“So you’re really saying he was murdered?” she said in disbelief.
“I believe so.”
“Did he leave a note?”
“That’s right, you couldn’t know that,” said Decker.
Jamison said, “It said that he had killed Stuart McClellan and was committing suicide because he felt guilt about that.”
“Do you have the note?”
Jamison brought a screen up on her phone. “Here’s a photo of it.”
Dawson looked at it closely. “That looks like my dad’s handwriting and signature. I’ve seen it often enough. If someone did forge that, they were really good.”
Decker said, “We had several people who were familiar with your dad’s handwriting say the same thing, but that’s not really a confirmation. We’re having the handwriting analyzed by an expert. I think they will find that it’s a clever forgery.”
“But why would someone go to all that trouble?”
“It may tie into Stuart McClellan’s murder. And even though I think the suicide note claiming responsibility for McClellan’s death is fake, there is some evidence of your father being involved in Stuart’s death. And he could have been, only I don’t think he killed himself over it. Those are two separate issues.”
“What sort of evidence?”
“I can’t say right now.”
Dawson handed the phone back. “But why would my father want to kill Stuart?”
“Can you think of any reason?” asked Decker.
Dawson composed herself and sat back on the bed. “No. I mean they were business rivals, but not really. They needed each other. And Stuart just paid a lot of cash to my dad.”
Decker looked disappointed but then Southern stirred. “Look, I have no proof of any of this, but . . .” she began.
“Anything you tell us will be more than what we have now,” said Decker.
She looked nervously at Dawson. “Your mother’s death?”
“What about it?” said Dawson.
Southern glanced at Decker before turning back to Dawson. “Everybody said it was an accident. But your mother was born and raised here. She’d been out in blizzards before. Why didn’t she get out of the car to check around it when it went off the road? She would have seen the tailpipe was full of snow. I told Walt the same thing when it happened. He agreed with me, though he could find nothing suspicious in the postmortem.”
“There was an indication she might have been knocked unconscious by the impact,” noted Jamison.
Southern shook her head stubbornly. “I don’t believe that, I really don’t. And I don’t think you do either, Caroline. Everyone who grew up around here is used to driving in bad conditions.” She gazed directly at Caroline. “And the Jeep she was in was tried and true, wasn’t it?”
Dawson nodded. “She’d had it for years.”
“Are you suggesting that Stuart McClellan had reason to kill Caroline’s mother?” said Decker. “Why?”
“This is all speculation on my part.”
“Let’s hear it.”
She looked at Dawson. “You all were planning to leave the country and move to France.”
“Right, so? What did that have to do with Stuart?” asked Dawson.
“I think that Stuart McClellan was in love with your mother.”
Jamison and Decker exchanged glances. She said, “We never heard about that before.”
“Neither have I,” said Dawson, looking bewildered.
Southern looked nervous, but she plunged ahead. “Katherine McClellan and your mom were friends, despite their husbands not being on good terms. In that way, Stuart and your mom spent time together. Now, I knew both women, but I was especially close to Katherine. I can tell you that before she died Katherine believed her husband was infatuated with Maddie.”
“My God,” said a stunned Dawson.
“I know this is hard for you,” said Southern, her eyes growing misty.
“Why didn’t you ever mention this before, Liz?”
“I didn’t want to upset you. And I couldn’t prove anything. But now with everything that’s happened . . .” She paused and looked at Decker in distress. “But maybe I should just shut up now.”
“I don’t think you can now,” said Decker.
Southern put a hand on Dawson’s shoulder. “Caroline? What do you want me to do?”
“I . . . I need you to finish telling us, Liz.”
Southern nodded and took a few moments to compose her thoughts. “Some people’s love can be wonderful, but when it’s not reciprocated, it can turn to something else. Something that is hateful and destructive.”
“So are you saying that Maddie Dawson knew of Stuart’s infatuation and, what, cut him off at the knees?” said Decker.
“I think that’s exactly what happened. And a man like Stuart would not take rejection well.”
“I can see that,” said Jamison.
A moment of silence passed before Decker said, “So that would be his motive to kill her? In retaliation for being spurned?”
“Kill her rather than lose her,” amended Southern.
“And Hugh Dawson?” asked Jamison.
“If Katherine noticed Stuart’s attraction to Maddie, I can’t help but believe he did, too. And if he thought Stuart had anything to do with her death . . . ?”
“But why kill him now?” said Jamison.
Southern shrugged. “He had sold out to him. I doubt he was going to be staying here. This might have been his last chance.”
Jamison said, “He did mention moving away to France. He told us he hoped Caroline would come with him.”
Dawson glanced uncertainly at Southern and then at Decker. “I feel like my entire world has turned upside down.”
“I can understand that,” said Decker.
“What are you going to do now?” asked Southern.
“Find a killer,” said Decker. “It’s the only reason we’re here.”
“SO ANY THOUGHTS on how to catch the killer?” asked Jamison.
They were in her room at the hotel. Decker hadn’t spoken a word since they had left the saloon.
Decker didn’t answer right away. “Let’s get back to basics: motive, means, and opportunity.”
“Well, Caroline had the motive to kill her father. She stands to inherit, and she was also furious with him for selling out. But she didn’t have the opportunity. We saw her in town around the time Dawson was killed. So she’s ruled out. Now, Shane, I guess, could have a motive to kill his father, because he stands to inherit, but he also has an alibi for the time McClellan was killed. The exotic toxin came from a place Hugh frequented. I doubt anyone else around here visits Australia on a regular basis. And even though you think Dawson didn’t kill himself, that doesn’t mean he didn’t kill McClellan. From what Liz Southern told us tonight, he might have had a motive if he thought McClellan had killed his wife. He wanted revenge.”
Without a word, Decker got up and walked to the door.
A stunned Jamison said, “Where are you going?”
“For a walk.”
“Why?”
“I need to think. Something here just doesn’t make sense.”
After he left, Jamison slumped back on her bed in obvious frustration, put a pillow over her face, and screamed into it.
* * *
It was chilly and windy, and Decker stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked along the dark and mostly empty streets of London. The most difficult thing about this case was there were too many angles to adequately grab even one for long. They had been entirely reactive, instead of proactive. Every time he felt he was gaining traction, another event would force them into an entirely new direction. Part of that was happenstance, he was sure. And he was also certain that part of it was intentional.
He entered the OK Corral Saloon once more, took a seat at the bar, and ordered a beer. When it came he cradled it, closed his eyes for a few moments, and went over everything in his head.
Irene Cramer
was dead.
Pamela Ames was dead.
Hal Parker had been taken.
Beverly Purdy was dead.
Walt Southern had killed himself.
Brad Daniels was nearly killed.
Stuart McClellan was dead.
Hugh Dawson was dead.
And a host of foreign mercenaries were no longer living, largely thanks to Robie and Reel, but others still might be around.
However, Decker did not consider the secret prison to be connected to the above events. That was encapsulated and solved and the appropriate parties punished.
But clearly the All-American Energy Company and the bunker full of toxic chemical and biological weapons were connected. And the responsible parties had not been fully accounted for and punished.
Another question really nagged at him. How had these mercenary types even learned about the secret bunker with the weapons? Brad Daniels would surely have mentioned any foreign-looking folks coming to visit him and asking strange questions.
So by process of elimination they could have learned about it one of two ways: from Ben Purdy or Irene Cramer. Then they could have bought the land where the bunker was buried from the Brothers, started the drilling operation, and gone from there.
But Cramer had been killed, and it seemed obvious to Decker that Purdy was dead, too. So had they learned about the bunker, or parts thereof, from each of them? So that each of them had to later die?
Then Decker considered a question he never had before.
Did Purdy and Cramer know each other? Were they working together to figure this out? And had they gotten discovered, and then were killed?
And what had Cramer swallowed that they needed to so desperately get back that they cut open her belly and intestines looking for it?
All good questions. And he had not a single answer to any of them.
And by this point in the investigation, he should have had at least one answer.
He opened his eyes and drank his beer, sullenly looking over the bar area as he did so.
He was growing weary of this town, because it would not give up the secrets it was holding. And his “infallible” memory was not providing much help, either.
A man sat down next to Decker.
When Decker glanced over, he was staring at Will Robie.
The man was quietly dressed in jeans, an oversized sweatshirt, and worn boots. A John Deere baseball cap sat on his head. If he was armed, Decker saw no bulge. Maybe that was the reason for the bulky sweatshirt.
Robie ordered a beer and waited for it to come as he continually scanned the room and everyone there.
“You look pensive,” Robie said.
“That’s because I am. Did you find what was in that bunker?”
“We’re officially not in the loop. DoD and Homeland Security are all over it. But unofficially, I can tell you that they haven’t yet. ‘Slow and steady’ is the rule for that. You were right about the tunnel. They broke through the wall and found it. They put additional countermeasures on top of the cement your friend poured into the pipe, to ensure that stuff will never get to the surface. They’re probably going to have to build another bunker around the original vault before they’re comfortable opening it up and seeing exactly what’s inside.”
“Anything else?” asked Decker.
“We did some digging on the All-American Energy Company. Turns out there are international layers to it, which puts it squarely in my agency’s wheelhouse.”
“International how?”
Robie said, “It’s a shell, owned by another shell incorporated in Bermuda that is, in turn, owned by another shell we ran to ground in London. After that, the trail vanished.”
“And with North Dakota fracking off-line, what would that do to this country’s energy independence?”
“It wouldn’t help it. And the price of certain types of crude and even natural gas would have spiked.”
“So that helps other energy-producing countries,” said Decker.
“The Middle East, Russia, Canada, Venezuela.”
“I don’t see the Canadians behind this. And Venezuela is imploding right now.”
“So either the sheiks or Putin then,” opined Robie.
“Or maybe both,” said Decker. “The world has produced some strange bedfellows lately, and Russia has made inroads into that part of the world, for sure. But they had to have local operatives here, to get the lay of the land, do the deal to get the property, and set up the whole thing while at the same time keeping under the radar.”
Robie took a swallow of his beer. “I think that makes a lot of sense. So how do you get to the finish line?”
“We keep digging. It’s all we can do.”
“Ben Purdy was digging and it cost him. And his mother.”
“Yes, it did,” said Decker. “But I’ve still been wondering how Purdy—” He stopped and set his beer down.
“What is it?” When Decker didn’t answer, Robie said more urgently, “Decker!”
Decker looked at him. “Shit, I’ve been looking at this thing totally bass-ackwards.”
“How so?”
“We gotta go.”
“Go where?” asked Robie.
“To Hal Parker’s place.”
ON THE DRIVE OUT in Robie’s vehicle, Decker said, “I just assumed that Purdy had been told the story of the bunker by Brad Daniels and then started doing some digging, ran into the wrong people, and that sealed his fate.”
“Well, we’ve all been thinking that.”
“But that doesn’t mean we’re right.”
“Lay out your theory for me,” said Robie.
“You said that Brad Daniels told you he divulged everything to Purdy.”
“That’s right. I don’t think he held anything back. He was about to do the same for us when we got attacked.”
Decker said, “Okay, let’s look at the situation fully and not piecemeal. Purdy’s a veteran member of the Air Force, trained and experienced.”
“Right.”
“And he’s attending a military event where he’s just been told by someone who used to work at the very same installation decades ago that there’s the possibility of a bunker full of biochemical weapons buried on land belonging to the Air Force. That is a clear and present danger to everyone in the area. A real national security risk if ever there was one. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Okay, if you were in Purdy’s position, with his experience, and you had learned all of that, what would you do?”
“I would report it to my superior officer and let them worry about it. It’s just common sense and also how someone like Purdy would naturally react.”
“Exactly. But also think about this. I doubt that Daniels told Irene Cramer everything he told Purdy. So with Purdy there would have been no need to dig into anything. He already knew all he needed to know. He just reports it and the Air Force looks into it. His job is done. If he’s proved right, he gets a medal and maybe a promotion. He doesn’t have to be involved anymore.”
“Well, he might have been afraid of retaliation within the Air Force if he did let all this come out.”
“Why? Brad Daniels is well into his nineties. I seriously doubt there’s anyone left in the Air Force who had anything to do with this. And even if he were afraid of retaliation there are whistleblower laws to protect someone with the sort of information Purdy possessed. He could have communicated what he knew safely through that channel.”
“So what are you saying, Decker?”
“You’ll see.”
They arrived at Hal Parker’s home, and Decker led Robie inside. He went over to the wall of pictures he had seen on his previous visit here and pointed to one.
“Recognize him?”
Robie’s jaw slackened. “That’s Ben Purdy.”
“He knew Parker. He obviously hunted with him. I remembered at the Purdy ranch in Montana that they had animal heads mounted on the wall. Beverly Purdy said her husband and son we
re avid hunters.”
“So you think there’s some connection with Purdy and Parker. He did find the body of Irene Cramer.”
“I do.”
“So what is your theory?”
Decker seemed startled by this query. “My theory is that Purdy didn’t report what he knew to his superiors because he saw certain personal advantages in concealing it. And he wanted to take full advantage of them.”
“What exactly do you mean by ‘taking full advantage’?”
“His service record showed that he was a really smart guy. He’d been promoted frequently and had received a lot of commendations. He went overseas frequently to attend conferences and other meetings, and was always educating himself. Among other places, he went to Qatar and Jordan.”
Robie ruminated on this before answering. “So you mean he might have met some folks there who would be very interested in destroying the fracking industry in North Dakota?”
“Yes. And they would no doubt pay him enormous sums of money and also provide all the manpower he would need.”
“And his mother?”
“Yeah, they killed his mother. Whether he was involved in that decision or not, I don’t know. But a brilliant kid stuck in the middle of nowhere who’ll top out at maybe master sergeant after another ten years of service? He might have aimed higher. He might have aimed high enough to have committed treason against his own country in return for a fortune and a change of address. Which would also explain him going AWOL.”
“And the research you found at his mother’s house? If Daniels had told him everything, why would he need to do that?”
“If I were him and I had a grand scheme that would involve dealing with some very serious and dangerous people, I would want to verify everything. I wouldn’t accept the word of a ninety-something-year-old guy living in a nursing home. He needed to make certain, not blindly accept what might be the skewed memories of an old man.”
“So he was responsible for killing Cramer and Ames, and”—he pointed to the photo—“kidnapping Parker?”
An uncertain Decker shook his head. “That’s far from clear, Robie. As I said, Purdy knew a lot more than Cramer did. She came up here to dig for information. She knew it had something to do with the oil fields around the Air Force station, and she knew whatever it was, was in the ground and dangerous. That’s why she made that comment to Judith White about not eating the food they grew there. But that was all she knew. I think she wanted to expose this whole thing to make the U.S. government look bad in retaliation for what it had done to her mother. But why would Purdy need her? What could she possibly tell him that he didn’t already know? And we’ve been able to show no connection between them.”
Walk the Wire Page 33
