Golden Malicious (Apple Orchard Mystery)

by Connolly, Sheila

  “Not good,” he said.

  Gabe shoved a plastic bottle of water in front of Seth’s face. “Drink this. It’s just water, honest.”

  Seth was having trouble holding the container, so Meg guided it to his mouth and held it while he drank. “Easy, Seth—not too much, or too fast. You have ice, Gabe?” She pulled the bottle away from Seth to slow him down; he was taking huge gulps.

  “No. The refrigeration units were for the insects, but I never needed ice. You want to cool him down?”

  “Yes, as fast as possible. Just fill a bucket or something and dump it over him,” Meg said, watching Seth’s face.

  Gabe went back to a sink Meg hadn’t noticed in the corner, stopping first to adjust the setting on the air conditioner she had seen through the window. He pulled out a plastic bucket from under the sink and filled it from the tap, then hauled it back to where Seth sat. “Ready?”

  “Go.” Meg didn’t move; getting wet was the least of her worries.

  Gabe raised the bucket and dumped it over Seth’s head. He jerked spasmodically, and for a moment Meg wondered if he was going to have a seizure, but then he swiped a hand across his face, wiping the water away. “Damn, that felt good.”

  Meg looked up at Gabe, waiting with the bucket. “Again.” She handed the plastic bottle back to Seth. “Here, drink some more. Slowly.” He complied, but she took it away from him again before he’d drained it.

  Gabe returned with another filled bucket and repeated the process of drenching Seth, though gently.

  Meg nodded, then stepped back. Now that she was wet, too, the chilled air in the room was exaggerated, and she shivered. But Seth was looking better, or at least taking in his surroundings. She approached him again and laid her hand on his neck: definitely cooler. He looked up at her, then twisted around to look at Gabe. “Who’s he?”

  Gabe put down the bucket and came around to face Seth. “I’m Gabe Aubuchon—I work at UMass, for Christopher Ramsdell. Meg knows me.”

  Seth looked confused, and this time Meg didn’t think it was due to dehydration. Gabe must have hit him from behind. She glanced at Gabe, silently asking permission to fill Seth in. Gabe shrugged.

  “Seth, Gabe does research on Asian longhorned beetles at the university,” Meg began. “I’m guessing he set up this place so he could rear his own. He’s the one who’s been scattering them in the local forests. Have I got that right, Gabe?”

  “Yeah, more or less.”

  “You’re the guy who hit me?” Seth asked.

  “Sorry about that. I panicked. I didn’t want you to see what I was doing here. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I needed time to work out what to do. And I didn’t know about the heatstroke thing, I swear. Guess it really doesn’t matter anymore,” he muttered.

  Meg took stock. Seth was looking better, but she didn’t think he’d be up to trekking the mile or so through the woods back to the road—yet. Maybe he’d have to eventually, but right now he needed some more time to stabilize. Gabe didn’t seem to be a threat—even Max had relaxed on the floor, although he was keeping an eye on the least familiar person. Maybe it was time to get a few answers.

  “Gabe, why were you planting bugs in the woods around here?” Meg asked.

  He turned to her. “To save my job.”

  That was the last thing she expected to hear. “At the university? What’s the problem?”

  “Government funding. The government gives, and the government takes away. The university lab funding for ALB isn’t in next year’s budget, which makes me expendable.”

  “But isn’t the Worcester project still going on?”

  “Yes and no. That’s a big deal—something like a hundred people, if you count all the inspectors and the office folk. Kind of a showcase for the state and the Feds. Thing is, they’ve done a good job—came in, sweet-talked the homeowners, cut down tens of thousands of trees—and it’s more or less worked. There’ve been only a couple of new sightings there this year. Big success, right? Everybody’s happy. So there’s no pressure to keep up the research end of things, and they cut back on lab funding. Besides, USDA and their buddies have moved on to other, sexier critters.”

  Meg leaned against one of the counters and wrapped her arms around herself. She was actually getting chilled, which was an unusual sensation these days. Seth looked more alert, although he wasn’t jumping into the conversation. “So, let me guess: you figured if there was another infestation, the program would be extended?”

  “Right,” Gabe said. “You know, it takes only one confirmed sighting to set the whole thing in motion? One damn bug, and everybody mobilizes. I figured they’d find the money someplace.”

  Meg debated telling him that the experts had tagged the Granford infestations as nonnatural, but she decided against it. She doubted that Christopher would have told anyone else. “Was that what you were doing at Nash’s? Putting an insect where someone was bound to see it?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I started putting the ALBs out two years ago, and so far nobody had noticed. I had to put it right under their noses, but then this logger guy comes along and asks me what I’m doing. He kinda caught me with my pants down. Plus he wasn’t some curious hiker—he recognized what it was right away.”

  “Then what happened?” Seth said suddenly.

  “I didn’t hit the guy, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m sorry I had to hit you, man, but it was only to knock you out so I’d buy time. But that logger—I mean, maybe I took a step forward and he thought I might take a swing at him, but I swear, I never touched him! He tripped over a log, and fell backward and hit his head, and it was over, just like that.”

  “But then you hid the body,” Meg prompted.

  “Well, kind of. I know—that was dumb. I just dragged him out of sight. I figured somebody would find him soon enough, but I wanted somebody to find the beetle first, and I thought that if they found the body first it wouldn’t happen.”

  “But that’s more or less what happened,” Meg said. “I saw the beetle and didn’t think anything about it, but then I smelled the body, and when I found it and the authorities took over, the beetle got shoved aside and lost. If I hadn’t mentioned it to Christopher by chance, and he hadn’t told me that it might be important, nothing would have happened.”

  “I know, because he told me. I was going to go back and leave another one, or maybe I would have given it to Jonas Nash and told him I found it, but then I didn’t have to, thanks to you.”

  Meg remained skeptical. Gabe’s planning had been haphazard at best, except for the construction of the lab where they now sat. Was he telling the whole truth? Right now it didn’t really matter, because Meg’s primary mission was to win his help to get Seth out of there. They could sort out the rest later.

  “If David Clapp’s death really was an accident, you could have reported it, you know,” Seth said. “No one would have pointed at you, if you’d said you just happened to find him.”

  “I realized that later. I wasn’t thinking too straight. I freaked, okay? The whole thing was stupid.”

  Desperate people do desperate things, Meg thought—not that that excused Gabe’s actions. She handed Seth the water bottle again. “Keep drinking, a little at a time. How’re you feeling?”

  “About ten percent better than the last time you asked me. Why’d you come looking for me?”

  “Because I couldn’t find you.” Meg was startled to find herself near tears, and this was not the time for that. “Donald called this morning and wondered where you were. I tried all the obvious places, and you weren’t at any of them. I called your mother to see if you’d mentioned any change of plans. I even talked to Sandy at town hall to see if you’d told her anything. And finally I called Art, who, by the way, is busy putting out fires all over Granford, and he happened to see your van off the road near here, and he called me and told me where to find it.” And had it not been for that, Seth could have died. Meg shut her eyes, hoping to hold back the tears.

&nb
sp; “So you came looking for me?” he said, with something like wonder in his voice.

  “Well, I stopped at your house and saw that Max was there, outside, and I was pretty sure that you wouldn’t have just gone off and left him like that in this heat, so I knew something had to be wrong, and I brought him home with me. And then I realized that he could help me find you. Which he did.” Now she could feel the tears running down her face. Okay, maybe this whole thing wasn’t over yet, but this was so, so much better than that awful gnawing uncertainty when Seth was nowhere to be found. She’d been right: he’d been in trouble, and she had been the only person who could do anything about it, and she had done it, and now at least they had a chance to get out of this. If Gabe helped.

  “You two are together, huh?” Gabe interrupted. “I didn’t realize that. Course, I didn’t know him.” Gabe nodded at Seth. “He just showed up, nosing around, and all I could see was everything falling apart. Glad you aren’t dead, man.”

  No thanks to you, Meg thought. She wasn’t about to forgive him so easily. And he faced a world of trouble now—murder, or maybe manslaughter; kidnapping; and she couldn’t even begin to put a name to whatever crime planting illegal insects might be. An act of terrorism? She wasn’t even sure how many different authorities Gabe would face, but she was pretty sure it would be more than one. Still, he’d brought it all on himself, and she wasn’t going to pity him.

  She approached Seth and knelt in front of his chair again, reaching for his face. Definitely cooler, if not yet normal. This time he reached up to cover her hand with his own. “Thank you,” he said softly.

  “Did you really think no one would miss you?”

  “I didn’t think about it. But I’m glad it was you.”

  “Hey, guys, I hate to interrupt your lovefest, but I think we have a problem,” Gabe said urgently.

  Meg stood up and followed his gaze out the window. She’d been so focused on Seth that she hadn’t noticed that outside the air had thickened with smoke, and as she watched, a single flaming spark drifted down, landing on the ground—and a tongue of fire sprang up immediately. Her eyes sought Gabe’s. “We’ve got to move.”

  “You got that right. Which way’s the fire?”

  “Art said it’s coming from the west—he was over by Route 202 when I talked to him.”

  Suddenly Gabe was all business. “Then we’d better move fast. Hey, you—Seth, is it?—can you walk out of here?”

  “If I have to,” Seth said grimly. Meg was not reassured.

  “Okay, then everybody take water,” she said with more authority than she felt. “We’ll soak our clothes now, just in case. I’ll soak Max, too. Find something to cover your mouth. The smoke will get us before the fire does. Is that lane back to the road the only way out of here?”

  “It’s the fastest,” Gabe said.

  “Let me check and see what’s happening.” Meg pulled out her phone and hit Redial. This time it took longer for Art to pick up.

  “Meg? What’s the story? How’s Seth?”

  “Better, but it looks like the fire’s heading this way, so we’re going to try to walk out.”

  “You’re right about the fire. You’ll be cutting it pretty close. Can he make it?”

  “I don’t know,” Meg said, “but I don’t see a lot of choice. This building is old, and it’ll go up fast. Can you get someone to meet us back at the van?”

  “I’ll do my best. You want EMTs?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good luck, Meg. Tell Seth to get his sorry ass out of there.”

  “Will do.” Meg turned back to Seth. “Art says to get your sorry ass moving.”

  “I’m on it.” He stood up and wavered again. He was in no shape to trek through a burning forest—but as she’d told Art, they had no choice.

  “Then drink up, wet down, and let’s get moving,” Meg said firmly.

  27

  Once they were all thoroughly wet, and carrying plastic bottles of water, Meg helped Seth to the door. Max kept winding anxiously around their legs, which didn’t help Seth’s stability.

  When Gabe pulled open the door, however, Meg knew they were in trouble. The air was brownish, and there were now a number of little flickering patches of fire. Max cringed, torn between sticking with Seth and hiding from the strangely altered world outside. “Come on,” Gabe said, leading the way. Meg and Seth followed more slowly, and Max chose to stay with him.

  It was beginning to get dark out, the evening dimness compounded by the smoke. At least the path was clear before them. Gabe was standing some ten feet away, bouncing impatiently. “Move! This brush is going to go up fast, any minute now,” he said.

  Meg draped Seth’s arm over her shoulders and wrapped her own around his waist. “We can do this,” she said. To him or to herself?

  He looked down at her and nodded. “Meg . . . you can go ahead.”

  “You idiot, this is not the time to get all noble on me. Let’s just go!”

  Their faces shielded by damp cloths—which didn’t stay damp very long—they began a hellish march back toward the road. All Meg could think was that they were too slow. She kept her mind busy by trying to calculate rates and distances. Say it was a mile. Say a normal walking pace was maybe four miles an hour. Their pace was nowhere near normal—more like two miles an hour. At that rate it would take half an hour to reach the road and the cars. Was the fire going to wait that long?

  It looked like the answer was no. Meg could hear the fire now. She had no way of gauging how far they’d come, but evidently it wasn’t far enough. Gabe stopped and took a critical look at them, then came back and said, “Look, let me take him—we’ll move faster.”

  Meg hesitated, but Gabe had to be stronger than she was. She unloaded Seth, then looked around for Max—Seth would never forgive her if she lost him. Unless, of course, they all ended up dead, but then it wouldn’t matter, would it? She swallowed a sob. Luckily Max was still sticking close to Seth, so she grabbed his collar and reattached the leash she had stuffed in her pocket. Gabe had already moved down the lane with Seth, and she hurried to catch up. At least now they were moving faster.

  Behind her she heard what sounded like an explosion. “What was that?” she gasped.

  “Probably a compressor on one of the fridges. Doesn’t matter,” Gabe replied. “Keep moving.”

  Max was getting increasingly anxious, tugging on his lead, and Meg had trouble keeping her grip on him. Would this blasted forest never end? It was definitely getting dark now, although the darkness was punctuated with glowing orange patches of moving flame. There was a stir of wind, bringing hotter air with it, and it was getting harder to breathe.

  Gabe stopped, and Meg nearly bumped into him. “We should drink now, right?”

  “Yes, and pour the rest over us,” Meg said, coughing. “If we don’t get out soon, it won’t matter that the water’s gone.” Gabe parked Seth against a tree and opened up his own water bottle and drank half of it down, then poured the rest over his head. Meg followed suit.

  Seth’s eyes were closed, and his breathing was labored—but then, so was hers. She opened his bottle and shoved it at him. “Drink. Now.”

  He opened his eyes, then raised a shaky hand to take it. “Meg . . .”

  “Don’t you dare start again. We’re going to get out of here. Drink.”

  He gave her what might be a faint smile and did. She opened her bottle and drenched him with what was left. Not enough.

  “Homestretch,” Meg said.

  Gabe hauled Seth upright again. “Not far now. Looks like there’s a welcoming committee.”

  Meg looked down the lane. At first she couldn’t see anything different, and then she realized that some of the flickering lights were not the orange of fire, but rather red and blue—police, emergency services, it didn’t matter. It was hard to tell how far away they were, but they were definitely there. Art had come through for them. “Let’s go.”

  The next stretch seemed to take fo
rever. Meg kept glancing between the flashing lights—they were getting closer, weren’t they?—and Gabe and Seth. She stumbled over tree roots and her own feet and tried to keep Max from toppling her. Finally, she saw a break in the tree line ahead, and the road beyond, thick with emergency vehicles. She didn’t see her car or Seth’s van, but maybe some intelligent officer had moved them out of harm’s way. All they needed now was to lose their vehicles to a fire—the insurance costs would go through the roof.

  Irrelevant, Meg! Her mind was drifting, until Gabe stopped abruptly and took in the gathered forces at the end of the lane. He turned back to her and thrust Seth into her arms. “You take him the rest of the way.”

  “But, wait . . .” she protested, trying to keep Seth standing—he wasn’t helping much, and when had he gotten so heavy?

  Gabe faced her squarely. “I can’t go through all that. I’m sorry.” He turned away and headed back the way they had come, leaving Meg with mouth agape.

  Seth sagged against her. She hitched his arm over her shoulder again. “Come on, we’re almost there. If you give up now, I’ll never forgive you.”

  If he heard, he didn’t say anything, but somehow she and Seth and Max managed to bumble their way forward until they could make out figures moving through the smoke-haze. Art Preston emerged from the murk.

  “Jeez, you two took your sweet time. Chapin, you do the damndest things to get attention.” Art’s words were humorous, but he looked worried. “I’ll take him to the EMTs,” he said to Meg.

  Relieved of the burden of Seth, Meg felt suddenly lighter, and she had to catch herself from falling when Max pulled her forward, eager to stay with Seth. She managed to hang on to him and followed Art to the road, where the Granford ambulance was waiting, along with a couple of police cruisers and two fire trucks.

  Art handed Seth off to a pair of EMTs, and Meg followed. “What’s the story?” one of them asked.

  “Heatstroke. I got him cooled down and got some water into him, but then we had to walk out.”