Chapter Eleven
The following morning, Jake sat in the passenger seat while Penny drove the Eggplant, following the sheriff’s jeep. Only the whine of the tires on the highway filled the car. After a restless night, the early morning phone call from his dad bemoaning the fact the police had yet to release his daughter’s body tore him in mind and spirit.
Breakfast had been uncomfortable. He’d had no appetite. The meal conversation had been sparse, which was okay with him. He didn’t really know these people, and now wasn’t sure he knew Penny. If he was totally honest with himself, he’d not been around her long enough to know the real Penny, or maybe Jianna, anyway. He’d landed in Flagstaff, happy to be with his sister, going for a job that would be right up his alley, and on his way to reconciliation with his parents. His amends to Penny had fulfilled his need, and requirement, to make amends to any women he might’ve treated badly during those drug-filled days. Life was definitely on an upswing. Mandy loved Penny—a high recommendation. They’d clicked. She’d filled a need, but he’d acted on pure emotion, rushing in too quickly.
He peered at her profile as she stared out the window, intense in her thoughts.
Yeah, Winters, there’s still something.
However well he did or didn’t know her, the pull she had on him remained intact. His stomach turned, the coffee churning acid like all the mixed emotions in his head.
His cell beeped. A text from Chris. They wanted to meet with him. Would he be interested in a position? Jake sighed and leaned his head back, eyes closed.
“Bad news?” Penny had awakened from her thoughts at the sound of the cell.
“No.” He opened his eyes. “I don’t think so.”
She raised her brows in question.
“It’s from Chris at the Ashurst.”
“Oh, well, that’s good.” Even as she commented, she’d already drifted back into her own meditations, apparently too distracted to ask him anything further.
Fine with him. A job at the Ashurst was one thing. Staying in Flagstaff, another. He tapped his finger on the side of the phone and glanced at Penny. She couldn’t be a consideration in what he did or where he lived, regardless of the hold he perceived she had on him. Who knew what would happen once this mess was put to rest? Mandy’s murder might always stand between them.
Meeting with the owners of the Ashurst right now was out of the question. He couldn’t deal with talking to Chris and Mike.
Can we put meet on hold for few days? he texted back. Dealing with death of my sister.
Chris responded quickly. OMG sorry. Didn’t know. Call when you’re ready.
The sheriff turned into a parking lot. Jake hadn’t noticed the scenery or how they arrived at the sprawling, red brick Law Enforcement Complex. Penny pulled the car into the space next to the sheriff. He mentally crossed his fingers that today would somehow release Penny from her years of hiding, and bring to justice the men responsible for his sister’s murder. He glanced at the slate gray sky, zipped his jacket, and stuffed his hands into his gloves. When he stepped out of the car, an icy wind snaked through his hair and down his neck. He pulled the collar of his jacket higher. Predicting weather wasn’t one of his skills, but if he had to guess, he’d say snow could fall anytime.
Sheriff Meadowlark led them along a cement walk to the chrome and glass doors. Several miles from the old city center, the sprawling, two story, red brick complex appeared to be newly constructed. The San Francisco Peaks rose in the distance, and vacant pine-dotted land surrounded the complex. Jake trailed behind Penny. She peered over her shoulder as she entered, her brows pinched, a shrug as if to say, well, here we are. He nodded, for lack of any other reaction. If she looked to him for encouragement, then hopefully, he conveyed that.
His phone chimed. “It’s my dad. I’d really like to take this call.”
“Of course.” She glanced at the sheriff. “We can wait, can’t we?”
“Let’s go on in. You’re the one who needs to speak with the detective. When you’re done, Jake, ask the policewoman inside for directions to Ranclin’s office.”
Penny’s lip took on a slight pout, but she nodded. Maybe she needed him more than he’d thought. Her willful, go it alone attitude might be all bluster. He did want to support her—at least in her effort to enlist the police for help and rid herself of constant fear. But his parents were hurting, and he would be the rock they needed.
****
Penny had entered the building, confidence bolstered by the presence of Sheriff Meadowlark and Jake following behind her…until he peeled off in the opposite direction, the phone at his ear. In spite of few words spoken with him this morning and his emotional pullback last night, his obvious support still remained. She could sense him still here for her in the kindness of his gray eyes, and the slight lift of the corner of his mouth. What she saw could be his determination to see justice for his sister, but a hint of the feelings he’d shared before the murder came through when he looked into her eyes or spoke. She wouldn’t try to analyze what that meant. Right now, she couldn’t imagine what her future might be. So mired in the present, single mindedly aiming all her energy at bringing down the senator and his FBI henchman, she’d now take life an hour at a time.
Just inside the door, a security officer stood guard. Penny’s breath hitched, and she tightened her grip on her bag. The compact P238 in her purse would prove troublesome. But a quick wave of his hand when he saw Sheriff Meadowlark relieved her fear.
In the foyer, a woman in a police uniform sat behind a circular desk. She smiled and nodded at the sheriff as they passed by and down a hall to their right. The sheriff opened the first door into a room busy with activity. Six desks were arranged in two rows. Two of the desks were occupied by men in dress shirts and slacks and talking on phones. At a third desk, a woman in a sweater and jeans punched keys on a computer while she listened to an older man seated in a chair next to the desk. At least half a dozen others, some in casual dress, others in common office attire, were in motion or had cell phones to their ears. A window to the outside ran the length of the room with a distant view of the city and the peaks beyond.
They wound their way through the activity to a door and a glassed-in office. The man behind the glass waved them in when he saw Sheriff Meadowlark approach. When they entered the room, Detective Steve Ranclin rose from behind a dark wood desk. Penny remembered the man from the night of Mandy’s murder. At about six foot, he was only slightly taller than the sheriff, but much slimmer. With close-cropped hair graying at the temples and his suit and tie, he looked more like a play-by-the-book detective compared to the sheriff’s mountain man persona.
“Detective.” The sheriff stuck a hand across the desk to shake.
“Sheriff.” He returned the greeting then turned to her. “Ms. Sparks.” Handshakes accomplished, the detective nodded at three chairs facing his desk. “Please, have a seat. I thought Mr. Winters would be with you.”
“He had a call he needed to take,” Sheriff Meadowlark explained. “He’ll join us when he’s finished.”
Penny tucked her gloves in her coat pocket, slipped out of her coat, draped it on the back of the middle chair, and took a seat to the left of the sheriff.
The detective regarded her. “The sheriff tells me you have some information that would be instrumental in leading to the person or persons responsible for Mandy Barker’s murder.”
A lump formed in her throat. Detective Ranclin reminded her of the faceless FBI murderer and Westingly with his buttoned up, dark-suited style. He was formal, stone-faced, and his loyalties unknown. He was government. She swallowed, and her chest tightened down on her hammering heart.
“Ms. Sparks?” He folded his hands on his desktop.
“Yes. I do.”
“And why didn’t you come forward on Monday?” Although professionally polite in speech, the way he tapped his index finger against his other hand indicated irritation.
“I’ve been holding this information for thirteen years, Detective Ranclin, to protect myself. I’ve been fearful of meeting the same fate my family met. But now…”
She glanced at Sheriff Meadowlark. He nodded, kindness lighting his copper eyes.
“The people who killed Mandy were actually trying to kill me.”
“All right.” Ranclin flipped open a pad. “Let’s hear your story.”
****
“Hi, Dad.” Jake meandered toward a bench set in front of a glass window that went from floor to ceiling. He sat with his back to the lobby so he could stare at the steely gray sky.
“I nearly hung up. Am I interrupting you?”
“No, not at all. Just couldn’t get to my phone. I’m at the police department.” It had only been a couple of hours since they last spoke, but if his parents needed to talk, he would listen. “How are you and Mom doing?”
“We, well, we’re just doing. Your mom wants to talk to you, Jake, but first, I wanted to check on you. How are you? I didn’t really ask you this morning. I mean, are you, uh, are you handling this and, I mean, I know you must be having a tough time. I hope you’re okay there. All alone. Taking care of the police stuff and all. It’s only about a three-hour drive. If you need me to come up…”
“Oh, no, Dad. You need to stay there with Mom.” He knew exactly what his dad meant with his stammering concern. Asking him directly if he was off drugs and sober wasn’t in his dad’s nature. “I’m doing fine. No need to worry.” He answered truthfully. He was handling everything fine. Last night, before drifting off to sleep, he’d taken inventory of his state of mind, which was a mess, but not wavering from the path of sobriety. His coping abilities were holding. Although overwhelmingly sad and in a mass of confusion over his feelings for Penny, he was handling it. He needed to stay by her until this was solved, and his parents would be of no help. “Thank you, though.”
“Well, all right. I’m really glad to hear that. We want to see you, Jake, as soon as we can. As soon as you think you can. I wonder if you could check on something for us.”
“Of course.”
“Could you ask when…?” He cleared his throat, a heavy rasping swallow followed. His dad was fighting tears. “When we can get Mandy back.”
His palms went sweaty and the gray clouds seemed to swirl. “Yeah, sure. I’ll find out.”
“Good. Good. Well, here’s your mom.”
“Hi, Jakey.” She gulped. “I can’t wait to see you, honey.”
“Can’t wait to see you, too. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too.” Her voice shook. “Well, um.” She sniffed. “Just wanted to hear your voice. Talk soon.” She hung up abruptly.
His eyes burned with restrained tears. He stuck his phone away, still staring outside without actually focusing. As much as his sadness at knowing he’d never see his sister again felt like a ton of weight on his chest, the pang of sorrow experienced for his parents at losing their child affected him deeply. He clenched his teeth and stood. Someone would pay for this. The police had to listen to Penny.
****
Penny started her tale with her internship at Westingly Inc. as a high school student. At times, Detective Ranclin relaxed back in his chair, his face neutral. Jake quietly entered, and she barely registered that he took a seat next to her. When she touched on Senator Westingly’s apparent involvement and her declaration that an FBI agent was the hired hit man, the lawman seemed to tense, and the slightest wrinkle of his forehead came and went. By the time she’d finished the account of how she’d left Nevada and took her new identity in Flagstaff, her face flushed with anger. Ranclin had interrupted numerous times to ask a question that she’d already covered. The detective held his neutral countenance, but an air of disbelief showed in the slant of his mouth.
“You have something to back your theory?”
“I do.”
“If you’re going to accuse a senator, you’d better have some hard evidence, Ms. Ricci.”
“I have a photographic memory. I know things, Detective, and an investigation of Westingly Inc. will prove the senator cheated the government out of millions. There will be a direct path from him to the murders.”
He leaned forward and clicked his pen shut. He appeared pensive while the clicking of his pen, open, shut, open, shut, shattered the silence. “I need probable cause to get a warrant, Ms. Ricci, and your photographic memory isn’t enough.”
What would it take to convince him? “There are two other people, the only two other people, who would’ve known about Westingly’s defrauding the government. They just happened to have died in accidents.” She recounted what she knew about their positions within the company. “Angie believed the CFO, Jonathan Burke, and Controller, Christine Severing, were responsible for the embezzling. And when she took her suspicions to Westingly, she disappeared. Then those two died by accidental deaths.”
The pen clicking stopped. “Pretty coincidental.”
“Yes.”
He looked at Sheriff Meadowlark. “I called the FBI this morning.” He glanced at his watch. “Maybe forty minutes ago—”
“Why?” She jerked forward in her chair. Every muscle in her body tensed.
The sheriff touched her shoulder, but he addressed Ranclin. “Can you tell us why?”
“There was no apparent reason for Ms. Barker’s murder. No robbery. She doesn’t have a job or any other connections that would be reason for her to be killed in that manner. The style, the weapon, comes across like crime syndicate.” He shrugged. “I know someone down in Phoenix and I asked for help.”
Penny’s heart beat high in her chest. “We don’t know who to trust!” Anger and fear ping-ponged around her insides. With Westingly’s hitman within the FBI, Ranclin had just opened another door for them to find her.
“Ms. Sparks, the FBI is not out to get you.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But someone is. You want to question coincidence. Pretty coincidental that when the FBI is contacted, people die.”
“We can trust Agent Shoneburg.”
The sheriff patted her shoulder, and she turned to him, frustration building. “Now what?”
“What advice did Shoneburg give, Steve?” He patted her again, and questioned Ranclin. “Is he coming up?”
“He said he’d get back to me as soon as he could.”
“I wonder if you can get their files on Penny’s family. Maybe your team could look into the connection with this murder.”
Again the pen clicking. She studied his face and could almost see the spark plugs firing inside his head. This man exuded an aura of methodical, careful, and calculating. Not bad traits. The tension escalating across her shoulder blades eased ever so slightly. At least he’d recognized the mob style of murder used on Mandy. Since Penny hadn’t hid her fear of the FBI, and he’d contacted them, he’d keep that nugget close.
The detective shrugged. “I would hope so.”
Beside her, Jake cleared his throat. “Do you know when my sister’s body will be released? My family wants to make plans.”
Penny’s insides spasmed. She’d clearly lost sight of the gut-wrenching side of this for the Winters family. Her anger and thirst for revenge tabled the emotional side of her loss. Jake and his family didn’t approach Mandy’s murder from the same angle she’d convinced herself to pursue. As much as she felt his sorrow, she didn’t touch him or speak. She couldn’t let down, couldn’t give her anger a break, for even a moment.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Winters. Let me ask the medical examiner. We’ll work on the release as soon as possible.”
The detective’s desk phone buzzed. He touched a button. “Agent Shoneburg from the FBI is on two.”
He darted a quick glance at her then grabbed a pen and a pad as he lifted his phone. “This is Detective Ranclin.” He tapped the pen on the pad, but made no notes. “Sure, Pete. Thanks.” Tap, tap. He put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered. “I’m being transferred to his boss, Special Agent in Charge, Dan Wuthers.”
Penny tucked her fingers under her thighs.
Great. Deeper into the FBI.
****
Vince carefully folded the Arizona map and stowed it in the glove box. With one hand on the wheel and one holding his coffee, he eased out of his parking spot along the curb, half a block from the Law Enforcement Complex.
The expected call from Special Agent in Charge Wuthers came only moments ago. From here on, his goal was containment.
Pulling out onto Lone Tree Road, he headed for the highway and the Sedona Resort. He had to check out, have lunch, then call the Flagstaff detective. Although as the agent who’d handled her father’s case, Vince couldn’t think of any possible way the Ricci woman could implicate him, no matter what she’d had to say. The gun. The tape. The gloves. The shoe covers. If for some far out reason he came under the microscope, these items could lead back to him. The fact he’d not had a chance to dispose of them yet worked in his favor. There might still be a chance to remove the real Ricci woman, although the window of opportunity had closed to nothing more than a sliver now. Then the bottom of Roosevelt Lake would swallow the evidence. But not yet. He had to wait a little while longer.
His cell rang. An unidentified number from one of the valley area codes. If he were a betting man, he’d put his money on the senator.
There was no way in hell he wanted to talk to Westingly. Not yet.
Pine trees and spotty areas of snow whizzed past his window. He calculated every angle of his present situation. Only one link existed between the senator and him. A cell phone. Westingly bought and destroyed a new burner phone at least every month. Vince’s phone records existed, but those calls were to informants and contacts on several cases as far as anyone knew. When it hit the fan, when the accusations from the Ricci woman came out, the senator would know to get rid of the latest phone. The senator wasn’t a total fool and knew his case wouldn’t be helped by any tie to an FBI agent with the ability to send people to the gates of heaven. No one would suspect the good senator would ever think of murder.
Vince could drag his feet on the investigation, on the link between the murders, and on any charges of fraud Ricci could claim against Clyde Westingly, but only for so long. Once the time became too late to take her out, and too close to appearing as if he was stalling, he’d have to go forward with the investigation and eventually drag the senator under the bus. Assuming she had evidence. Again, he pictured the teenager of over a decade ago. A teenager. Had her father given her records from inside the company that implicated Westingly? Eh. Whatever. He’d do what he could and then bail. Bringing Westingly down on bilking the government would take years. He’d never get called. They wouldn’t be able to find him. Vince would be retired and tucked away deep inside Mexico before the senator ever got to trial.
His mind drifted to lunch at the resort. The Mexican restaurant made green chili that, just thinking of, had his mouth watering. Good thing he liked Mexican food. He would be eating nothing but south of the border dishes soon. Authentic, anyway. And the senator? Crappy prison food would be a far cry from his usual culinary choices.
Again he wondered what the Ricci woman had to offer the authorities. His curiosity couldn’t be tamped any longer. Setting his cup in the holder, he glanced at the number written on the pad lying on the passenger seat and called Detective Ranclin. When the detective came on the line, Vince slowed his car slightly to concentrate on the conversation.
“Detective Ranclin. This is Special Agent Vince Elams. Special Agent in Charge Wuthers said you would be expecting my call.”
“Yes. Have you arrived in Flagstaff already?”
“No. I should be there by two. Is Ms. Ricci with you?”
“Yes, she is.”
“What steps for debriefing have been taken?”
“Nothing official, Agent Elams. Ms. Ricci gave me a general history of her involvement with the events that she believes led to the murder of Mandy Barker. I had already called Agent Shoneburg with my suspicions on the manner in which Ms. Barker was murdered, independent of Ms. Ricci’s visit with me. When I learned Ms. Ricci believes she has information related to the case, Agent Wuthers asked that any statements or revealing of evidence be held until the agent of record on her parents’ file is contacted.”
“All right. I’ll be at your office at two to meet with Ms. Ricci. Thank you, Detective Ranclin.”
He set the phone in the dash cubby, picked up the coffee cup, and relaxed back on the seat. As he increased his speed to five miles over the limit, he took a calming breath. She’d made her first visit to the police in thirteen years and had not given Ranclin anything definitive. No one had seen any of the evidence she possessed. The window of opportunity, small as it was, was still open to take her out.
****
“I’d join you for lunch, but I have some work to get done.” The sheriff gave a nod in the general direction behind him.
Penny, Sheriff Meadowlark, and Jake stood in the lobby of the Law Enforcement Complex. Her mind raced, while her feet wanted to vault out of the building. She could barely contain her anger. Even though this type of case didn’t come under the sheriff’s control, she’d trusted his advice to this point. Yet, after all she’d told Ranclin, they still expected her to meet with the very agent she wanted to avoid.
She had to appeal to him before he went about his own business. “Sheriff, I can’t give a statement and my evidence to the same agent who found my parents. This guy could very well have something to do with their murders.”
“Meet him. Give him only as much as you feel comfortable. I’ll be there, along with Ranclin. Afterwards, if you’re still convinced he isn’t going to help, then we’ll see if we can meet with someone else.”
The sheriff had a job of his own, and he obviously needed to move on. “I’m sorry to take up your time, Sheriff Meadowlark. I really do appreciate you trying to help.” The sheriff and Lacy were like family. She didn’t want to create bad feelings, but damn, he wasn’t taking her alarm serious enough. Suppressing her irritation only increased her resolve to figure this out on her own.
He tipped his head as if to admonish her for foolish words. “Penny, it is absolutely no problem. My wife considers you extended family. I do, too.” He towered over her, blocking the overhead fluorescents so she could see the kindness in his eyes. “We’ll take care of this and set your life back to normal.”
She had no idea what normal would be if she came out of hiding. “Thank you.” He meant well.
“There’s a cafeteria on the second floor that actually has decent food. Or you can go back to the house. You have the key and security code. If Lacy isn’t home, you have my permission to raid the fridge. But I’d like you to stay close.” He set his gaze on Jake. “And together.”
Maybe he did believe her story, at least enough to worry for her welfare. Then again, just knowing who she really was and the questions surrounding Mandy’s murder were enough to concern him even if he doubted she had any proof. Her theory, as everyone kept calling it, could have nothing to do with his precautions.
“You can count on it,” Jake answered.
“If you stay here, there’s an inside walking path on the second floor. It circles the inside of the building by the windows around the cafeteria tables. Something to do to fill your time until the FBI agent gets here.”
A chill raced over her arms at the mention of the agent she’d never met.
“I’ll see you both at two.” He smiled and turned away.
Her feet wouldn’t move as she stared after the sheriff. No one, including the sheriff, took her distrust of the FBI seriously.
“Hey.” Jake nudged her. “Look. It’s starting to snow. Let’s not get out in the weather. We’ll go to the cafeteria, okay?”
She shrugged, doubtful she could eat. He took her hand, uprooted her from the floor, and headed toward the stairs. He kept hold of her as they climbed to the second story. Once inside the cafeteria, they found a table close to the inside walking path with a view of the distant downtown area and left their coats on the chairs to save their spots. Back at the counter, they stared at the menu before getting in line.
“Can you eat?”
Just like Jake to be thoughtful and realize how upset she must be. “I don’t know.”
“I’m not real hungry either. How about I get a couple of those chicken wraps for us to try?”
She nodded. Her mind focused on the car she’d seen in front of her house thirteen years ago. She’d been certain all these years the black sedan was FBI. And now she had to face the agent.
“Do you want a soda or something hot?” He grabbed a tray and she followed him through the line.
“Hot tea.”
Once seated, she sipped her tea, staring out the glass walls, and Jake took a bite of the wrap. The snowflakes were light, but the tops of the San Francisco Peaks, beyond the city, were shrouded in clouds.
“I don’t know what to do.” The thought of telling her story to the agent that could have something to do with murder, her family’s murder and Mandy’s, dizzied her head. “I don’t want to talk to this agent. I want to talk to someone that will actually do something with what I know.”
Jake set his wrap down, wiped his mouth, and leaned his forearms on each side of the plate. “You’ve got to start somewhere. This guy has all the evidence from your parents’ murders. He’s going to be the one who can tie Mandy’s murder to your family’s.”
“And what, Jake? Blame another murder on my relatives in Chicago?” Frustration strained her voice.
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t have an answer. Doggedly wanting her to join hands with the law, he believed spilling her guts to them would solve her problems and nab the murderer.
“This has to be the senator’s doing. Think about it. Not one word ever came out about the senator at the time of my parents’ and my brother’s death. This agent has to know what my father discovered. What happened to all of that? Westingly just happens to sell off the nuclear waste division not long after my family was murdered? What did this agent do with what my father told him?”
Jake stared into her face then dropped his chin and shook his head. He seemed to take the weight of her doubts on to his shoulders. And at last, apparently, he believed the agent could have some hand in the cover up.
“I need to get past this guy. I need to get to Westingly.”
He raised his gaze. “And do what?”
“He has to pay.”
“All right. I understand that. But—”
“You believe me, don’t you?”
“Of course, I believe you.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “Sheriff Meadowlark does, too.”
“He wants to, but the all mighty FBI is a hard one to blame and stuff down a lawman’s throat. I don’t think he’s convinced.”
“You could ask to not be left alone with this guy.”
“I’m not leaving this building, that’s for sure. I’m not scared of him, as long as we’re here.” No, not fear…disgust…if he was what she thought he was. “I’m going to ask him a few questions, too. Like why hadn’t the senator ever been investigated? Don’t look so scared. In fact, now that I think about it, this is good, meeting this guy.” Her mood lightened with the idea that there wouldn’t be any way to cover up what she would spill. “Here’s the deal, Jake. This time around, there are several who’ll know what I’m going to tell this guy—at least in general terms. I’ve got Sheriff Meadowlark, and he trusts Detective Ranclin who trusts Agent Shoneburg. Nothing is going to happen to me. Not inside this fortress anyway. Someone’s going to get the senator involved in this.”
Or tomorrow, I’ll have an impromptu audience with Senator Sleezeball Westingly myself.