by Sherry Lewis
Mitch lifted one shoulder. “If not exactly that, something else. And it was getting steadily worse.”
For the first time since they’d arrived, Nancy reacted. “Worse how?”
Mitch looked a little surprised by her question. “It was no secret the two of you were having problems,” he said slowly. “And that affected Adam’s performance. He brought it all to work with him, and his mind just wasn’t on his job.”
“So that’s why he had to work late?” Fred asked.
“Work late? No. I—” Mitch broke off and looked confused. “How would I know why Adam worked late?”
“Well, I just assumed—” Fred managed a bit of confusion himself. “You said you worked so closely together.”
Mitch scowled at him. “As far as I know, Adam didn’t work overtime. What makes you think he did?”
“According to Brooke Westphal, they worked late together.”
Mitch’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Really?” He leaned back against the chair. “Why?”
“Brooke said they were retesting samples.”
“Hell’s bells. Did she say why?”
“She said she didn’t know. That Adam never told her.”
Mitch snorted a laugh and dug into his pack for another cigarette. “Well, I believe that. Adam always had to be top dog.” He lit up and looked out the window for several seconds, then asked, “If she didn’t know what he was doing, why was she there?”
“I thought it was because Adam didn’t work in the lab and didn’t know how to run the tests.”
Mitch stood and ran a hand over his chin. “This doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me.” He flicked in the general direction of his ashtray. “Adam had no business checking up on any of us. If anyone was going to double-check test results, it would have been Philip.” He shook his head, paced a few steps and looked back at them with an agitated expression. “I mean, this kind of thing would have been way outside Adam’s chain of command.”
Fred struggled to understand what this meant. Had Brooke lied to him? Had she and Adam really used the lab as a rendezvous spot?
Nancy leaned forward, eager for reassurance. “Couldn’t Philip have asked Adam to conduct the tests?”
Mitch shook his head. “I’m the lab supervisor. And even if Philip wanted someone to double-check us, why would he ask Adam? Adam didn’t know his way around the lab.”
“Then what do you think Adam was doing?” she asked.
Mitch looked back at Fred with concern written all over his face. “I don’t know,” he said, as if he didn’t want to say anything at all.
Fred thanked his lucky stars he’d already prepared Nancy for the rumors about Adam and Brooke. “If you had to guess, what would you say?”
Mitch sent an apologetic look in Nancy’s direction. “I’ve got an idea, but I’m sure I’m wrong.”
“I want to hear what you think,” she said.
With a sigh of resignation, Mitch gestured widely and sent ash drifting across his path. “Look, I have no reason to doubt Brooke’s claim that she ran tests for Adam. And I believe she didn’t know why. Brooke’s easy-going, easily led—easily manipulated. If Adam said he needed help, she’d have been there. With bells on. . .”
Now where on earth was he going with this? Fred shot a glance at Nancy, but her face gave nothing away.
“. . .but I don’t think he was retesting samples, and I don’t think Philip sanctioned it.”
“Exactly what are you accusing him of doing?” Nancy’s face might not betray any anxiety, but her trembling voice did.
Mitch turned to her. “I’m sorry, Nancy. I’d give anything not to bring this up, but ever since the day Adam was killed, I’ve been trying to figure out why Roy Dennington’s hanging around.”
Taken by surprise, Fred repeated, “Roy Dennington?”
“The black guy. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near EnviroSampl, but all of a sudden he’s calling, making appointments with Adam, showing up at the office, for crying out loud—”
“Have you seen him lately?” Fred asked.
Mitch nodded. “Yes. Last night at the Four Seasons, of all places. The thing is, I can’t figure out what he’s doing here. Why here? Why EnviroSampl? Why Adam?”
That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question, Fred thought. “And you think you know why?”
“If Adam was sneaking into the lab after hours, yes.” His brows knit together in a solid line. “Tell me, did Brooke know what property they were testing?”
“Shadow Mountain.”
Mitch’s face froze. “I see. You’re sure?”
Fred nodded.
“Did she say what they found?”
“No. I don’t think she knew what Adam was looking for.”
Mitch paced a few steps toward the front door, then whirled back to face them. “Look, Nancy, I’m sorry about this, but I think—” He shook his head and paced away again. “God, I can’t even imagine it could be true,” he muttered.
Losing patience with hints, Fred worked his way out of his chair and put himself squarely in the younger man’s path. “It’s obvious you think you know what Adam was doing, so why don’t you just tell us?”
In apparent agony, Mitch looked at Nancy again. “I hate to even speculate.”
“Just tell me,” she said, sounding as frustrated as Fred was.
Mitch drew in a tortured breath and smiled weakly. “I think maybe he was doctoring the files.”
This answer was so different from the one Fred had been expecting, he wondered if he’d heard right. “You think what?”
“I think,” Mitch said with a grimace, “that Adam was altering the results of tests we’d performed on the Shadow Mountain property.”
SIXTEEN
Mitch’s words hung in the air between them and Fred’s heart skipped a beat or two. Nancy sank back into her chair looking pale and shaken. “You think Adam was altering test results? That’s impossible,” she whispered.
Mitch sat again, hunching over so far his belly folded in on itself. He looked miserable. “I can’t think of any other reason for him to be in the lab after hours.”
For the first time in days, Fred found himself wanting someone to accuse Adam of infidelity. What was that old saying—better the devil you know? He’d grown accustomed to the idea of Adam straying. Of Adam in love with Brooke and wanting a divorce from Nancy. But this—this had come out of the blue and knocked him flat.
And he could see by the look on Nancy’s face, it had the same effect on her. She hadn’t even suspected something like this. She’d vehemently denied the possibility that Adam was cheating on her, but the accusation that he’d been involved in something illegal left her speechless.
Working to keep his voice steady, Fred asked, “Why would he do that?”
“Well—” Mitch hedged.
Fred’s patience finally snapped. “You’ve already said the worst, don’t beat around the bush now.”
Mitch dropped back into his chair. “Like I said, I’ve been wondering what Roy Dennington’s doing here. The only thing I can figure is that he’s interested in buying a piece of property. Right?”
Fred nodded.
“Naturally, he’s not going to be able to buy anything really valuable, so he looks at Shadow Mountain.”
Fred wondered what he meant by that, but he didn’t want to interrupt and stop Mitch now.
“That place is too contaminated to pass EPA standards,” Mitch went on. “So what does he do?”
“He doesn’t buy it,” Nancy said.
Mitch waved her words away. “No! He’s got one shot at the game up here so he has to find a way to build on the only property he can afford.”
“What makes you think he can’t afford anything else?”
“He’s a wannabe. Plain and simple.”
Mitch must have seen something in Roy that Fred hadn’t, or he knew something he wasn’t telling. “You know that for a fact?”
“It’s pretty damned obvious if you th
ink about it. Besides, you know how it is in a place like this. You hear things—” Mitch broke off with a shrug.
“So you think Roy Dennington was desperate to get his foot in the door. That he somehow got to Adam, and Adam was altering test results so the property would look clean enough to meet EPA standards?”
Mitch nodded. “It’s the only reasonable explanation.”
Fred looked to Nancy. “But why? Adam didn’t need money, did he?”
She didn’t answer, she just clutched her stomach and looked as if someone had hit her.
For her sake Fred wanted to deny Mitch’s accusation. But he couldn’t, because for the first time the pieces he held started forming a picture. Porter claimed that Adam had changed in the last year, but did Porter suspect this? Was that why he and Adam fought?
Fred moved to Nancy’s side and asked again. “Did Adam need money?”
Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. She held herself and rocked back and forth. She still didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. Her reaction told Fred all he needed to know.
He dragged in a steadying breath and tried to tamp down the sick feeling that rose in his throat. Mitch’s story was suddenly all too easy to believe. “Do you have any proof?” he asked Mitch.
“I don’t. But I’d bet you money Philip will be able to trace Adam’s activity on the computer.” His face softened. “I’m sorry, Nancy. I hate to be the one to tell you—”
She stood and made a valiant effort to pull herself together. “It’s not your fault.”
Mitch started to say something else, but Nancy had clearly had enough. Muttering excuses and thank-yous, Fred managed to get her outside. Neither of them said a word as they walked back to the parking lot.
He knew they’d have to talk about Mitch’s accusations sooner or later, but he wanted to give her time to think. Time to collect herself. Besides, he didn’t have the slightest idea what to say. He needed a little time himself.
Nancy kept her head down and her arms folded tightly across her middle as she walked. Fred knew she’d felt guilty about Adam before this, but if Adam’s need for money somehow related back to her, she’d assign herself even greater responsibility for his death.
After helping her into the car, Fred settled behind the steering wheel and finally managed a few words. “Are you going to be all right?”
She flicked her eyes at him. “I don’t know,” she admitted. She looked weak and obviously shaken, and Fred cursed himself for bringing her along.
“I’m taking you home.” He used his firmest voice to keep her from arguing.
She didn’t even try. Leaning her head against the seat, she closed her eyes. “All right.”
That reaction worried him more than an argument would have, and he wondered if maybe he should talk to her. Now. Before she drew some unhealthy conclusions.
He backed in a wide arc and drove halfway back to town before he could find a way to start. “I’m sorry you were with me to hear that.”
If she heard him now, she gave no sign. Her face looked pale, her lips thin and bloodless.
“Tell me why Adam needed money,” he asked softly.
She didn’t speak, but she shook her head as if denying there was a need.
Fred didn’t believe that. He’d seen her reaction to Mitch’s story. “I want to help you more than anything, sweetheart, but I can’t unless you’re willing to tell me everything.”
She didn’t answer. Fred flicked his attention from the road for half a second and saw her turn away from his gaze. At least she was listening.
“Well, then, why don’t I tell you what I know? If I get anything wrong, you fill in the blanks.”
Still nothing.
He took a deep breath and plunged on. “You and Adam had a happy marriage up until about a year ago. Now, from what I can gather, the only thing that changed was that Adam got a new boss. He started working more hours, talking to you less about what he was doing— Am I right so far?”
Her head moved a fraction of an inch.
He decided to take that as a yes. “The marriage got a little shaky, and before you knew it, you’d drifted apart. You weren’t spending much time together, you felt like you never talked—”
He waited until she moved her head again.
“Then you got pregnant. Now, I know you two had been trying to have a baby for some time before that. And Doc says Adam was thrilled about it. Yet you claim Adam didn’t want the baby once he found out it was on the way.”
She turned back to look at him and the haunted expression in her eyes jolted him. “He didn’t.”
“Then why did Doc think he was?”
“Doc?” Nancy laughed bitterly. “Doc can’t imagine anyone not wanting a baby.”
She had a point there. Maybe Doc had assumed Adam felt the way he would have. “So Adam asked you to get an abortion.”
She nodded.
“Why didn’t he want this baby?”
For half a beat he thought she’d answer him. Instead, she licked her lips and looked straight out the windshield.
“Was it because of money, Nancy? I know kids don’t come cheap—”
This time a sob escaped. She balled her hand into a fist and bit one curled finger. “It’s all my fault he’s dead.”
“Listen, sweetheart. No matter what Adam thought he needed the money for, he didn’t have to commit . . . whatever the hell you’d call what he did to get it.”
He thought that might make her feel better, but her eyes snapped with anger when she faced him. “It’s my fault, Uncle Fred. I pushed him to this.”
“No, sweetheart—”
She glared at him. “Don’t keep saying that. You have no idea.”
He held his temper in check for the few seconds it took him to pull to the side of the road and jam the car into park, but then he faced her with a few sparks of his own. “You know what, Nancy? You’re right. I have no idea. I’m doing everything I can to help you, but I feel like I’m in a high-stakes game and I’m playing with a deck that has a few cards missing.”
Her jaw worked, but she didn’t say anything.
“Well, I’m not going to do it anymore,” he said. “Either you start telling me the truth, or I pull out. Right here. Right now.”
She sent him a sideways glance. “I can’t.”
“Fine. I’m through trying to help.” Reaching for the gearshift knob, he yanked it back into drive and pulled back onto the highway. He drove quickly, taking the curves with a little more speed than usual, which meant he had to trust his brakes more than wisdom allowed. But today he didn’t care. He meant what he said. He was through. He’d angered Enos, worried Margaret and enlisted Douglas in a conspiracy—all for nothing.
He reached Mountain Home quickly and let the car crawl through the stop at the intersection with Main, making certain no other cars were coming before he gathered speed and headed toward Cutler.
He shot an angry glance at Nancy, but she didn’t even acknowledge him. Fine. He’d lost sleep and worried himself nearly sick about her. And for what? She didn’t trust him with the simple truth. She wouldn’t even talk to him.
Even in town he drove too quickly, but he was anxious to reach home. Anxious to sit in his rocker and prop his feet up and read the paper all the way through. He shot past the chiropractic clinic well over the speed limit and saw the white Bronco too late to slow down.
A second later it flew onto the road behind him with its red and blue lights flashing and its siren at full volume.
“For hell’s sake,” he muttered, and pulled to the side of the road again.
Suddenly interested, Nancy looked over her shoulder and sent him a cautious look. “Were you speeding?”
He let a muffled growl serve as his answer and lowered the window as Robert Alpers swaggered up to the Buick.
Robert peered into the window. “Where’s the fire?”
Fred didn’t intend to indulge in empty-headed chit-chat, so he didn�
��t say a word.
Robert shrugged as if Fred’s refusal to answer made no difference to him. “Better let me see your license and registration.”
Fred bit back the response that rose to his lips. He hadn’t had a ticket in over forty years, and he didn’t intend to let some eager young buck ruin his record. But he wouldn’t argue now—he’d take it up with Enos later. He dug into his pocket for his wallet.
Robert pushed his hat back on his head and looked across the seat at Nancy. “Hello there, Mrs. Bigelow. How you doing?”
She gave him a thin little smile and muttered something about how fine she was.
No reasonable person would believe it, but it appeared to satisfy Robert who looked back at Fred. “I saw you come into town a while back. Where’ve you been?”
“I wasn’t aware I had to clear my agenda with the sheriff’s department.” Fred shoved his license and registration under Robert’s nose for inspection.
But Robert didn’t take it. He looked over his shoulder as if he saw something fascinating behind him. “You know, I watched you run that stop sign back there. . .”
“I didn’t run any stop sign,” Fred insisted.
“. . . but I told myself not to get all worked up over it. And I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t come tearing through town like the devil was at your heels.” He looked back at Fred with a smirk. “Now, where did you say you’d been?”
“I didn’t say.”
With a sorry shake of his head, Robert held out his hand for Fred’s documents and studied them thoroughly for several seconds.
But when the inspection went on longer than necessary, Fred found his patience wearing thin. “For Pete’s sake, Robert. The way you’re acting a body would think I was an axe murderer.”
Robert pulled out his ticket-writing paraphernalia and clipped Fred’s license where he could see it. “Well, now, Mr. Vickery, I don’t think you’re an axe murderer. But I do think you’d be wise to watch your stops a little closer and pay better attention to the posted speed limit.” He held out the ticket for Fred to sign.
Fred had half a mind to refuse it, but he slashed his name across the bottom and shoved the whole blasted thing back at the deputy.
