Blackmail

by Robin Caroll

  He stormed from the office, slamming the door behind him. The pictures on the wall shook.

  “Look, Deacon, we don’t have time for this right now. Fill me in on the latest facility. How badly is it damaged?”

  “Pretty bad. It had forty wells connected to it.”

  “Tank valve tampering again?”

  Her boss shook his head. “No, this time, it was shot.”

  “What?”

  “I think because we’d vamped up security. Somebody shot it from far enough away to not be caught by the worker on duty.”

  “What does law enforcement say?”

  “Well, the FBI won’t touch it because nothing was leaked.”

  “Surely the sheriff’s taken an interest?” Sadie sat on the edge of the chair Lance had vacated.

  “He retrieved the bullet and is running tests. That’s all I know.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Lance told me you’d given a statement.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “But you’d told him what to say last time, so I just assumed you’d been in contact with him this morning.”

  Sure, it kinda made sense, but still…

  “When I heard him say that about Candy-Jo, well, I just blew up. I ordered him to my office.” He shook his head. “I swear, that boy’s turned out to be a bad apple. Spoiled rotten and jealous of anyone who might get a piece of what he thought was his. But I showed him.”

  “Okay, I don’t need to know all this.” She stood and smoothed her skirt. “I’m going to call the sheriff and see if he’s got anything yet, then I’ll figure out something to tell the press.” She retrieved her belongings and moved to the door. “And next time, call me.”

  Sadie rushed to her office, set down her purse and briefcase and sank into her chair. She rubbed her temples as Georgia set a steaming cup of coffee before her.

  “Why didn’t you call me in early?”

  “I just found out when I got here.”

  “Oh. Lance said you’d given him a statement.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  “Oh, my.” Georgia’s brows shot up. “No wonder Deacon hauled him up to the office.”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t pretty.”

  Georgia clapped her hands. “What can I do to help?”

  “Try to get Sheriff Theriot on the phone. See if he knows anything about the bullet used yet.”

  Georgia nodded and rushed out. Sadie pinched the bridge of her nose.

  Father, what am I missing?

  The sooner the case was solved, the sooner the blackmailers would leave her alone. Then she could continue on with a normal life. With her brother. And Jon.

  She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She had to focus. Turning on her computer, she opened a blank document and began work on the press release she’d give out. Not that she’d talk to those vultures downstairs. No, she’d just pass out the release and be done with them.

  Georgia stuck her head in the doorway. “Sheriff Theriot’s not available to give us any information. Wanna try someone else?”

  Who else could she ask? Wait a minute! “See if Deputy Gary Anderson’s available. Wasn’t he recently named Chief Deputy?”

  “Right. I’m on it.” Georgia’s head disappeared.

  Sadie finished her statement, did a final read, then printed it out. The printer had just spat out the last copy when Georgia hollered, “Deputy Anderson on line two for you.”

  She took a deep breath, punched the number and lifted the receiver. “Hi, Deputy Anderson. It was so nice to see you at church on Sunday.”

  “Likewise. What can I do for you?”

  “As you know, I’m with Vermilion Oil. I know the sheriff’s been working on tests on the bullet retrieved from our damaged facility. Mr. Wynn’s terribly concerned. I’m just checking to see if y’all have any information yet.” She held her breath and waited.

  A sigh came over the phone, followed by—was that a groan? “We just got a positive ballistics match.”

  Adrenaline made her heart race. “And?”

  “The bullet that was found in the facility is a perfect match to the bullet used to murder Harold Daniels.”

  Urgent, that’s what Sadie had said.

  Her phone call had been ambiguous at best, cryptic at worst. Just that she had some new information and needed him to meet her for an early lunch at the café.

  He sat in a front booth, watching and waiting for her. What had happened? She wouldn’t tell him—said she couldn’t discuss it over the phone. If the blackmailers had threatened her again, he’d…

  He’d what? As he analyzed his emotions, he realized he’d been about to think that he’d kill them. No, he wouldn’t go there. He and God had just gotten back on speaking terms and Jon was pretty certain God wouldn’t approve of murder threats.

  The bell tinkled over the front door. Jon caught sight of Sadie making her way to him. Her face was flushed and her blond hair was wind-mussed.

  The waitress had been about to set down his glass of water, but halted as she spied Sadie, as well. “Think I’ll just hold on to this for a minute.”

  He wanted to smile, but Sadie reached them right then. She glanced at the waitress, took in the glass, and her face flushed even more. She smiled shyly at the other woman. “I owe you an apology.”

  The waitress set the tray on the table, as if she’d drop it if she didn’t. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m sorry for the way I behaved the other day. That was terribly rude of me and I made a mess that someone else had to clean up. I’m very sorry.”

  The waitress stared at her with a dumbfounded expression. “Uh, okay.” She set the glass on the table and lifted the tray. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Iced tea, please.” Sadie slipped into the booth seat opposite Jon.

  What a woman. Jon reached across the table and took her hand. “That was really nice.”

  “I owed her the apology.”

  “Well, what’s so urgent?”

  Her words tumbled out over one another. About a facility being damaged, this time by gunshot. The bullet matching that of what killed the man in the picture—the man the blackmailers had murdered.

  The waitress appeared with Sadie’s tea. “What can I get y’all?”

  “The lunch salad special, please,” Sadie replied without even looking up.

  “Make it two.”

  The waitress whisked away.

  “Sadie, this means the murder, the blackmail and the sabotages are all related.”

  “Right. I mean, I knew the sabotages were involved, otherwise, why would they demand I cease my investigation? But this just doesn’t stop.” She smiled and shook her head. “Guess I’m not as bright as I thought.”

  The thought of her in danger had him tightening his grip. “You have to go to the sheriff now.”

  She jerked her hand free and frowned. “Nothing’s changed in regards to how I feel about following the blackmailer’s instructions, Jon.”

  “Then why the urgent call?”

  “Don’t you see? Because now the FBI will have to stop looking at Bruce.”

  Jon racked his brain to figure out what she meant. “I’m sorry, but I’m not following you.”

  “He’s on probation, right? That means he can’t have a gun.”

  “Oh, Sadie, I wish it were that simple.”

  “Now I’m not following.”

  The waitress returned with Cajun chicken salads. She set them on the scratched table and left.

  Jon took Sadie’s hand again. “I’ll bless the food.” He bowed his head and offered up a short prayer of grace. When he was done, he raised his gaze to meet Sadie’s.

  Tears danced in her eyes.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She cleared her throat and reached for the pepper. “So what’s the problem?”

  “If the FBI thinks Bruce is guilty, they’ll just assume he got an illegal gun to use.”

  “Oh.” Her face
fell. “Then we need to ramp up our investigation.”

  FIFTEEN

  The rain came down in sheets, washing Lagniappe clean.

  Sadie ran a mental list of things she had to accomplish this Tuesday as she drove in to work. The long-awaited rain splattered against the windshield. She could only pray all the evidence had been gathered from the latest facility sabotage.

  Hiding under the shelter of her umbrella, Sadie rushed into Vermilion Oil.

  “Nasty out there, isn’t it?” The receptionist handed Sadie a stack of paper towels.

  “Merci. It’s coming down in different directions.” She blotted her skirt and blouse, not sure how much protection the umbrella had provided. She tossed the napkins in the trash, closed her umbrella and left it in the stand, then smiled quickly at the receptionist as she made her way to the elevators.

  Georgia met her in the hallway. “Only a few die-hard media cats showed up this morning. I told them we had no new information since your statement of yesterday. I think standing out in the rain discouraged them from hanging around.”

  Sadie chuckled and put her purse and briefcase on her desk. “Yeah, it’s torrential out there.” She took a napkin and swiped the raindrops on her purse. “I heard the sheriff’s pulled all his deputies to work the case now. Maybe they’ll get a decent lead.”

  “Oh, an Ethan Hebert phoned you about ten minutes ago. He needed information about his pension benefits.”

  “I can’t help him. Direct him to Human Resources.”

  “I already tried that. He said he needed to talk to you.” Georgia set a cup of coffee on Sadie’s desk. “Said he also needed to talk to you about the sabotages.”

  Sadie froze and stared at her assistant. “What’d you tell him?”

  “I told him I’d take his name and number and have you return his call, which he refused, saying he’d call you back later, then I called the sheriff.”

  “What’d the sheriff say?”

  “That they’d check it out, see where the call originated from. Did you know the office phones are tapped?” Georgia shook her head. “Have been since the FBI got involved in the case.”

  “I didn’t know, but it doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Hopefully the sheriff will get some answers and let us know something.”

  “I hope so.” Sadie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Come find me when I’m not at my desk if he calls again, though. Maybe he does have something important to say.”

  Georgia nodded. “You got it. I’m going to go over the numbers of producing wells, just in case you need the figures for another press release.”

  “Merci.” Sadie watched her assistant leave, the enormity of her job weighing down her limbs. She hadn’t heard from Deacon yet this morning. Or Lance. Was it too much to hope that the two had worked out their differences? Probably.

  The phone rang. “Sadie Thompson.”

  “Ms. Thompson, this is Ethan Hebert.”

  “Yes, my assistant told me you’d called. I’m sorry, but I have no control over the pension benefits.”

  “So I heard.”

  “She told me you’d mentioned something about the sabotages against our facilities.” It was a statement, but she’d deliberately made it come out as a question.

  “I don’t know if you know Jack Kinnard or not.”

  She tingled all over. “I know the name.”

  “Couple of months ago, he was talking to some of us who were laid off. All mad. Said we had to send a message to the company. Said any of us that were serious about making our point to Mr. Wynn should come by his place later.”

  Every muscle in Sadie’s body tensed. “Did you? Go by his place?”

  “Yeah. I wanted to hear what he was thinkin’ ’bout.”

  “And?”

  “He was talkin’ crazy. That we should mess up the wells to make Mr. Wynn realize he needed us.”

  Sadie gripped the phone tighter. “Was anything planned?”

  “I don’t know. I thought he was just talkin’, but I didn’t want to be no part of it, so I left. I never heard anything else.”

  “Did you tell anyone about this?”

  “Nah, didn’t seem like anything more than talk, until I heard about the facilities.”

  “Why haven’t you called before?”

  “Been working offshore for the last three weeks. Just got back in town last night and caught up on the news.”

  “Thanks for letting me know, Mr. Hebert.” She hung up the phone and lifted it right up again. She tried to intercom Deacon, but got the busy signal. Excited, she switched over to the phone again and punched in the number for Jon’s cell phone. After three rings, the call was dropped in voice mail. She left a hasty message, then disconnected.

  Her intercom buzzed. Probably Deacon now. She lifted the receiver. “Sadie Thompson.”

  “You have a delivery down here.” The receptionist’s voice carried a teasing-type tone.

  She didn’t have time for the media’s tricks. “What kind of delivery?”

  “The kind every woman loves to get.”

  Flowers? Candy? “I’ll be right down.” She made her way down the hall and into the elevator. Who would send her something?

  Jon.

  Her smile widened as she crossed the floor to the receptionist’s station. A large bouquet of fresh flowers sat atop the counter. “Oh, my…are these for me?”

  The receptionist matched her grin. “That’s what the envelope says. Are you holding out on us about a secret romance?”

  Warmth spread through her stomach up into her chest. “No. This is a surprise.” She grabbed the vase. “I’m going to take these to my office.”

  “What? And not let me know who your admirer is?”

  Sadie was saved from having to answer by the phone ringing. She quickly headed back to the elevator. Leaning in, she inhaled deeply. They were beautiful flowers and such a big arrangement! Her heart stuttered. They had to be from Jon. How sweet and thoughtful.

  Back in her office, she set the vase on the work table adjacent to her desk. Her entire office would smell like a field of wildflowers. She loved it.

  With trembling fingers, she gently removed the envelope from the plastic holder. She turned it to read the outside. Her stomach tightened as her heart raced. No florist name. Only her name.

  In black block letters.

  She collapsed into her chair and sank back into the smooth kid leather, gripping the envelope. No, it couldn’t be. The florist had to have just used a blank envelope by mistake.

  Only one way to find out.

  She opened the envelope and pulled out the card.

  WE WARNED YOU.

  The card fell to the desktop. Her heart beat loudly. Her entire body shook.

  In one fluid movement, she shoved the vase of flowers into the trash can and reached for her purse.

  Georgia rushed into the office. “What’s wr—” She spied the flowers in the trash and stared at Sadie. “What’s happened?”

  Sadie snatched the card and envelope and shoved them into her purse. “I have to go. I have to leave now. Let Deacon know and handle anything that comes up.” She moved around the desk toward the door.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “No.” No one could help her. Except…

  Jon.

  She flipped open her cell as she stepped into the elevator and dialed his number.

  “Hello.”

  Just hearing his voice made her break. Tears ran freely down her face. “Jon. They sent me flowers.”

  “Sadie? Who sent you flowers?”

  “They did. At work. Said they’d warned me.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “On my way to the school.”

  “No, let me check there since the school will be letting out soon. You go home and wait for him.”

  “Okay. But what if they’ve g—”

  “Don’t think like that. Just go home and wait for Caleb. I’ll be there soon.”
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  She shut the phone and stepped off the elevator. After drying her eyes, she stopped at the receptionist’s station. “Did you happen to recognize the florist logo on the van that delivered those flowers?”

  “Ah, someone wants to remain anonymous, huh?” The receptionist shook her head. “Sorry, I was on the phone when he walked in with them.”

  “What about when he left?”

  “I was calling you and admiring the flowers. Besides, it’s raining so hard out there who could see?”

  “Thanks.” Ignoring her umbrella in the stand, Sadie rushed to her car. She nearly slipped on the slick pavement in her haste. Jerking open the door, she tossed her heels onto the passenger-side floorboard and slid behind the steering wheel. Water rivulets dripped from her hair into her lap. She closed her eyes, tears falling again.

  Lord, please let Caleb be okay. Keep him safe.

  Blackmailers sending flowers?

  The danger slammed against Jon as he sped along the wet roads to the school hosting the summer program. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, leaning forward. The air from the defroster flared against his face. He blinked several times, focusing on the road ahead. What a time for the rain to decide to come. Weeks of sweltering heat with only hints of rain and today, of all days, it decided to downpour.

  What seemed like an eternity later, he turned into the circle in front of the school, behind the buses. Jon ducked against the pounding rain as he ran into the office.

  The lady at the desk glanced up. “My, someone forgot their umbrella, didn’t they?”

  He didn’t have time for niceties. He flashed his probation officer’s badge. “I need to know if Caleb Frost was in attendance today.”

  “Certainly.” The woman pushed glasses on her nose and clicked on the computer keyboard in front of her. “Yes, sir. He was here today.”

  “What bus number does he ride?”

  She typed more. “Number eighty-three.”

  “Thank you.” He turned and ran back to the circle. Two buses were already on the main road. The last two were inching up the circle. Jon ran to catch them. He moved beside the last bus, squinting to catch the number.

  Twenty-four.

  He sprinted forward, ignoring the rain as he gained on the first bus. Pumping his legs faster, he moved alongside it as it slowed for the turn.