Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 03 - Writing Can Be Murder (12 page)

Chapter
Eighteen

 
Head Shot

Minneapolis,
MN

Late October

S
PECIAL AGENT JO SCHWANN
and Detective Mike Frisco spent the better part of two hours
searching the home of Billy MacGregor, looking for any sign of the fracking
documentary he was working on with Rick Wilson.

They were working side-by-side in the family room when Frisco
wiped his brow. “You find anything else?”

Jo stood up from her search of the decrepit built-in cabinet
beneath the TV. “I don’t know. I was just looking at this photo of Billy with
Rick.” In the picture, Rick stood with his arm draped across his friend’s
shoulder. They both looked carefree and full of the devil. It made her sad to
think one of the boys was now dead and the other was lying in a coma.

She looked closer at the photo. They stood next to a pick-up
truck, their bodies obscuring most of the writing on the side of the door.
“Hey, Frisco, does that look like some kind of logo to you?”

Frisco pulled out a pair of reading glasses and perched them on
his nose. When he saw Jo’s smirk, he said, “Don’t laugh. You’ll be wearing them
one day soon, you know.”

He took the picture in his hands and examined it. “Yeah, I think
you’re right.” He pointed to the logo. “Looks like a ‘v’ to me.”

 
“Or maybe a ‘w’. I’m pretty
sure it’s the logo of Wellborne Industries. I did some research on them last
night. Hang on a minute, I’ll check.”

She pulled out her tablet and brought up the website for Jonathon
Wellborne’s company. Immediately, a large ‘W’ dominated the screen. Looking
over her shoulder, Frisco compared the photo to the logo on the website. “I’ll
be damned. It’s a match. Funny how Wellborne keeps popping up.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Mazlo said they were the ones who
filed an injunction to halt the documentary. That’s why I was doing research on
the company last night. Billy told John they were talking to some compliance
guy, but didn’t mention the name of the company. Could be Wellborne Industries.”

Frisco nodded. “So, where do we go from here?”

Jo said, “Time for me to head to the oil fields of North Dakota.
I’d like to find this potential whistle-blower and see if we can get some
answers.”

“Damn, wish I could go with you, but it’s out of my jurisdiction.
I’ll follow-up on the tox screens for MacGregor and see if anything else shakes
out here.”

***

Jo managed to grab the last seat available on the evening flight
to Williston, North Dakota. The plane was overcrowded, mostly with men who
appeared to be commuting to work in the Bakken oil fields. She had seen many
tearful goodbyes as they hugged their wives and children before stepping into
the security lines in the Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport.

Jo took her seat after she was finally able to find a spot for her
overnight bag in the bin above her head. When she smelled the vestiges of the
plane’s jet fumes seeping through the air vents, she had to fight back the bile
that arose in the back of her throat.

A young woman with light brown hair swept up into a messy ponytail
sat in the seat next to her. Jo was surprised to see her breastfeeding a small
baby. The woman looked up and smiled warmly, although she looked tired. Jo
offered a polite nod and then busied herself, clicking her seat belt into place
and arranging her work files in the seat pocket in front of her.

Once the plane was in the air and settled into the cruising
altitude, Jo’s stomach felt a little bit better. She pulled out her case notes,
but read through one section several times before she gave up. Jo stole a
glance at the small, round head of the child next to her. She thought about the
child she was all but certain she carried, and absently touched her midsection.

She spoke out loud before she even knew what she was going to say.
“Does it hurt?”

The woman looked up, startled by the question. Her smile was wry
when she said, “Breastfeeding or raising children in general?”

Jo hesitated, and then answered. “Both, I guess.”

The young mother lightly caressed the cheek of the infant, who had
apparently fallen asleep. Jo was surprised to see the baby’s lips curl up into
a faint smile. “Truthfully, sometimes they both hurt. I have two more at home,
so I know what I’m talking about.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t trade it for
anything.”

Jo was silent for a moment, trying to form her next question. She
knew she had no right to ask a total stranger such personal questions, but she
needed to know so much and had no one to ask. “How did you know what to do?”

“Before my first one came along, I read all the books and talked
to every parent I knew, so I would be ready. But nothing prepares you, until
you hold that child in your heart the first time. Don’t get me wrong; sometimes
you screw up. But most of the time, you figure it out.”

The young mother slipped her arm out from beneath the sleeping
child and held her hand out to Jo. “My name’s Kristin.”

Jo blushed and gripped it. “I’m so sorry. My name’s Jo. I’m not
usually so blunt…well, that’s not entirely true. I didn’t mean to embarrass you
with such personal questions.”

The young mother’s smile was bright. “Not at all. I’m pretty hard
to embarrass. You kind of get over that when you have kids.”

Jo looked at the child nestled in its mother’s arms. “Your baby is
beautiful. I didn’t ask, boy or girl?”

The mother looked down at the baby and smiled tenderly. “It’s a
girl. Her name is Emily.” She glanced back at Jo. “So, when are you due?”

Jo was startled. “How...?” and followed Kristin’s glance at the
hand that rested on her still-flat stomach. Jo could feel the heat rise in her
face again when she replied. “I’m not sure. I haven’t been to the doctor yet.
You’re the first person I’ve told.” She lowered her eyes and quietly said,
“I’ve not been around kids and never really thought about having any.”

Kristin reached out and squeezed Jo’s hand. “I obviously don’t
know you. But I do know this: sometimes life just hands you what you need,
whether you ask for it or not.”

After that, the conversation changed course. Jo suspected Kristin
was giving her time to digest her words, so she moved onto safer topics.
Kristin mentioned she was flying out to surprise her husband for his birthday.
He hadn’t been able to come home for the last four weeks and sounded homesick
the last time he called.

Kristin bit her lower lip. “Truthfully, I’m not sure if he’s going
to be happy I’m coming. He’s always going on and on about how it’s not a great
place for women. The living arrangements are god-awful and expensive, and
there’s no privacy. Worse, he said that while most of the guys he works with
are great, some of them are pretty obnoxious around women. Guess it gets pretty
lonely there.”

She tilted her head. “What brings you out to the oil fields? Your
husband out there, too?”

Jo smiled. “Not married…yet. I’m going to Williston for business.”

“Oh, what do you do?”

Jo said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m…uh, in
compliance.” She felt a twinge of guilt for lying to the kind young mother, but
she didn’t want to get into the real reason for her trip.
Besides, I didn’t totally lie about what I do. I do make sure people
comply with the law.

Their conversation came to an abrupt halt when the baby woke up
and demanded her mother’s full attention. Jo pulled out her tablet and was
finally able to focus on a few news reports on ground water contamination from
fracking.

***

As the plane neared the airport, Jo could see the juxtaposition of
farmhouses, barns and fracking wells. The oil machinery dotted the snow-covered
landscape like sentinels.

Before Jo hopped off the plane when it landed at
Sloulin Field International Airport, she briefly hugged
Kristin
and the baby.
“I can’t tell you how much I’ve
appreciated talking to you. I’m sure your husband is going to be excited to see
you both.”

Kristin said, “Thanks, Jo. And good luck to you. I’ll
be thinking about you.”

Jo was startled to feel a tear welling up in her eye.
She quickly wiped it away and pulled her bag down from the overhead bin.
Time to get to work.

Jo was eager to wrap up this case and get back to John
as soon as she could. They had a lot to talk about.

Chapter Nineteen

Turners Bend

December

C
HIP
WAS ALONE AGAIN
, this time with a baseball bat beside
his desk. Jane and Baba were at a symposium on chronic wasting disease in Iowa
City for two days, and Ingrid was on the annual senior class trip to Chicago.
He had dropped her at the bus at 6:00 a.m. to send her off along with forty-two
of her classmates, some dressed in flannel pajama pants and TBHS sweatshirts,
clutching their pillows, others with cans of Mountain Dew or Red Bull in their
hands.

The
landline phone rang and he went to the kitchen to answer it, noting the caller
ID indicated it was Chief Frederickson.

“Hello
Chief.”

“Chip,
I’ve got a couple of your friends here in my office who want to talk with you
and Jane. You better come over as soon as you can.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah,
Special FBI Agent Masterson and Detective Franco.”

“Jane’s
in Iowa City with Baba, but I’ll be right over. What’s this all about, Walter?”

“Just
get your butt over here, then we’ll tell you.”

***

When
Chip arrived at the police station. Detective Franco and FBI Agent Masterson
were both seated in the chief’s office and the chief was behind his desk.

Agent
Masterson stood and shook hands with Chip. “Good to see you again,
Collingsworth.”

On
two previous occasions Chip had dealt with Angela Masterson. He knew she was
not as hard-assed as she appeared at times. No mistaking that she was a tough,
fearless and highly-trained agent, but underneath her precision and starch was
a kind heart. He was no longer intimidated by her manner.

As
usual she wore a trim black suit and bright-white shirt, no make-up on her
ebony face and no jewelry. Chip checked for the slight bulge that indicated a
shoulder holster and spotted it.

Chip
then shook hands with the detective. “Franco, this is a surprise. What brings
you to Turners Bend?”

“My
oldest daughter, Maria, is touring Iowa State today. Since I was near, I
thought I’d drop in and meet Chief Fredrickson, and share some new findings with
him. I’m glad I did. I gained some very interesting information from Agent
Masterson here.”

Chip’s
curiosity was piqued. Three law enforcement officials in one meeting.
This might be even more serious than I had
expected.
He took a deep breath, trying to control a nagging feeling of
dread
. “
Okay.
What’s this all about?”

Chief
Fredrickson took over. “Agent Masterson and I were chatting by phone last week,
and I mentioned the shooting in Minneapolis and your road mishap here. She had
a hunch and it paid off. She checked with several federal agencies and
confirmed her suspicions. It was enough to bring her here. Agent,” said the
chief turning the floor over to Agent Masterson.

“We
have unconfirmed intelligence that Hal Swanson may have returned to the states
via a narco-sub.”

“A
what?” said Chip.

“Drugs
from Colombia no longer enter the US in Miami. The Coast Guard became too adept
at chasing down their fast boats. Now drugs are smuggled in along the coast of
California, south of San Diego. The Russians designed a nifty little submarine
for the cartels; the DEA calls them narco-subs.”

“How
do you know Hal might have been on one of these narco-subs?” asked Chip.

“Good
question. It was a sting operation devised to get Swanson back in the country.
He was supposed to arrive with an undercover Colombian drug agent, a guy
trained by us at Quantico and part of what the Colombians call the Sensitive
Intelligence Unit. We don’t know what happened other than the plan failed and
the DEA has lost track of Swanson.”

Chief
Fredrickson took over. “The FBI’s profiler says if Hal is in the country, he
may try to contact Jane or his kids. When I heard this, we put two and two
together.”

“You
mean Hal may be gunning for me? But why would he want to harm me?” Chip had a
sinking feeling he knew the answer to his own question.

“Chip,
Hal knows you provided evidence about the various charges against him, but even
more importantly you married his ex-wife, took his place with his children.
He’s got plenty of reasons to be hunting for you,” said the chief.

“It
all makes sense,” said Franco. “Remember, the rental car was registered to a
guy named Gomez with an international driver’s license. It could have been your
wife’s ex-husband. We’ve spent hours looking at security camera tape from the
airport car rental area. We singled out this guy. You saw a photo earlier. Here
are some more pictures. What do you think? Could it be Swanson?” Franco handed
Chip three grainy photos.

“Hard
to tell, but it certainly could be Hal. What do you think, Chief, you know Hal
Swanson much better than I do?”

“I
agree with you, Chip. All the pieces are fitting together. I think we should go
forward under the assumption it might be Hal, and he may be the guy we’re
looking for.”

Agent
Masterson took the photos and studied them for a few seconds. “Franco, please
make all those security tapes available to the FBI in the Minneapolis office.”

She
turned to the chief. “Fredrickson, I request you to provide police protection
for Chip and his family members until my own detail can arrive to take over.
I’ll be setting up a temporary office here. I assume the space above Harriet’s
House of Hair is still vacant. Looks like I’ll be spending Christmas in Turners
Bend.”

“We’re
a small operation, but I’ll call in the Boone County Sheriff to give us extra
officers and back-up. To think I once played high school football with Hal. He
must have a screw loose, gone off the deep end.”

Still
in her take-charge mode Agent Masterson continued. “Chip, I cannot stress
enough how dangerous Hal Swanson might be. Extreme caution is needed. Do not go
anyplace or do anything without informing the authorities.”

The
meeting broke up and Chip followed Franco out to his car and waylaid him.
“Thanks for coming down, Franco. Looks like my troubles have no connection with
Finnegan’s murder. What’s the status on his case?”

Franco
hesitated, and then said in a low voice. “I’m close, so close I can smell it,
and it smells rotten; stinks in more ways than one. You’ll hear about it when
the case breaks open.”

***

Chip’s
emotions were jumbled and his mind kept switching between fear at possibly
being stalked by Hal and dread at having to tell Jane and ruining their first
Christmas together as a family.

He
re-played the parking ramp scene, now picturing Hal behind the wheel. He put
Hal in the red Suburban and wondered if Hal had followed him home from
Minneapolis and later tried to run him into an oncoming semi. He envisioned a
Christmas dinner scene with Hal showing up with guns blazing.

Before I was jittery, now I’m
scared to death, not just for myself but for Jane and the kids, too.