Fly by Night (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 3) (17 page)

Gracie sat on the crumbly edge of the old foundation until she realized that sitting wasn’t going to be much fun for a while. Her right butt cheek was still aching from the fall. Gracie ran her fingers through her hair, pulling leaves and a small pinecone from the tangled mess. She must look like Medusa, with curly snakes waving all over her head. She’d already explained who she was, and a condensed version of why she was creeping around the woods. A pat down by a woman deputy with the promise to show her driver’s license when she got back to her SUV had been satisfactory, so far. Haley had fortunately reappeared from the darkness and now lay panting at her feet.

Duane shakily began explaining what he and his girlfriend, Heather, were doing. She caught snatches of the interrogation amongst her recital of her address and other personal information to the deputy.

The UFO idea had been cooked up by Duane and some college buddies. It was all about how unsophisticated and gullible Deer Creek residents were. Computer images projected into the night sky and a couple of amateur drones rigged with halos of lights had added some more drama. Tobias had been their guinea pig. He’d made it into a real media event for them. Duane had been traveling back and forth between college and Deer Creek for weeks. Heather was helping him clear out the equipment tonight.

Two deputies were searching the ATV and rummaging through the box containing deflated balloons and strings of lights. They shook their heads at the officer in charge, who sternly continued to question the pair about drugs.

“Why are you up here?” Gracie finally asked the gray-haired deputy, who stood next to her.

He was writing on a pad of paper, with a flashlight tucked under his arm.

“I mean,” she gulped, “why tonight?”

“We got a tip about some drug runners doing business in the woods. The tipster was sure a big deal was happening tonight.”

“Man or woman?” She had her own ideas about who would make a call like that.

“I really couldn’t say, ma’am.”

“Hmm. Was it the owner of the property?”

“I really couldn’t say.”

“You’re not arresting Duane, are you? He’s just played a prank. Nobody got hurt.”

The deputy shrugged and said, “It’s up to the investigator. They
are
trespassing. Like you, ma’am.” His face was impassive.

The guy must be RoboCop, she decided. She stretched uncomfortably and rubbed her lower back.

“How about I call it a night and get back to my vehicle, deputy?” she asked with a touch of bravado, which was pure make-believe. Why hadn’t she stayed home?

“Sure thing. Right after I give you this appearance ticket for trespassing. Didn’t you see the signs, ma’am?”

She stifled the comment that jumped to her lips and snatched the paper from the deputy’s extended hand. This escapade was going to be hard to explain to everybody, and now there was a ticket involved. She’d never gotten a ticket for anything… ever.

“I’ll walk you back to your vehicle. I want to make sure you get back there okay.”

Gracie nodded. After a few attempts at more small talk with no success, she kept her mouth shut as they trekked up the alternate trail back to where she’d parked the RAV4. The headlights from a parked cruiser shone through the trees as they reached the split in the lane. She pulled the keys from her pocket and unlocked the vehicle. Haley whined anxiously, dancing in circles, so she obliged the impatient Lab and opened the rear passenger door for her. Gracie fumbled through her bag on the front seat and found her license. The deputy merely glanced at it and handed it back. She forced herself to thank him and smile. Sighing with relief, she watched him disappear back down the narrow lane. Just as the key slid into the ignition, it hit her. Her passenger was missing. She’d lost Roscoe within minutes of leaving the SUV and hadn’t seen him since. Angrily slamming the steering wheel with the palms of her hands, she pulled the key out and headed back to the woods, leaving Haley in the backseat. Her phone buzzed in her bra, sending her heart into double time. Breathlessly, she answered Jim’s call.

“Where are you? I’ve been at the house for half an hour. Nobody’s answering the door!” Jim shouted.

“I’m up in Hansen’s woods, looking for Roscoe right at the moment.”

“What? What’s he doing up there? His car is here. What’s going on, Gracie? Why are you out of breath?”

“It’s a long story.”

She hit “end call” and punched in Roscoe’s number. She needed to find him and fast. The phone went directly to voicemail. Not a good sign. Painfully jogging to catch up with the deputy, her body complained with every step.

*****

Even after Jim and Toby joined the search, there wasn’t any sign of Roscoe. Investigator Markowski took Gracie’s report, and after two hours, she drove home. Law enforcement and some friends Jim had called were still combing the woods. If anything happened to Roscoe, it would all be her fault. Tears threatened, and she wanted to throw up.

Morning still brought no news of Roscoe. Investigator Markowski stopped in before the kennel opened to let her know they were still searching the woods and nearby fields. He wanted information on Roscoe’s family, but Gracie had no idea where to begin. The Myers family had long since moved away from Deer Creek. She remembered his sister’s name was Nancy, but that was it. It was duly noted. The investigator left, promising to call with an update.

Jim came dragging in at lunchtime. His eyes were bloodshot, and he hadn’t shaved. He shut the office door, dropped into his recliner, and looked wearily at Gracie. She attempted to ignore him, studying her spreadsheet intently. She didn’t want to talk about anything, but the look on Jim’s face told her that they would have to talk.

“Just so you know, I’m out of this investigation business as soon as we find Roscoe,” he stated. “You might want to think about that yourself.”

Gracie turned from the computer screen to her handsome, albeit ticked-off partner.

“Just a reminder that you’re the one who started this. It was all to help Toby. I’m helping Kim,” she countered.

Jim held up his right hand. “Guilty as charged. Last night is on you though. It’s time to let the police handle it. They know what they’re doing. We’re the amateurs here.”

“You mean
I’m
the amateur,” she shot back. “It was stupid. I know that. I guess that’s what I get for trying to help a friend.”

“A pity party isn’t what anybody needs,” Jim retorted, rising from the chair. “We both made some mistakes. I’m going back out to find Roscoe.”

He stalked off. Gracie wadded up the paper that had just come off the printer and threw it against the wall. She needed to take a walk. Trudy and Marian gave each other knowing looks, which Gracie ignored as she passed through reception.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said, not looking at either woman.

She let Haley out of the backyard gate and headed for the field behind the kennel. Maybe the fresh air and the scenery would clear her head.

Haley bounded ahead into the high grass mixed with masses of daisies and buttercups. If she weren’t so angry with herself, it might have been entertaining to watch the broad black Lab head disappear and then reappear. It looked like a variation of “Whack a Mole.”

She stopped, broke off the stem on a buttercup, and twirled it in her fingers. Where could Roscoe have gone? Was he lying unconscious in the woods? Maybe there had been drug dealers, or something worse had happened. She couldn’t bear to think about it. Then there was Duane. A call to Kim was in order, but she didn’t want to be too nosey. Who’d made the call to the police? It had to have been Richter. Nothing made sense right now. She tossed the flower away.

Haley began barking wildly, and she looked up. A man trudged through the field toward them, head hanging and shoulders sagging. The hair was unmistakable. It was Roscoe.

Gracie was grateful to see her parents pull in at closing time with supper in hand.

Haley dashed to the car, barking merrily. She followed close on Bob’s heels into the house. He set the stack of to-go containers from Midge’s on the kitchen island.

Conversation ran immediately to Roscoe, as they popped the tops on salads for Gracie and her mother and a meatloaf dinner for her father. Gracie, relieved beyond understanding, unloaded the whole story, although she did skip over the part about the trespassing ticket.

Roscoe apparently had gotten himself lost immediately and had spent the night wandering through the woods and fields. He was now spending the night for observation at the hospital in Warsaw. He seemed all right, but was dazed and somewhat confused. He had no idea how he ended up in the field, but saw the kennels and headed for them. Gracie had called the sheriff’s department and Jim. The ambulance was summoned after that. Now she was sure that everyone with a scanner in D.C. knew what had happened at Milky Way today.

“Everybody’ll be talking about this for a long time,” she groused, poking a tomato with her fork.

“Don’t worry about that,” Theresa said soothingly. “Just be glad you’re all right, and Roscoe is all right. I wonder, though, why he can’t remember much of anything.”

“Probably just shock,” Bob commented, stuffing the last of the cheesy meatloaf into his mouth.

“Maybe. But I’m worried about Duane too. I haven’t heard from Kim today, and I don’t know if I should call.”

“She might be embarrassed if Duane really got arrested. Kids do such crazy things,” Theresa said, shaking her head. “At least no one got hurt.”

“I’m pretty sure that Ben Richter had something to do with that setup last night. He’s such a vindictive turd. I wish I could figure a way to find out.” Gracie finished the salad and tossed the container in the wastebasket. “It’s all too confusing.”

“So it is,” her father said, leaning back in the chair and pulling a toothpick from his shirt pocket.

“I forgot to ask you, Dad. Do you know if Richter’s a member of the Valley Gun Club?”

“I don’t think so, but I think I saw him up there with Streeker’s aide… uh… What’s her name, Theresa?”

“It’s Cynthia Harkness,” Gracie supplied before her mother could answer. “They were at the gun club together?”

“She was showing off her talents for the guys. She’s good, that’s for sure. She had a 100 percent for skeet and the same for the range. Of course, she had a speech about renewable energy sources and how much they’d improve the economy here.” He stuck the toothpick in the corner of his mouth. “I’m not sure why Richter was there, but they talked for a few minutes before she left.”

Gracie grew silent. She wasn’t sure what to think of that development. It didn’t make sense at the moment.

“According to your Aunt Marlene, the bank’s got problems with this Richter, serious ones. Then there’s that petty lawsuit against Jackson Farms,” her mother chimed in. She collected her husband’s Styrofoam container and napkin.

“He does have some big financial problems, according to Roscoe,” Gracie confirmed. “And there’s the construction above the pond. That land is Richter’s now too. Jim was up there talking to some project manager last night. The guy wouldn’t give him any details, but Jim thinks they’re planning to put in windmills. All the guy would say was the owner wanted to do some development up there, and the road was the first step.”

“Why would this Richter put windmills on his land when he’s been protesting against them? That doesn’t make sense,” Theresa interjected.

“Beats me. Jim did mention there was some geologic engineer up there too. I really don’t know what that means.” Gracie wiped down the breakfast bar and rinsed the dishrag in the sink.

“You know, I bet I saw that project manager at Midge’s today,” her father suddenly added. “His truck said
Resource Management Services
on the door. Midge called him ‘Stew.’ Seemed like a nice enough guy. Didn’t say much from what I saw. Just had some lunch and left.”

“As in ‘Stewart’?” she asked, her antennae on high alert.

“Could be. Why?” her father asked in a puzzled voice.

Before she could answer, her phone buzzed loudly on the counter. It was Kim. Her voice was stressed. Gracie tried to counteract the tension with quiet and calm responses. When the jumbled conversation about Richter and the lawsuit didn’t improve, she asked Kim and Duane to come to the house. Maybe she could figure out what was going on in a face-to-face.

Her parents quickly said their good-byes, with a warning not to get too involved. Nodding mutely, Gracie figured it was way too late for that.

Kim and Duane arrived both ashen-faced. Kim’s eyes seemed perpetually swollen and red these days. Duane looked like every ounce of strength had been drained from him.

Haley seemed to sense the emotional storm, and after initial greetings, flopped into her bed with a groan. She slept with one eye open, maintaining surveillance of the situation.

“You’ll have to start at the beginning,” Gracie said. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t understand what you were telling me. It was something about an email and Cynthia Harkness.”

She motioned for mother and son to sit on the couch. Kim put a hand on Duane’s arm, nodding for him to start.

“Well, the Cynthia Harkness part is something I just found out a couple of days ago.”

“He was using the computer in D. B.’s office when he found the email,” Kim added.

“Yeah. I was working on a spreadsheet for Dean,” Duane explained. He leaned forward, his hands clutching each knee. “A reminder popped up on the email to call this Cynthia for a date to get paperwork. I started looking at Dad’s calendar, and her name was on some meetings he had with this Allen guy.”

“Was it about government grants, by any chance?” Gracie asked.

“I’m not sure, but I did find an email that he’d deleted. They were supposed to have a meeting after that protest or whatever it was.”

“Just the two of them?”

“No. The email said attendees were Trexler, Allen, and Harkness.”

“Trexler? Is that Kevin Trexler at the bank?” Gracie swallowed hard, her stomach churning.

“I don’t know. I suppose it could be. I guess Dad was working with the bank on this windmill thing.” Duane looked over at his mother for confirmation.

“It’s most likely Kevin. D. B. had meetings with him all the time,” Kim added.

“Do the police know about this meeting?” Gracie adjusted her hair clip, pulling back a delinquent curl that kept falling into her eyes.

“They should. They had D.B.’s computer for a week,” Kim answered sharply. “Not that it did them any good. I didn’t know anything about it though.”

“You
do
know that she’s an ex-Army sniper,” Gracie offered.

“D. B. mentioned it to me once. He also told me that Ms. Harkness wasn’t someone to mess with.”

“Did you tell the police about her meetings with D. B.?”

Kim put her face in her hands. Duane awkwardly put a hand on his mother’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what I’ve told them at this point,” she cried. She pulled a tissue from her purse and blew her nose. “Added to everything, this situation with Duane, and that Richter character now threatening to get the police to charge him with all sorts of stuff. It’s such a mess, Gracie. We’ve got to find D. B.’s killer. I know he was involved in something. Something really bad.” She blew her nose again and squared her shoulders. Patting Duane’s hand, she said, “You know, Duane, I need to speak to Gracie alone.” Her eyes glanced to the patio.

Gracie immediately jumped in.

“You could do me a favor by throwing the tennis ball for Haley for a few minutes. She really needs the exercise. Do you mind?”

He seemed relieved as he caught the tattered, dirty yellow ball that Gracie tossed from Haley’s well-stocked toy basket. Haley ran immediately to the French doors, eager to play.

After the pair exited, Kim smoothed her lavender slacks with her hands and took a steadying breath.

As she plunged into the details of the last weeks of D. B.’s life, Gracie quickly began to piece together his relationship with Ms. Harkness. It was evident that Kim felt D. B. had been spending too much time with her, although he. had insisted it was “just business.” Kim had attended a couple of social functions over the winter—a fundraiser dinner for Congressman Streeker and cross-country skiing with the Allens, Ms. Harkness, and her forgettable date. The pressure to seal the deal on Toby’s land hadn’t come so much from N.E.S.T., but from Cynthia.

Duane and Haley pushed through the doors. Duane was laughing. Haley headed for her water bowl and lay down on the floor in front of it, slurping happily.

“Geez, your dog is pretty funny. She loves chasing that ball.”

He tossed the worn tennis ball into the toy basket. Duane looked more relaxed than Gracie had seen him in the last couple of weeks. He looked at his watch and then at his mother. “Mom, I’ve gotta pick up Heather in a few minutes. Are you ready?”

Gracie glanced at Kim, who looked like she had more to tell, but was torn about staying.

“Why don’t you go on? I’ll get your Mom home later. Is that all right with you?” she asked, turning to Kim.

“That’s fine,” Kim answered eagerly. “I have a couple of other things to talk with Gracie about. Just take my car.”

Kim stood at the kitchen door, watching her son drive away. She bit her lip and sighed before settling herself on one of the comfortable stools at the breakfast bar. The conversation suddenly turned to Dean and his ultimatum. Gracie, all ears, put on a pot of coffee. It was going to be a long night.