Deadout (19 page)

I was about to ask whether she'd told this to Moose and Benjy when I was distracted by a commotion at the table where Pete was sitting. He was drunk and upset. His friends were trying to calm him down, but his face was flushed and his eyes were angry.

“It's bullshit and it's not right,” he said. “I can't just lie down and take it, whatever's causing it.”

“But the island needs you,” one of his friends was saying. “The farmers need you. Especially now. You're the only bees we got left.”

Pete shook his head, a stubborn and childlike motion, but there was nothing childish about the anger and the anguish in his eyes. The emotion was raw and compelling, radiating off him like heat. The rest of the people in the dining room were just turning to look at him when we heard the
thump, thump, thump
of rotors. I knew without a doubt it was Pearce, and I think everybody else did, too. Most of them had been at the dock when the bees arrived. Some had probably seen the helicopter arrive that afternoon.

Heads looked up at the ceiling, tracking the noise as it grew louder and passed overhead.

In the midst of the commotion, Teddy took out his phone and put it to his ear. He smiled at first. Then his brow furrowed as he listened, a finger in his other ear. Recognition materialized on his face, and simultaneously a variation on fear.

“I don't need this crap,” Pete said loudly, almost like he was reminding everyone that they had been paying attention to him before he was so rudely interrupted. It seemed to work, too, as everyone focused back on him, except Teddy and me.

Teddy tossed a couple of twenties on the table and headed for the door. Nola looked up at him, but he seemed oblivious.

I looked from Teddy to Annalisa, and realized she was already looking at me.

“I have to go,” I told her. “I'll be back in a little while.”

“What? Where are you going?”

I put two twenties on the table as I stood, realizing immediately it was way too much.

“I have to go take care of something. I'll tell you later.”

Pete was getting louder as I made my way to the door.

“If that asshole wants his Frankenbees on this island, he can have it. I'm out of here.” He brushed his hands against each other. “I'll take the bees I have left to the mainland. Find somewhere safe to keep them.”

As I approached the door, Nola turned around and our eyes met. I broke her gaze and slipped out the door.

By the time I got outside, Teddy was at the end of the block, turning left. I jogged up to the intersection and stopped, peering around the corner. To the left was the Wesley Hotel, to the right, a long pier and the Oak Bluffs ferry terminal. But Teddy was walking briskly straight ahead, toward Oak Bluffs Harbor.

I hung back and watched him cross the road, ducking back as he looked all around him. I gave him a little space; then I hurried to catch up, but the only sign of him was the throaty sound of an outboard motor idling. By the time I figured out which boat he was on, it had taken off, racing across the lagoon.

I ran along the promenade, watching as the boat slipped out of the harbor. I watched for a moment as it disappeared onto the ocean, then I turned and walked back the way I had come.

By the time I got back to the Alehouse, Annalisa was gone. So was Nola. Jimmy Frank was there, though, sitting at a table in the corner. He waved me over to join him and before I could decline, he ordered me a beer.

As I stood there, I got two texts from Annalisa:

WHERE ARE YOU?
followed by
WENT HOME.
I'LL CALL YOU IN THE MORNING.

I texted back,
SORRY.

“They left around the same time,” Jimmy Frank called out. “The ladies, I mean.” He laughed. “But I don't think they were together.”

*   *   *

We closed the place, sitting at that corner table.

I learned a lot about Jimmy, about his days on Boston P.D., the rise and fall of his marriage, and the fact that he could put away a lot of liquor. Actually, he didn't tell me about that so much as show me. Although the topic did come up. I brought it up.

Jimmy acknowledged it was a problem, that it was probably going to cost him a shot at being chief. He assured me it was just a phase, a stage in the whole divorce process. In fact, he elaborated, he had identified five stages of divorce: denial, being an asshole, being an angry asshole, wallowing, and acceptance. He was in the wallowing phase.

I didn't get through the night without revealing a bit about myself, either, and what had happened in Dunston. He looked at me with a little more respect after that, and a little more pity. “Lucky you came through that okay,” he said, watching me.

I looked away.

“Nightmares?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Not much. Flashbacks, sometimes.”

He ordered another round.

“You talk to the counselors?”

I gave him a look, and he laughed.

“Actually, I did,” I told him. “It helped a bit, but mostly I feel like I just need to work through it. Unfortunately, I've had a couple of ill-timed pauses while mixing it up with bad guys.”

“You think your flashbacks and stuff are affecting things with your girl?”

“Probably. She worries. And she's not crazy about me doing police work at all. Nola looks at police work the way I look at scrapple. I'm glad it's there, but I don't want to see how it happens. She's got her own stuff she's dealing with, too. Some of it from Dunston, some of it from before. She kind of has a chemical sensitivity syndrome, so she has to avoid exposure to a lot of chemicals. That's been limiting her options for work, et cetera.”

“Kind of?”

“Well, it's tricky, I'm pretty sure she did have it. When she was younger she had a couple of bad episodes with lawn chemicals and new carpet, so they're pretty sure. And no one knows if it can be cured, but there's doctors who claim they can do it, and Nola went to one of them. She met one of her best friends there, Cheryl, but Cheryl went on to have another episode, and now she has to live like a hermit to stay away from all the stuff. It's got Nola scared out of her wits the same thing is going to happen to her.”

“Jesus, I can understand that.”

“Oh, absolutely. But the thing is, that was all before I knew her. Back in Dunston, Nola was hit with some intense chemical exposures, and she had no reaction. Since then, too. And she's had no reaction. I'm not saying she should start huffing Raid, but she doesn't even want to discuss the possibility that she could start loosening some of the limits on her life.”

He blew out a long deep breath between his lips. “Sounds like she's dealing with a lot,” he said. “You need to take it easy on her. Take it easy on yourself, too.”

I shrugged.

“Nola seems like a great girl,” he said. “My ex wasn't, at least not at the end, which was half of our marriage. She put me through hell almost every day, but I still miss her, or who she was supposed to be.” He smiled sadly and leaned forward. “Relationships are hard, isn't that what they say? Well, let me tell you: ending them is no picnic either.”

*   *   *

I was both relieved and disappointed that he let me drive home. I was in no shape for it, but I made it back to the hotel.

There was a small group smoking out on the porch, and as I climbed the steps and they stopped their conversation to stare at me, I realized any of them could have been working with the pug-faced guy with the silencer. I had enemies around, and I needed to be more careful. I looked back at them long enough to let them know I wasn't intimidated, but not so long as to provoke anything. I was in no state and in no mood. The only thing I was ready to fight were bed spins, and as it turned out even that was a mismatch.

 

31

The next morning I woke up with a pounding headache and a deep sense of regret that I had told Moose I would help him. The novel charm of physical labor outside in nature had largely worn off. A second cup of coffee helped, but I was still feeling better about having pursued a career in police work, and about working with a partner who could go longer than ten minutes without trying to start up a conversation.

One thing I continued to appreciate about the work, however, was the appetite it gave me, and I was seriously looking forward to a very hearty lunch when Annalisa called.

I felt weird answering it in front of Moose.

“Hi,” I said, lowering my voice and immediately earning a suspicious look.

“Hi,” she said. “Where are you?” Her voice sounded tight.

“I'm helping Moose, since Benjy's mom is sick.”

“Doyle, I'm worried.”

“I'm sure she'll be okay. Benjy seemed to think it was nothing.” Moose looked at me, eyebrow raised.

“No, I mean … yes, I'm worried about Benjy's mom, but … I need to see you.”

“Do you want us to come over?”

“No,” she said abruptly. “Can I meet you somewhere else?”

*   *   *

We met Annalisa at Felix Neck, a wildlife preserve on Sengekontacket Pond, near Oak Bluffs. She was in the small dirt parking lot, sitting in her car with the engine running. Her face looked nervous and drawn, but she smiled when she saw us. As I got out of the car, she ran up and hugged me. Moose raised an eyebrow, but it was a desperate hug, fearful and in need of reassurance. Moose's suspicious frown deepened into concern.

“Are you all right?” I asked when she finally let me go.

She nodded, but grabbed me by the elbow and guided me into the stand of trees, motioning with her head for Moose to follow.

When we had gone thirty yards, she stopped and leaned in close to me. Moose stepped up close to listen.

“So, last night, when you disappeared on me”—she cocked an annoyed eyebrow—“I got to thinking. Pearce kept talking about colony collapse disorder, and I kept thinking, no it's not. It's mites, Varroa mites. Yes, the Varroas might be involved in CCD, but this isn't CCD. The bees aren't disappearing, they're just dying. They're being killed by these mites.

“So, I went to the lab, and I ran a DNA analysis on some of the mite samples. I was there pretty late, and I'll tell you, it kind of creeped me out, you know? Being there all alone, at night.” I thought to tell her she should have called me, but didn't want to in front of Moose. “Anyway, I ran the DNA analysis, then ran the sequence through the database. It came back inconsistent with what is in the database for Varroa destructor. In fact, it didn't match anything.”

“What do you mean?” Moose asked.

She took a deep breath. “By then it was late, so to double-check, I set up the DNA analysis to run again, overnight. When I got back this morning, Sumner was there with a bunch of security types. They said the lab had been vandalized.”

“Vandalized how?”

She waved a hand and rolled her eyes. “They said someone had thrown a big rock at it. And there was graffiti—‘Leave Our Island.' But the place was crawling with Sumner's men. Armed men. It was terrifying. At first they wouldn't let me inside, but then they did, just to get my things. The analysis was finished, and when I ran it through the database, it said Varroa mite.”

“Had you done something wrong?” I asked.

“I didn't do anything wrong,” she snapped. Then she took another deep breath. “I didn't do anything wrong. But when I double-checked the sample, I noticed that the seal on the cap had been completely removed. I don't do that. I break it and leave it in place.”

“So what are you saying?”

She looked around and lowered her voice. “I'm saying someone switched the sample. Even before I checked the analysis, I could tell someone had been at my desk. I didn't have time to check anything out, because they rushed me out. They said they needed to complete their investigation, that I should take the day off and they would call me when I could get back in.”

“So what do you think happened?” Moose asked.

“I think they were monitoring me. And something I did, maybe doing the DNA analysis on the mites, made them nervous. I think they staged the vandalism in order to hide their tracks, and to justify bringing in the soldiers.”

“What did you mean earlier?” he asked. “When you said about the analysis not matching anything.”

“Just that. It doesn't match anything in the database. It's a pretty big database, and I know Varroas are in it.”

Moose's eyes were wide. “So what does this mean?”

Annalisa shook her head. “It means these mites could be something new.”

 

32

Annalisa was afraid, and I was taking it seriously, but I didn't know what to do about it. I offered to follow her home, to make sure she was okay. But she shook her head and said she'd be fine. I reassured her it was a small island, and we were only a phone call away.

The next stop was the BeeWatch lab. I went first because it was too excruciating to drive behind Moose, but no matter how slowly I drove, he lagged behind. We were driving along County Road, through Oak Bluffs, when Annalisa texted to tell me she was safely home. When I glanced back at the rearview, another car had pulled in between Moose and me. Two blocks later, a second car pulled in, then a third. But the third one hadn't turned onto the road; it overtook Moose from behind.

I recognized the driver. It was Pug-face. He was following me.

I called Moose on speaker phone so the guy following wouldn't know I was on the phone.

“What's up?” Moose asked.

“Can you see me?”

“Yeah. There's a couple of cars between us. I thought you were going to wait for me, but yeah, I can see you. Why?”

“I have a tail. Someone following me. You see the green Dodge directly in front of you?”

He grunted. “Yeah, he cut me off.”

“Right. Well, I'm pretty sure he's following me. Stay behind me. I'm going to make a few extra turns, see if he follows.”