by Aimée Thurlo
“Campfire?”
“Not with gasoline,” he said and handed Abby his keys. “Go back and get the fire extinguisher out of my unit. Hurry.”
As Preston raced up the slope, he noticed the increasingly strong smell of burning wood and gasoline. About a hundred feet up, the ground evened out and Preston saw an old, sturdy-looking log cabin about fifty feet ahead. Its roof was mostly intact, but one side of the cabin was on fire with flames shooting out about two feet into the air.
Preston looked around for something to use to fight the fire and saw a gallon-size metal can on the ground, like from a cafeteria kitchen. He’d use that to scoop up wet sand from the wash and maybe slow down the fire until Abby returned.
The can reeked of gasoline; the container probably was left by the arsonist after he’d siphoned fuel from his SUV. Needing to work quickly before the fire ignited the surrounding forest, Preston used it to dig out some wet sand from the wash and throw that onto the base of the flames.
It seemed to help. Or maybe the logs were so wet from recent rains they didn’t want to burn. He quickly scooped up more sand and threw it against the base of the flames. The fire died some, and the hole he was digging in the wash was now filling with water. There was hope.
Two minutes later, he saw Abby come over the rise, fire extinguisher in hand. “This is heavy,” she yelled, running up.
“Let’s trade,” he said, holding out the can.
“After all my running uphill?” she said, pulling the safety pin on the extinguisher. “No way. Give me some room.”
Within twenty seconds, Abby had put out the flames. “Shall I work it over some more?” she asked, coughing from the smoke of still-smoldering wood.
“I reached water level in the wash,” Preston said. “Stand by. I’ll flood it.”
Five minutes later the wall, nearly soaked with muddy water, was still intact.
“We use cans like that to scoop out grain at the ranch. I don’t suppose you’ll be able to get fingerprints from it now, right?” she asked.
“I’ve obliterated them with the wet sand, water and my own prints, but I had to slow the fire down.”
“You think the person in the SUV did this?”
“Almost certainly,” Preston answered. “Did you happen to get a look at the driver’s face?”
“No, I was looking around for the cabin,” she said, then glanced back at the small building. “Do you think we’ll find any of the answers we need here?”
“You never know.” Preston looked at the small porch. “The door is sturdy and there’s a rusted padlock in place, protected by the hasp. Let me see if there’s any sign of a break-in.”
They circled the cabin, but the windows, boarded over, hadn’t been broached and the structure itself looked intact.
“Did you happen to notice the tire ruts in the back?” Preston asked. “There’s a road back here somewhere, but I’m guessing the guy in the SUV couldn’t figure out where it was.”
“So now that we’re here, how do we get inside the cabin?”
Preston smiled. “I have some skills, but look away. It’s better if you don’t actually see what I’m about to do.” He reached into his jacket pocket for the special lock picks he kept in case of an emergency.
Soon they were inside, looking around the two-room cabin. Dust and cobwebs covered everything. “No one’s been inside for months—years maybe,” he said.
“The dresser drawers have some men’s clothing, but it’s old and threadbare.” Abby went to the bookcase next. The books, mostly paperbacks, were yellow and dried up. The newest book was from 1995.
Preston picked up a small picture frame from a simple wooden desk. “I think this is Carl,” he said, looking at the faded photo.
Abby came over to take a closer look. “He looks much younger in this photo, of course, but it’s him. From the way they’re dressed and the haircuts, I think it was taken in the mid-sixties. I don’t know the man with him. Do you?”
Preston shook his head. “Maybe the owner of the cabin? I’ll run a special facial-recognition program and find out.”
“What if he doesn’t have a criminal record?”
“If he ever applied for a driver’s license or had VA papers, my brother’s computer will ID him. That’s why I’m going to ask him to do it. He has fewer rules and regulations to worry about.”
“Jealous?” she asked and smiled.
He met her gaze and held it. “Abby, you probably won’t believe this but, no, I’m not jealous. I’ve always played things by the book.”
“What’s changed?”
“You’re more important to me than any rule book,” he said, then took her hand and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “We’re making progress on this case, Abby, so it won’t be long before you have your life back.”
She wanted to ask if he’d still be a part of it but remained silent. She had him here with her today. She wouldn’t ask him for more than he could give.
* * *
THEY WERE BACK in Hartley, in Daniel’s kitchen nook sipping hot coffee, when Dan called them across to his work area.
“It took longer than I expected, but I’ve got an ID for you. The man in the photo is Miles Gates,” he said.
“The name’s not familiar to me,” Preston said.
“According to court records, thirty or so years ago Gates was the local go-to guy if you wanted high-end art stolen. He never did the job himself. He provided intel and support. Like Carl, he lived in the Four Corners area most of his life.”
“The photo tells us that they were friends, or at least colleagues, but if he’s passed on, the trail ends there,” Abby said. “There’s no one else in the photo.”
Preston stood silently, staring at an indeterminate point across the room. “I need to find someone who’s connected to those two men. Carl had no family, but maybe Gates did.”
Preston sat by the computer and got to work. As the minutes ticked by, no one interrupted him.
“Stan Cooper,” he said at last. “That’s the link.”
“Stan? If you think he has anything to do with the problems I’ve had or with Carl’s death, you’re way off the mark. When I first opened the ranch, bookkeeping was nearly my downfall. Stan stepped up and took over—pro bono. He also introduced me to people like Rod Garner. Both of those men have been crucial to the ranch’s operations. Stan’s one of the good guys.”
Preston shook his head. “Stan’s grandmother remarried late in life. She was Miles’s wife. He’d told me before that he’d spent a lot of time in the area around Navajo Dam, but I didn’t have enough to put things together then.”
“You can’t hold Stan responsible for something his relative did,” Abby said.
“No, but Stan’s the common denominator. Here’s my theory. Stan either remembered Carl or did some checking up and somehow confirmed his identity. Then maybe he tried to shake Carl down and pressure him to give up the missing paintings. Something went wrong and it led to Carl’s death.”
“You have nothing, bro,” Daniel said.
“Abby, tell me what you know about Stan and Ilse,” Preston said.
“I’d never seen her fooling around with Stan until today.”
Preston paced, lost in thought. “Here’s something we hadn’t considered. What if the thing she supposedly had with Monroe was only a smokescreen? She came on heavily to the kid the night Carl was killed, but it might have been a way to keep him busy while Stan dealt with Carl.”
“You’re seeing way too much in this,” Abby said. “Ilse’s a free spirit. I may not agree with the things she does, but she doesn’t have to answer to anyone but herself. Her life’s her own.”
“I’m not convinced, but obviously I need to find a stronger connection between those two. That means I’m going
to need to dig deeper into Ilse’s past. She’s more of an unknown.”
“I ran a full background on her,” Daniel said. “No warrants, no arrests. If there had been any flags whatsoever, I would have found them.”
“Go further back, to her college days. Remember the disciplinary action?” Preston said.
“Her official record didn’t specify any of the details, but I can hack into the college’s computer.”
“Do it.”
Several minutes later Daniel looked up. “It’s sketchy, but she apparently put a bug in the math instructor’s office, then tried to blackmail her.”
“Like the listening devices at the ranch?” Abby said. “But Ilse’s college days are long behind her. So she sowed some wild oats back then, so what?”
“It establishes an M.O.,” Preston said. “What if Ilse found out about Carl? Garner said Carl told him the truth about his past, so if Ilse had been listening in when he did, she would have known. It’s possible she told Stan after that and they joined forces.”
“Rod does careful background checks on everyone in his circle. His former assistant handled Ilse’s, but Ilse would have been the one responsible for running a check on Stan. Maybe that’s when she made the connection,” Abby said.
Preston expelled his breath in a hiss. “It’s all plausible, and even likely, but it’s just a bedtime story unless we find proof.”
“How do we do that?” Abby asked.
Preston remained quiet, then after a beat looked up. “We get creative and work fast.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Here’s the way I see it,” Preston said. “We’ll need to sweep Garner’s office, but there’s a problem. The minute I tell him why I want to do that, he might toss me out on my ear and handle the problem himself.”
“I can help you there,” Abby said. “If Ilse and Stan have been working against me, I need to know, and to hold up in court, the search would have to be done right. Rod loves the ranch so I’m sure I can persuade him to give us his permission.”
“Obviously you’ll have to do that when Ilse isn’t there, so you have to time your request right,” Daniel said. “And I shouldn’t be part of this. You’ll want Garner to stay calm and that’ll work better if he’s around people he knows.”
“Let me call Rod now. I know how I have to handle this.” Abby reached for her cell phone and a moment later Ilse put her through. “Rod, I need a huge favor. Do you have time for me today?” she asked a beat later.
“For you—always,” he replied. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s something I’d rather not talk about over the phone. Okay if I come over?”
“Sure, when should I expect you?”
“How about in twenty minutes, say, five-thirty? I know Ilse leaves around five. Is that too late?”
“Nah, just come over. You’ve got me curious now.”
They were on their way in Preston’s SUV a short time later. “It’s really important that you don’t discuss the case until after I sweep Garner’s place,” Preston said.
“No problem,” Abby said with a nod. “Just follow my lead, and don’t let it throw you if he loses his cool. The best way to respond is don’t react in kind.”
“I gather you’ve seen him at his worst?”
She nodded. “Rod’s hot-tempered. I was there one time when Ilse forgot to book his tickets to an NBA game he wanted to attend. When he goes crazy like he did that day, he can be hard to deal with.”
“Does he get violent?” Preston asked her.
“Not in the way you think. He doesn’t attack anyone, but I’ve seen him hurl things across his office and smash stuff against the wall. He won’t deliberately aim at anyone, but be ready to duck anyway.”
Preston’s jaw clenched.
She glanced at him. “I mean it—don’t let it get you upset. Just stay calm.”
“Got it.”
* * *
WHEN THEY ARRIVED at Rod’s home, they were shown in by the butler. The second they stepped into the den, Rod looked at Preston, then back at Abby. “Didn’t know you were bringing the law. I’m not going to like this visit, am I?”
“I was hoping that you could show the detective your gym and basketball court. The department may do a special fund-raiser for us,” she said. “Maybe have the police versus the fire department or something like that.”
“Sure, come on,” Rod said, instantly in a brighter mood. “Count me in on whatever you plan to do, too. I’ll be happy to help.”
They left Rod’s office and went outside, crossing the lawn to another building.
“Rod, before we go any further—I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” Abby said, stopping and turning to look at him.
Rod glared at Preston instead of Abby. “What kind of game do you have my girl playing?”
“No, listen,” Abby insisted, forcing him to look back at her. “I’m trying to protect you.”
Hearing the words made him react in exactly the way she’d hoped. “Little girl, whatcha talking about?” he asked with a grin.
“Ilse may not be the person you think she is,” Abby said. “I really hope I’m wrong, but we’ve found some bugs in and around Carl’s office and the bunkhouse. A few were in my house, too. Because of Ilse’s past, we have reason to suspect she’s responsible.”
“You think Ilse’s been spying on people—and on me?” Rod said, an edge of steel in his voice.
“Which is why we needed to get you outside. We don’t know anything for sure, but isn’t it worth finding out?” Abby asked him, making sure to keep her voice soft and calm.
“That’s why you’re here?” he asked, looking at Preston.
“I brought some special equipment that’ll tell us for sure if your place is bugged.”
“Let’s go.”
Abby recognized the angry gleam in Rod’s eye and the set of his jaw as they walked toward Preston’s SUV.
“Rod, are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, but Ilse and I are going to war if I find out she’s been bugging my office. That’s not cool,” he said through clenched teeth.
* * *
ABBY AND ROD stood in the doorway, far back as Preston swept Garner’s office with methodical precision. The first bug he found was right underneath the big man’s desk. He held it up for them to see.
Before Rod could react, Abby pulled him out through French doors and onto the patio.
Rod instantly picked up a vase filled with flowers and threw it against the wall. Water trickled down the wall and flowers scattered all over the tile floor. Rod paced like a caged tiger. “She was going to sell me out, wasn’t she?”
“Rod, easy. Anger won’t solve anything.”
“Oh yeah, it will. Next time she shows up she’s going to find out why no one messes with me.”
Preston came outside and held up three electronic monitoring devices in two separate packs. “They’re not transmitting, so you can speak freely,” he said. “Assuming she didn’t also bug the patio.”
Preston checked but found nothing.
“I owe you one, guy, and I always pay my debts, as Ilse is about to find out,” Rod said.
“Play it smart by playing her. It’ll get you a lot further,” Preston said. “Ilse handled the background checks on people in your circle, right?”
“Yeah, man. A guy in my position has to be careful. Everybody’s a user and a con artist these days. I had my people run a check on her, too, and she was clean.”
“Yes, she was—back then. Now she’s involved in something that’s illegal. Any idea why? Does she have any money problems?”
“I have no idea,” he said with a shrug, “but if you let me handle this my way, I guarantee I’ll get answers.”
P
reston shook his head. “I believe Ilse may have played a part in Carl’s murder and I need the kind of evidence that’ll stand up in court. The best thing you can do right now is give me permission to search her work area. Are you okay with that?”
“Sure. Do whatever you need. Nail her hide to the wall,” Rod said.
Abby kept Rod outside as Preston began to search. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? Is it possible she managed to get something that might be embarrassing to you?”
He laughed. “Honey, these days I lead a downright boring life. During my days playing pro ball, well, that was a different story.”
“Do you remember where you were when Carl first told you who he was?” Preston asked him, coming back out.
“Yeah, my office, having iced tea. We’d just played some pick-up ball out on my court.” He pressed his lips tightly. “Ilse set him up, didn’t she?” he said in a low growl.
“We don’t know anything for sure yet, but that’s the way it looks to me,” Preston said. “Let me check around some more.”
After about twenty minutes Preston called them into Ilse’s office. “I found two unused burn phones, one taped beneath a drawer, an RF receiver disguised as an MP3 player and earphones. She was monitoring your conversations both on the phone and off. Ilse is in this up to her neck.”
“Arrest her,” Rod said, storming around the office. “I’ll press charges. And I’ll sue her, too. I want life as she knows it to be over. Carl was a friend of mine. If she set him up, she pays,” he said, striding around the room. “That man trusted me and that trust was violated here in my own home. No way she’s getting away with that.”
He picked up Ilse’s coffee cup and threw it on the floor, shattering it into a dozen pieces. “I’m pitching her out to the curb with the rest of the trash.” He kicked away Ilse’s desk chair, and it flew across the room and bounced off the wainscoting.
“Seeing her behind bars is your best revenge, but you need to play her, remember? Stay cool, and don’t tip our hand,” Preston said. “Once I gather more evidence I’ll take her down.”
