happen as long as she stood there feeling sorry for herself. She raised her head as she opened the door. The palm of Erik’s hand rested, warm and strong, against her nape.

  He pushed her gently through the door, then closed it behind them. Twilight shadows played along the walls as the dogs clicked to their food bowls.

  Erik’s arms slid around her waist, pulling her against the hardness of his chest as his lips brushed across her forehead.

  Morgan let herself be embraced, fitting herself between his thighs. Heat and wetness began to build at her center.

  “You’re using sex to distract me,” she murmured, rubbing her face against his collarbone.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Erik grinned down at her. “That’s one purpose.”

  “What are the others?”

>   “To pleasure you, Morg. And me.” He ran his finger along the swell of her lower lip, sliding the finger inside her mouth. Morgan sucked quickly, tasting salt as she ran her tongue across his fingertip.

  He pulled back again, staring down into her eyes, like predator and prey. “Is it working?”

  She swallowed. “Is what working?”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “C’mon, Bambi, time for you to show me where you live.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

  He leaned down to run his tongue along the ridge of her ear.

  She felt a sudden jolt of heat. “You’re trying to distract me again.”

  He turned to flip the latch on the front door, then began to herd her gently toward the door to her apartment. “This is your place, right?”

  “Right.” She shook her head once as if that could clear it. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Later.” His voice rumbled against her ear.

  “But…” Her breath caught in her throat as one of his hands cupped her bottom.

  “Pleasure first, Morg.” He had her T-shirt off before they reached the living room, his fingers sliding down to unfasten the snap of her jeans. Morgan began to pull at the buttons on his shirt, trying to unfasten them. Her fingers didn’t seem to be working right.

  “Easy,” he murmured, “I’ve only got two uniform shirts and the other one hasn’t come back from the laundry yet.”

  Morgan began to giggle, leaning against his shoulder. Her head was spinning—her breath caught in her throat. “Help me then.”

  He pushed her hands away, then pulled the shirt over his head. She heard a button bounce away on the floor. “Damn it!” Erik growled.

  Morgan felt breathless again; her laughter died away. Shouldn’t she be worrying about the winery right now? Trying to figure out what to do next?