Deep Down

David M. Salkin

Deep Down

ISBN-13: 978-1490595641

Copyright © 2013 David M. Salkin

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Dedication

I’m an author, not a scientist. I claim no expertise in the area of “fracing”, a controversial deep drilling practice. That said, I find it hard to believe that forcing saltwater and toxic chemicals beneath aquifers can be a great thing for our water supply. I encourage readers to do some research and draw their own conclusions. The bottom line is always “the bottom line”—big oil will do what’s most profitable, and we all need the gas and oil. But at what cost to our future?

In thinking of the dedication of this book, one thing is clear. The characters Noah and Zeke love each other. Two brothers who share this type of bond are very blessed. It’s better than a best friend, even. So for that, I say thanks to big brother Eric. Of course, there’s the rest of my family as well. My wife Patty and children Rachael and Alex inspire me every day. Dad, Stacey, Missy, Jesse, Jake and Mike… all such special people, I’m glad we’re related! And so many of my friends—too many to list, thanks for the every day laughs. Some of you will again find yourselves in these pages. (In name only, so don’t take it personally if you’re a villain…)

Lastly, I can’t dedicate any book without thanking those who have served our Nation. Those who didn’t make it home—and those who came home injured or hurting inside. Without you, there is no freedom to write books about anything.

One

· · · · ·

Zeke & Noah

My big brother rocked back and forth in his new red sneakers beaming with the joy of great expectation. Could he run faster or jump higher with these new red shoes? He had closed the Velcro tops all by himself, as I had given up on re-teaching him how to tie his own shoes. The six-year-old trapped inside this six-foot-three, two-hundred and forty pound specimen of athleticism looked very happy indeed.

“Niiiiice…,” he said. With his hands hanging open at his sides, he began to shuffle back and forth like the boxer he used to be. He didn’t dare lift his hands up and make fists—I had to remind him of that all the time. “You’ll scare people,” I’d say.

I was always afraid that he might throw a punch and kill someone, and then he’d be taken away from me to some nut house to spend his days locked in a cell somewhere. He had learned over the four years since the injury that “hitting was bad”, and it was pretty rare that he rolled up his big paws into tight fists. He was the same rock of a man that could level a human being with one shot, but was now totally unaware of his own strength.

As I watched him shuffling in his new shoes, working his way around the invisible ring (and visible shoe store), my heart hurt me. Such a talent. Such a great guy. My big brother. Now a six year old.

“Niiiiiice…,” he repeated.

“Feels good?” I asked as I snapped back to the present.

“These are great. I like red,” he said with a huge smile. I wondered if he remembered always wearing red trunks and red tasseled high-tops in the ring.

“Okay, they’re yours,” I said. He was on me so fast I couldn’t get my hands up. He picked me up and twirled me around weightless, gave me a kiss on the cheek and said “Thank you!” so loud you’d have thought I gave him a three-week vacation to the islands. The other customers laughed and looked away, realizing Zeke wasn’t quite right. Oh yeah—“Zeke”. Ezekiel Gabriel Barnes, actually. Think our parents were a little religious? They hung Noah Moses Barnes on me. You believe that shit? Thank God there were only two of us. I can only imagine the parade of Old and New Testament images my parents would have conjured up. “Yeah, this is my bother Deuteronomy and my sister Bathsheba.” Hell, if they had known how big Zeke was going to be, they might have named him Goliath.

When Zeke finally put me down, we walked to the cashier, Zeke holding my hand and grinning from ear to ear as I paid for his sneakers. He wore them out, and I could tell it was taking every ounce of self-restraint not to start running around the mall jumping and running and stopping short to squeak his new sneaks.

When we got outside, the parking lot was still fairly quiet. I had taken him to the mall as soon as it opened to avoid the crowds. Zeke tended to get jittery around huge crowds. I guess the crowd noise reminded some part of his brain of that last night in the ring. It was loud that night—that’s for sure. Zeke’s title fight. Damn. Like a hundred years ago. I looked around, and seeing no cars coming in any direction, I dropped his hand and yelled “Race ya’!” as I took off for the car. We weren’t that far away, and I had a good jump on him. It didn’t matter. Zeke passed me like I was standing still and slapped his hand of the roof of my car while I was still thirty feet away.

“You cheated!” I yelled.

His face fell.

“You have new sneakers,” I said with a smile.

He slowly smiled. “Ohhh! You’re kidding me!” he yelled back as the light bulb went on his head. “I don’t cheat!”

I caught up to him and gave him a hug. “I know Zeke. You play fair and square.”

“Fair and square,” he said. His face turned very sad. “I hate cheaters,” he said.

I wondered how much he remembered sometimes. The guy he fought in the Heavyweight Title fight was a cheater. He had head-butted Zeke so many times they almost stopped the fight because of the bleeding over Zeke’s eye. The bastard was blatant about it, too—but we were fighting in Philly, his home crowd, and the ref acted like he didn’t see a thing. I can remember standing on my chair screaming obscenities at the ref and Zeke’s opponent, with the Philly fans behind me screaming at me to sit down.

I had been sitting in the third row, ringside. I heard the crack when Garcia used his forehead for the fourth time against Zeke’s brow, and then watched his overhand right bounce off of Zeke’s face. When Zeke went down, it was like watching a tree fall. He spun around in slow motion, and when the front of his head bounced off the edge of the canvass, the noise was so loud I thought he was dead.

Zeke laid there, out cold, with the ref holding up that dirt-bag’s hand while my brother’s brain bled inside his skull. I’m not sure how many punches I threw on the way to the ring. My friends who were sitting with me got caught in my wake, fighting with dozens of Philly fans who were happy to see their Home-Boy victorious, regardless of how he won. I stood ringside, face to face with my prone brother, watching blood trickle from his ear, nose and mouth, and wondered how bad it was.

Two

· · · · ·

When Zeke and I got home from the mall, Zeke took off his sneakers. This was after playing with the Velcro closure for five minutes listening to the noise it made as he ripped it open over and over. I swear, I never know what’s going through his head. When he was barefoot, he looked at me totally clear-headed and said, “I think I’ll work out for a while.” Then he headed downstairs to the basement where we had built a home gym.

It was gut wrenching to me when he sounded so normal. The way he said, “I think I’ll work out for a while,” sounded exactly like my big brother before the fight. Little flashes of the old Zeke. I had taken him to dozens of doctors. Brain specialists from a dozen hospitals and trauma centers had studied his scrambled head and gave me a menu of possibilities to choose from. The bottom line was, the human brain is pretty damned complicated, and no one had any real answer to give me about his future.

Trauma to the prefrontal cortex, (the front of his brain that had been head-butted several times) had caused bleeding. The bleeding caused pressure and damage to the temporal lobe, which was probably responsible for him losing twenty five years of maturity. The bleeding and swelling in his brain almost killed him, and they did brain surgery on him the night of the fight to save his life. When he woke up from a coma six days later, my big brother had become my little brother. It was a mind-bending change for me. Noah, “the little brother”, had become his brother’s keeper.

For years, when we were little, Zeke was always the one looking out for me. Being dragged to church every Sunday until our mom died had left some lasting impressions, not the least of which was my big brother, arms outstretched with great drama, constantly saying, “Am I not my brother’s keeper?” No one ever messed with Noah Moses Barnes, even if I did have the goofiest name in the neighborhood. Not as long as big Brother Zeke was around. That boy had some firepower.

I remember the first time we saw a boxing match together. It was a year after Mom died, and while she would never have allowed her sons to watch something as violent as professional boxing, my father didn’t see things the way she had. In his view, a man had to be able to take care of himself, just in case turning the other cheek didn’t work out the way it was supposed to. Besides that—he just loved the sport, and hadn’t been able to watch it in his own home with Mom around.

So anyway, Dad had packed up “his boys” and drove us down to Atlantic City for a road trip to see Iron Mike Tyson fight Larry Holmes. Zeke and I were the only little kids in the whole place, and it was thrilling to be in an auditorium filled with screaming adults. The place was electric that night, and we watched the under-card fights in total amazement. When the main event started, the place went nuts. The fight was over before the end of the first round. Another Tyson TKO. Zeke was hooked. That was in 1988.

With Mom gone, and Dad working so much, Zeke became my “parents” every day until Dad came home. He ran the house at ten years old, and I pretty much did whatever he said. Even though I was only six, and much smaller than him, Zeke never bullied me—never hit me—never did anything but take care of me. Sometimes, when I would cry about Mom in my room, he’d come find me and give me a hug and just stay there with me, quoting whatever scripture he could remember from church as he tried to console me. I couldn’t have asked for a better big brother.

After the Tyson fight, Zeke convinced our dad to let him join the Police Athletic League boxing program. I would go with him every day and sit and watch my big brother dance around the ring in headgear that looked as big as he was, throwing punches at other goofy little kids. He was my hero.

A funny thing happened over the next five years. Zeke grew. I mean, he really grew. He went from being a scrawny little ten year old, to a huge fifteen year old that didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. And while being in the PAL gym every day convinced my brother he was going to be a professional prize fighter, it convinced me I was going to become a cop. All the coaches and volunteers in the gym were cops, and they were a great bunch of guys. As I’d listen to them motivate Zeke and the other kids, I just knew I wanted to be like them when I grew up.

As the years went on, “The Boys”, as the three of us became known, lived a very happy life together. Zeke trained every day, and I was always nearby, some days even doing my homework in the gym while he knocked the stuffing out of other kids’ headgear. Eventually, the PAL coaches recognized that Zeke was the real deal, and convinced dad to let Zeke pursue “the next level” in his sport. From the time Zeke was sixteen until he was nineteen, we traveled all over the eastern seaboard watching Zeke take apart every kid that got in the ring with him. At nineteen, he was signed by Joe Varoff—one of the biggest trainers in the boxing world—and went pro. From the day he turned pro until the day he was almost killed in the ring, Zeke never lost one fight. At 29-0, he was destined to become a Heavyweight Champion—I was sure of it.

The clanging of the weights downstairs snapped me back to the present, and I walked down to the basement to check on Big Brother.

Three

· · · · ·

I walked down the steps and entered the basement, now turned gymnasium.

“Holy shit, Zeke!” I screamed as I saw him bench pressing what had to be over three-hundred pounds. I ran over and got behind him in the spotter’s position. He was already on his tenth rep and still going strong. When he hit twelve, he put it back on the bar of the bench and exhaled slowly.

“Zeke! When you go heavy—you have to let me spot you! You can’t lift heavy by yourself.” I was shaking my head. “How many did you do?”

“Five sets of twelve,” he said quietly. Then added, “Sorry, Noah,” as he sat up.

I smacked his shoulder, which was like hitting concrete. “It’s okay, Zeke—I didn’t mean to yell. You just have to be careful. What if you dropped this on yourself?”

He laughed so loud it made me smile. After belly laughing like a little kid he looked at me with smiling eyes and said, “That’s not heavy! I didn’t even put all the plates on!”

I looked around the bench at the other large plates. I wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not. “Zeke. Do you ever put all the plates on?”

“Of course! I’m gonna’ be strong!” he said.

I shook my head at him. Sometimes it was like talking to a six year old, sometimes he was the old Zeke. I did a quick count of all the plates on the floor. It was a little over four hundred pounds.

“Zeke—you seriously can lift all the plates?”

“How many times can you do it?” he asked, looking very serious.

“None. No way. When did you lift all the plates?”

“Twice a week, three sets of five. They’re heavy.”

“Zeke. From now on, when you lift heavy, you have to tell me, okay? I want to be here and spot your lifts, okay?” Who was I kidding? If he couldn’t press four hundred pounds on the bench, I sure as hell wasn’t going to curl it.

“Wanna’ go for a run?” he asked. I remembered his new sneakers.

“Gotta’ try ‘em out, huh?”

He beamed at me, nodding.

“Okay, let’s go—but a short one this time, okay? I think you’re trying to kill me.”

We changed into sweats, stretched, and started a five mile run. Our five mile runs were actually Zeke jogging, and me sprinting to catch him while trying not to have a heart attack. Whenever we went running, we’d talk about anything that popped into Zeke’s head. He didn’t realize how hard it was for me to carry on a conversation with him while I ran—I could barely breathe. But for Zeke, he’d run like he was sitting on the couch. As usual, his first question came from left field.

“Was I mad before the accident?” The “accident” was how I had described to him what had happened in the ring. He had no recollection of the fight, and very little of his boxing career.

“Mad at what?” I said, panting.

“I don’t know. I got in a big fight. Everybody was punching really hard. Hitting is bad. You shouldn’t hit anyone.”

I realized he must have been having bad dreams again. Some mornings he woke up feeling scared, after nightmares of ugly fights. For folks who don’t think boxing is a violent sport—stand in the ring for three minutes and catch a few of those heavyweight punches. Padded gloves or not—the punches hurt, big time.

“You weren’t mad, Zeke. You used to be a boxer, remember? We talked about it a million times.”

“Yeah, a boxer—like Iron Mike,” he said with a far-away smile. I knew instantly he was picturing the fight in Atlantic City. I could close my eyes and see it myself. I knew damn well he could, too.

“Yeah, like Iron Mike,” I said. “Only better.”

“I used to be a boxer,” he told me, like I didn’t know a thing about it.

“Yeah, I used to watch you, Zeke. You remember the fights? Remember how Uncle George used to coach you when you were really little?” George Bauman had been his PAL boxing coach, and would turn into my mentor and closest friend. Somewhere along the line, he had become Uncle George. “How about Joey? You remember Joey Varoff?”

“Coach Joey,” he repeated to himself. “Yeah, he was nice.” He stopped running, just like that, and I stopped short.

“What is it, Zeke?”

“Uncle George!” he said loudly with a big grin. “We should go visit him!”

I smiled and then rested my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath. He wasn’t even sweating yet—how could we be related? “That’s a great idea, Zeke. He really loves you. He knew you’d be a great boxer. Then Joey signed you as a professional—you remember?”

As kids, Zeke had known he wanted to be a boxer. He dedicated his entire life to it. Well, that and taking care of his little brother—me. Dad passed away when I was a junior in high school. Zeke had already been a pro for two years by then, so at least Dad got to watch him win a few fights. Anyway, the boxing coaches, especially Lieutenant George Bauman, had been very influential on us. It was Uncle George that guided me along to becoming a cop myself. His wife, Beth, would occasionally cook up a storm for us.

Zeke screwed up his face and looked up at nowhere. “I forget which is which…” he said quietly, his voice trailing off. Then a big goofy grin. “Nooo….” He said slowly. “That was Daddy!” He was picturing faces, and getting confused again. I felt another piece of my heart break. God, it killed me to see little flashes in his brain, and then watch them fizzle out. Zeke was in there somewhere, I knew it.

“Come on, Big Guy—let’s finish our run and get home.”

We started up again, Zeke’s big toothy grin across his face the whole time. What he was thinking about, I have no idea—but at least he looked happy. I was ready to cry.

Four

· · · · ·

At dinner that night, Zeke’s brain was so busy firing questions at me, I decided to call his primary doctor and see about scheduling another brain scan or MRI or something. It seemed to me that something was happening inside his head, and I was dying to know it if it was a sign that he was improving. The last time I was at the doc’s he took a look at Zeke’s physique and warned me that all that straining wasn’t necessarily a good idea for his brain. The doc had warned about the possibility of an embolism due to all the surgeries and damage to many of the blood vessels in his head. I had shrugged and told the doc it was what kept him happy. Some part of his brain remembered all the training and it kept him busy and content—what was I supposed to have him do—watch cartoons all day?

I heard the answering machine go off in my office three times during dinner. Business hadn’t been that great, and I was tempted to run in and answer the phone, but dinner time was always when Zeke seemed the most focused, and I never did anything to take away from those conversations. Every conversation kept a little flicker of hope alive inside me that one day the old Zeke would return.

I had six years in on the force when Zeke got hurt. I had just made Detective Sergeant, too, and was loving life. I took a leave for three months when Zeke was in and out of the hospital, but eventually had to resign from the force. There was no way I could keep that schedule and take care of Zeke. Uncle George, by then Captain George, had offered to get me out of the detective bureau and get me back in patrol where I’d have a three-on, four-off schedule. I thought about that for a while, but it didn’t work. I needed more flexibility than any regular job would offer. Back then, Zeke was in worse shape and needed me around almost all the time.

Not knowing what else to do, I got a private detective’s license. I opened my own little office with a staff of one and a half. I was the one. Zeke was the half. He’d come with me whenever there might be an “issue” with someone. He would stand back behind me, never saying one word, while I took care of business. Deadbeat dads, stalkers and general trouble-makers would take one look at Zeke standing behind me like my guard dog, and immediately heed my words. My firm slowly earned a reputation as “The PI guys that quietly take care of business”. A part of me questioned the wisdom of bringing Zeke along because I had “retrained” him never to make a fist or hit anyone. He had no idea that he was standing behind me in a dangerous situation, and I felt bad about putting him in that position. But, the truth is, he was extremely effective as “The Intimidator”—as long as he had the mirrored sunglasses on so you couldn’t see his smiling eyes.

My “system” had worked thus far, and like Dad used to say, “If it ain’t broke—don’t fix it.” So, this was my life. Taking care of Zeke, trying to get through to the part of his brain that was still working, and running a half-assed “Detective Agency-slash-Private Investigator business-slash-Muscle for the Little Guy Office”. We had yet to have any “huge cases”—our business having been slowly developing from word of mouth advertising amongst the abused women in the city. While the cops (my old co-workers) were ineffective in handling “Intimidating Exes” due to legal constraints, one or two visits from me and Zeke, and the problem ex-boyfriend or ex-husband usually went away. Bullying boyfriends knew the cops couldn’t touch them. When they looked at Zeke and me, they weren’t so sure.

I had done insurance investigations—boring as hell, tracked down a few missing kids and spouses—slightly more entertaining, and spied on cheating spouses—so far the most entertaining of all. But I still hadn’t done any real detective work. It wasn’t even about the money, it was about using my detective skills. I had actually learned some things in my years on the police force, and scaring deadbeats and stalkers wasn’t what I had been trained to do. I had been hoping for “the big case” since I had opened the agency three years ago. Be careful what you wish for.

Five

· · · · ·

Meadow Junction, Eastern Pennsylvania

Dr. Anne Lynch sat on the grass next to her dead cow and cried. It was the ninth cow of hers to die in eight months and no one would listen to her about why. She had called every state agency she could think of and personally delivered blood samples to labs, universities, the Department of Environmental Protection, and a few friends back at Veterinary School. The results ranged from Bovine Leukemia Virus (BLV) to cancer, depending on the animal and which lab did the work. The Food Safety and Inspection Service from the USDA had showed up on her farm and closed her down—deemed her milk and the entire herd ‘quarantined”, told her she had a sick herd, and left. Never mind she told them she was a veterinarian—they had their own methods and weren’t interested in her explanations.

When she called Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service and asked for an inspection, she was told they were aware of her case through the FSIS, and because it wasn’t a national security issue, they wouldn’t see her. When she told them her own theory of what was happening, they hung up on her.

When Anne was finished with her crying—not the first time this week—she wiped her nose and eyes with her shirt sleeve and stood up over the large dead cow. It was a cool October day, so at least she didn’t have the flies to contend with. Because it was a Sunday, her foreman Thom was off. She would have to deal with the cow by herself. It was a long walk back to the barn, where she hopped up on a tractor and headed back to the carcass.

Anne’s ranch was an organic dairy farm. She used no pesticides in her fields, no hormones or steroids on her cows, and tried her best to run the farm the way her great grandfather had almost a hundred and fifty years before her. To see her cows dying of chemical poisoning was nothing short of cruel to an organic farmer. She was the type of doctor that didn’t rush to use antibiotics, for herself or her animals, and still followed the herbal remedies of her agrarian ancestors. To watch her animals, which had been so vigorous and healthy, develop a litany of symptoms that made even Anne, a seasoned veterinarian, cringe was unbearable. She questioned her decision to keep the farm, but damn it, it was her family’s land since practically the first settlers moved out this way.

As she pulled up alongside the dead animal, she felt her face flush in the cold autumn air. She was beyond sad now—she was furious. No one would believe her, but she’d prove it. She’d prove it to the whole world if she had to. This wasn’t going to be swept under the rug. Anne hopped down off the tractor and grabbed heavy steel chains from the rear equipment box. She could have just as easily buried it where it lay, but she wanted to conduct a full autopsy first. She would document everything—again, and find someone to listen to her.

Kneeling beside her animal, she wrapped the chains around the cow’s legs. As she worked, she felt the subsonic thud in the ground beneath her knees and cursed out loud. Those occasional ground quakes were faint and very infrequent, but this one seemed like it was planned for this exact moment just to rub salt in her wound. Although she couldn’t see the fracing facility off to the east, she knew the direction of their wells and cursed them out loud as she drove.

“I’m coming to get you, you bastards—you wait,” she spat between clenched teeth as she hooked the chains together. She hopped up on her tractor and slowly pulled twelve hundred pounds of worthless beef behind her. As Anne drove back to the barn, her animal plowing up dirt behind her, she thought back a couple of years. The oil and natural gas company had come to her first. They wanted to buy her land. She said no. They wanted permission to drill on part of her land. She said no again. They increased their offer two more times. It wasn’t for sale.

The Sullivans, her neighbors to the east, weren’t as emotionally tied to the land. When Globalvision Energy offered them four times the value of their land, they jumped on it. Four months later, their four-hundred acre spread went from dairy farm to fracing facility. Anne shook her head in anger as she thought about it. Before Globalvision showed up, she didn’t even know what fracing was. The events she witnessed after the neighbor’s farm turned into a drilling operation prompted her to do some research.

The part of eastern Pennsylvania where her farm was located was a fertile land of rolling hills and wooded uplands. The soil was excellent for growing and grazing. It also sat on a rock formation a mile and half below the earth which was the ceiling for an extremely large deposit of natural gas. The impervious rock strata sealed the gas almost eight thousand feet below where her animals grazed. To get to the natural gas, and more importantly, to get it out, required a drilling process known as “fracing”. To be able to extract the gas, the energy companies would drill extremely deep wells, and pump millions of gallons of brine water at very high pressure into the ground. Along with the water, they would sometimes add a secret concoction of chemicals. As the increasing water pressure breaks apart the rock formations deep beneath the ground, the chemicals (benzene, among others) are forced into the cracks along with a “proppant” like sand or ceramic grains, which help keep the fissures propped open. By breaking open the rocks, and then keeping them open, the natural gas can make its way through the long fissures back to the drilled well where it can reach the surface to be collected.

While this was more technical information than Anne wanted when she started her research, it did send off lots of alarms in her head. How could a company drill a hole a mile below the water table where her own drinking wells were located, pump millions of gallons of chemicals and tainted water into the ground, and not think it would affect her water? Her conclusion was simple: they did think it would contaminate the water table—they just didn’t care.

Further research online, and then her own experiences dealing with government agencies only reinforced her own conspiracy theories. How was it possible that the Safe Drinking Water Act contained an exemption for fracing? The EPA would normally be the agency responsible for such oversight and regulation, but the oil industry lobbyists made sure that wouldn’t happen. The fact that the Vice-President of the United States had ties with a multi-billion dollar company that regularly uses fracing with its mining operations might have had something to do with it. In any event, the mining companies were made exempt and were not required to disclose any of their “proprietary chemicals” used in the process, and were allowed to “safely dispose of any tainted water” using their own various methods, which were seldom if ever inspected.

With every low rumble under land, Anne grew more concerned about what was happening just across the fence line.

· · · · ·

Anne woke up to her phone ringing. She was a bit disoriented at first, coming from a deep sleep. She looked around the room, surprised to find it brightly lit—it was late—maybe eight in the morning—late for a dairy farmer. She grumbled a “hello”.

“Dr. Lynch? You okay?” asked Thomas, her foreman of twenty years.

She glanced at her watch. “Oh shit, I overslept. Give me ten minutes.” She sat up and rubbed her face. She was exhausted after having been up all night autopsying her cow. It was filled with tumors and cancerous growths—a cow that had been healthy since birth, and had come from excellent stock. She had bagged and tagged numerous samples and put them in the deep freezer. Somewhere out there, someone would listen to her.

Anne had thoroughly showered before bed, so she just washed her face, brushed her teeth and pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail. She had hair women paid thousands of dollars for—for free, and rarely did anything more than pull it back in a ponytail. Her deceased husband had told her that he married her for her hair. When he died of an undiagnosed heart condition five years earlier, she had put a lock of it in his coffin.

Anne went out to the kitchen where her automatic coffeemaker sat with a full pot of cold coffee. It had gone off at five thirty the way it always did. She said “screw it” and poured a big travel mug, which she would be bringing with her when she headed out to the barn where Thomas would be working with his crew. Her farm employed between six and twenty-five employees, depending on what needed to be done. Thomas managed her permanent crew of six and sub-contracted the others, who rotated around the area’s other organic farms. There was always plenty of work in the general area.

Cody sat up and whined as Anne finished pouring her coffee. Her English Shepherd, sixty pounds of never-ending energy and love, stared at her and wrinkled his head.

“Hey baby—Mommy’s being lazy. Need to go out?”

The black and tan dog stood up and trotted quickly to the kitchen door, which she opened for him. He took off for his morning moment of privacy, which was several hours overdue. Cody was her favorite, and lived in the house with her. The two other English Shepherds stayed in the barn with the cows. They were as loyal to the cows as Cody was to her, even though they would herd and move the cows along as needed. While they would boss the cows around during the day, they were faithful watchdogs over them at night. No threatening animal was entering the barn without permission. Besides Thomas—Cody, Max and Bear were her best employees.

Anne stepped out into the bright sunshine and walked out to the cow barn where she knew she’d find Thom. Cody ran up behind her and followed her out, happily trotting in the autumn air. Anne entered the cow barn and found Thom by himself, getting ready to lead the cows out of the milking parlor.

“Where is everyone?” asked Anne.

“I have them out doing other work. No sense paying them for milk we’re going to dump.”

Anne shook her head in disgust. Another few weeks of this, and she’d be in serious financial trouble. She saw Thom’s questioning look.

“I know, I know. I’m making some calls today.”

“You been making calls for months. The inspector doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the poison they’re pumping up next door. We’ll all be long dead before anyone checks up on them oilmen.”

“Gas. Natural gas,” she said, almost to herself.

“Oil, gas—whatever the hell it is. Either way, they’re killing your farm. And we’re both gonna’ be out of work soon if something doesn’t change real quick.”

Anne sighed. “I had another one drop yesterday. I autopsied her last night. That’s why I overslept—I was up late. That cow was healthy as hell her last physical. When I opened her up last night, she was the sickest animal I’ve ever seen. Tumors like baseballs. It was horrifying.”

Thom shook his head. “Whatcha’ gonna’ do?” he asked, rubbing his grey beard. “A hundred years ago, your grandpa woulda’ rode over and hung them bastards. A little more complicated these days.”

“I told you, I’m going to make some more calls. Pump and dump,” she said sadly.

Thom walked to the cow door in long lean strides and opened it, and Bear and Max gave a few quiet barks at the heels of the cows to get them motivated to walk back to the pasture. A few months ago, the milk would have been sent to large refrigerator tanks before being transported to tanker trucks, where it would fetch a premium as “organic” milk. Today, it would be dumped into a fallow field.

Six

· · · · ·

Anne had been trying for months to make her case to “someone important.” Every government agency she spoke with said that fracing was an accepted practice, and unless she had absolute proof of violations and chemical contaminations, there was nothing they could do about it. It was a permitted use of the property. One obnoxious state worker went so far as to say, “It’s just another case of N.I.M.B.Y.—‘not in my back yard.’”

“Yeah? You want to come over and drink my free milk? It came from my cow right before she died from leukemia, eye cancer, bone cancer, and God knows what else. Come on! I’ll make you a big fat milkshake!” she screamed. The woman hung up on her.

Anne drank cold coffee at her kitchen table, Cody’s head resting on her knee waiting for a rub. She remembered consoling an old friend who lived in New Jersey and had gone through a bitter divorce. So, when it was Anne’s turn to vent about her problems, the friend had told her about a Private Investigator she had used to get rid of her threatening ex-husband. Maybe he could help, she offered, and gave Anne his business card. Anne had kept the number. Now, there was no one else left to call. She trusted no one in her county—maybe not in her whole state. Maybe going out of state to a stranger was her best move.

Anne picked up the phone and looked at the card. She found herself smiling and shaking her head at the name. She wasn’t particularly religious. The card read: Noah Moses Barnes, Private Investigator. She hoped he wasn’t some kook. With a deep breath, she dialed.

· · · · ·

I was reading some material for one of my cases while Zeke worked out downstairs. My phone interrupted my chain of thought.

“Barnes Agency, Noah speaking,” I said.

“Hello Mr. Barnes. I was referred by a friend. She said you might be able to help me, although quite honestly, I’m not sure how.”

“Well, since you are a friend of a friend, call me Noah. I’ll help if I can. What seems to be the problem?”

“It’s quite a long story, I’m afraid. I’m not sure if you even do this kind of thing. My friend Wanda told me about you—her problem was with an ex-husband. Mine is not so simple.”

I remembered Wanda and her psycho-ex-husband. Wanda—an uncommon name, and her husband was a particularly nasty prick. I had showed up with Zeke at his house and had actually given Zeke a baseball bat. I told him to hold it for me because we might have time to play later. When that idiot saw Zeke holding what looked like a toothpick in his massive paws, he turned white. Our conversation was short and not-so-sweet, and he never contacted Wanda again.

“Matrimonial?” I asked. Divorced women seemed to know lots of other divorced women in the I Hate Men Club.

“No—like I said, this is way more complicated.”

I chuckled. “I don’t know—matrimonial can get pretty darned complicated. But in any event, give me the Reader’s Digest version.”

“I need to see you in person to do that. I live in Pennsylvania. Maybe we could meet halfway?”

I made a face. I hated long distance cases. Zeke didn’t always love driving or sitting still for long periods of time. “Where in Pennsy? I don’t usually take cases out of New Jersey.” The truth was, I did have my licensing for most of the northeastern states.

“Meadow Junction, eastern Pennsylvania. I know roughly where you are. Probably about an hour away. I’m in farm country.”

Well, at least the drive would be pretty. The leaves were in full autumn color. What the heck—I’d buy Zeke a pumpkin or something. I decided to take the drive all the way out to her place. I had no idea it would be my first “real case” since leaving the force.

Seven

· · · · ·

6 A.M. Barnes Residence

“Come on, Zeke,” I said, pushing on his massive shoulders. Damn that boy was big. “Wake up!”

He opened his eyes and smiled ear to ear. “Hey, Noah! I was talking to Uncle Joey!”

I felt a pang in my heart again. My heart broke pretty much every time Zeke said anything. “Yeah? What did he say?”

He sat up in bed and his face screwed up as he scanned the ceiling to remember his conversation. “I was going to be the Heavyweight Champion of the whole world,” he said very quietly. He seemed to be in awe of the news.

That made me smile. It was a real conversation about boxing. He remembered something. “That’s right, Zeke! You were going to be a champion! What else did he say?”

“Watch his right. Watch his right.” He nodded a few times. “Watch his right.”

I could see Garcia’s right hook hitting Zeke’s bloody face in between head-butts. “Yeah,” I whispered. “What else?”

“Body. Go to the body…” He paused and looked hard into my eyes, and then his voice came out like my big brother Zeke. “Garcia.”

“That’s right. Garcia. He was the guy you were fighting. What else, Zeke?”

The intense eyes faded and his face softened. “Can we have waffles?”

· · · · ·

After breakfast and showers, Zeke and I dressed and headed out to my truck. I had a black SUV. I’m not exactly sure why, other than the fact that the Secret Service, FBI and CIA used them, and I thought it went with my line of work. It also had cup holders, and the importance of coffee cannot be overstated.

I plugged the address into my GPS and took a quick look. Holy crap. This lady’s home address was in the middle of nowhere. I should have taken her offer and met her halfway, but I always liked to see a person’s house. Their environment tended to give me clues about them that sometimes came in handy during investigative work. The drive out was actually very enjoyable. Once we were off the highway and into farm country, the fields and pasturelands, separated by ancient tree lines and stone knee-walls, rolled off all the way to the horizon. Occasional barns and farmhouses, which had probably stood for a hundred years or more, dotted the landscape like paintings of colonial America. Zeke was content to watch the cows and horses.

As she had guessed, the ride to her place was a little over an hour long. The only clue we were in the right place was a small sign hanging below a white metal mailbox that read “Lynch Organic Dairy Farm”. That, and a large posted sign that read: LIVESTOCK QUARANTINE – USDA.

We turned up the gravel lane that wound up gentle hills, leading towards a fairly large dairy farm. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t such a large-scale, professional-looking dairy farm. There was plenty of activity, with tractors and farmhands engaged in their daily routines. I drove all the way to the center of the activity, and stopped the car between several very large barns, a farmhouse, silo, and a series of fences. Two animated dogs announced my arrival.

I stepped out of the car, and as I did so, the door of the farmhouse opened. A beautiful woman stepped out with yet another dog. She waved and walked towards me. Her dog followed silently, while the other two continued to run around yapping their heads off. Zeke followed me towards her, but was more interested in the dogs than our new client.

“Dr. Livingston, I presume?” I said with a smile, extending my hand.

“Lynch, actually,” she said, my bad joke lost on her.

I informed her that I was trying to be funny. “This is my brother Zeke,” I said, and Zeke smiled and extended his hand, gingerly shaking her tiny hand in his. At times like these, Zeke’s mental capacity wasn’t obvious. He played “the strong silent type” very well, as long as he didn’t have too goofy of a smile going.

The two more animated of the dogs sniffed around Zeke’s ankles, and he squatted down and rubbed their heads. The dogs were instantly won over in Zeke’s giant hands. Dr. Lynch smiled as she watched him rub their shaggy ears. “Looks like you have friends for life,” she said with a tired smile.

“I love dogs,” said Zeke, almost to himself. He leaned forward and one of them licked his face. I figured the dog had probably been eating a bone covered in cow shit five minutes ago and made a face.

“Care to come into the house?” asked Dr. Lynch. “I made coffee.”

The magic word: coffee.

“Can I look at the animals?” asked Zeke.

Dr. Lynch was about to get into a more detailed discussion about the animals and her reasons for wanting us there, but I stopped her mid-sentence. “Zeke just wants to walk around the farm a little. We can go get into details inside while he goes for a walk, if it’s okay.” I figured I’d tell her about his injury later if I needed to.

I followed Dr. Lynch into her home, and Zeke and his two new best friends walked out towards the cow barn and pastures to look at the farm animals. The third dog, Dr. Lynch informed me was Cody, and he never left her side. We sat at a beautiful wooden table that seemed to go with the house. I was figuring if I cut the table in half and counted the rings, it would be a hundred years old or something.

“So, Dr. Lynch—how can I help you? You said it wasn’t matrimonial, so what do ya’ got—cattle rustlers?”

She was either a tough audience, or I was oh-for-two in the jokes department this morning.

“Well, they aren’t stealing my cows, but they are killing them,” she said quietly as she poured two large mugs of coffee. It smelled so good I wanted to close my eyes and moan. But I never do that on the first date.

“Who is?” I asked. And then she gave me her very long detailed story about what was happening on her farm. I listened for almost thirty minutes with barely a comment. It was quite a story. If nothing else, it was the most interesting tale I had ever heard as an investigator.

According to Anne, the gas drilling company next door had poisoned the water supply. She explained what hydraulic fracturing, or “fracing”, was to me, and how the companies were exempt from government intervention into the chemicals they used. Apparently, they forced millions of gallons of contaminated water into the ground to force up natural gas or oil. Her theory was that the contaminated water had gotten into her pond water.

Lactating cows consume almost forty gallons of water per cow per day, which means almost four thousand gallons of water was being consumed from her pond every day. Milk is about 87% water, which means high quality water is critical for good milk. When her pond first started getting contaminated, the cows started drinking less water—maybe they tasted something they didn’t like. Milk production went down, and the cows slowly began getting sick. It took a few months before any of the cows actually died, which prompted Anne to do an autopsy, which according to her, was something out of a horror movie. While Anne had switched herself and her dogs to bottled water, four thousand gallons a day for her cows just wasn’t going to happen.

After listening to her story, I asked the obvious question. “So why don’t you just take a water sample from your pond, and prove that the guys next door contaminated your water?”

She crossed her arms and cocked her head at me. Apparently, I had insulted her—like she hadn’t already thought of that.

“I did take samples. I took water samples, blood samples from the cows, tumor samples—you name it. I tried showing it to anyone who would listen. The problem is, I can’t match the chemicals to their chemicals because they won’t disclose what they use, and the government won’t force them to tell anyone what’s in their secret formula. I read way more about fracing than I ever wanted to know, and the bottom line is, the lobbyists in Washington have given these companies carte blanche to do whatever they want. They say their secret formulas are proprietary, and it would be like asking Coca-Cola to disclose what they use in their drink mix.”

“What about the DEP or something? I mean, somebody must be in charge of protecting the water supply…”

“I contacted them. I contacted everyone. No one gives a shit—pardon my French.”

“It’s okay, I don’t speak French. So what exactly would you want me to do?” I asked.

“I have no idea. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you drive all the way out here. I’m just at my wits end. I’m going to lose this farm. It’s been in my family for generations, and I’m going to be the one that blows it.” She shook head, put her elbows on the table, and laid her face in her hands. She was trying to hide her tears.

“Okay—listen. Hang on. Let’s think a second. Have you gone next door and spoken to the drillers?”

She looked up with watery eyes like she was going to punch me. “I’ll take that for a ‘yes’. What did they say?”

She wiped her face. “They said they would double check everything to ensure there was no contamination. I went back a few days later and the site manager told me everything was clean. They were 8,000 feet deep and couldn’t possible affect my water. The waste pond they have on site was contained as well.”

I ran that through my brain a second time. “A waste pond? How’s that work?”

“All of these drillers have a pond on site. They use a liner to prevent leaks back into the groundwater—supposedly. But who knows. They eventually pump it dry and dispose of the contaminated water elsewhere.”

“Okay, so if you got a water sample from their pond, and matched it to the contaminants in your pond, you could prove that it was their chemicals, right?”

She gave me a blank look. Aha! She hadn’t thought of that yet—so I wasn’t totally useless after all.

“Yeah,” she said slowly, “But they’d never give us a sample from their pond.”

“Did you ask?”

“No, but…”

I shrugged at her. “Can’t hurt to ask, right?”

“Well, the last time I was there, the guy was pretty emphatic about me not bothering them anymore.”

“He told you that you weren’t allowed on his property?”

“Not in so many words—but he was pretty rude.”

“Let’s see how rude he is when you go back with Zeke and me. Want to go for a ride?”

“That mean you’re taking the case? I didn’t even ask what you charge. Things are pretty bad right now. I have zero money coming in…”

“Tell ya’ what,” I said, admiring her long blond hair and beautiful face, “Today is on me. They give you a water sample and it proves anything, maybe you win a boatload of money in court, and you throw me a few bucks—sound fair?”

“Deal,” she said, showing her first smile of the morning since we arrived. She was gorgeous. And I’m a sucker. No one else in the short history of my company had ever gotten a “freebie”.

We walked outside and spotted Zeke sitting in the grass with two dogs lying across his lap getting belly rubs. He looked as happy as the two dogs. He also had a fairly goofy expression on his face.

“Oh,” I said, sort of nonchalantly, “Zeke had a head injury a few years back. He’s a little slow now.”

She looked surprised, but just nodded and said, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear it.”

Eight

· · · · ·

Anne took us over to the next farm where the fracing facility was located. She drove her pickup truck, a big Ford F-150, with Zeke sitting in the back seat with Cody. Evidently, my brother and dogs were like Tarzan and the apes or something. I think he spoke their language. Cody, who, according to Anne, didn’t go to anyone other than her, was sitting on Zeke’s lap getting his ears rubbed. At sixty pounds, Cody wasn’t exactly a lap dog, but Zeke was so big, Cody looked like a puppy on his lap. English Shepherds are working dogs, not typical family pets, but the black and tan shaggy pile of fur on Zeke’s lap sure looked comfortable. My brother, The Dog Whisperer…

The ride over took ten minutes, even though it was the neighboring farm. Both farms were hundreds of acres in size. All of the dairy farms in the area looked similar. The area probably looked exactly the same a hundred years ago. It was hilly terrain, and with the leaves changing color, it couldn’t have been any more beautiful. Hard to imagine a setting so picturesque could be hiding something toxic.

When we arrived at the entry road for the next farm, there was a metal gate across the way.

“This is something new,” Anne said.

She hopped out of the truck and walked over to see if she could open it, but it was chained and padlocked. She looked back at me in the truck, and I hopped out. Anne commanded Cody to stay, and Zeke got out of the back and said, “Good puppy.” The dog whined and paced back and forth, not looking very happy to be left by himself.

“Looks like we go for a walk,” said Anne. She wasn’t kidding either, the road from the entrance to the drilling area was over a mile. We walked and chatted a bit, but were interrupted by a funny thud.

“What the heck was that?” I asked.

Anne nodded and made a face. “An earthquake. No kidding. They break up the rocks a mile and a half down, and every now and then, it makes those noises.”

Interesting.

Our walk continued, Zeke commenting only about twenty times how smart and cute and great Cody was. Anne smiled as she listened to him. He was like a big excited kid, and his smile was contagious. She didn’t know the old Zeke, so for her, his demeanor was heartwarming. As we reached the top of a small hill, we could see out over most of the farm. The area where the drilling was going on was quite a busy place. Dozens of large trucks were parked side by side, with trailers and large containers by the dozens. Anne explained as we walked—the woman had done her homework.

“Okay, real quick—that’s the wellhead in the middle. The wellhead’s the actual drill. Those big trucks parked nearby are frac pumps. They’re the machines that force the water and chemicals into the ground. That tanker over there is filled with whatever poison they use to break up the rocks, but don’t worry, it’s totally safe to drink. The containers on the side are probably filled with sand or whatever proppant they use to force down into the cracks. Once they hit the gas, they’ll have tankers in and out of here all day long to transport it.”

I could hear her anger build as she spoke. I pointed to a large pond in the distance. “That’s their water storage area, I take it?”

“Yeah. I’m sure that’s totally safe to drink, too,” she added.

We continued walking towards where the work was going on, when a small green vehicle, slightly bigger than a golf cart, drove over to us.

“Head Asshole,” said Anne quietly.

The vehicle stopped in front of us and man of about fifty or so stood up out of his cart. He eyed us up and down and gave Anne a very fake smile.

“Hello, Dr. Lynch. What brings you out here today?”

“Same thing that brought me out here the last two times, Mr. Taylor,” said Anne sharply.

The man looked at me and Zeke. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I’m Frank Taylor, site manager.”

I shook his hand and introduced myself and Zeke.

“How can I help you?” he asked.

“Well, as you’re aware, Dr. Lynch has been having a problem with her water.” I watched his face tighten. “I’d like permission to take some water samples from your pond to rule out this drilling operation as the cause.”

He gave me another fake smile. I didn’t even know him and I wanted to hit him. “Welllllll,” he said, in some quasi-Texas drawl, like he was an oilman or something, “I can’t have civilians in the drilling area for obvious safety and insurance reasons. But I’ll tell ya’ what—the very first chance I get, I’ll have a sample dropped off at your place, sound fair?”

I really didn’t like this guy that I had known for about ninety seconds. “How about we wait right here and save you a trip?” I asked, showing my own really fake smile. Zeke was smiling, too—except his was genuine. Everyone looked happy to him, why not join in on the great time?

“Wellllll,” he said again, “I can’t oblige you right this second. I’ll need to get clearance from the home office first. Just a technical thing, really—and I’m sure they’ll be happy to release a sample for you.” He pulled out his business card. “My cell number is on there. In the future, I’d appreciate it if you’d call first next time and schedule an appointment. Insurance companies are a pain in the ass, you know—we can’t have folks walking around the drilling area. I’m sure you understand.”

Anne couldn’t help herself. “Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t want any civilians in the area, Mr. Taylor. What, with all the poisonous chemicals and all…”

He dropped his fake smile. “Dr. Lynch, as I understand it, you were offered a very large sum of money for your property. You turned it down. Now, I understand you’d prefer cows as neighbors, but the fact remains that we have the right to drill here. I hate to be rude, but you’re in a hardhat area. If you like, you can hop on the back and I’ll give you a lift back to your car.”

“Where’s your hardhat?” asked Anne with venom in her voice.

He gave her a nasty look, then looked back to me. “I’ll try and get you a water sample to allay your worries. In the meantime, if you need something, you call that number. So—you want a lift back?”

“No, thanks,” said Anne. “I know the way.”

I wouldn’t have taken his offer, either—slimeball. We walked back quietly the way we had come. I didn’t turn around, but I could feel his eyes on my back, and picture his face and crossed arms as he sat in his cart watching us walk away. I hadn’t been that turned off by a human being in quite a while. My cop sixth-sense hadn’t failed me yet—that guy was just plain old wrong.

When we got back to the truck, Cody and Zeke were very happy to see each other. Anne shook her head and leaned over to me. “I hate to admit it, but I’m a little jealous of how much Cody likes your brother.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll wag my tail for you,” I said, sounding very unprofessional. Oops.

“And I suppose you’d want me to rub your belly?” she asked with a sexy smile. “Wait—don’t answer that!” she added. We both chuckled, and I sensed that she was used to men drooling all over her, so I decided not to make an idiot out of myself.

We hopped up into the truck, with Cody resuming his spot on Zeke’s lap.

“Well, that went quite well, don’tcha think?” I asked her sarcastically.

“That guy is a fucking liar,” she said, sounding genuinely angry. She put her hand up over her mouth. “Sorry—that French problem again. I work with foul-mouthed men all day long.”

“It’s okay. I told you—I don’t speak French so I’m not offended. Was it something dirty?”

“He’s never going to bring me a sample,” she said quietly.

“We’ll see.”

· · · · ·

On the way back to her farm, Anne asked me what the next step was.

“Depends on what happens next, I guess. If they give us a sample, we have it tested and see what’s what.”

She shook her head. “Do you really think they’re going to give us a sample of contaminated water from that pond so we can prove they are killing my cows?”

“Nope.”

“So why are we wasting time?”

“Patience, Grasshopper,” I said. She obviously hadn’t watched Kung-Fu as a kid, and my brilliant response was wasted on her. “If they don’t give us one, we’ll get one ourselves.”

I saw her expression soften into a slightly evil smile, which was actually quite delicious on her face. “And how will we do that?”

“We won’t—I will. It’s called criminal trespass, and it will be better if you aren’t involved. I have night vision equipment, if needed. For now, we wait.”

When we got back to her place, we chatted a while longer, took a tour of the farm, which I found more interesting than I cared to admit, and watched Zeke fall in love with the cows and a few chickens. We said our goodbyes for the day, and I told her I’d check in with her within a few days. Overall. It had been quite an interesting day. I wasn’t sure I’d be making big money off of this case, but it would be the most unusual case thus far, that’s for sure. It was also the first time I had a female client that didn’t have a shiner or a restraining order against an ex-husband or boyfriend, and who just happened to be drop-dead gorgeous.

“Remain professional,” I told myself. Yeah right. I hadn’t had a date in over a year and I was getting pretty tired of cold showers.

Nine

· · · · ·

Two days after my farm visit, with Anne still on my mind for very unprofessional reasons, she called.

“Well, hello there, Dr. Lynch,” I said, sounding way too happy to hear from her.

“It’s Anne”, she said, which made me smile. “You aren’t going to believe it.”

I pondered that for a moment. “He dropped off a water sample?”

“Yes! I almost fainted.”

“Interesting. And what are you going to do with it?”

“I already sent half of it to the EPA, and the other half to a friend who works at Penn State. She’s brilliant, and I trust her. We’ll find out what’s in the water.”

We chatted a few minutes longer about nothing in particular, and I was so tempted to ask her out for dinner I was dying. I couldn’t. She was a client. I’d have to wait at least another couple of days…

After we hung up, I decided to go running with Zeke to clear my head and burn off whatever testosterone was now churning through my veins. I forgot how fast that boy was. He practically killed me, but it did get the blood out of my crotch and back into my head.

· · · · ·

Fracing Facility - The old Sullivan farm

Frank stubbed out his cigarette as he listened to his boss in Atlanta, Georgia continue to berate him. When his boss had paused to take a breath, he chimed in.

“Look, I gave her a clean water sample like you suggested, but I’m telling you Mark, this bitch ain’t going away. She’s already made a hundred calls to every agency in Philadelphia and Washington. I’ve taken Redmond out to two very expensive dinners already, and that prick is still telling me I have to make her go away. Can’t you buy her out?”

“We tried that. As it is, we paid way too much for the property you’re on now—and the money we went through to streamline the permitting was exorbitant. There’s a point of diminishing returns, Frank. I have people I have to answer to as well, you know? You still haven’t hit a major pocket yet.”

“We will. There’s enough gas down there to keep us running for ten years. But I’m telling you, Mark—if we don’t buy this Lynch character out, she’s going to keep making trouble. Every day I wait for a Sixty Minutes film crew to show up. Did you follow up on that guy from the Gazette?”

“Yeah, we took care of that. This lady’s story will never see a page in that paper. And that wasn’t cheap either.”

“That’s what I’m saying, Mark! She’s going to nickel and dime us to death! Why not just buy her out and let me work in peace and quiet?”

“I’ll talk to Mathews again if it will make you feel any better—but I’m telling you now, he’s going to say no. You’re going to have to handle this lady yourself. I mean, Jesus Christ, Frank—it’s a fucking dairy farm widow. You can’t handle her? Grow a pair of balls, will ya’?” He hung up.

Frank lit up another cigarette and started out the trailer window at the cloud of carbon dioxide steaming out of the top of the well. His phone rang.

“Taylor,” he growled.

“Hey, boss, the pond’s full again.”

“And you’re telling me why?” he asked.

“Well, one of the guys was asking me about procedure. He was expecting a few pumpers to come take it out.”

“Who was?”

“The new guy, Henderson.”

“Tell him he’s fired. And as soon as he’s outta’ here, you use the spare pump to run a line out into the woods like before. I don’t have all fucking day, either.” He hung up and drew heavily on his cigarette. He was surrounded by idiots.

Ten

· · · · ·

Anne woke me up pretty early the following day. As I fumbled with the phone, I looked at the clock and saw it was just after six in the morning.

“Hello?” I managed to grumble.

“Did I wake you?” she asked—like everyone else in the world got up at five to milk cows.

“No, I had to get up to answer the phone.” Again, my witty retort was lost on the good doctor.

“Well, I got the sample results from my friend at Penn State. I know the DEP won’t get their results to me for weeks, but it will show the same results, anyway.”

I sat up and turned on the light, my eyes hurting from light that shouldn’t be on at such an hour unless you were going fishing or having sex. “Okay—so?”

“So the sample was completely safe to drink. It contained Ph neutral water, with normal mineral concentrations and trace amounts of chlorine.”

It was too early in the morning to try and follow what she was saying.

“So?”

“So? Chlorine, Noah. Like, the stuff that comes from your tap. Hello?”

“Well, wouldn’t there be chlorine in their water? Don’t they pump water into the ground?” It was way too early to play guessing games—and I hadn’t even smelled my first cup of coffee yet.

I could hear her sigh. “Tap water? Noah, this is farm country. No one has city water or sewer. We’re all on well and septic out here. There isn’t chlorine in anyone’s water.”

“Was it a huge amount or something?” I was still trying to understand the point of the whole thing.

“Noah! It was trace amounts of chlorine. They sent me a sample of tap water for Christ’s sake. Pond water wouldn’t have any chlorine. The sample was a fake.”

“Oh. Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

“You don’t sound surprised or annoyed in the least,” she said.

“Did you think they were going to give you a real sample that would help you prove they were poisoning your farm?”

“It was your idea!” she snapped.

“That’s right. I said we’d ask nicely the first time. Doesn’t mean I was naïve enough to think they’d cooperate. So now that we’ve asked, and they’ve shown us that they are hiding something, we’ll go get a real sample. Make sure your buddy keeps some of that original sample they said was from their pond.”

“Okay, I’ll try and catch her before she dumps it. So are you going to come back out and try and sneak a sample?”

“Yeah. But I have to do it at night.” I worked up my nerve. “Hey, what do you think about grabbing dinner first? This way I can drive out in daylight and actually find your place. Is there any place nearby for good food?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘nearby’. If you want to just grab some grub, there’s a local place that’s not bad. If you wanted to impress me like a dinner date or something, you’d have to drive a bit.”

Holy crud. She had used the word ‘date’. “A dinner date, huh? Is that what this is?”

“To be honest with you, I haven’t been on a date in so long, I forget what it is. I work seven days a week, almost three hundred sixty five days a year. If we go out to dinner, and you don’t have cow manure on your shoes or under your fingernails, I’m counting it as a date.”

“It might be seen as unprofessional. You are my client, you know.” I was making light of it, but I was dying inside.

“I didn’t say you were going to get laid, Noah—I just said we were having dinner together at a place that actually uses a tablecloth. Look, I hardly know you. You probably have a girlfriend or a wife or something…”

“No, no,” I said, not wanting to blow my chance. “No wife, no girlfriend. I take care of Zeke, you know? Between that and work, I don’t get out any more than you do. It would be my great pleasure to take you on a dinner date.”

“And then go sneak on to private property and steal a water sample and put those bastards next door in jail?”

“Well, that’s not usually how I end my dates, but I suppose this might be an exception.”

“Good, then it’s settled. Come over whenever you like, I’ll be here all day. Is Zeke coming on our date?”

I had been wondering about that myself as she was talking about dinner—what do I do with Zeke if this was going to be an actual date?

“Well, I have to bring him with me to your place. Maybe we could set him up with some dinner at your house? He’d be very happy to hang out with Cody and watch TV.” I would have felt guilty about abandoning my brother in a strange place, but I hadn’t been laid in so long I was going to go blind, and this was one of the prettiest women I’d ever laid eyes on who had more or less asked me out to dinner. There was no way I was going to miss out on my first date in over a year.

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll set him up at the house with Cody and you can take me out on the town.” She paused. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way—but if you’re going to be sneaking around late at night and you want to stay over, I have three extra bedrooms. You and Zeke can stay over. No funny business.”

I had already taken off all of her clothes in my mind, but the image vanished as she reminded me there would be no funny business on our first date. It was a little bizarre anyway, her being a client. I had never had the least bit of interest in any of my female clients before, and it did make me a little uncomfortable—like I was breaking some major rule of the industry or something. But screw it. I was the boss of my own company and I could do whatever I wanted, right? I wasn’t a cop anymore, and I had only worked for her for a total of about two hours.

“Okay, thanks for the offer. We’ll see what happens. Assuming the date goes well, and I’m able to infiltrate and exit without being shot, recover the poisonous water, and return to your farm in the dark of night, perhaps I’ll pack my PJ’s.’

“Oh, the drama,” she said. I could tell she was smiling. I wondered if she could tell I was, too.

Eleven

· · · · ·

After I hung up the phone with Anne, I went back to sleep for almost three hours. Zeke woke me up a little after nine. He came in and sat down on my bed without saying a word, but his body weight shifted the bed enough to startle me.

“You okay, Zeke?”

He smiled, a big beaming mouth full of perfect white teeth. “I’m great! You slept late. You hungry?”

“Sure,” I mumbled.

“I made you coffee,” he said. That was a big deal for him. I didn’t like him using the stove without me being around, but he did like to cook and do things independently. Making me coffee was a chance for him to look after me, I think. I was pretty sure there was still that part of his brain that remembered he was my big brother.

The last time he made coffee for me, he wanted it to be “extra good”, so he put in extra coffee. I don’t think I slept for three weeks after I ate a cup of that. Notice I said ate and not drank. It was the first cup of coffee I had ever had that drank like a sandwich. I smiled and told him next time to just use one spoon for each cup of water. He laughed like a goofball and told me he had put in five for each cup. Condensed espresso.

I spent the morning finishing up an insurance fraud case I had worked the month before. The poor automotive worker that was seriously injured at the plant and was in line to receive a huge cash settlement for his back and shoulder permanent disabilities had made the mistake of having a few beers and going bowling. He was feeling pretty good by his third game, and managed to throw a perfect three-hundred game. The picture I had of him posing with the pin that had ‘300’ painted on it, along with his nice new gold ring had just cost him about a million dollars. I wondered what the pawn shop would give him for the ring. Like I used to say when I was a detective, “It wasn’t that we, the cops, were so smart—it was that the criminals were usually so stupid.”

As I finished up my report, which would help me make my mortgage payment, my mind wandered back to Anne. She had a legitimate problem and was a real client with my most interesting case. She was also the best looking women I’d ever seen, and there was definitely some type of chemistry there. I was conflicted. What was more important, billable hours, or taking her clothes off?

Well, there would be other paying clients…

· · · · ·

Zeke and I drove out to Pennsylvania again. I had packed extra clothes and sweatpants in case Zeke and I stayed over. I also had a .38 revolver, night-vision equipment, a black assault jumpsuit and boots. There was also a box of condoms in my shaving kit. I was prepared for anything.

The entire drive out, Zeke and I discussed all of the farm animals. When I told Zeke he might get a chance to stay over with Cody all by himself, he was thrilled. It was always a fine line between taking care of Zeke and being too overprotective of him. He was, in fact, an adult and quite physically capable of doing most things for himself. He was also seriously brain injured and fairly unpredictable. I had gotten him his own cell phone the week before and showed him how to call me. Knowing he could call me while I was out on my hot date would help keep me from freaking out over him. I wasn’t used to going out without him, but I was pretty sure I was much more worried about it than he was. My guess is parents probably feel the same way the first day of school or something.

We arrived at the farm a little after five. The sun was getting low, and shaping up to be a beautiful orange and pink sunset. It was fairly warm and very clear out, and I figured if I had to go crawling around in the dark, at least I wouldn’t get rained on.

We drove up the long road to the house and barns and parked in front of Anne’s home next to her pickup truck. When we got out of the car, Zeke was greeted by the two dogs who had been lying by the cow barn. Notice I say they greeted Zeke—they totally ignored me. Apparently, Dr. Doolittle had made very good friends on his last visit. The two dogs competed for his attention while I walked to the house to try and get a little attention myself.

Anne answered my knock looking totally different than the first time I had met her. She had done something to her hair and was wearing makeup. My face must have shown my pleasant shock.

“What’s the matter? Never saw a chick wear makeup before?”

“You clean up all right!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, well I have a date later on—I thought I’d get the manure out from between my toes. I see you even wore a clean shirt, thanks,” she answered with a perfect little smile.

“Yeah, sorry about the manure, though. You didn’t say anything about that. Guess I should have washed my feet.”

“Actually, I did mention it before. I said, if you showed up without manure under your fingernails or on your shoes, it would count as a date, remember? You just aren’t listening to me, Noah…” She had such a great smile.

I help up my hands, palms facing me, to show her my fingernails. “Look! No cow manure!”

She feigned examining my shoes. “Okay—it’s a date.”

“Excellent! I do have some gear to stow in the house if that’s okay, for later on tonight.” I was thinking about the night vision gear and the box of condoms.

Anne walked out to my car and said hello to Zeke, who was still squatting on the ground exchanging kisses with the dogs. Anne laughed out loud. “My God!” she exclaimed. “I think I’ve lost my dogs forever. I’d better keep him away from Cody.”

“Where is Cody?” I asked, realizing her trusty sidekick hadn’t been seen yet.

“Working! This is a farm, you know! If Mom is going to be a slacker, then he has to do some real work for a change.” She laughed. “He’s with Thom, moving the cows to another pasture.” She looked at her two dogs, now lying on their backs with Zeke rubbing their bellies. “They really are working dogs—not that you can tell from looking at these two right now.”

“Yeah, looks like they’re working real hard,” I said. It was nice to see Zeke looking so totally enthralled. He volunteered to help carry in the duffle bags, but I told him to play with the dogs, which he did. By the time I had the truck unpacked, an older guy came driving over on a four-wheeler with Cody in the passenger seat. Anne introduced me to him as Thom, her foreman. He wasn’t one to mince words.

“You here to do something about them bastards next door?” he asked. He was maybe in his fifties or sixties, with a short silver beard that may have made him look older than he actually was. He had the weather-beaten, hard look of someone who had real muscles from a lifetime of working outside, not the fake pretty ones you get in the gym.

I looked over at Anne, not sure how much he knew about why I was here. She piped up and saved the awkward silence. “Noah is an old friend who I asked for some advice is all.”

Thom’s face told me he knew all of Anne’s old friends, and I wasn’t one of them. I extended a hand and said hello, and he wiped his hands off on his overalls before shaking my hand.

“Yeah, well—I hope you got some good advice, ‘cause them bastards next door are gonna’ put us out of business if somethin’ don’t change fast around here.” He tipped his hat to Anne. “No offense, boss.”

Cody hopped down off the seat and walked past Anne over to Zeke, who now had three dogs waiting for belly rubs. Anne sneered at the dog. “Traitor.”

Twelve

· · · · ·

Watching Zeke with Cody in his lap on Anne’s couch, I started to relax. I had been pretty nervous, and not about the trespassing onto a commercial property, either. It was leaving Zeke alone in a strange place, and actually having a so-called date with a drop-dead gorgeous woman who seemed to be just as sarcastic as I was that had been giving me butterflies. Anne had been really sweet with Zeke, too. She didn’t treat him like a baby or a special-needs child; she treated him like an adult who was just a bit slow. She was patient and had made him a great dinner.

When she brought over his steak, potatoes and greens, I whispered into her ear. “That steak from one of your nasty, sick cows?”

If looks could kill…

“Not very funny, mister. Don’t ruin your date before it even starts, or I’ll have dinner with Zeke, and you can go out with Cody.”

I was going to give her a clever retort about knowing that at least Cody would lick my balls, but figured the timing wasn’t just right. I actually was curious about where the steaks came from, but didn’t press it. I mean, if you keep dairy cows, you probably give them names and shit—and then it would be like eating a pet. I let it go.

Anne gave Zeke the remote for the TV, showed him how to surf her stations, where the fridge and bathroom were, and where an extra bedroom was if he got tired. I gave him a hug and told him I’d see him later, and he whispered, “She’s really nice” to me. I had big brother’s stamp of approval already.

Anne and I left Zeke with his dinner and furry companion, his new cell phone nearby if he wanted to talk to me. When we walked out, Anne asked me if I wanted the grand tour, as she’d like to check on everything before we left. I was interested in seeing the place and told her so. We hopped into the little four-wheeler and Anne took off down the dirt road towards the cow barn. It was funny to see her in a nice dress, stylish boots with hair and makeup, driving the little green cart around like a farmhand.

As we pulled by the cow barn, she asked “Want to see?” I nodded and we got out. Inside, the cows each had a stall filled with hay and sawdust, with huge troughs of water running along the front of their pens. It was strangely peaceful inside, and didn’t smell bad at all. Seriously. That was a shock to me.

“You keep the place immaculate,” I said, half to myself.

“You want to drink milk that tastes like shit?” she asked with a beautiful smile.

“Uh, I see your point.”

“No, seriously, we do keep the place very clean. Prevents disease, rats, bugs- you name it. We’ve never had had any problems, up until they started pumping that poison into the ground at the Sullivan Farm. I think I told you before, dairy cows drink a lot of water. If there is a problem with the water supply, it gets concentrated in the animals quickly.”

“It’s so peaceful in here,” I said, listening to the softest sounds of barely mooing cows. Even the smell of the fresh hay mixed with “barnyard” somehow added to the tranquility.

“This time of the day, yeah. They’ve been milked and fed and now they’re getting ready to bed down. Come back tomorrow morning and it won’t be quite so peaceful.” She saw my raised eyebrows. “When they need to get milked, they’ll let everyone know about it.”

“What’s with the dogs?” I asked, spotting Zeke’s buddies sleeping in the hay.

“Max and Bear are herding dogs. They keep the cows moving through the pens and out to the correct pasture lands. They’ll bark and run around at the cow’s ankles to move them along. But, for all of their bullying, they love the cows and watch over them. They aren’t exactly guard dogs, but they are good watch dogs.”

“There’s a difference?” I asked.

She laughed. “Yeah, well a guard dog will attack an intruder. A watch dog—well, they’ll pretty much just watch.” She laughed at her own joke. “All three of my guys will holler bloody murder and alert everyone to trouble, but unless it was a small animal, they’d probably just be all bark and no bite.”

“Well that’s good to know, in case I get lost and end up down by your hallway in the middle of the night. At least Cody won’t attack me.” I am so subtle.

“Nope. Cody will just wake me up. And then I’ll shoot you.” She smiled, but not quite so nicely, and walked out of the barn.

I followed her out of the barn quietly and got into the little truck thingamajig. We drove out to the milking barn where two workers were walking out with Thom. She waved and pulled up alongside Thom.

“Goodnight Thom—I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. Everything okay?”

He took off his John Deere cap and wiped his head of thinning gray hair. “Everything’s clean as a whistle. Until the cows are able to be milked for sale, there’s nothing else to do in there. It’s totally sterile.”

They spoke a few minutes, and we drove out towards the pasture land behind the barns. It was rolling hills of green grass and trees for as far as the eye could see.

“Wow, Anne. How much land do you have out here?”

“The farm is almost five hundred acres. Four hundred is crop or pastureland. The rest is forested. Been in my family for a long time.” She stopped on top of a hill overlooking most of her land.

“Gorgeous,” I said quietly.

“And I’m going to lose it all if I don’t stop what’s going on next door,” she said.

“We’ll figure out something,” I said, talking to myself as much as her. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Shoot.”

“Why no Mister Lynch?”

“There was a Mister Lynch. Ryan. We met right after I graduated veterinary school. We got married and took over the family farm. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters—Mom had a hard enough time conceiving me. Anyway, things were going great. The farm was making good money, we had talked about expanding, even. Even talked about starting our own family…” she got quiet.

“What happened?”

“Undiagnosed heart condition. Genetic disorder. One day everything was perfect—the next day my whole world fell apart. March was five years.”

“Geez, I’m sorry,” I said. I was used to dealing with dysfunctional cop divorces and crazy ex-husbands from my clients. Actually hearing about two people that loved each other being separated by an untimely death was out of my comfort zone.

“If it hadn’t been for Thom, I wouldn’t have made it. He’s been here for so long. He worked for my dad. Thom’s like an uncle.”

“How old is he, anyway?”

“Almost seventy.”

“Holy shit—pardon my French. I wasn’t sure he was even sixty.”

“Farm living,” she said with a sad smile. “Makes you tough and keeps you fit.” Then she added sadly, “or kills you.”

I could see I had really killed her mood with this topic of conversation. “So tell me about this restaurant?”

“Oh. Since you don’t have shit all over your shoes or under your fingernails I figured we could take a drive to town. Zeke looked comfortable in my house, don’t you think?”

“Sure did. I was honestly a little worried about him—leaving him, I mean. But he looks so happy here on the farm with your dogs. It’s amazing, actually. I’ve been calling him Dr. Doolittle.”

She laughed. She sure did look pretty when she smiled.

“And thanks for making him such a nice dinner. You’re really good with him. I hate when people talk to him like he’s retarded or three years old or something.”

“How long ago was his injury?” she asked.

“God, been a while now. Over fifteen years ago. Zeke was fighting in Philly against a dirt-bag that was head-butting him the whole fight. Not sure if that was what started the bleeding in his brain or not. But then the guy clobbered him with a right and sent him face first to the floor. I can still see his face bouncing off the canvas. He almost died. Well, I guess in a way he did. This is a different Zeke. I love him, don’t get me wrong—he was like my dad growing up, but I sure miss the old Zeke—my big brother. I know he’s in there somewhere.”

“What did the doctors say? Any chance he’ll get better?”

“Probably not. There are flashes of the old Zeke every now and then when you least expect it. He’ll say something clear as a bell. And then two minutes later he gets that glazed look again and is happy to watch cartoons. It sucks.”

She rubbed my back and said, “You’re a good little brother.” I liked her even more for that.

Thirteen

· · · · ·

Date Night

I insisted on driving, even though I had no idea where we were going. I even held the door for her. You gotta’ love the formalities of first dates—something a little charming about the whole thing. I had called Zeke from the car as we were heading out, and he said he was fine. He started telling me about the nature program he was watching with Cody, and how Cody really seemed to like it, but I reminded him I couldn’t stay on the phone for an hour. He was fine. Deep breath.

We drove for almost twenty minutes in the dusk, the trees looking black against the darkening purple sky, before we came to a busier highway. I followed her instructions and ended up in a tiny little town of no more than forty or so buildings on the main street. I think half of them were restaurants.

“This is the big city, huh?”

“This is it. But the food is amazing. Well, it used to be, anyway.”

We walked into a tiny restaurant, but to my surprise, it was actually very dressy inside. The folks seated at the tables were all dressed to the nines, and the average age was probably sixty.

“These locals?” I whispered to Anne.

“Nooo. There are a ton of B&B’s out here. City folks drive for hours to see cows and sheep and chickens. Aren’t we quaint?” She struck a slight pose and made a fake cute smile.

“Hell, I’d drive for hours to see the hot dairy farmer.”

“You say the sweetest things,” she said, and took my arm. Sarcastic or not, she was holding my arm, and I liked her there. The hostess took us to a small table in the back corner near a fireplace that was filed with pumpkins and fall flowers. Very nice.

I ordered a bottle of wine, reminding myself not to drink too much, because I really was out here to work later on. I tried very hard to focus on that and not allow myself to take off her clothes in my mind. But damn. She was one fine looking woman.

We toasted to “better days ahead” and took a taste of a very good California Merlot. “Wow. I forgot how much I liked good wine,” she said quietly. She was having one of those moments like I have sometimes, where I talk out loud to myself.

“You have to start getting out more often,” I said.

“I guess I should have poisoned my cows a long time ago,” she said. She didn’t smile.

We ordered a wonderful dinner, which was paced well, allowing us time to get to know each other. At a certain moment she gave me an odd look. “What are you thinking?” she asked, her face looking very serious.

I realized I had a goofy expression at that moment. “Honestly, I was sitting here trying to remember the last time I was on a date and was actually amazed by the person sitting in front of me.”

Her face turned beet red.

“Oh, sorry. I guess I’m kind of direct, huh?”

“No, no—it’s fine. You’re very sweet. Actually, I haven’t been out with hardly anyone since Ryan passed away.”

“That’s crazy. I mean, you’re gorgeous. You wouldn’t have a problem finding a guy.”

“Yeah, right. In my spare time. Farming is not a nine to five gig. And honestly, I couldn’t even think about going out with anyone for almost three years. Ryan was the love of my life. There was no warning. One day he was there and the next he wasn’t. I think I was in shock for almost a year. I worked every day feeling totally numb. Anyway—I made peace with it.”

I felt genuinely bad for her. “Well, he was a lucky guy.” What else could I say?

She touched my hand for a second and said, “It’s okay, Noah. I’m fine with it now. I was blessed for the time I had with him.” She sat up straight, and I could see she was putting on her tough-guy exterior.

The waitress came back and we ordered coffee and dessert. Anne informed me that after not being on a dinner date in a very long time, she would damn well be having both. I opted for a triple espresso after two glasses of wine and a huge, delicious meal. I was ready for a good night’s sleep, but my night was just beginning.

I paid the bill, and Anne leaned over towards me. “I’ll be checking my itemized bill and I better not find the wine on it, mister.” She gave me the most devilish look and I wanted to kiss her right then and there.

“I don’t do itemized bills, ma’am. I just bill by the hour.”

She got serious. “We really do need to discuss that, Noah. I need to have a rough idea of what you’re going to charge me, seriously.”

“Don’t sweat it for now.”

“I have to sweat it. The farm’s been closed down for weeks. I have zero money coming in and the same expenses I had before this all happened. I’m stressed.”

“Right now? You don’t look stressed. I thought you looked pretty damned relaxed and quite beautiful.”

Her face softened.

“Okay, well maybe not right this second…” she said. We just looked at each other for a long moment, then she snapped back. “So?”

“So?” I thought she was ready to leave.

“So what am I going to end up owing you for whatever it is you are going to do? I mean, do you think you can really help me with any of this?”

“I told you, for now—forget the money part. Tonight I’ll steal some water and we’ll get it tested. You said you had a friend—maybe she won’t charge you anything. Tonight will be on me, in exchange for a room at the inn. I’m sure Zeke will be fast asleep when I get done. After we get the test results back, we’ll take it from there. I promise you, if there is going to any major expenses, I’ll let you know okay?”

She nodded. It was a strange date. We obviously liked each other. We obviously hadn’t been out with other people on a date in a long time and enjoyed a great night. And we were obviously in the same place at the same time because she was my client and this was a very strange situation. I paid the bill and we left the restaurant. When we got to the car, I opened the door for her. Much to my surprise, she kissed my cheek and said “Thanks for a great dinner. I’m glad we got a chance to talk about something other than sick cows and poisoned water.” She was in the car before I had a chance to try and kiss her back—I guess that was by design.

The drive back was mellow. She had a very content look on her face, and she caught me looking at her a few times. About the fourth time, she put her hand on mine and then patted it a few times before taking it away. It was obviously just awkward.

“So are you going to go over as soon as we get back?”

I looked at the clock. It was a little after ten. Wow—the time had really gone by. “Not yet,” I said. “I’m sure no one will be there this late, but in case they have a night watchmen or something, I’m going to wait until very late when he’s half asleep.”

“I can make coffee when we get back if you like.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks. I had a really nice night, Anne. Thanks for coming out.” I was tempted to reach for her hand, but refrained. Man, this part of first dates was rough. I was out of practice. This was definitely different than going out with some chick, getting hammered, and having sex at her place the first date—then sneaking home before Zeke woke up. There had been a couple of those over the years, and they had been nice diversions, but meant nothing. This woman was actually quite captivating, and I hardly knew her. Jeez. Life was complicated.

Fourteen

· · · · ·

When we got back to the house, Anne froze by the door.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, now very nervous.

“Cody—he sleeps right here,” she said, pointing to his bed by the kitchen entryway.

She looked at me and squinted her eyes. We laughed and went to the spare bedroom. Cody lifted his head up from his front paw, gave his tail a slight wag, and then plopped his head back down. He was on Zeke’s bed, and Zeke was fast asleep.

“Bad boy,” she whispered. We backed out of Zeke’s room and closed the door slightly. “He never sleeps on the beds. Your brother has ruined my animals,” she said softly.

I smiled and then followed her back to her den. She sat down and pulled off her boots, then curled her legs under herself at one corner of the couch. I sat closer to the other end facing her on an angle. We were just taking each other in.

“I’ll get changed and get my gear together. Have you ever heard anything going over there at night?” I asked.

“No. I never hear anything during the day either. Just an occasional dull thud underground, but that’s it. I don’t think anyone is there at night. I was thinking I could drive you over on my four-wheeler. Take you to the property line and point you in the right direction.”

I thought about that. “Okay, if you don’t mind staying up a few hours.” In my head, I was thinking of what I’d like to be doing during those hours, but pushed that away. “I’ll go get changed.”

I went to the extra bedroom where my stuff was and pulled out my gear. I stripped down to my underwear and put on the black jumpsuit. I had a black facemask, too, which I just shoved in a cargo pocket with black gloves. I grabbed my pistol, although I wasn’t planning on using it, and my night vision goggles. When I came back out to the den, Anne was still in her spot on the couch.

“Well don’t you look like James Bond,” she said with a smile.

“Very macho, huh? You a cop-chick?”

“A what?” she asked with a laugh.

“You know—one of those chicks that digs cops. When I was a cop back in the old days, my badge got me laid on a regular basis.”

“Oh great,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Get you any diseases to go with it?”

“No, I‘m good. But you’re a doctor, you can examine me.”

“Yes, a veterinarian. And since you’re a pig, I think I could check you out.”

We smiled. The tension was definitely there. Deep breath. I had to get to work soon.

At midnight, I decided it was time to go. Not because it was late enough, but because if I stayed on the couch with her any longer, I was going to have to make a move on her, and probably screw up a really good first date. I think she was as relieved as I was when I said it was time to go.

We walked over to the cow barn where her vehicle was parked, and Max and Bear rushed out to inspect us. I was impressed. They ran over, saw it was Anne, gave her a quick kiss and ran back inside the barn without making a sound. We got on the little four-wheeler and headed out towards the property line. Anne drove, wearing my night vision glasses. She had never worn them before and was amazed at her green glowing world that showed up so well in the darkness. A wire fence ran the length of her property, and she knew exactly where a small gate was located in the middle of nowhere. When we got there, she killed the quiet motor and pointed out towards the old Sullivan Farm.

“That way. Just walk until you get to the trucks. The pond will be on your left behind all the vehicles. I’ll wait for you here.”

“No, you head back. It will take me a while to get there and back and you’ll freeze your ass off.”

“I can’t do that without turning on the lights—you’ll have the night vision glasses. I don’t want to do that in case anyone’s there, remember?”

I pondered that a moment. Could they see lights from all the way over there? I had no idea. We were in the middle of nowhere. I was guessing lights would show for miles. “Damn. I hadn’t thought of that,” I admitted. “Guess you can’t drive back in the dark. Okay, “I’ll go fast. Sit tight.”

I crossed the property line, feeling like I was heading into East Germany or something. The tall grass was wet with condensation and made a shushing sound as I jogged through the open meadow. I had put on my facemask, gloves, and the night vision headgear so I could see. If it was daytime, I’d be standing in an open field and visible for a mile. In the dark, I jogged feeling totally invisible. All of the running with Zeke had my legs and lungs in better shape, and I made it the whole way without stopping. When I got close the fracing facility, I slowed down and controlled my breathing, moving to my left around the area where they had their tractor trailers and trucks.

I stopped and squatted down, observing the area for a few minutes. It looked totally deserted. I moved quietly through the grass around the perimeter of the working area. Behind the fracing area, to my left, was the storage pond Anne had told me about. I moved closer, listening with every step. Other than my heart pounding, which sounded very loud, it was silent out. I wasn’t used to the countryside like this—that old expression about “silence being deafening” made sense to me now.

When I got to the pond area, I moved silently, in a squat position, to the edge of the plastic liner. I looked over the edge. It was empty.

“What the fuck?”

I moved around the edge of the pond looking for a small pool of water to at least get a sample. I leaned over the edge of the pool and saw a pump sitting in the center of the pond with a hose running out to the woods. Evidently, they had pumped out the collection pond. I couldn’t smell anything, although I wasn’t sure if the chemicals would have an odor or not anyway.

I moved around the back of the pond and followed the hose into the woods. There was fairly thick vegetation in the woods and the hose just ended in some vines and weedy plants. The ground felt soaked, but there were no pools of standing water. Damnit. I opened the container I had brought and scooped up some muck. It was better than nothing.

After I had collected and sealed the container, I shoved it into my cargo pocket and moved quickly back around the drilling area. Once I was in the meadow, I ran as a hard as I could to get the hell out of there. Anne was sitting in the four-wheeler waiting for me when I crossed back over to her property.

“Oh, thank god!” she exclaimed. “You were gone for so long, I was getting worried. You get it?”

“Drive!” I whispered loudly, wanting to get the heck out of there.

“Did you get it?”

“Sort of,” I said, as she turned on the tractor and turned us around towards her house. “The pond was empty. I got some mud where they drained it. I think they’ll be able to get chemicals out of that if they were there.”

“They drained it? That thing was full to the top the last time we were there!”

“Yeah, well, I guess they didn’t want it lying around for anyone to examine.”

Anna smacked the steering wheel. “Now what?”

“Well, we test the mud, and then drop a dime to the EPA or somebody about illegal dumping of toxic chemicals. I need to get back there with a camera and document this. They had a pump sitting in the middle of the pond with a hose running right into the woods. They can’t explain that away.”

We talked strategy the whole way back to the house. When we got there, we parked the four-wheeler right in front of her house and hustled inside. It had gotten cold out and we could see our breath—white clouds against the black night sky.

“God, it’s freezing,” Anne said as she closed the door behind us.

Without thinking, I put my arms around her and rubbed her to warm her up. She put her head against my chest and we just stood there warming up for a second, until we got to that awkward part again.

She looked up at me and probably had that same questioning look that I had on my face. We kissed. It was a very long, very sweet kiss that comes at the end of a really great first date. She eventually stepped back and put her hands on my chest.

“It got warm in here all of a sudden,” she said quietly. “I think it’s past my bedtime.” She patted my chest, looked like she was going to say something, then just gave me a quick peck and practically ran out of the room.

I stood there for what seemed like a long time. Quite honestly, I think I was a little dazed by a simple kiss. Damn. This was going to get complicated and totally screw up my billing.

Fifteen

· · · · ·

I heard noises outside my room and opened my eyes. There were lights on down the hallway. I looked at my watch—it was a little after five-fifteen. I grabbed my service revolver and tumbled out of bed in my boxers. I turned the corner into the kitchen in a two-handed firing position. Anne almost dropped the coffee pot.

“Noah!” she screamed.

I pulled the gun up and exhaled. “Holy shit, Anne. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Nothing—it’s after five…”

Fucking cow farmers. Holy crud. “This what time you get up every day?” I asked, now drained of adrenaline and ready to cry from fatigue.

“Yes. The cows need milking, the dogs need food and water, the sun’s coming up…”

“The sun’s coming up in like an hour. Holy crap, Anne.”

“Looks like that’s not the only thing that’s up early,” she said with an evil smile.

I realized I had boxers on, and that they had opened a bit. My typical morning condition was hanging halfway out in the breeze.

“Oh shit,” I said, and pulled myself back inside my boxers.

“It’s okay—really,” she said with a laugh. “I almost forgot what one looked like in person.”

I had plenty of witty retorts at the ready, but decided to refrain from being so inappropriate so early in the morning. “I’ll get dressed,” I mumbled, and headed towards my room. Cody passed me in the hallway and trotted over to Anne. I heard her say, “What do you want, traitor?” I turned around and watched her rub Cody’s head, then head for the front door to let him out. I stuck my head in Zeke’s room and saw he was still asleep. I walked back to the kitchen and asked Anne if I could borrow some towels for a quick shower.

“You brush your teeth yet?” she asked. I covered my mouth wondering if I was nasty.

“Uh, no. Not yet. I was sleeping thirty seconds ago, remember?”

“Too bad,” she said with her evil smile and smacked my ass as she walked past me. I followed her down the hallway to a linen closet where she pulled out towels for Zeke and I.

“If you give me a minute, I’ll brush my teeth,” I said, hopefully.

“Too late,” she said with her beautiful smile. “Some of us have work to do.” She squeezed my butt this time and said, “Nice,” then left me standing there feeling quite frustrated.

I took a shower and got dressed. Why? I have no idea. It was so damned early I should have gone back to sleep. I guess the macho genes were figuring if she was going to work, I should do something, too.

By the time I got outside, Thom and two young workers were moving the cows from the cow barn to the milking parlor. Max and Bear were busy yapping and running around the herd, moving the cows forward. As I watched, it occurred to me that Anne could save money by firing everyone and hiring a couple of more dogs. Later on, when I told her that, she said the tricky part was teaching the dogs to attach the milking machines to the cow’s udders and opening and closing the right valves in the parlor. Oh well. I thought I had solved her financial problems.

While I have to say the hours totally sucked, work on a farm did seem to have a nice rhythm. Everyone looked fairly relaxed and in tune with whatever they were doing. The only workers that seemed to be working in hyper-drive were the dogs, who never stopped moving.

The workers, including Max and Bear, moved the cows into individual metal stalls, where small contraptions were attached to their udders. Occasionally, I’d see one of the farmhands examining the udders and putting ointments on for irritated skin, but other than that, they seemed to be on autopilot in their work, just moving from one cow to the next. Once the cows were hooked up, they just stood there drinking water from a trough as they were milked. Water in—milk out. Or I guess more accurately, poisoned water in, poisoned milk out. It seemed asinine to me to waste so much energy milking cows when you knew you were going to be dumping the milk. If the cows “would be uncomfortable” without being milked, make steaks out of ‘em. But then again, I guess you couldn’t eat poisoned meat either. What a predicament.

I watched and tried to stay out of the way for a couple of hours, then decided to check on Zeke. I walked back to the house, took off my shoes outside, and walked down to Zeke’s room. It was almost eight. I shook him awake and he opened his eyes with a smile. It amazed me how good natured he was, even so early in the morning. It was like the part of the brain that controlled “grumpy” had disappeared, along with a good portion of his IQ.

“Hi, Noah.” He scanned the room. “You see Cody?”

“Yeah, your buddy is outside working.”

“He’s smart. We should get a dog.”

Great. Just what I needed. Another responsibility.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see. Why don’t you get up and get dressed, and you can watch the dogs work. They’re pretty cool.”

He was up and dressed quickly, talking to me as he put on his clothes.

“Did you have fun on your date?” he asked. Holy crap. I never used the word “date” in front of him. What did he know about dating?

“It wasn’t a date, Zeke. We just had dinner together.”

He smiled at me, showing his big white teeth, as usual. “You like her,” he teased, like he was in third grade.

“And why would you say that?” I asked, trying to figure out how Nature Boy became an expert on matchmaking overnight.

“She’s pretty,” he said, making himself blush. He did have a point there. Even Mr. Brain Damage could recognize a fox when he saw one.

“Um, hm.”

“And she’s nice. She made me a really good dinner. Can I tell you something and you promise you won’t be mad?”

I never knew what Zeke was going to say next, so I was very curious about where this was going. “I never get mad at you, Zeke. What’s up?”

He leaned real close and whispered to me. “She cooks really good. Way better than you.”

Well, Zeke was like a little kid, and little kids were brutally honest. Prick.

“Thanks, man.”

“You mad?”

“No. But you can make your own dinner from now on,” I said.

“I can use the stove?” he asked, very excited.

“Um, only when I’m around.”

“Can I cook?”

I thought about the coffee he made me that almost killed me. “Yeah, as long as I am there with you, okay? Promise me—no stove without Noah.”

“I know, I promise. Can we see the dogs?”

“Yeah, for a little while, and then we have to go.”

He looked crushed. I know he was thinking about the dogs. “We’ll come back and visit again soon, okay?”

He nodded, but looked sad, which totally bummed me out. I slapped his back, which was like hitting a brick wall, and led him outside. We walked out towards the milking parlor, where the dogs were now leading the cows out towards the pasture, with Thom and another guy leading the way. Cody came bounding over to us at a hundred miles an hour. Truthfully, I didn’t see him at first and he scared the crap out of me. He ran around Zeke in circles a few times and then pushed his head against Zeke’s leg until Zeke started petting him. If dogs could smile, I’m pretty sure I saw one.

Anne came out of the house and walked towards us, laughing. She looked at Zeke and Cody and shook her head.

“Is he wearing dog bone cologne or something? Cody never used to go to anyone except me. Look at him!”

Cody was looking up at Anne, wagging his tail very happily, as Zeke rubbed his head and neck. She leaned over to Cody, “And you are supposed to be working, mister!”

She looked at me, her face turning more serious. “So now what?”

“I am going to make some calls. The mud sample should go to your buddy. Did you ever send samples from your own pond?”

“Of course. And from the infected cows. There were trace amounts of benzene and other chemicals, but the levels were all very low. My friend said that benzene breaks down pretty quickly, so it’s hard to know how much was actually being ingested each day. The contaminants in the samples I sent her were consistent with industrial use, and she guessed it was from the fracing facility next door, but good luck proving it. Maybe the mud will show higher concentrations of the same chemical profile.”

“Well, that’s the hope. In the meantime, I’ll try and nail these guys for illegal dumping of toxic chemicals. I’ll make a few calls—starting with the local police. I want an incident report filed. The problem, of course, is explaining how I know about them draining the pond, since I wasn’t there.”

“So what’ll you say?”

“Well, depends on the local cops. I can talk cop to cop with most guys and get it done. If I get a knucklehead, then I don’t know.”

“I know a local guy. Sergeant Davis. Pete.” She hesitated.

“Know him, as in the biblical sense?” I asked.

“Um, no. But he was a date once or twice. I wasn’t really into dating yet, and he wasn’t my type, but we stayed friends, and he still drops by once in a great while. I think he’d help.”

“Why didn’t you call him before?”

“Well, I honestly didn’t think a cop was the person to call for something like this.”

“You called me—I was a cop. Ohhh—you are a cop chick! I should have known it—I asked you once before and you said no…”

“Very funny. I have his cell number in the house. Want me to call him?”

“Sure.”

I followed her back to the house, leaving Zeke to play catch with a rubber ball of Cody’s. We both left our muddy shoes outside and went to the kitchen where she rummaged for his number. She called and said hi, and I could tell from the conversation that he was very psyched to hear from her, and then equally crushed when she said it was about a problem that she needed him to discuss with me. She handed me the phone.

“Hi Pete, Noah Barnes. I’m retired from the DB now, but working as a PI. Your friend Anne has a serious problem out here that you may be able to help with.”

“Sure, Noah, if I can I will. What’s up?”

I explained briefly what was going on, and then got to the part about the illegal dumping of the collection pond. “Now, Pete—here’s where it gets a little delicate. Let’s say I know for a fact that these guys drained their collection pond right out into the woods illegally. I couldn’t call and report it directly, because I’d only have that information if the person that saw this was trespassing, you follow me?”

“I read you loud and clear. What did the person see?”

“The anonymous tip said he witnessed a pump sitting in an empty collection pond with a hose running out draining in the woods. It’s criminal dumping of toxic chemicals that had been there the day before.”

“You have pictures?”

I like that he asked me that—he wasn’t dumb. “Unfortunately, no. It wasn’t expected. But I would love to have a police report that documented the empty pond with the pump and hose running out to the woods.”

“Okay. Tell you what. I’m in at eleven. The Sullivan farm will be my first stop of the day, and I’ll swing by right after that, okay?”

“I owe you one,” I said.

“I’d rather Anne owe me one,” he said.

I bet you would, you snake, I thought to myself. I let it go. I wondered if Cody and the two other dogs had been trained to eat unwanted visitors.

After I hung up, I told Anne what he had said.

“So you’re staying until he gets here, right?” she asked.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” I said, thinking out loud. Then I envisioned lover-boy cop stopping by to save the day with the lovely helpless widow. “But I can make a few calls and re-arrange my schedule. I should probably meet Pete face to face anyway.”

“Good idea. And then I can watch you two fight over me,” she said with her evil grin sneaking across her face again.

“Oh, pulleeeze,” I exclaimed, trying to act oh-so-cool.

She walked closer and put her hand on my chest. She cocked her head and used a little girl voice I hadn’t heard from her before. “You wouldn’t fight for little ol’ me?”

I leaned in to kiss her, figuring this was the big invitation. She pushed away and laughed. Her voice went back to Farmer-Not-To-Be-Screwed-With. “Easy, there. Date’s over and these are working hours.” I guess my face showed the little pang in my chest, or she had a momentary lapse of reason or something, because she leaned back and kissed me real fast on the lips.

“So you’ll stay?”

I sang my best Mic Jagger impersonation of “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away…” Singing is not my forte, obviously. She laughed and walked out to grab her shoes and go back outside.

“And be nice to Pete! He’s a very nice guy. It just wasn’t…I don’t know—wasn’t something…”

“Wasn’t me, you mean,” I said, trying to sound like a hard-ass.

She shrugged, gave me a smile that could melt glaciers, and disappeared out the door. How was it possible to be smitten with someone you knew for like two days? Ridiculous.

Sixteen

· · · · ·

Sergeant Pete Davis showed up a little after noon. Anne, Zeke and I were sitting outside at a picnic table in front of the house having a pitcher of ice tea and some sandwiches when the squad car rolled up. I was hoping for a dumpy clod of a human being, but the bastard was actually taller, broader, younger and better looking than me. Anne introduced us, and I used my very formal manner of speaking so he would assume this was strictly professional and I wasn’t actually already totally hooked by this supermodel farm widow.

That was right about the time Zeke announced to Anne, in earshot of me and Sgt. Davis, “Noah likes you.”

I kept talking like I never heard it, but I saw Anne turn crimson and Pete’s eyes shoot over to Zeke. I whispered, “He’s my brother—head injury a while back. He’s always saying stuff—ignore him.”

“…so anyway,” Pete continued, “Your neighbors aren’t very neighborly. The foreman, a guy named…” he went to check his notes.

“A prick named Taylor,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s him. He immediately says it’s Anne causing problems because she doesn’t like them being there. Then he takes me over to the collection pond, which is totally full of water, and quite safely contained with a liner and partial cover.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“Yup. No signs of illegal dumping. No pump, hose to the woods, or torn up liner. Just a collection pond.”

“Sonofabitch,” I mumbled.

“Sorry.” He looked at Anne. “And he asked me to remind you that the Sullivan Farm is now owned by Globalvision Energy, and their corporate policy, for safety purposes, strictly enforces ‘no trespassing’ on their land. Sorry, Anne. I’d hate to have to come back here to arrest you instead of him. Stay off his property, okay? The guy’s an asshole, but he’s not doing anything wrong and he has asked me to enforce his no trespassing policy.”

“Not doing anything wrong?” Anne bellowed. “He poisoned my water—killed my cows, and may put me out of business!” She slammed her glass down and stormed into the house.

Pete looked at me. “Sorry, man. Look—the law’s on his side. Just stay away from his property. Get a lawyer if you need to protect Anne’s property.”

“Yup. That was my next step,” I said quietly.

· · · · ·

Pete left, and Zeke looked a little shaken up. “Why is Anne so mad?” he asked.

“She’s not mad, buddy. Just upset. She’ll be fine. How about you finish your lunch, and I’ll go talk to her inside for a sec, okay?”

I walked inside the house and headed down to her bedroom, following the sounds of her crying. Crap. I hated to see women crying, and I saw plenty in my line of work. Crying women and pissed off women. That’s who I saw on a regular basis. No wonder I hadn’t been dating much. I knocked on Anne’s doorframe gently, but the door was open and she was face down on her bed.

I sat down next to her and put my hand on her back. “Hey—get a grip, okay? We’ll figure something out.”

She wiped her face and took a few breaths. Then rolled over and sat up after a moment. “Sorry. I’ve been really good about all of this. It’s just stress, you know? The bills keep coming in and the checks don’t. I don’t know what to do anymore. If I can’t sell my milk, what am I going do?”

She started crying again, and I held her for a few minutes until she was done. “You hired me. I’ll think of something. Take a minute and get yourself together and then come outside, okay? I’ll be with Zeke. Try and relax. One thing at a time. Let’s get the samples back from the lab and see what’s what.”

When I got outside, Cody was at the front door, and the second I opened it, he raced down to Anne’s room. Guess he wasn’t a traitor after all.

Seventeen

· · · · ·

After Anne returned outside with a freshly washed face, we cleared lunch off the table.

“We need to get the samples out to the lab today,” said Anne. “Lisa, my friend at the lab, told me benzene and the other chemicals break down pretty fast. I should box it up and get it over the post office for an express delivery.”

“And how far is that?”

“Remember that nice restaurant we went to?”

“You’re kidding me,” I said. We really were out in the middle of nowhere.

“If we time the trip right, you can buy me dinner again,” she said.

“Two dates in two nights? The neighbors will start to talk,” I said.

She glanced around with great drama. “You think?”

“We’ll bring Zeke this time, okay?”

“Of course. And we don’t have to go to that fancy place again—there’s a nice pub closer to the post office. It’s cozy, you’ll like it.”

We ended up goofing off most of the afternoon. Anne’s little four-wheel drive tractor thingamajig was actually called a Gator—some type of contraption John Deere makes for running around farms. Anne let me take Zeke out on it, just the two of us. As soon as we got out of sight of the farmhouse, I stopped and asked Zeke if he wanted to drive. Man, I wish I had a camera.

“I get to drive the car?” he asked, astonished. His face was priceless.

“Just take it slow, okay?” I slid out of the seat and walked around behind the truck as he slid over into the driver’s seat. The thing didn’t go more than about thirty miles per hour, how much trouble could we get into, right?

I explained the controls to Zeke as simply as I could. When he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, my head snapped back and I almost flipped out of the open seat. Zeke roared with laughter, never slowing down as he tried to steer us straight through the rolling grassland. On more than one occasion, he cut the wheel too hard and had us up on two wheels. My butt was out of the seat more time than it was in it. The two of us were screaming and laughing so hard I was pretty sure I’d pee in my pants. Without question, it was the best ten minutes I had with Zeke since he got hurt. As we got closer to a large pond, I started screaming for him to stop. He didn’t remember how, so I just yelled at him to take his foot off the gas, which he finally did. We eventually slowed down enough for me to slide my foot past his and step on the brake. I was laughing so hard the tears were rolling down my cheeks. I kept waiting for “Rainman” next to me to announce that he “was an excellent driver.”

We got out of the gator and I told Zeke we should probably not tell anyone he was driving. Then I looked at the gator and saw a thick layer of dark brown mud all over the sides where the tires had kicked up quite a disaster. Oops. Zeke spotted it, too.

“Are we gonna’ get in trouble?” he whispered.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.”

“Can I drive back?” His smile was huge.

“Not a chance…”

We headed back with me driving and Zeke recounting how he was going fast and making turns and almost flipping us over. The sound effects he was making of us crashing and screeching were nothing that I recalled, but hilarious just the same. There was about as much chance of this remaining a secret as the gas drillers next door apologizing and going home.

When we pulled back up in front of the barn, Anne saw her newly decorated brown gator.

“Have fun?” she said, shaking her head. “Big babies. Hose is at the end of the barn.”

I got the hint, and Zeke and I hosed off the brown truck until it was green again. Zeke and I strolled around the farm watching the animals and the activity for most of the afternoon. Around three, Anne came back and told us that we should head to town before the post office closed. Zeke and I cleaned up and followed her out to her truck. Zeke was disappointed that Cody wasn’t coming for the ride, but I had to start weaning him off that dog before we left anyway, or I’d have a very sad big brother on my hands.

We drove to the post office; a tiny building attached to the firehouse, and sent off the package overnight delivery. Looking at the single postal worker, I was figuring “overnight” delivery here meant “less than two weeks”. From there, we walked down Main Street and browsed by a few shop windows on the way to the pub for dinner. Zeke conversed with Anne about the items in the windows, and I found myself smiling at her most of the time. I was feeling goofy over this woman I hardly knew, but enjoying every second of it. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had such a heart throb from anyone. The fact that she was being so nice to Zeke only made the heartache worse. Maybe she had horrible breath in the morning or something.

Eighteen

· · · · ·

Philadelphia

Congressman James J. Mistretta from Pennsylvania’s 11th Congressional District walked into the busy pub for a one o’clock appointment with a potential campaign contributor. He didn’t typically meet face to face with contributors—he had campaign staff for that—but this was possibly a major contributor who had been pretty insistent on “a moment of the Congressman’s time”.

Mistretta had made his name attacking big energy companies, and had written plenty of legislation that made life difficult for the “evil empire” of big oil and gas. He was originally very leery when Globalvision Energy called and wanted to meet, but the woman on the phone had sounded too sexy to turn down. Mistretta, serving in his fourth term, was preparing for what would be a difficult campaign now that the Republicans were making headway. Every dollar counted—even if it was from “Big Oil”.

The congressman pushed through the lunchtime crowd and scanned the bar area. The woman on the phone told him to “look for blonde hair, you can’t miss me,” and she wasn’t kidding. There, at the end of the bar, was a most stunning woman, politely blowing off a man at the bar who was trying to buy her a drink. She had a mane of gorgeous blonde hair that would make a lion jealous. She spotted the Congressman and stood up. While he had never seen her before, she obviously knew what he looked like. She smiled, mumbled something to the dejected man as she walked away from him, and made a beeline to Congressman Mistretta.

She extended her hand with a firm grip. “Erin Roxbury, Globalvision Energy,” she said. She had locked her elbow in her hand shake, almost like she expected him to kiss her hand. He almost did.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Roxbury…”

“Miss. And call me Erin, please.”

He smiled and shook her hand, but didn’t let go. “Erin, then. Shall we grab our table?”

The congressman told the hostess who he was, and they were immediately brought to a high backed booth in the rear of the pub.

“Would you like a drink?” Offered the Congressman.

She smiled and cocked her head. “Well,” she cooed, “I don’t usually drink on business lunches, but if you will, I will.” She smiled at him. “Glass of Chardonnay?”

The Congressman asked for the wine list and proceeded to order the most expensive bottle of Chardonnay they carried. He didn’t care, Globalvision was paying for lunch, not him.

“A bottle?” Erin said, in mock surprise. “I hope we don’t end up getting drunk.”

He smiled. “If we do, my office is only a short walk away. We won’t have to drive anywhere for a while.”

The lunch meeting lasted almost two hours, with the controversial topic of fracing blown over after the first ten minutes. Erin was very emphatic about how Globalvision was bringing jobs to his district, helping America fulfill its energy needs, and paying millions in federal and state taxes. Globalvision continued to support candidates who understood the importance of natural gas exploration and drilling—especially those candidates who would stand up to the tree-hugging whackos who wanted all of Globalvision’s drilling operations closed down because of hysteria created by hypochondriacs and ambulance chasing attorneys. Congressman Mistretta’s face tightened when Erin referred to the “whackos”—his wife being a huge supporter of Green Leaf who was constantly pushing him for more legislation aimed at curbing drilling, mining and exploration.

Erin leaned across the table at one point; her fake boobs pushed up in her low cut blouse, and reminded the congressman of how his opponent had come out strongly in favor of continued drilling. “Will you be Globalvision’s friend?” she asked, looking up into his eyes.

“I’ll be your very good friend,” he responded.

“I really need you,” she said even more softly. “Globalvision Energy, I mean. We need your help,” she said, trying to act embarrassed.

By the time the second bottle was finished, the lunch rush was over and the pub was much quieter. “Maybe we should continue this discussion in my office where we’d have more privacy?” Suggested the congressman, the slur only slightly evident.

Erin quickly agreed and followed him out of the pub after she had paid for their lunch on her corporate card. They walked down the street to a quaint residential brownstone apartment building.

“Is this where your office is?” She asked, knowing full well where his office was located.

“Actually, the office is a few blocks further away. But I keep an apartment here in the city. This will give us more privacy to discuss Globalvision without being interrupted every five minutes by my staff,” he said.

They entered his apartment, where she placed her large purse on the end of the couch and then kicked off her shoes. She had his suit pants off in under thirty seconds, and had him grunting and wheezing like an old man in under five minutes. As soon as he climaxed, she got off of him and kissed his cheek. She used the handkerchief from his suit to wipe herself off, and then casually dropped it into her large purse. She was dressed quickly, and fixed her hair in front of the mirror. It had hardly been messed at all—the congressman was a fast worker.

“I really do need to go, Congressman. I think our meeting went much longer than we planned,” she said with her sexy smile. “I’ll thank you in advance for helping Globalvision operate in such a hostile environment.”

The congressman was still catching his breath on the couch. He still had his shirt and tie on, but that was all. She aimed the purse at him one last time to make sure the camera could get a nice clear shot of him with his pants at his ankles. The audio would be played back several times at Globalvision Headquarters in Atlanta for the entertainment of Mark Robbins, who had paid for the services of the woman going by the name Erin Roxbury. The audio revealed the quiet creaking of the couch, very poor acting by Erin, and a very long string of words, grunts, exclamations and profanity from the congressman.

Globalvision wouldn’t need to worry about Mistretta’s vote in the future. Well, not as long as he remained married, anyway.

Nineteen

· · · · ·

Meadow Junction

I drove Anne’s truck back to the farm, with Anne sitting between the Barnes brothers. All three of us had pleasant smiles on our faces as we drove in the twilight.

“You’re two for two when it comes to picking restaurants,” I said.

“You keep buying, I’ll keep picking,” she said.

“Are we gonna’ live out here?” asked Zeke.

I held back a laugh. “Zeke, you don’t ask a girl if you can move in with your family until at least your third date.” Anne’s smile showed teeth that time.

“When’s your third date?” asked Zeke, the sarcasm lost on him.

“Yeah—when is the third date?” asked Anne.

“I don’t know. I was thinking maybe we’d do something romantic like punch the crap out of Frank Taylor and then burn down his drilling operation.”

Zeke leaned forward and looked at me with great concern. I could feel my brother’s stare. “I was kidding, Zeke.”

“Hitting’s bad,” said Zeke quietly. Anne patted his leg.

“That’s right, Zeke. Noah made a bad joke.”

“Most of Noah’s jokes are funny,” said Zeke, brightening up.

“Oh yeah? Tell me one.”

Zeke made a face. “I can never remember them,” he said sadly. “Noah! Tell her the polar bear joke!”

I groaned. Zeke had memory problems, and I must have told him that joke a hundred times. It had stopped being funny to me years ago, but maybe Anne would like it. I took a deep breath.

“Okay—so this polar bear cub walks up to his mom in the middle of a storm and asks, ‘Mom, am I one hundred percent polar bear?’ And his mom says, ‘Of course you are.’ And the cub says ‘No, I mean, like, a hundred percent.’ And she says, “Yes, a hundred percent. I’m a polar bear, your dad’s a polar bear, we had you—that makes you a hundred percent polar bear.’ And the cub walks away in the blizzard. A little while later he sees his dad and asks him the same question. ‘Dad, am I a hundred percent polar bear?’ The dad says, ‘Didn’t you ask your mom that question? Of course you’re a hundred percent polar bear! Both my parents were polar bears; that makes me one hundred percent polar bear. Both Mom’s parents were polar bears—that makes her a hundred percent polar bear. I’m a polar bear, your mother’s a polar bear—together we had you—that makes you a hundred percent polar bear! Why do you keep asking?’ The cub looks at his dad and says, ‘Because I’m freezing!”

Zeke roared. “You get it? The polar bear was cold! They aren’t supposed to get cold!” Zeke couldn’t stop laughing. Anne laughed as much from Zeke’s contagious laughter as from the joke.

“Very funny,” she said.

“Noah’s funny!” he exclaimed. “He let me drive today!” He said, and then quickly covered his mouth with his hands. He looked horrified.

“Oops,” I said. “Cat’s out of the bag.”

“Sorry, Noah,” said Zeke between his fingers. “Am I in trouble?”

“Nope. Am I?”

“Did you run over any cows, ducks, children or farmhands?” asked Anne.

“Nope,” I replied.

“You cleaned off the mud?”

“Yup,” said Zeke, still speaking between his fingers covering his mouth.

“Then I guess you’re both okay.”

Zeke dropped his hands and looked at Anne, only inches from her face. “It was so much fun!” He screamed.

“Will you take me one day?” She asked.

“Can I, Noah?” He asked, still speaking way too loud for the truck’s cab.

“It’s okay with me, as long as you promise not to kill her. I’m just starting to like her.”

“Oh, please,” she said, making a sour face. “You liked me the minute you saw me.”

“Whatever,” I said, trying to be a hard ass, but it was a pretty poor attempt at “hard to get”. “You’re just leading me on to avoid getting a bill for my services.”

Anne shot me a look, and I knew she didn’t think it was funny. Oops. Women. Luckily, big brother went on a tirade about driving the gator and got me off the hot seat.

When we arrived at Anne’s farmhouse, Sergeant Davis was sitting on the picnic table smoking a cigarette. He had a sour look on his face as he approached the truck. We all climbed out, and the dogs came bounding towards us from nowhere. Zeke was on the grass with them instantly, and Anne and I walked over to Pete. He handed us an envelope.

“Your buddy next door got one of these done in record time,” he said dryly. “Restraining order. Anne Lynch, nor any of her employees or sub-contractors are to come within 100 feet of Globalvision personnel or equipment. They must have some pretty good connections in high places. They called me back over a few hours after I stopped by. Asked specifically for me. Wanted to make sure I’d explain it to you clearly. The new no trespassing signs are clearly posted at the property entrance and along their fence line. Sorry, Anne.”

I crossed my arms on my chest. “This ain’t my first rodeo. How the hell did they get a restraining order in one day against a woman who poses zero physical threat to them? I can’t get judges to move within a week—never mind a day!”

Pete shrugged. “Maybe your company doesn’t have a few billion dollars worth of juice. Take care, Anne.” He tipped his hat at us and walked back to his car. Shit. I felt a bit outmatched. “Never bring a knife to a gunfight”, or something like that.

“Call your buddy and ask her to call us when she gets the sample. Let’s hope overnight means overnight at your post office.” We headed into the house. Zeke held my hand, which he usually only did if he was stressed. I asked him what was wrong.

“Is Anne in trouble? Why was the policeman here? Is he gonna’ take Cody?”

I immediately knew he was thinking about the Wizard of Oz, which he had watched only about a million times. He always got scared of the mean old lady-slash-witch who was after Dorothy’s dog all the time. “Don’t you worry, Zeke. Anybody comes near Cody, I’ll drop a house on ‘em.”

He smiled huge, his perfect teeth looking very white. His mouth-guard had been like wearing braces over the years, and the sucker had perfect teeth. His laughing made me smile, and I knew he was envisioning the movie. Cody ran out of the house when Anne opened the door and bounded at Zeke, and the two of them rolled around on the grass together. I shook my head. I was so screwed.

· · · · ·

Washington, DC

CNN Reporter Standing outside Capitol Hill

“…and House Republicans were able to pass their new Energy Bill which had been deadlocked in Congress. In an about-face, House Democrat James J. Mistretta changed his position and joined Republicans in what he said was the only choice for America to meet its energy needs. The Sierra Club and several other environmental groups, which had previously backed the Congressman, voiced outrage at what they called a stab in the back after accepting years of financial backing in exchange for his promises of protecting the environment…the congressman has been called out by members of his own party since changing his vote, but refused further comment…”

Twenty

· · · · ·

Sullivan Farm – Fracing Facility

Frank Taylor was practically pounding the keys when he dialed Mark in Atlanta. Mark’s secretary spent a few seconds attempting to screen the call, but Frank insisted on being put through immediately. She relented and he was finally transferred.

“Mark!” he screamed into the phone. “We’re on line!”

Mark sat back in his large black leather chair and smiled. He put his feet up on his hand carved mahogany desk and put a fist up in the air. “Outstanding!” He exclaimed. “When did she come in?”

“About ten minutes ago. The tree is fitted on the wellhead and we’re flowing fast and furious! Excellent pressure. We’re filling trucks right now! Finally!”

“Good news, Frank. Good news. Our geologists increased their estimates out there, big time. We may be looking at quadrupling the size of our operation. Hell, you may even be sitting on a coal bed out there. My guys are telling me you’ll be pumping natural gas for at least twenty years in that pipe alone. We’re going to need to start punching more holes. A lot more. It looks like that field is huge. Time to go back to the neighbors. That pain in the ass next farm over is sitting on a giant fucking bubble, Frank.”

Frank grimaced. “That’s not going to be easy, Mark. We just served her with a restraining order for trespassing and trying to cause problems. I think they saw us empty the containment pond.”

“If they had proof of a problem, you’d have a film truck up your ass already. Don’t sweat it. Listen, we need her property. I want you to start drilling number two right at her fence line. And make sure you move every piece of equipment right up to the fence. Cut a dirt road along the property line and run trucks up and down twenty-four seven. She’ll sell.”

Frank lit a cigarette. “Mark, you don’t know this crazy bitch. Did you look into that guy she hired?”

“Not much on him, yet. Retired cop. A two-bit P.I. Forget him. Just make some noise and piss off her cows.” He smiled. “And make sure you slant drill under her field.”

“Oh, Jesus, Mark. You aren’t serious?”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely. I’m telling you—my guys are saying she’s on a huge bubble. Pop a hole in that sucker and start pumping. She gets a few more rumbles under her bedroom and maybe she’ll start thinking about what a great idea it would be to get the hell out of Dodge…”

Frank inhaled the cigarette smoke deeply. “It’s askin’ for trouble,” he said quietly.

Mark’s face reddened. “Listen to me, Taylor—this operation is going to be measured in nine figures. The energy bill just passed which means no more bullshit about fracing. Find out what she wants to sell. You can go five times what we paid for the Sullivan farm and we’d still be getting it for free. But I’m telling you right now, you handle that situation out there or I’ll send someone up there who can.” He slammed the phone down.

Frank looked at the blue smoke above his head. He had called feeling so victorious. The gas pocket had been breached, the gas was free flowing with good pressure, and they were already filling their first trucks. This should be cause for celebration. Instead, Mark was ready to fire him.

“Asshole,” he grumbled, as he pushed out his cigarette.

Twenty-One

· · · · ·

Lynch Farm

“You staying?” asked Anne.

We were sitting at the picnic table in front of the house watching Zeke playing catch with Cody. Zeke would throw a small red rubber ball as far as he could, which was pretty damn far, and Cody would race after it in a blur of fur. Damn that little dog was fast as hell. I kept waiting for the dog to drop it at Zeke’s feet and tell him to go get it himself, but instead, Cody just barked and wagged his tail happily.

“As in, staying for dinner, or staying over again?” I asked, not exactly sure where this was headed. I think she must have been thinking out loud when she asked me if I was staying, because when I asked that question, she froze and I could see she was embarrassed.

She stammered a bit and then managed a very flustered, “No, I just mean…are you, uh…”

“Uh, what?” I asked, enjoying making her squirm for some reason.

“Well, Zeke—you know, I was just worried…”

“Ohhh…Zeke,” I said, with great drama. “You’re worried about Zeke being so attached to your dogs. Yeah, well I was just going to leave him here permanently.”

She squinted at me. It wasn’t Clint Eastwood, but it was pretty good. Then she added a very caustic, “Well, I’d be getting the smarter brother. That’s for sure.”

I gave her my best fake smile. “Careful, or you’ll get stuck like that,” I said, referring to her Clint Eastwood expression.

“Is that what happened to you?” She asked. Damn, this girl was tough.

“Are you sure you didn’t have older brothers or something?” I asked her. “This type of nasty wit is usually learned. Or were you just born vicious?”

Her face softened ever so slightly. “I work in a man’s world.” She looked over at Zeke, who was letting Cody kiss him on the mouth. I squinted myself, seeing that. Jesus, Zeke. She saw my face and said, “I don’t let him kiss me on the mouth. I’ve seen him lick his balls.”

“Zeke!” I screamed. “Don’t let him kiss you on the mouth! It’s disgusting!”

“It tickles!” screamed Zeke, laughing and rubbing Cody’s face. He did pull his face back a little bit, though. Cody barked, maybe to tell me to mind my own business.

I looked at Anne. “You know why he does that, right?”

“Let’s Cody lick his face?” She asked, confused.

“No—why Cody licks his balls.”

“Because he can,” she said stoically. “You have any new jokes? So far, this one and the polar bear joke weren’t so great.”

“Damn. Tough crowd. Maybe I’ll stay just to annoy you.”

“If you want to stay, I’ll actually cook,” she said.

“Making some mad-cow steaks?”

I’m pretty sure I know what that particular finger meant. The she folded her arms across her chest.

“Guess that makes me oh-for-three on the jokes, huh?” I asked.

She gave me one raised eyebrow. She was kinda’ cute when she was pissed.

I realized she wasn’t looking at me, and I looked over my shoulder. In the distance, I could see long plumes of dark smoke coming from the direction of the fracing facility next door. “Want to go see what’s what?” I asked her.

She stood up without answering. “Zeke!” I yelled to my brother, who was still rubbing the dog’s belly. The “ever-efficient watcher of cows” was lying on his back with his tongue out while my brother rubbed his belly. “We’ll be right back. You stay with Cody!” He waved and happily went back to the dog.

Anne and I hopped into the Gator and I let Anne drive us towards the property line in the direction of the smoke. “We have to stay on your side of the fence,” I reminded her. She grunted something that I think was a “yeah” and we drove in silence. I’m pretty sure she was about to invite me to come to her room and ravage her right before the pricks next door ruined the moment. That really had me in a sour mood. That’s probably why Anne was looking pissed, too. She obviously had my naked body burning into her brain.

As we approached the wire fencing, I have to admit, I was pretty shocked. Taylor. What a dirt bag. He was standing up on the bed of a large flatbed truck wearing a damn white cowboy hat, parked not more than fifty feet from the property line, directing vehicles. A large bulldozer was pushing up a dirt road with several large dump trucks full of blue stone waiting to spread a new crushed stone road right along the property line.

“Are you fucking serious?” I asked out loud to myself.

“Unbelievable,” said Anne. She was probably talking to herself, too.

We stopped at the fence and got out. More trucks were rumbling over the meadow, belching black exhaust from their diesel engines. That was the smoke we had seen in the otherwise beautiful blue sky. The two of us stood at the fence, glaring at Frank Taylor until he must have felt the holes burning in his back. He smiled and waved like he was glad to see us. I wanted to put a round through his forehead. He sat down and hopped off the flatbed, then walked over to us. He stopped at his side of the wire cow fencing.

“Afternoon, folks,” he said, in his fake Texas good neighbor accent.

“Careful, Frank. Don’t get too close. You might be in violation of your own restraining order,” I said. I wasn’t my usual smiling self and he felt it.

“Oh, now—about that,” he said with a stupid-ass smile. “That’s just corporate safety stuff. You know how folks are these days—everybody sues everybody else over anything. Corporation doesn’t want anyone getting hurt on their property, that’s all. Nothing personal.”

“Nah, nothing personal there, Frank,” I said. “The personal part would be poisoning her cows and destroying the water supply and ruining her business. I guess that would be the personal part.” I could feel my ears getting hot, which only happened a couple of times a year. It was good that there was a fence between us.

Frank managed to keep the fake smile on his face. Impressive. I knew he hated my guts just as much as I hated his. I couldn’t have faked that good of a smile for a million bucks.

He put his hands up like he was ready to start preaching or something. “Now, look—I don’t know nothin’ about cow farming,” he said.

Man that fake cowboy accent really pissed me off. I guarantee the piece of shit had never lived in Texas or anywhere else where real people spoke in a “drawl”.

He continued. “But we made a fair offer on your property a while back, and the offer’s still good. I’ll bet I could get them to up the ante, so to speak, if you’re willing to talk.”

Anne stepped so close the fence was almost touching her chin. “My family’s farm isn’t for sale, Mr. Taylor. Now why don’t you move your trucks back away from my property?” She was very composed, but I could feel her anger as much as my own.

He removed his hat and put it over his heart like he was going to sing her a country song or something. “Ma’am, I understand the sentimental part of the farm, but we’re talking big money. You could retire and buy a nice house somewhere where you didn’t have to work so hard.”

“What part of ‘not for sale’ didn’t you get, mister?” I asked, in my best John Wayne impersonation. It was lost on him, I think. Anne’s Clint Eastwood was better than my John Wayne. At that moment I was picturing myself with Rooster Cogburn’s patch over my eye. I even put my hands on my hips and showed my True Grit.

He looked at me and then at Anne. “Well, we’ll be working here doing some drilling. It’s our property. Sorry if the noise is inconvenient. If you reconsider, just give me a call.” He produced a business card from his pocket and stuck it in the metal wire fence, then turned and went back to the trucks. We walked back to our Gator without touching his card. The sound of the dump trucks dropping tons of stone echoed over the green pastureland. We didn’t look back.

Twenty-Two

· · · · ·

Farm House

We rode back in silence, simmering in our own juices. I felt sick, and it wasn’t even my family farm. I could only imagine how was Anne was feeling. The sound of the trucks in the background made it even worse.

When we arrived back at the farm house, Zeke was running out in the meadow with Cody. I think maybe Cody had taught Zeke how to fetch a stick or something. Zeke. Jeez. I was only looking at him for a second when I heard the front door slam. Anne had run inside and I figured she needed her space. I walked over to the picnic table and sat down as I pulled out my cell phone. Not knowing who else to call, I pressed the speed dial that said Uncle George on it. Our “fake uncle” George had retired a couple of years ago and Zeke and I still kept in touch with him fairly regularly. He had been such a huge influence on me as a kid after my dad died, and helped me keep my sanity after Zeke’s accident. He saw my number on his caller ID.

“Hey kid!” He announced. “How’s tricks?” I guess he’d still be calling me kid when I was sixty.

“Hi, George. You got a second?”

“I’m retired. I got the rest of my life. What’s going on, Noah? You don’t sound like your usual wise-ass self.”

“I’m in way over my head, Uncle G. I need some advice.”

“Are we talking legal advice or did you finally find a babe?”

Now that was an interesting question. I hadn’t called about Anne. “Both, I guess.”

“Well all right, then! It’s about time!”

“The advice part isn’t so much like what you’re thinking…”

“Too bad. You know me. I’m very good with members of the female persuasion.”

“Um hmm.” George was the only cop I knew that was married for thirty plus years to the same lady. Whatever he knew about women, his wife had beaten into him. “No, it’s a case I took. Legal stuff. You know a good lawyer?”

“Criminal or civil?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Well, if you narrow it down for me, I could probably help you better. But if you need both, you’d probably be looking at one of the bigger firms with a full staff that specializes in everything.”

“We’re talking low budget here, Uncle G.”

“Not with a big law firm, you ain’t,” he replied.

“Yeah, well, then maybe I need a small firm. Or better yet, a firm that specializes in pro bono work.”

“Good luck with that. What’s going on, kid?”

I summarized the case briefly, including the description of the smoking hot farm widow to keep him interested. He listened without interruption, the way he always did, then thought a minute before speaking. I loved that about George. When he spoke, it was usually worth listening to.

“Okay. Here’s what I got,” he began. “Big oil company next door is drilling on property they own. Your very fine looking widow-farmer-lady has a bunch of sick cows that she claims are poisoned from chemicals coming from next door. They’d like her to sell her property to them, but she won’t. And she can’t prove shit about them being responsible for the sick cows unless the water samples show chemicals from their drilling operation, but they won’t give you any chemical samples to compare to, so good luck with that.” He paused. “That sound about right so far?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. So this oil driller is allowed to drill and frac? Explain that part.”

“Yeah. Fracing. They force chemicals into the ground, which break up the rocks with tremendous pressure, and then keep the cracks open with something called a proppant, which is like sand or something. Then, with all these fractures in the rocks, the gas and oil can be released to the surface where they can be pumped out. The problem is, the companies aren’t required to give their secret fracing recipes to anyone, so who knows what they’re pumping down into the ground.”

“And the DEP lets them do that?”

“Yup.”

“So if my oil-heat tank breaks and spills on my lawn, the EPA will have HazMat suits on and seal off a city block while they jack my house up off its foundation and make me spend a million bucks removing soil, but if the oil company wants to pump shit into the ground—that’s okay? Interesting.”

“Yeah. I’ve had to do a lot of reading since taking this case. It’s a dairy farmer against big oil. Good luck, huh?”

“No other farms out there?”

“Well, the farmer next door sold out to the oil company, and the nearest neighbors are pretty far away. She’s on her own.”

He was silent for a moment. Finally, he spoke, “Noah, me lad… your friend is seriously fucked. Case closed.”

I sighed. He said what I had been thinking since seeing the operation next door. A multibillion dollar industry wasn’t going to just pack up shop and leave because a farmer’s cows got sick.

“So that’s it? She’s just fucked? No advice?” I asked.

“Afraid not. Oh, except that you should probably be dating this woman. First female I’ve heard you mention with any interest in years. You still remember what to do, right?”

I smiled. “I’m pretty sure.”

“Based on your description, I can come out and show you if you need help.”

“Gee, thanks, George.

We spoke for a while longer, catching up on each other’s news. We spoke about Zeke a long time as well. George was the only other person on the planet who understood how heartbreaking the whole thing was. Like me, he had looked at Zeke as a superhero who would one day be a world champion. To see him now—well, it was just tough. And George loved him. I promised him I’d take a picture of Anne with my phone and send it to him. I guess my description of her had intrigued him.

Maybe she was a myth that was going to be shot to hell as soon as we got to know each other better, but what the hell. In the meantime, it was nice to have butterflies in my stomach again. I had forgotten what that was like. As I watched Zeke, I tried to decide who was being goofier.

Twenty-Three

· · · · ·

I ended up staying over that night. Anne did, in fact, cook us a great dinner. She barbecued chicken outside the house, and I was wise enough not to comment on the fact that we weren’t eating beef. Zeke snuck Cody pieces of chicken when he thought we weren’t looking, and Anne looked at me with big beautiful eyes, like I was going to have the backbone to tell him to stop. It was kinda’ funny how Cody sat by Zeke and not Anne. That was okay with me—less competition for Anne.

Thom had stopped by and ate a little with us before going home to have his real dinner with his family. When he told Anne about the additional layoffs, I could feel the pain in her heart. The business was dying, and everyone knew it. It was only a matter of time. Thom had stepped up and done it to spare Anne the trouble, which I respected—he was a good man, but Anne was still broken up over it. She thanked him and offered to send him home with more chicken, but he declined. I wondered if he was worried that we wouldn’t have enough food in the coming weeks.

After he left, we enjoyed the rest of the night together. It was strange how easy it was—the three of us, like a family. I kept waiting for the show to drop, but Anne was so sweet to Zeke, it just floored me. The three of us ended up taking the gator out for a drive, although I drove most of the way because I was afraid if Zeke drove I might be puking chicken and beer on Anne. Cody chased us the whole way with Zeke smiling and yelling at him the whole time. Anne sat in the middle and on more than one occasion held my thigh. Maybe it was just to hang on during the bumpy ride, but I could feel my heart in my chest every second she was holding my leg.

We stopped at one of the ponds and got to take a walk as the sun set in the beautiful pink and orange sky. I hated to ruin the moment, but I had to ask.

“Did you take water samples from this pond, too?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Still waiting for word back from the lab. They warned me it would be a while. Any day now, I guess.”

At some point during the walk, I held her hand. I’m not really sure when or how that happened. Sometimes when Zeke was nervous, he’d hold my hand, so I hardly noticed at first. When I did realize it was Anne’s hand and not Zeke’s, I actually was startled.

“What’s wrong?” she asked when I jerked a bit.

I looked around and found Zeke running with Cody. I leaned over and kissed her, and then told her I liked holding her hand as much as Zeke’s. She asked if she had less calluses, and then got all mushy and started holding my face. I have to admit, with the sunset over the tall grass and trees on the horizon, it was the ultimate make-out moment. It was going pretty hot and heavy until Zeke had to start screaming.

“You’re kissing! I knew it! You like each other! I told you!”

Welcome back to sixth grade.

Anyway—we drove back to the house and Zeke took one of the spare rooms with Cody. Anne didn’t even protest. Once those two were in bed and the lights were out, we returned to the den. Anne disappeared and returned with two more beers. I knew there was a reason I liked her.

We drank a little, kissed a lot, and then she put her finger over her lip to tell me to be quiet. She took me by the hand and led me to her room. Trust me—I was very quiet. Well, except for the heart beat pounding in my ears. I actually felt nervous. Jeez. This was bad. What grown man gets so nervous when he might be on the verge of getting laid?

She led me into her room and closed the door behind us. When she locked it, I knew.

“It’s been a really long time,” she said quietly.

“Me too,” I managed to reply. My mouth was so dry I had to chug some beer. She took the bottle away from me and put it on her night stand next to her own, then stepped close and let me pull her in.

I don’t kiss and tell, but wow. She had been worth the wait.

· · · · ·

At some point, she nudged me awake. It was dark in the room. I smiled in the dark.

“Morning,” I whispered.

“You have to go back to your room,” she whispered.

“How about in a minute?” I asked. I had woken up with quite a piece of hardware and wasn’t about to waste it. Before she could answer, I rolled over on top of her. I was half expecting her to tell me “no”, but to my delight, she reached down and guided me in. Based on how well the next few minutes went, I obviously wasn’t the only one who woke up in a great mood. It was slow and wonderful. I can’t think of a better way to wake up—except maybe about three hours later.

“Okay—now you have to go back to you room,” she said. It was still pretty dark in the room, but I could see her huge grin.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered, and stumbled out of my bed to retrieve my clothes from all over the room. I started to leave her room and then stopped. I walked back and sat next to her on the bed and kissed her—morning breathe and all.

“This was very unprofessional,” I said quietly.

“I thought you did just fine,” she said with a smirk.

Wise ass.

I tiptoed down the hall to the other bedroom and lay down on the bed. A few second later, I heard doors opening and Anne walked in wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.

“Don’t even think about sleeping. It’s almost six.”

“Are you kidding me? We slept like two hours…”

“Up and at ‘em, sunshine. We’re burning daylight.”

Oh my God. Seriously? “We’re burning daylight?” I’m not sure what John Wayne movie that was from—“The Cowboys”, maybe—but I’m a private detective, not a dairy farmer.

She was out of the room and in the kitchen making coffee in a second, while I feigned death on the bed. I heard Cody’s feet on the wood floor outside my door as he trotted into the kitchen. I heard Anne say “Good morning, traitor” before she let him outside to do his business and get to work in the barn. Hell, maybe he could do my work too while he’s at it. I rolled over and closed my eyes.

Anne tapped my shoulder, and I rolled over onto my back with a groan. She was holding coffee, thank God.

“So you think you can just bang the old farmer and then take the day off?” She said with a raised eyebrow.

“The old farmer wore me out. I need sleep.”

“Sleeping isn’t on the agenda. Coffee up.”

I said, “Yes, dear,” like a beaten man.

Twenty-Four

· · · · ·

Green Leaf

We were walking cows out to the milking barn with Max, Bear and Cody doing most of the work when Thom arrived.

“Looks like you got company,” he said. I thought he meant me, but he didn’t. “Bunch of folks at the gate of them sumbitches next door. Protesters.”

“What kind of protesters?” asked Anne.

“Some of the signs said ‘Green Leaf’ on them,” said Thom. He walked into the barn and got to work hooking up cows to the milking machines. I still didn’t understand how come Cody couldn’t be trained to do that so I could go back to sleep.

Green Leaf was a fairly radical bunch. While some of them were hippy types who just preached about saving the planet, the whales, the elephants, the drinking water, the ozone, the polar ice caps and maybe the lemmings, they also had an element that wasn’t opposed to blowing shit up to prove a point. Maybe things were about to get interesting.

Anne folded her arms across her chest and looked at me. “Is that good news or bad news?”

I pondered that a moment. “Good news, I think. Maybe when the sun comes up we’ll go talk to them.”

“The sun is up, Sherlock,” she said.

“Wouldn’t you rather go back to bed with me?” I asked, trying to sound suave, but ready to pass out.

She looked around real quick to make sure Thom wasn’t around and whispered, “Yup.” She smiled and punched my chest. “I’ll get you later…”

Damn. She was obviously crazy about me.

We spent the morning doing what I can only describe as “hard work”. This whole bucolic farmer thing was way overrated. Healthy country living, my ass. The woman was trying to kill me.

Zeke showed up at the barn at a human hour. I was actually relieved when Cody stayed on task and worked. Zeke was smart enough to just watch him without interrupting and Cody apparently knew when it was work time.

At some point, Anne said we were finished for a while. I have no idea how she knew when we were done, but I didn’t argue with her. “Let’s take a look at these Green Leaf folks,” she said, throwing her gloves on the picnic table as we headed towards her pickup truck.

Zeke and I followed her to the truck, and I let her drive with Zeke seated in the middle. We drove up the dirt road and left her property, driving over towards the Sullivan Farm, where I was sure we would stop at least a hundred feet from their gate. As it turned out, we had to stop a hundred feet away anyway because of the commotion out there. Several television vans were set up with reporters talking into cameras as protestors posed in the background with their signs, gas masks and painted skull faces.

We stopped the truck and got out. I grabbed Anne’s arm and whispered into her ear. “This may be the only shot you get to speak to the media. Tell them what’s going on!”

Anne looked at me, obviously nervous, and we all walked closer to the crowd. Zeke held my arm, tensing up at what appeared to be an angry mob. Signs were being held up behind one of the reporters. “Globalvision is Death!” “Global Vision is Blind.” Another was just a picture of a coffin. We stood behind the cameraman and waited for them to finish. As soon as they were done with their report, they cut tape and began packing up to leave.

“Hurry up!” I urged Anne.

Anne walked over to one of the women, who was speaking to her cameraman. Her first two “excuse me’s” went unnoticed. I finally barked a “Hey!” and got her to turn towards us.

Anne walked closer. “I’m Dr. Lynch. I run the dairy farm next property over. My cows are all dead or dying from chemical poisoning, and Globalvision won’t admit to any wrongdoing, even though we all know why my animals are sick.”

The reporter cocked her head. She held up a finger and started whispering to her cameraman. They conferenced for a minute and she walked quickly back to Anne.

“Will you speak to me on camera?” She asked.

“Absolutely,” said Anne.

“Only me. I want an exclusive,” snapped the reporter, eyeing the other reporter who was finishing up her report with an interview of some hippy-dippy kook.

Anne looked at me, and I shook my head. Strike while the iron’s hot. I motioned for Anne to do the interview at her farm by pointing at her house. She understood, and before long, we were back in the truck and headed to her farm with a news van close behind.

“I’m so nervous,” she admitted as she drove.

“About what?”

“About being on camera. I don’t want to look like a nut like those Green Leaf people.”

“Well, you haven’t painted a skull on your face—that’s a good start. You’re not doing the interview in a gas mask are you?”

She ignored me and drove.

“Just tell her the story from the beginning. They’ll edit the shit out of it…”

“You said ‘shit’,” announced Zeke. I apologized.

“Just give them facts, and use your doctor lingo to make it sound official.” I coached Anne the whole way back to the farm. By the time she hopped down from the cab, she was fired up and ready to give them hell.

Anne gave the reporter a quick tour of the farm as she spoke, the cameraman in tow the whole time. When she took them to the freezer and began pulling out cow organs with tumors the size of softballs, the reporter’s face was priceless. The cameraman was all over it, and the interview heated up quite nicely with Anne explaining how she was a veterinarian and had never seen anything like the horror show that was now her family farm. A horror show that started coincidently when the fracing began next door at the Sullivan Farm.

When they were finished, the reporter told her cameraman she wanted to try to get back on the Sullivan Farm property. He laughed. “The station called twenty times—they won’t comment.”

The reporter, a woman named Julia something or other, frowned and said, “I’ll call myself. I’ll give them the doctor’s evidence and ask for a reply.”

I wished her luck. We chatted a while longer, exchanged phone numbers and emails, and walked them to their van. After they left, Anne gave me a hug and managed to hold herself together, followed quickly by Zeke, who put his arms around both of us.

Who knows? Maybe the news story would help.

Twenty-Five

· · · · ·

A wrench in the works

We were taking a lunch break back in the house when Anne’s phone rang. It was Anne’s friend who worked in the lab where we had sent some samples. I listened to her half of the conversation for a while, and knew it wasn’t going well. I sat there for what seemed like forever watching her face. She grabbed a pen and began scribbling notes. At one point she looked at me and shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. She kept saying things like, “That’s impossible” and “that doesn’t make any sense”. When she was finished, she sat down and exhaled slowly, looking defeated.

She shook her head again and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t get it, Noah. The samples we sent from my animals don’t match the chemical compounds in the water you took from next door.”

“The water samples didn’t have any toxins?” I asked, surprised.

“Oh, they had plenty of toxins,” she looked at her notes, “Benzene, ethyl benzene, toluene, xylene, naphthalene, methanol, formaldehyde, hydrochloric acid—want me to go on?”

“Not really—you lost me after benzene. What about your cows?”

“That’s the part I don’t understand. There were very high concentrations of benzene, but also a bunch of other stuff that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Okay—such as?”

“This is an organic farm, Noah. If I have pests, I spread ladybugs, not insecticides. The tissue samples sounded like the side of a can of Raid. Diazinon and a host of other organophosphates—it’s insane!”

I sat back and fold my arms across my chest. “And you know what Diazinon is, why?”

“I do have a pesticide license, Noah—I just don’t use them.”

“Okay, well, miss smarty-pants, I don’t—so what’s Diazinon?”

“It’s a pesticide. You can’t buy it over the counter anymore, but it’s still allowed in agriculture. It would account for the poisoning of the animals and their symptoms, but how the hell did they get exposed to it? It’s not in my water supply—it’s not in the ponds—it’s not anywhere on my property.” She ran her fingers through her hair and stared at the table feeling fried.

Zeke looked at me, his face showing concern or fear. I patted his massive arm.

“So let me catch up—I’m just a dumb ex-cop detective, not a scientist-slash-veterinarian. Your sick animals were loaded with an insecticide and some of the chemicals from the drillers next door?”

She looked up at me with sad eyes. “Yes. The tissue samples showed trace amounts of benzene, which we can assume came from water contamination from next door—but the Diazinon, I have no idea. It makes zero sense, Noah.”

“Do they use Diazinon when they do their fracing?”

She screwed up her face as she pondered that. “I hadn’t thought of that, but I guess we can’t rule it out. I assumed it was from pesticide use, but you’re right. What if it’s one of the ingredients in their cocktail? Except why didn’t it show up in the pond water sample?”

“You got me there. I have no idea.”

“Well that makes two of us.”

We sat in silence for a while and Zeke just came out of nowhere and said, “Anything I can do to help?” His tone of voice sounded like an adult—like the old Zeke. I almost fell off my chair. Even Anne, who didn’t know Zeke like I do showed her shock at his manner of speech.

“Uh—I don’t know, Zeke. We have to wait and see.”

He sat staring at her for a second, in total clarity. His eyes were so sharp and focused—his face so relaxed and “normal”. And then he slumped back and glazed over and said, “Okay.”

Anne looked at me questioningly. I fought the tears and shrugged. Who knows what goes on in that thick skull of his? I know Zeke’s still in there, buried deep maybe—but he’s still in there. I took a deep breath and let it out real slow…

Twenty-Six

· · · · ·

Okay, I admit it. I stayed over yet again. At this point, it was totally out of control to be practically camped out at some chick’s house with my brother while I was supposed to be working. I knew damn well I’d never see a cent for this “case” and I wasn’t doing any other work. Hell, I was still wearing the same clothes I came over in. I needed to get home, water my dead plants, pack a bag with some real clothes, and maybe even follow up on some paying jobs. Except I couldn’t. How could I leave? This was a mind blowing lady that needed my help, for whatever that was worth, and I was, well, kind of crazy about her. There. I said it. She was smart, sexy, great looking, and on top of everything else, she was funny.

The night before, after Zeke was asleep with Cody of course, we stayed up and polished off a bottle of red and then went to her room. When I went to make my smooth moves, she asked if I would just hold her—it had been a long day. So I did. I lay down and let her curl up against me and tried to go to sleep. That’s when she arched up on her elbows and stared at me.

“Are you fucking serious?” She asked.

“What?” I asked. I had no idea what she was talking about.

“That’s it? You’re just going to take that answer?”

I realized she was referring to her comment about not wanting to fool around.

I pulled her close to me and she acted like she was going to pull away, but then she jumped on top of me. I’m a gentleman, and I don’t kiss and tell. But Jesus Christ. Thank goodness Zeke was a sound sleeper. I thought the first night was amazing. Screw that. That was nothing. By the time we were finished, the mattress was moved across the box spring and the sheets were halfway on the floor. Farmers. Who knew?

After she fell asleep, I lay there in the dark thinking about this beautiful, hard working lady who was pretty tough, but also so caring and sincere. And then I thought about the fact that I was thinking about that. I shook my head in the dark. I was screwed. I waited about twenty minutes and then I woke her out of a sound sleep.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, sleepily.

“What’s wrong? It’s time to get up! There’s work to be done! No slackers! The cows need to be milked for God sakes!”

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Oh no—I’m exhausted! It can’t be time to get up yet!” She looked at her clock. It was two-thirty. “You jerk.” She laughed and collapsed on me, falling back to sleep instantly. Damn. How did she fall asleep like that? I was jealous. I laid there for another hour, unable to turn off the wheels spinning in my brain. How did insecticide get into her cows? Would the guys next door intentionally kill her animals to run her off? I pondered that until I fell asleep—and was woken up what seemed like two minutes later by a sexy farmer with a cup of coffee.

“Coffee in bed? Careful, you’ll spoil me.”

She leaned over and kissed me. “After last night, I’ll make you ham and eggs in bed if you want.”

I smiled, feeling rather impressed with myself. I was, in fact, some type of superhuman. I settled for coffee and two Advil.

· · · · ·

I spent the early morning at the farm, but then told Anne I had to get home and get some things taken care of. She asked when I was coming back, and I told her whenever I was invited. She invited me to return that evening, as I hoped she would, and I accepted—so much for playing hard to get.

Zeke and I drove home, with my brother spending most of the ride discussing the intelligence of Anne’s dogs. He also asked if we were going to move to the farm and live there, which I danced circles around. I wasn’t quite ready to elope yet with a woman I had known for less than a week. Zeke also mentioned that he told Cody he might be coming to live with him, and Cody was very excited with the news.

Holy crud.

Twenty-Seven

· · · · ·

Home sweet home. Sort of. I was already missing the farmer lady and I hadn’t been home for more than an hour. That was so not me. I probably was just feeling sorry for her because I knew she was obviously already in love with me.

I checked on Zeke, who was being way too quiet in his bedroom. I was afraid maybe he was missing the dog and was upset. Instead, I walked into his room and found him sitting on the bed, holding a framed picture of himself in the ring during one of his better fights. He was holding the picture with one hand, and rubbing the brow over his eye with the other. I didn’t say anything for a while—I just stood there in his doorway watching his brain firing away at some distant memory of nasty head butts. He looked so intense I didn’t dare say anything and break his concentration.

“Cheatin’ piece of shit,” he muttered.

I almost had a heart attack. It was Zeke’s old voice—and he sounded pissed. I entered his room quietly and stood at the foot of his bed. Zeke continued to stare as he unconsciously rubbed the scars over his eyebrow.

“He cheated?” I asked quietly.

“Not him. Garcia. That piece of shit.”

“You remember Garcia?” I asked quietly. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Zeke was totally lucid.

“Oh yeah. Head butt after head butt. The ref didn’t do a damn thing.”

“Zeke? How you feelin’ right now?” I asked as I stepped closer and tried to look into his eyes. Tried to look into his brain, really.

“Angry.” And then, just like that, his face glazed over and he looked up at me with the sad eyes of a child. “Hitting’s bad,” he said quietly.

I sat down on the bed next to him and hugged him really hard so he couldn’t see the tears running down my face. God—he was in there somewhere. It was so close to the surface. Some days it was so hard to take. He felt my tears against the side of his face and pulled back to look at me.

“Do you miss Cody, too?” He asked, looking very concerned.

“Yeah.”

“We can go back and see him, right? Don’t be sad.”

I patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll be okay, Zeke. We’ll go back and see Cody soon.”

“And Anne,” he teased. “You like Anne.”

“Yeah. What about you?”

“She’s pretty. And nice. And she cooks better than you, too. Oh—sorry,” he added.

I looked at Zeke and forced a smile. Two minutes ago, I thought my older brother was on the verge of coming back to me; but he was gone. Plain and simple. Gone.

My cell phone rang and the caller ID said Uncle G. I greeted my uncle.

“Hey there, kid. I saw your girlfriend on TV yesterday. I think it was her, anyway. You get that set up for her?”

I was surprised. I hadn’t realized it was already aired, and even more surprised that George would have realized it was Anne.

“No—the protesters next door caused enough of a commotion to get the press there. We just seized the opportunity to get Anne’s story out. How did it go?”

“Well, your girlfriend is every bit as good looking as you said she was. When you said she was a dairy farmer, I was a little worried. I kept picturing some big lady without makeup. This chick is smokin’. I’m impressed, kid.”

I laughed. “That’s not what I meant. The story, George—did the story make her look good? Will it help her case against the drillers next door?”

“Ahh”, he grumbled. “I doubt it. The whole news piece was like forty seconds long. Showed the protesters—showed her with a bunch of cow guts she said were infected, and then it showed a kitchen sink with the big drama about ‘is your drinking water safe?’ or some shit. It said they’d be following up though, so who knows. Maybe they’ll interview her again or something. So how’s it going with her?”

I laughed. Typical George—much more concerned with me getting laid than with anything else. “It’s going very well, actually. I really like her.”

Stunned silence. “No shit, huh? Well, I could see why at least. Good for you, kid. Who’s been watching Zeke?”

“He’s been out on the farm with me. Anne’s great with him, actually and he’s like Dr. Doolittle or something. She’s got dogs that love Zeke as much as he loves them. He looks real happy.”

“But?” he asked. George always read me like a book.

“I don’t know. His brain’s been awful busy lately. He’s been having, like, flashes or something. Out of nowhere, he’ll just blurt some shit out from twenty years ago. He looks totally like his old self for a minute, and then wham—he’s gone again.”

“Tough, huh?”

“Yeah. It sucks. I keep hoping, you know? The docs gave up a long time ago, but I don’t know. I think Zeke’s still in there somewhere. Anyway—how are you doing? What’s up with you? The misses okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s good. Being retired ain’t half bad. And listen, if you ever want to have Zeke stay with me for a few days. We’d love to have him. I can bring him down to the PAL gym. He’d probably love to hit the bags again.”

I thought about that for a second. I couldn’t help but wonder if the gym might help stir up some brain cells or something. “Yeah? You know he can’t spar, right?”

“No shit. You think I’m trying to kill him? I wouldn’t let anyone touch him—you know me better than that.”

I felt bad about my dumb comment. “Yeah, I know, Uncle G. But you know Zeke—he can be pretty insistent. Anyway, I might take you up on that one day soon. I wouldn’t mind a day or two with Anne alone, and I think the gym would be great for Zeke. You know that crazy son of a bitch is bench pressing over four hundred pounds?”

“Four hundred pounds? Jesus. You ask his doc if he should be doing that kind of straining?”

“He’s not supposed to be, no. You want to tell him no? Just let him be happy.”

“Your call, but damn. That’s a lot of weight. Anyway—I’m a phone call away. Drop him off anytime. I’d love to see him. Oh—and good luck with the farmer.”

He laughed and hung up. I immediately thought back to our gymnastical session the night before and smiled. I better start taking vitamins or something. I called Anne and got her voice mail. Of course she’d be out working, what was I thinking? She worked this hard when the milk wasn’t for sale—I couldn’t imagine how hard she must bust her ass if the farm was actually producing milk that could be sold.

“…please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

“This is your favorite private detective. You’re a TV star. I missed it, but I hear you got rave reviews. I’m heading back tonight with Zeke. This time I’m bringing extra underwear.” I hit “end” and realized I was smiling just leaving her a message. Maybe Zeke was the more mature brother after all.

Twenty-Eight

· · · · ·

Congressman Mistretta’s wife was screaming at him again. Her face was a pleasant shade of purple as she berated her long-faced husband. “Did you see the piece? Channel three and the cable news stations were blasting it all over the air! Your constituents are seeing their farms turned into toxic dump sites while you were busy voting ‘yes’ on the bill that allowed it to happen! Jesus Christ, JJ! I spend twenty years helping to create Green Leaf so you can just turn your back on everything? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

He turned and faced his screaming wife. “You have no idea what it’s like in DC, Lydia! No idea! There are other factors here! The district is up for grabs and I’ve got no money coming in! Your Green Leaf hippies are too busy smoking pot to get a job! They’re not writing checks to my campaign!”

“And neither am I!” She screamed. She stormed out of their home office and pounded up the stairs to their bedroom.

The congressman threw a pen across the room. He flopped into his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. Lydia’s parents had very deep pockets. They had been a huge part of his successful campaigning. Lydia liked being a congressman’s wife, and her daddy wrote plenty of fat checks to her account so that she could support her husband—as well as Green Leaf and a myriad of other similar organizations that pushed their own agendas. James Mistretta had been a fairly worthless congressman, but in a congress that was always one or two votes away from a deadlock, every vote was huge. His vote on the last energy bill caused more commotion than Acorn did during the last presidential election.

And while his wife would never understand how he could have flipped his position on such a huge bill, the pictures and video he had received from Globalvision Energy were all it took.

There he was in living color, seated on the couch, obviously in mid-orgasm as one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen enthusiastically rode his lap naked. It was a twenty second video clip, and the second email had several pictures of him on the couch with his pants around his ankles and his red face covered with sweat. This was obviously the “post-screwing shot”, and his expression was ridiculous. When he saw it he actually sobbed for quite a while. Lydia was not the “forgive and forget” type, and if she found out, he wouldn’t just be a divorced congressman—he’d be a divorced, broke, ex-congressman.

The prick at Globalvision Energy had been very blunt: vote yes or else. And while he could never prove it was actually Globalvision that had called, he remembered quite vividly the “lobbyist” named Erin he had met with that afternoon. The reversal of his position had not only infuriated his wife, it had put him on the outs with most of his own party and cost him two senior staff people who resigned after their boss, the “environmental champion” sold out to Big Energy. He sat in the quiet office and pondered ways of making up with Lydia. Maybe it was time to head back to the local jewelry store. That usually did the trick when she was pissed at him. This trip would be more expensive than his last.

Twenty-Nine

· · · · ·

Zeke and I headed west again. We had stopped at a pet store and I let Zeke pick out three squeaky toys for the dogs. The conversation had started with one toy for Cody, but then it was decided, by Zeke, that buying only one toy was completely unfair. We then spent another ten minutes shopping for just the right one for each dog’s personality. I was getting a bad feeling that this was a no-no, and I called Anne and actually got her on her cell phone. I quickly summed up the pet store expedition. Good thing I called.

“Hey, Zeke!” I yelled, after now spending quite a while in the pet store. “Just one for Cody. Max and Bear sleep in the cow barn. If they start squeaking in there, we’ll cause a stampede.”

Zeke found that absolutely hilarious for some reason. He began talking a hundred miles an hour about some show he watched on nature channel or something with thousands of stampeding buffalo. I calmed him down and settled on a purple turtle that made a helluva lot of noise. The cashier was very happy to see us leave, after listening to Zeke squeak the toy no less than a hundred times in the checkout line.

The drive out to the farm was painful. Zeke just had to squeak the thing another five hundred times, all the while telling me how smart Cody was and how he was going to love his new toy.

When we arrived at the farm, it was almost three in the afternoon. The cows were out on the rear pasture with Max and Bear overseeing the herd, and Anne was just out of the shower, obviously cleaning up to look her best for the man she was head over heels in love with. Either that or she had to get the cow shit out from under her fingernails.

Zeke was very excited to show Anne Cody’s new toy. She cringed at the idea of her working dog being given a squeaky toy, but when Zeke squeaked it one time, Cody went absolutely ape-shit. The dog was running in circles and leaping several feet into the air to try and grab the purple turtle. They must spray those dog toys with wolf bane or something. How did Cody know it was for him? The dog was absolutely insane over the stupid toy, and Zeke was ecstatic. When he threw the toy, a black and white blur of fur went after it, tackled it and rolled with it, then streaked back to Zeke for another toss. Anne looked at me with her beautiful smile and buried her face in her hands.

We kissed each other a proper hello while Zeke had a long conversation with the now ruined ex-working dog.

“I didn’t bring you a squeaky toy,” I said.

She reached down between my legs and gave me a gentle squeeze. “Yes, you did,” she said with a smile. One of those evil smiles that I really liked. Um hmm. After a few minutes of catching up, we sat on the picnic table and watched Zeke play catch with Cody. I have to admit, it was pretty amazing how Zeke and that dog seemed to be so in tune with each other.

Anne’s face went serious. “I got a call today from the Hatchers.”

“And the Hatchers are…?”

“The Hatchers own the dairy farm on the other side of the Sullivan’s farm, sorry. I thought I had mentioned them before.”

“Nope. So what’s up with the Hatchers?”

“Well, up until yesterday, nothing. They had zero problems with their farm. They had been sympathetic to my problems over here, and obviously worried that it could affect them as well, but they hadn’t had any issues. Anyway, they lost a cow this morning. They asked me if I wanted to take a look at it.”

“You going over?”

“Yes. I was waiting for you. I mean, I was hoping you’d come with me.”

“Of course. Can Zeke stay here? I don’t think he’d be cool with seeing you dissect a cow.”

“Sure. And Thom is still here if Zeke needs anything.”

I told Zeke that Anne and I were leaving for a little while and that Thom was in the barn if he needed anything. Zeke was just fine staying with Cody. In fact, I think he now preferred Cody to me. We took Anne’s truck and headed out.

The concept of “neighbors” is a little different in dairy farm country. “Two properties over” was about a fifteen minute drive. I’m not complaining—the countryside was gorgeous, and so was the driver of the truck. I’m just saying, you wouldn’t want to have to walk next door to borrow a cup of sugar.

We passed the Green Leaf crew, still camped outside the gate of the Sullivan farm. There weren’t quite as many of them, but those that remained were an interesting looking bunch. Lots of piercings. Eyebrows. Noses. Lips. Lord knows what else. I’m not sure how that connected with saving the planet, but whatever. I’m just a dumb ex-cop turned private-detective turned dairy-farm specialist. The “Keep Out” and “No Trespassing” signs weren’t as large as the Green Leaf signs, nor nearly as colorful.

We arrived a while later at the Hatchers’ farm and drove up the dirt road that meandered through a meadow until we arrived at a setup pretty similar to Anne’s own place.

Unlike Anne, Mr. Hatcher looked like a dairy farmer to me. He was wearing faded jeans and a flannel shirt over a t-shirt. His John Deere cap looked almost as old as he was—I was guessing about sixty from the head of thinning white hair and red weather beaten face. How was it possible that Anne looked so good doing the same type of work? We got out of the cab of the pickup and walked over to a firm handshake.

“Well, I guess there’s no ignoring the problem now,” he said with a sour face. “I was real sorry to hear about the problems at your place, Anne. Now it looks like it’s here, too.”

We chatted for a minute and Anne introduced me as a friend of hers who was trying to help. We followed Mr. Hatcher, “Hank”, to the barn where he had dragged the big Holstein by tractor. Anne looked at the animal the way a veterinarian does, seeing more than laymen like me. I just saw a big dead looking black and white cow. Anne was talking to Mr. Hatcher about all kinds of disgusting bodily fluids and symptoms. I think I heard him say “Yup” about a dozen times. She eventually put on rubber boots, gloves and a heavy apron and gutted the big animal. Its guts spilled out onto a concrete slab. I don’t get grossed out easily, but Jesus H. Christ—I almost puked. Let me tell you, cows hold a lot of “stuff” inside. I was thinking about going vegetarian for a moment there. (But only for a moment.)

Anne began rummaging through this red sticky pile of cow guts. I backed off to stay out of the way and allow the two farmers to converse over this highly technical matter. Besides, it was a beautiful day outside and I didn’t want to be cooped up inside a barn.

“You okay?” Anne called to me after I started walking outside.

“Oh yeah—just great. I’ll be outside if you need any help.”

It seemed like quite a while before Anne emerged. I’m happy to say she had washed herself up very carefully.

“I didn’t figure you for the squeamish type,” she said. She had a bucket with “stuff” in it that I didn’t need to see.

“I’m not squeamish. I just wanted to walk around and get a feel for the place. You know—look for clues and private-eye stuff.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So what’s the scoop, doc? Same stuff as your animals?”

“I think so. Some type of toxin. My guess is she suffocated. Her lungs were full of fluid and she had some nasty tumors like my animals.”

As I listened to her, I realized I never really thought of a cow as a “her” before. It was just a cow. But it was a mammal producing milk, so it was a “her”. So noted. I was practically an expert now.

We were chatting by the truck when a couple of farm hands walked by, I guess heading back to their own vehicles since it was end of the day.

“Hey, Billy!” Called Anne to one of the guys.

He smiled and waved, but kept walking. It was a little awkward. The guy wasn’t good looking enough to have been an ex-boyfriend, I don’t think.

“What’s up with him?” I asked.

“He used to work for me. I had to let him go when things went bad at the farm. I didn’t realize he was working here now.”

“So now what?” I asked, watching the men leave for the night.

“I send the samples to my friend at the lab and see what killed this cow. Poor Hank will be testing his milk and going through all the stuff I just went through. It’s a nightmare, trust me. He’s a good man and he’d never sell tainted milk. He’ll have to have everything tested. It’s expensive as hell and will essentially close him up until the tests come back clean. Pump and dump. Life as a dairy farmer sucks sometimes.” She shook her head.

Thirty

· · · · ·

When we returned to Anne’s farm, Zeke and Cody greeted us happily. Cody’s tail was wagging like crazy and Zeke was smiling ear to ear.

I looked at Anne. “You do realize that if you dump me, the dog’s coming with me, right?”

She shook her head and smiled. “I think you’re right. It’s fine, though—Cody is obviously ruined as a working dog.”

“Maybe we should get a squeaky toy for Thom, too.”

“Very funny. He’s the only two-legged worker I have left—you leave him alone.”

I thought about the guy at the other farm. I’m a little jaded. “Hey, Anne—that guy that used to work for you, what’s his name?”

“Billy?”

“Yeah, him. Can you get me all his info?”

She looked at me with an odd expression. “For what?”

“Because I used to be a cop and I don’t trust anyone. Present company excluded. I just want to check him out.”

“Noah—Billy worked for me for three years. It’s not his fault the Sullivan’s Farm is now a toxic dump.”

“You’re right. But humor me. I didn’t like his reaction when he saw you. Hey—you never fucked him did you?”

“What?!” She exclaimed, with a bit of anger in her voice.

“Just asking. That’s a no, I take it?”

“Jesus Christ, Noah. You think because I slept with you I’m some kind of slut now? Thanks a lot.” She started to get out of the cab, so I reached for her arm.

“Hey, listen. I just didn’t like the guy’s reaction to you. If you weren’t sleeping with him, then I don’t understand his face. He didn’t have that ‘she fired me so I’m pissed’ face. He had more of a ‘oh shit she’s here and I’m busted’ face.”

She looked at me like I had three heads.

“I’m serious. I make a living getting inside people’s heads. I don’t like that guy’s vibe. Just humor me. Get me his full name, social security number—whatever you got on him. You do have records from his employment, right?”

“Of course,” she said, staring into my eyes hard. “You’re serious? You really think Billy would do something to hurt me or Hank? That makes no sense. I had to let him go because the farm is almost bankrupt. How does that help him?”

“I have no idea. You going to humor me?”

She pushed her door open and got out without answering. Women.

She marched into the house and left me outside with Zeke, who explained everything that Cody had done in great detail. I looked at the dog, who looked at me and wagged his tail. Okay—I’ll admit it, the dog was kind of cool. And for his scruffy appearance, there was some hint of intelligence in his eyes. If dogs can have such a thing.

Anne came out of the house a few minutes later and handed me a piece of paper. I looked at the sheet and saw Billy’s full name, social security number, home address, driver’s license, etc.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Don’t mention it,” she said coldly, and went back inside.

I called Uncle George.

“Hey, kid. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Uncle G, I don’t want to jam you up—but you still know a guy who knows a guy?”

“What do you need?”

“Everything I can get on a guy,” I said. I gave him William “Billy” Strauss’ information. It’s illegal for a cop to open a file on a person without an ongoing investigation. George was retired, and there had only been a few times I’d put him on the spot for background checks. I do my own work. But in this case, I wasn’t home near my computer and didn’t want to wait.

George told me he’d get back to me. Always good to know a guy who knows a guy.

Anne came out of the house with a sealed package. “We’re taking a ride to the post office so I can get these tissue samples out to my friend at the lab. And you’re taking me and Zeke to a nice dinner for being such a prick.”

I was about to ask what I did to deserve such accolades, but then I remembered asking her if she had screwed Billy. I played hard guy and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

I had Zeke come inside and wash up and change his shirt. The grass inside it was evidence of the fun he had with Cody. After we were all cleaned up, we rode out to the post office. The Green Leaf protestors were still camped out by the Sullivan Farm, although there were even fewer than before. I guessed they were about a day away from giving up and going home altogether. You’d think we’d be out there with them, showing thanks for their support—except for the fact that these guys appeared to be completely nuts. It looked like an excuse to smoke dope, dress crazy, pierce your face, and claim to be a rebel. Whatever. I’m over forty. I wasn’t supposed to “get it”.

We mailed the box and walked the main street as the sun was setting. It was a crisp night and perfect for a walk. I’m so used to it that I don’t think about it, but every now and then I get a strange look from folks who see my huge brother holding my hand. We must have looked like an interesting love triangle—me in the middle of a gorgeous woman and a giant athlete, holding hands with both of them.

As most people who know me will tell you, I really don’t give a shit what people think.

Thirty-One

· · · · ·

We had another great meal in the little town at yet another very quaint little restaurant that catered to out-of-towners. After being used to Jersey big city prices, I found the little places out in the country to be very reasonable, although Anne commented more than once how expensive everything had gotten. Good thing she didn’t see what I paid for the bottle of Silver Oak 2007 Napa Valley Cab. It was worth every penny. I even let Zeke drink a few sips, although he wasn’t exactly a connoisseur.

By the time we got back to Anne’s place, it was dark. We had passed the Sullivan farm on the way home, and the whackos had a nice bonfire going. I suggested we stop and sing some campfire songs, which Zeke thought was an outstanding idea but Anne declined. We opted for making a small fire outside in Anne’s fire pit, and had a glass of wine together while Zeke stroked Cody’s fur until the dog passed out on his lap. We put “the boys” to bed, and then I took Anne back to her room.

The next morning, Anne treated me once again to coffee in bed because of my superman-like abilities which shall remain nameless. I still wasn’t used to getting up at the God-awful predawn hour, but at least I had coffee. I had a text from George that told me to check my email, so I asked Anne if I could use her computer. It was way too early in the morning to try and read off the tiny screen of my phone.

As it turns out, William Strauss was not a guy who would come up on Google. He was an under-the-radar kind of guy who didn’t have a rap sheet or anything super interesting in his past. In fact, there was nothing significant about him at all—except for the new truck he had just purchased for cash. Well, I assumed it was a cash deal anyway. Mr. Strauss had made five eight-thousand dollar cash deposits into his checking account. Being under ten grand each, they didn’t get reported to Uncle Sam. He then had taken title of a new Ford F-150 on the same day that his account balance dropped by almost thirty grand. Must have had all the bells and whistles on that sucker. Anne must have given him quite a severance package. Yeah.

I asked Anne if she gave Billy any dough when he left. She looked glum.

“I gave him two weeks. It’s all I could do. I shouldn’t have even done that, I’m so broke, but I felt so bad about having to let him go. He was a good worker, and his wife had just had their second baby.”

“Oh yeah? So would it surprise you to learn that Billy-boy just bought himself a new truck for thirty grand?”

Anne crossed her arms and looked hard at me. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty damned sure. Big money in being a farm hand?”

“Noah, I gave him eighteen hundred dollars. He was always bitching to Thom about needing to make more money. That doesn’t sound right—are you sure?”

“Yup. He registered the vehicle. It’s a black Ford F-150. And guessing from what he paid, it’s a sweet ride with all the extras.”

Anne’s face showed her confusion.

I shrugged. “I don’t have any answers for you. But it sure does raise a few questions, doesn’t it?”

“So now what?”

“For now, we wait for the lab results and maybe pay another visit to Hank’s farm. Maybe Bill will give us a ride in his new truck.”

Thirty-Two

· · · · ·

The Congressman’s attempt to appease his wife didn’t work. He had bought Lydia a beautiful sapphire and diamond necklace and left it on the kitchen table in the white leather box with his short love note. The note was crumpled up and the box sat exactly where he had left it. Lydia was nowhere to be found, and wasn’t answering her cell phone.

JJ sat in his office and stared at his computer. He had dozens of emails ranging in tone from “disappointed” to “disgusted”. His hardcore environmentalist supporters had all bailed on him, and there was talk about a primary fight for the first time since he won his seat. Without the huge monetary backing of his in-laws, he was screwed.

One of his constituents had sent him the link to the Green Leaf website. There on the home page was a picture of him, with cartoon devil horns and tail drawn on him. The headline read: “Mistretta Sells Out! Time for him to go!” He exhaled slowly and rubbed his temples. He could feel a huge headache coming on. The whackos had been big supporters, even if they weren’t big contributors to his check book. They were the crazy folks you preferred to have with you rather than against you.

His house phone rang and made him jump. He grabbed it, thinking it was Lydia. It was his chief of staff, Ben Morrison.

“Morning, boss. You coming in today? I tried your cell a dozen times.”

JJ realized he had thrown his phone across the room when he found the sapphire necklace still sitting in the box.

“Uh, yeah. Just running a little late. What’s my day look like?”

“Well, we need to have a political meeting. You know we lost another staffer yesterday. Emails and letters keep piling in. That vote started quite a shit storm, boss. I know you had your reasons, but still—I’m not sure what I can do as far as damage control goes. We need to talk about spinning this thing.”

Ben made too big a salary to jump ship. He liked his job working for JJ because he got to do most of the work without the congressman interfering. The switch on the energy vote did piss him off, however. Not so much because of the position JJ took—Ben could give a rat’s ass about that. Nothing in DC was ever as it appeared, and if the boss had to make a deal for something else that was fine. He was just angry because he hadn’t been told ahead of time and ended up looking like an idiot with the staff and the press.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get in later. We need to talk about the campaign stuff, too. Only a few more weeks before the election. What about the fundraiser at the O’Brien’s?”

Ben cringed on his end of the phone. “Uh, yeah. About that. They backed out. Said you screwed the party on the energy vote and not only wouldn’t they host a fundraiser for you, but they wouldn’t vote for you again, either. We’ll find another venue.”

“What? They can’t do that! It’s next week! The invitations were sent out!”

“Well, it’s their house. They can do whatever they want.”

“I’ll call them myself…”

“I already offered that. They made some rude comments and hung up on me. Don’t waste your time. I’m trying to find another whale to host it, boss. We’ll talk when you come in.” He hung up.

JJ stared off into space thinking about that big blonde. That bitch ruined everything.

Thirty-Three

· · · · ·

I ran back and forth between my house and Anne’s for two days, trying to actually earn a living while at the same time allowing the sex starved widow to fulfill her needs. It was the least I could do given her stressful condition. Sometimes, you have to take one for the team.

On day three, Zeke and I returned to Anne’s farm to find a lot had transpired. Most of the Green Leaf folks had split, but the mutha-frackers next door were going full bore. They had dozens of vehicles crammed along Anne’s property line and were using all kinds of heavy equipment to move earth and make a helluva lot of noise. I don’t know shit about drilling for gas, but it sure seemed like an awful lot of activity to drill a hole. Maybe they were building condos with a view of the tanker trucks.

Anne greeted me and gave me the latest news. The cow that had died on Hank’s farm was loaded with Diazinon just like Anne’s animals. Hank’s farm was also an organic operation—apparently, the smaller dairy farmers produced organic milk because it paid better and was more suited to smaller operations. So—how does a toxin like Diazinon get loaded into a cow on an organic farm?

After Anne’s dissertation on insecticides and fracing, I gave her my opinion.

“Look, the Diazinon got into the animals one of two ways. Either the dirt-bags next door use it in the fracing juice which contaminated the water supply, or someone intentionally poisoned your animals. Was there Benzene and other chemicals in Hank’s cow?”

“No. Nothing else. Just super high levels of Diazinon. By coincidence, Globalvision Energy offered to buy his farm yesterday.”

I found myself making a sour face. “Coincidence, huh.” I tried to impersonate that Texas Wannabe Frank Taylor next door. “Y’all wanna’ sell me your farm for cheap? What the hell, your cows are all dying anyhow…”

“So do you think they just polluted the water, or did they intentionally poison my animals?” Anne’s eyes filled with water as she finished her sentence.

“Well, that’s the million dollar question isn’t it?”

“It’s intentional. It has to be,” said Anne after a moment.

“And what makes you say that?” I asked.

“The levels were off the charts. There’s no way my animals were ingesting trace amounts in water and slowly collecting it in their bodies to this degree. Same with Hank’s cow. They had to be given the stuff in super high concentrations.” She looked into my eyes and I could see the anger simmering. “They want my land and they’ll kill everything here to get it.”

It seemed to be the most obvious answer. So now what?

Thirty-Four

· · · · ·

My call to the Department of Environmental Protection started out promising enough. For a split second there, I thought someone was actually going to launch a full scale investigation. And then I mentioned Globalvision and fracing and that was the end of that. Apparently, the DEP was fully aware of claims made against Globalvision, but the energy company, like all of the oil and gas drillers, was exempt from the DEP’s jurisdiction. They had all required permits, had passed all required inspections, and were deemed safe. How’s them apples?

Anne and I were talking in her kitchen when there was a knock on the front door. A gentleman in a cheap suit and ugly tie showed credentials from the USDA, and we were both so surprised and relieved to see the Seventh Cavalry arriving. Finally! Someone was going to help us.

Not so much.

The man was there to tell us that the farm was quarantined, and no livestock were to enter or leave the property until further notice. I honestly don’t remember everything that came out of my mouth. I wish I could recount what I said and did. Honestly. I’d love to know what happened. Instead, all I know is I tried to climb over Anne and rip the guy’s head off, and my screaming made Zeke freak out, which had Anne and this asshole from the USDA all screaming. It was chaos. I’m not usually the hysterical type. In fact, in all my years on the force, I don’t think I ever flipped out like that. The only time I ever remember being that enraged was when Zeke got hurt in the ring and I had to claw my way through a nasty crowd to get up there.

Anyway, the guy ran off, screaming that he’d call the cops, and I remember telling him “I am the cops” and daring him to ever show up on the property again. I mean, seriously—what the fuck? Weren’t these jokers supposed to be protecting the public from the folks who were causing the problem? It took me ten minutes of ranting like a lunatic to calm down, and then another ten minutes to convince Zeke that everything was going to be okay. Poor Anne ended up trying to console me instead of the other way around. Between the USDA and the EPA I was ready to move to Montana and live in a cave with the rest of the survivalist nutjobs.

If Anne had any illusions about me being perfect, they were pretty much out the window.

I decided it was time to have a little conversation with William Billy Strauss.

· · · · ·

Against Anne’s wishes, I took a drive over tto the Hatcher Farm. Zeke came with me, dressed up in his dark “scare the shit out of someone” sunglasses. I told him not to smile—we were working. He had ridden with me enough times to know the deal.

We had left Anne home as part of my strategy. (My strategy being that if I had to beat the living shit out of this guy, I could do it without her interfering.)

We drove up the long roadway to the farmhouse and found Hank on a backhoe digging a large hole. When I saw him push a cow into it, I understood what he was doing. When he was finished dropping the animal into the grave, I asked if I could speak with Bill about Anne’s farm, and he agreed and pointed to the milking parlor.

Zeke and I walked over, leaving a somber looking Hank to cover his cow with dirt. We found Bill alone in the milking parlor. He almost shit when he saw us. At first, I didn’t know why he’d be so jumpy, and then I saw the large unmarked jug he had quickly shoved behind some barrels.

“Hey there, Bill. Got a second?” I asked in my most friendly “howdy neighbor” voice.

“Sorry—kinda’ busy right now,” he said, pretending to inspect some pipe or whatnot on the milking machine. I knew a snowjob when I saw one.

“Yeah, I see that. I just need a second. It’s pretty important.”

“Maybe you can come back later, I gotta’ finish milkin’ these cows.”

“I’m sorry—did you say milking or poisoning?”

He stared at me and for what seemed like a very long time didn’t even dare breathe.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” he grumbled, and then went back to his make-believe pipe inspection.

I walked a little closer. Well, truth be told, I walked until I was almost nose to nose with him. Zeke stood behind me looking exactly how he was supposed to look.

“Nice truck, Billy,” I said.

He looked back up at me. Was that a drop of sweat over his lip?

“What truck?” He asked, and then added a “Hey, man, I’m busy,” for effect.

“The black Ford F-150 with all the bells and whistles. Have Satellite radio for thirty grand? I mean, if it doesn’t have satellite radio for thirty grand, that would be a crime.” I wasn’t sure he was smart enough to get my witty double meaning.

“Oh, my wife’s truck. I don’t remember.”

Seriously? That’s the best he could do? No wonder he was a professional cow milker—no offense to Anne. I walked over to the barrels, reached down and grabbed the plastic milk jug. It was half full of clear liquid. It could have passed for water, except that I unscrewed the top and smelled it. More like a can of Raid.

“What’s this, Billy?” I asked.

His mouth opened, but nothing came out for a second. I waited patiently for whatever bullshit was now going to be invented.

“It’s chemicals for sanitizing the lines.”

“Oh yeah? Makes everything clean?”

“Yeah. Kills germs and bacteria.”

“I bet. Safe to drink, I guess? I mean, it’s going into machines that handle milk for human consumption and all…”

“We rinse it out first.”

“So drinking it would be bad, huh?” I was sort of enjoying playing with this asshole.

“Well, you can’t drink it. We just clean the pipes and rinse it out. I gotta finish up.” He reached for the jug and I pulled it away.

“I don’t think so, Bill. This is coming with me.”

“You can’t take that. It belongs to the farm!”

“Oh yeah? I’ll ask Hank—I’m sure he’ll have no problem with us borrowing it.”

“It’s mine, not Hanks. Give it here.”

“Or what? You’ll do what, exactly, Bill? You gonna’ tell Hank? Call the police? Take a swing at me in front of my very large big brother?”

His eyes went back and forth between Zeke and I, and I was hoping that Zeke didn’t have a big smile on his face. Actually, a big smile might play like crazy psycho, so maybe even that was okay. Billy walked away in a huff.

“Where ya’ going Bill? Want to talk to Hank?”

He ignored me and picked up his pace.

“Hey!” I yelled after him, but he was now almost running out of the milking parlor. Zeke and I jogged after him. When he hit the door, he slammed it behind him as he ran full speed out of the building. Zeke and I sprinted after him. I was holding the bottle like a football in my arm, the liquid swishing around as I ran. When we got back outside, I saw Billy disappear around the corner of another building, and Zeke and I ran as hard as we could. Zeke is fast as hell, and easily passed me, but I guess fear is the ultimate speed motivator, and even Zeke couldn’t catch that weasel.

By the time we were getting close, Bill was at the shiny new truck, hopped up into the cab and roared off throwing mud and grass behind him as he went.

“Sonofabitch!” I swore. “Zeke! This way!” We ran back to my SUV and jumped in, starting up and gunning the engine after the big pickup. My car wasn’t as good in the dirt, and we fishtailed all over the place as we sped after him. I could see Hank standing there gawking in my rearview mirror as I tore up the ground with my spinning tires. Billy increased his distance from us as he flew over the meadow heading towards the front gate. I did my best to keep up, screaming at Zeke to put on his seat belt. Zeke was grinning and telling me how this was like the day in the gator at Anne’s house. Um, yeah…not really.

When the Ford hit the road, it hung a left and fishtailed wildly. For a split second, I thought he was going to lose it on the turn and flip the truck, but he regained control and roared off down the highway. My car handled the turn better than his truck, and now on a dry even surface, I was catching up to him. The road was a two lane country road in the middle of farm country—where did he think he was going to go?

Our chase continued, heading in the opposite direction of Anne’s farm. Within a few minutes, I was on a new road and heading off towards the middle of nowhere. I had no idea where we were headed, and didn’t particularly care. There was no way this punk was going to get away. As far as I could see in both directions, the land was rolling hills of grasslands with occasional farms.

I guess the idiot in front of me realized he wasn’t going to lose me in wide open farm country, and decided on a new tactic. I saw him fumbling around in his cab, and then realized he was trying to pull a shotgun off the rack above the back seat. It was a long reach from the front seat, and every time he leaned back and tried to grab it off the rack, his truck swerved wildly.

Sonofabitch. I hadn’t realized it was a shotgun. I’m from Jersey—no one drives around with a shotgun in Jersey. I saw the bar across the rear window, but didn’t think it was anything other than a shovel or tool or something. Dumbass rookie mistake.

“Zeke—open the glove compartment!” I screamed.

Zeke pulled it open and I shoved my hand into it without looking to pull my Glock. I unsnapped the holster with one hand and threw the holster off the gun at Zeke’s feet, then shoved the gun in between the seat and the center console so it stayed in place.

“Zeke—this guy has a shotgun in his cab. If we stop the car or I tell you to, you have to get down real low, okay? He may shoot at us. Put your seat back and make some extra room to get down!”

Zeke reached down and released his seat so it slid back further. I watched Billy screwing around with his gun a few more seconds, then finally said “screw this” and pulled my gun out from the seat and quickly switched hands as I put the window down. While I wasn’t as good lefty as I was righty, I could still shoot. I tried a few rounds at his tires but missed. He heard the shots and swerved wildly again as he tried his best to pull his shotgun off the rack.

My Glock 23 has a thirteen round clip. While I usually have it with me when I’m working, I’ve never actually had to use it, and as a result, I never bothered to keep extra clips in the car or on my person. Let’s face it, if you can’t hit your target with thirteen shots, you probably shouldn’t be carrying a weapon. That is, of course, unless you are in a combat situation, facing superior numbers, or hauling ass down a country road at seventy miles an hour taking pot shots at a swerving vehicle. Damn. I should have brought more ammo.

I had fired four rounds. It was a habit really, from Police training. We had been drilled to fire two rounds, look around, and fire another two if necessary. With two sets of two down the pipe, I had nine shots left against a dude with a shotgun. With Zeke in the car, I didn’t want to take any chances. I put the pedal to the floor and moved up into his blind spot on the right rear corner. I saw him manage to finally get his hand on the butt of the shotgun and pull it off the rack, and that’s when I decided we were done playing.

I used the front left bumper of my very nice black SUV as a battering ram and smashed his shiny new truck as hard as I could. I’m pretty sure he was having an aneurism in his brand new truck that still had the paper temporary license on the back window. I sped up until I was almost to the cab, watching him fighting with his shotgun as the barrel hung up on the headrest and the inside roof of his cab. When I put a four round burst through his front and rear passenger windows and made them explode, he swerved wildly and ran off the road down into the grass where he got up on two tires for a few seconds. I followed him down the slope into the grass and cut him off, causing him to slide to a stop. I was out of my vehicle in an instant, two handed pistol grip as I ran right at him looking down my sights.

“Drop it! Drop it or I’ll shoot!” I was screaming as he had to make that decision about just how far he was going to go with his shotgun. He let it fall into the back seat and put his hands up, screaming at me not to shoot.

I ran right to his door and made him unlock it, then ripped him out of the driver’s seat to the ground where I put a knee into his back and placed the warm tip of my Glock 23 against the side of his head.

“Unless you wanna’ die motherfucker, you better not move a muscle!”

He kept begging me not to shoot, and I saw he’d had enough. I yelled at Zeke to bring me the handcuffs out of the glove compartment, and Zeke walked them over, looking somewhat amazed at the scene in front of him. He handed me the cuffs, which I snapped on roughly.

“You a cop?” He asked.

I politely told him to shut the fuck up.

“You said the F word,” said Zeke. Billy had no idea that Zeke was seriously worried about my profanity and just stared up at Zeke and I from the grass.

“We’re going for a ride, William Strauss. If you say one word, or do anything stupid, my big brother will kill you. Do you understand?”

He closed his eyes and nodded. The fight was out of him, which was just fine with me.

Thirty-Five

· · · · ·

I put Billy in the back seat of my SUV with Zeke, whom I had told to be quiet until we got back to Anne’s. We drove back the way we came, which took quite a while longer when you weren’t driving at the speed of sound. Billy’s new pickup truck with the bullet holes and blown out windows was left to sit in the muddy grass of some poor guy’s field. I had taken the shotgun, unloaded it, and threw it in the back of my SUV so no one would find it lying around.

I drove slowly on purpose, allowing all of us to decompress after such an insane few minutes. When my heart rate had returned to normal, I figured it was time to have a conversation. I pulled off onto the very first side road I saw and pulled over onto the grassy shoulder. A few large Oaks provided a feeling of privacy. I turned off the engine and hopped out of the driver’s seat, then walked around my SUV and opened Bill’s door. I very politely ripped him out of the car by his shirt and let him fall on to the grass.

I squatted down next to him and spoke quietly, ignoring Zeke’s prying eyes from the car window above me. “Okay numbnuts, I’m gonna’ tell you what I know, then you’re gonna’ tell me what you know. And if you give me any bullshit, some farmer’s gonna’ find your body out here one day next week.” I pulled the Glock out of my belt and held it in my hand so he could see it. “So you’ve been a busy boy, haven’t you? It’s not enough that the gas company next door is polluting the water, you actually had to poison the cows with some kind of insecticide?”

He looked up at me and was probably going to say something stupid like “I didn’t do it,” except I chambered a round in the Glock.

“So tell me asshole. Why would you want to kill Anne’s cows? And now you’re gonna’ kill Hank’s cows? You the world’s first cow serial killer? Is that it? You hate cows? Hell, man, if you hate cows, just do what I do and eat every steak you see.”

He looked at the ground.

“So you poisoned Anne’s cows with that Diazo-shit something or other, and now you’re at Hanks doing the same thing. And before you deny it, remember that I have the shit in that jug, which is going to match the tissue samples from the cows. So. Think real hard, and then tell me the truth so I don’t have to blow your fuckin head off.”

He looked up at me—maybe he was thinking of telling me he didn’t believe I’d do it or something. That’s when I pressed the barrel into his forehead so hard it made a barrel imprint and gave him my pissed off face, which wasn’t even an act, because I was pretty pissed.

“Hey, man, relax. Just wait a second…”

I moved the gun away from his face and waited.

“Look man, I didn’t want to do anything to Dr. Lynch’s cows. I just needed the money.”

“What money from whom?”

“I don’t know who the guy was. I think he was with those Green Leaf idiots.”

I couldn’t help my quizzical expression. “Green Leaf? The environmental champions wanted you to poison her cows?”

“I don’t know. I can’t swear he was with them, he just looked like one of them, you know?”

I remembered the pierced faces and hippy costumes. “Keep goin’. I’m all ears.”

“My wife just had our second. She ain’t working anymore and things were real tight, you know?”

“Yeah, I can tell by the new thirty thousand dollar truck. Keep talkin’.”

“A few weeks back, some guy stopped me at the gas station. Asked me if I worked at the Lynch Farm. I said yeah, and he told me I could make a lot of money. We ended up meeting for a beer and he told me he’d give me forty thousand dollars if I just put some stuff in the water.”

“Forty thousand dollars to poison the water…”

“I didn’t know it was poison…”

“No—you thought it was something healthy, like vitamins and shit, that he was gonna’ have you sneak in without Anne knowing it. For forty thousand.”

“Look man, that’s a year’s salary.”

“Uh-huh. Except that it killed and contaminated the whole herd, and now you don’t have any salary because you put your boss out of business.”

“I didn’t know it was gonna’ kill all the cows.”

I put the gun against his forehead again. “Say that again and I’m going to feed your brains to the dogs.” Zeke was tapping on the window. I looked up and saw his scared face shaking his head no. I put the gun down. “Who was the guy. Gimme’ a name.”

“I have no idea.”

“How did he get you the money?”

“I met him at the gas station every Monday and Friday and he gave me a jug of stuff and the cash.”

“He gave you a jug of poison. Say it, you piece of shit. He gave you poison.”

He spoke quietly. “He gave me poison.”

“And you’re supposed to meet him again tomorrow?” It was Thursday.

“Yeah. But I ain’t gonna’ do it anymore, I promise.”

I smiled and spread my arms in my most charming manner. “Ohhh… well then! It’s all forgiven. You can go back to your truck and we’ll pretend it never happened!”

He looked up at me in surprise. I smacked his face with an open hand. “You fucking idiot. You’re not doing it anymore because you are going to be in jail. But that’s only after you meet him again so I can see this prick myself.”

“I’ll pay her back, I swear. Look man—you don’t have to say anything to anyone. I still have a little cash left…”

“Nice try.” I stood up.

“I got a new baby!” He pleaded.

“And I’m sure you’ll be out by the time the kid graduates college. Get up you piece of shit before I forget I’m a good guy and I just shoot you right here.”

“You got a phone number or email for this guy with the cash?”

He hesitated.

I smacked him in the ear with an open hand. That never feels good.

“Yeah. But I’m not supposed to use it.”

“Well guess what? You’re going to use it today.”

I gently assisted the gentleman to the car. Okay, maybe not that gently, but I did get him inside the vehicle. We drove back to Anne’s house in silence.

Thirty-Six

· · · · ·

When we got back to Anne’s place, her face showed her total confusion at the sight of Billy handcuffed behind his back. Well, that, and the fact that I pulled him out of the truck so hard I dumped him onto the gravel road outside her farmhouse. That was now the third time I had helped him out of a vehicle in the same manner, and it was feeling very cathartic. I yanked him up to his feet.

“What’s going on?” She said, sounding alarmed as she walked over.

“Well, that’s what we’re about to find out,” I answered. I reached into the SUV and pulled out the jug of “stuff” that Billy had been pouring into the cow’s water supply.

“Send a sample of this to your buddy at the lab and see if it matches the tissue samples. Mr. Strauss over here was giving it to the cows.”

Anne took the jug from me and opened the top. She took a tiny whiff. Her eyes welled up with tears. “Billy?”

He stared at the ground.

“How could you?” She cried.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Lynch,” he managed to say quietly. “I didn’t know it would hurt your cows.”

I punched him so hard in the kidney he dropped to his knees like a rock, then fell sideways, groaning and curling up in the dirt. I knelt down on his hip. “I told you not to say that again, you piece of shit.”

“Why?” Anne repeated. “Why would you kill my animals?” She was crying now.

I grabbed his greasy hair and pulled his face up. “The lady asked you a question.”

He was almost crying himself. “I needed the money, I’m sorry.”

I threw his face back down at the dirt.

Mr. Sympathy I’m not.

Anne began walking in circles rubbing her face. “I don’t understand.”

“Tell Dr. Lynch who paid you to kill her animals.”

“I don’t know his name.”

“Tell her where you think he’s from.”

“Green Leaf. But I’m not sure.”

“Green Leaf?” Anne exclaimed in total shock.

“I don’t know—I think so.”

“Billy is going to call his little friend and meet with him. And then I’m going to meet with him. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

I walked over to Anne and put my arm around her shoulder, walking her away from Billy, who was still lying in the dirt. “Look, I can’t hold him too long. If he gets a good lawyer, they could get me in trouble for kidnapping or something. But we’ll make him call his guy and see what’s going on. I can’t figure it. Why the hell would the environmentalists want to kill your animals?”

Anne looked at me. “So they could blame the drillers? Why else? It doesn’t make any sense.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Some detective I am. I guess that’s the only answer that made sense, but still. There had to be easier ways to “protest” and protect the environment than poisoning the water and killing animals. Reminded me of an old bumper sticker I had seen that read, “Fighting for Peace is like Screwing for Virginity.”

“I guess we’ll ask the guy footing the bill.” I pulled my cell phone out and put on the caller ID block, then walked over to Billy, who was now sitting up. “Okay, where’s the number for the joker?”

“In my wallet,” he said quietly. “You calling the police?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” I lied. Of course I was calling the police—but not until after I took care of business myself. I fished the oversized wallet out of Bill’s work pants. It was attached by a steel chain to his belt loop. Inside the wallet was forty bucks. Why did the biggest wallets that were chained to guys always have the least amount of money? Never failed. Anyway, I found the old piece of greasy paper with “Doug” written on it next to a phone number.

“Couldn’t remember Doug’s name, huh?” I asked Numbnuts, with a shove of my boot against his upper arm. “Now here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to dial the number, and you’re going to act like everything is totally cool. Then you’re going to tell this guy that you need more money. You’re worried that Hank is watching you real close, and the only way you’ll keep doing this is if he pays you more, and you need the money now. Tomorrow’s no good—he’s got you busy all day tomorrow.”

“He’s going to be pissed, man. I can’t just call him and tell him I want more dough—he’s already given me a lot of money.”

I knelt down next to him and whispered into his ear. “You are going to ask him for money. Or no one will ever find your body. I mean—ever.”

I’m not sure he really believed that I’d kill him, but when you’re sitting on the ground, totally busted, with your hands cuffed behind your back, your options are somewhat limited.

I dialed the phone number. “If you fuck this up, I’m going to run you through the hay bailer.”

I listened as best I could as a gruff sounding guy answered the phone with a “Who’s this?”

“It’s Billy.”

“What the fuck are you calling me for? Whose phone you dialing from?”

“It’s my cell phone. Listen—I need money. Today. I need you to drive out here today.”

“Today? More money? Fuck you! I already gave you forty large and I haven’t heard shit about the Hatcher Farm. For all I know, you ain’t even doing your part of the bargain. You wait until tomorrow at the regular time.”

“No, man—listen. I need some money now. I’m serious. I need to meet you at the gas station today. Hatcher’s got me buried all day tomorrow, and I need the money!”

“Bullshit. I can’t get there today, anyway. You wait until tomorrow.”

“Today. It has to be today. I need the money, man, and I can’t leave the farm tomorrow. I’m serious.”

There was a long pause. “You’re a pain in my ass. Be there at five.”

Thirty-Seven

· · · · ·

I led Billy over to the milking parlor where I handcuffed him to some steel pipes that even Zeke couldn’t budge. He’d be safely out of the way until it was time to go meet his friend at the gas station. I walked alone in the pasture as I tried to sort out my next steps. At some point in the near future, I’d have to call the local police. They would not be happy with a retired cop going on a high speed chase and discharging a firearm. Nor would they appreciate me holding a suspect for a prolonged period of time without calling it in. And the cops were the least of my problems.

I ran Anne’s theory through my head a few times, but it still seemed pretty strange. Spend big money to kill animals and then try and create some media hype against big oil. The media had showed up and videoed for a few minutes—ran one quick story—and no one gave a shit. Didn’t seem like a very good use of Green Leaf money. So if not Green Leaf, then who? The whole thing made a helluva lot more sense when the animals were being accidently poisoned by the fracing going on next door. I could understand that. But this? No clue. Maybe the answer would meet me at the gas station in a few hours.

I thought about that a little longer. I had a few rounds left in my Glock, but that was it. No time to run home and get more. I could use Billy’s shotgun, I supposed. Maybe Anne had a handgun. I’d ask. And how much of a badass was the unknown “Doug” character? Normally, I’d bring Zeke with me, but after being shot at earlier in the day, I wasn’t so sure that was a good idea. Damn. If nothing else, this case sure wasn’t boring.

After walking around for a while, Anne called me over and greeted me with a cup of coffee.

“You going to walk in circles for another hour?” She asked me as she handed me the beautiful cup of Joe.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Just trying to make some sense out of this. Anyway—it’ll be time to take a ride over to meet this guy soon enough.”

“You going to call the Police?”

“Not yet.”

“What about Pete? I have his cell number. You could call him—I’m sure he’d help.”

Pete Davis. Ah, yes. The cop who had the hots for Anne. Only as a last resort.

“Tell you what. Give me the number and I’ll put him in my phone. If it gets dicey, I’ll call him directly.”

“He’s a really great cop,” she said. “He’s very brave. Very handsome and dashing and he’d do anything for me.”

She was screwin’ with me. I liked this lady. I knew she had to be just as stressed as I was, and she was screwin’ with me. Nice. I gave her a kiss for that one.

“Ew, coffee breathe,” she said. Then she kissed me again anyway.

She gave me a hug and then looked up at me with a sad face. “So now what?” She asked.

“I go to meet this guy who’s been paying Billy to kill cows and find out why.”

“And how do you do that? You can’t arrest him. Seriously—shouldn’t you call the police?”

“You didn’t hire the police—you hired me. I’ll call them after I get some of this sorted out. Oh, by the way—you have a gun?”

“A shotgun in the house,” she said, looking concerned.

“Pistol?”

“No. This is a farm. We shoot groundhogs to keep our cow’s legs from getting broken stepping into holes—not bank robbers.”

“Okay, never mind. No worries.”

“You look worried.”

Only because I was. “Nah. Piece of cake.”

Thirty-Eight

· · · · ·

Anne and I had returned to the house and I played out a few scenarios of how this meeting should go down. I could go alone, and try and grab this guy based on a description from Billy; or, I could bring Billy, wait for them to meet and then grab them. The problem with that version was that there’d be two of them and one of me. That would require me bringing Zeke, and I’d already seen how dangerous this could potentially be. Damn. I wasn’t anticipating a polite, calm conversation.

Zeke sat at the kitchen table having a sandwich with Anne. One thing about my brother, that boy could eat. I sat down next to him and asked Anne if I could chat with him alone for a minute. She smiled and went upstairs.

“So how’s it going, Zeke?”

He proceeded to tell me how Cody had been working very hard today and they hadn’t had much play time. Then he grinned ear to ear. “The car chase was fun. It was like the movies.”

“Yeah? Were you scared?”

“Only a little. Did you shoot real bullets at that guy?”

I grimaced. “Yeah, Zeke. I did. That guy was making Anne’s cows die. He was poisoning them.”

Zeke made a hard face. I could see anger in his eyes, something I rarely ever saw in his gentle face. “He killed all her cows?”

“Yes.”

“He should go to jail.”

“I agree. But he was getting paid to do it by another guy. I have to catch that guy, so he goes to jail, too.”

Zeke nodded and stared into my eyes. “How are you going to catch that guy?”

“I’m going to be sneaky. I set up a meeting between the two bad guys. When the other guy shows up, I’m going to grab him. I could use your help, Zeke, but it’s going to be dangerous.”

“You didn’t wear your seatbelt today,” he said randomly.

“You’re right. That was dangerous, too. This will be a different kind of danger, though. These are bad men. They’d fight rather than go to jail.”

“Hitting’s bad,” said Zeke quietly. He made sure his hands were open.

“It is, Zeke. You should never hit anyone. But sometimes, you have to defend yourself. You remember the difference, right?”

“Keep your left up. Chin down.” He was thinking about Joey Varoff’s training days.

“Right, Zeke. Keep your left hand up and don’t let him touch you. But sometimes you gotta’ jab, right?”

“Left sends them to the hospital—right is sudden death,” he said with a huge grin.

I must have heard Varoff say that a thousand times when he was training Zeke.

“Listen Zeke—when we drive out to meet this guy, you need to keep an eye on both these bad guys. I need your help, okay?”

Zeke smiled. “Don’t worry, little brother,” he said, suddenly sounding like the old Zeke. I looked at him with my mouth hanging open.

“Zeke?” I asked, not sure who I was talking to.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking surprised.

“You’re good, right?”

“Of course. You want some of my sandwich?” And just like that, the flash was gone again.

“No, thanks, buddy. And remember, don’t talk when we’re around this guy, okay? I don’t want him to know you’re a nice guy. You have to be the scary Zeke, okay?”

Zeke reached into his breast pocket and put on his sunglasses, then made a serious face. I laughed out loud. “Perfect!”

I got up from the table and walked around to do some thinking. While I really needed to interview this Doug character by myself and find out what was going on, I was also acutely aware of the fact that the guy had no outstanding warrants, and I had no proof of anything. If I just grabbed the guy up, I’d be looking at a potential kidnapping charge myself. What a mess. I wasn’t a cop anymore, and the change of rules was frustrating to say the least.

I walked upstairs and found Anne. “Hey, listen. You’re right. Pete Davis would probably do anything for you. In fact, I’m counting on that. I need his help—I’m going to call him.”

Anne’s face showed her surprise.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m supposed to go and get the bad guy all by myself.”

“No, you’re not. If I look surprised it’s just because I think you’re doing the right thing. I didn’t give you enough credit.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. “Look, if I meet this guy and I detain him at gunpoint, I’ll end up in more trouble than he will. At least with Billy back there, I caught him red-handed. I need to call Pete, have him come down and interview Billy, book him, and then back me up with Doug. And I need him to do it pretty much right this second.”

“So you want me to call him?”

“No. I’m just telling you what’s going on.” I pulled out my phone and dialed the number for Pete that I had saved. He picked it up on the second ring.

“Detective Davis…”

“Hi detective. Noah Barnes here. I’m over at Anne’s place. I need your help immediately. I’ve got a William Strauss handcuffed to a milking machine, along with a jug of poison he was feeding to Hank Hatcher’ cows. A lab test will confirm that it’s the same shit that killed Anne’s cows.”

“Why the hell would Billy Strauss want to kill Anne’s or Hank’s cows?”

“That, sir, is the question we will answer when you meet me and back me up on a meeting with the guy that paid him to do it.”

“You have a meeting set up with another suspect?”

“Yup. I was going to meet him alone, but thought I would extend the professional courtesy, since Anne speaks so highly of you.” I smiled as I reeled my fish.

“I’m on my way.”

“Excellent. And I suggest you come heavy, these guys don’t play around. And if you’ve got an extra box of .40 Cal ammo for my Glock 23, I’d be much appreciative.”

There was a pause as he considered my request. “Yeah, okay. We carry Glocks. But if you think there’s going to be fireworks, I need to call in to the boss.”

“Not anticipating a gunfight at the OK Corral, but I just think you should be prepared. Kevlar if you’ve got it.”

“What the hell you got going on over there, Noah?”

“I’m not sure, but I need you here pronto.” I hung up. That ought to get his attention.

Thirty-Nine

· · · · ·

I was impressed. Pete Davis was at Anne’s house in less than ten minutes. Stalker. Instead of inviting him into the house, I walked out and led him to the milking parlor where Billy Strauss sat on the concrete floor with his hands cuffed behind him around a large pipe.

Pete and Billy looked at each other, then Billy looked down at the ground in shame. They had known each other to some degree for almost twenty years—Meadow Junction wasn’t exactly a huge city. Pete’s face showed his disgust.

“You really poisoned her animals for a quick buck, Billy? After you worked for her all this time?” He was still shaking his head in disbelief.

Billy might have thought about responding, but his kidney must have remembered what happened the last time he said something stupid. He stared at the floor.

“The jug of poison is in the house. Oh, and his truck will have to be towed. It’s a few miles away. Mr. Strauss tried to make a run for it when we caught him poisoning Hank’s cows.”

Pete rested his hands on his gun and ammo in typical cop stance. “Caught him in the act, huh?”

“Yup. Two witnesses.”

“Billy, sure seems like you’re in a heap of trouble. What do you know about the guy who paid you to kill these animals?”

“I didn’t know it would kill them…” he stopped himself as he caught my stare. “The guy paid me to put the stuff in the water. That’s it. That’s all I know.”

“Guy’s name is Doug. We have a date with him at five,” I said to Pete.

“Now would be a good time to tell us anything you can think of, Billy. You’re looking at going to jail for a long time. Help yourself out.”

Billy looked up at Pete. He did look pretty pitiful. Certainly not the sharpest tool in the shed. “I told him everything I know. I set up a meeting at five at the gas station. That’s all I know.”

“What’s this guy look like?” I asked.

Billy made a face as he tried to conjure up an image in his head. “Thirties, I guess. White guy. He’s got long hair. Always wears sunglasses. Looks like one of them Hollywood types.”

“What kind of car this guy drive?” I asked.

“Fancy one. A blue BMW,” he said.

“The rest of the hippies over at Green Leaf driving Beemers, too?” I asked.

Billy shrugged.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Pete and I walked out of the milking parlor. Pete spoke as he thought. “I’ll call in to the bureau. Another detective will come out and bring in Strauss. I still can’t believe it. What was that about Green Leaf?”

“Billy said he thought the guy maybe was connected with them, although I never heard of any Green Leaf nutjobs driving Beemers. They’re more of a Volkswagon Microbus kinda’ crew.”

Pete shrugged. “The microbus crew got older, Noah. They’re driving Beemers now. Who knows?”

“Well, we will at five. I’m thinking we get there early and scope the place out. Figure out the lay of the land and our best strategy for seeing this guy without being seen.”

Pete laughed. “This is Meadow Junction, not Philly. There’s an easy way. I’ll talk to Ray, the owner of the station. We’ll have you in a jumpsuit working the pumps when our boy shows up. Ray still runs a full-service station like the old days. You hang out and ID the guy, and I’ll make the collar.”

I could see where this was going. Sure. I’ll pump gas in the grease-monkey suit while “Hero Boy” arrests the bad guy and tells Anne how he saved my ass.

Nice.

I said “okay.”

Forty

· · · · ·

We drove out to the gas station. As planned, Pete spoke to the owner, an old guy named Ray, who gave me a jumpsuit that smelled like it hadn’t been washed in the last millennium. I’m pretty sure a spark would have turned me into an Apollo rocket. Pete sat inside with Ray drinking Diet Cokes while I pumped gas for the occasional customer.

The weather wasn’t bad, maybe sixty with a soft breeze. I prayed no tourists would drive in and ask for directions. No telling where I’d send them. After a few minutes without seeing a car, I sat on an empty box and slouched down with my best “I make eight bucks an hour and could give a shit” look. I tried not to show any interest when the dark blue BMW pulled into the station. Sweet ride.

I walked over and a window rolled down with loud music pumping out of the car. I leaned down and looked at the guy in the car. White dude. Thirties. Rock star haircut. Yup. This was our boy. “What can I do for ya’?” I asked.

“Fill it, premium.”

“Cash or credit?” I asked, looking as inconspicuously as I could for anything that resembled a weapon in the car. There was a brown paper lunch bag on the passenger seat, rolled up nice and tight.

“Cash,” he replied as he turned down the blaring music.

Cash. Like the brown bag on the front seat, I wondered.

He popped the fuel door and I shoved the nozzle in. I looked back at the station and nodded to Doug inside.

I grabbed a squeegee and soaped up his rear and front windshields until they were a mess of white suds that he couldn’t see through. Doug walked out of the station casually and approached the car from the driver’s side rear as I walked around the front to start cleaning the passenger side windshield.

“Beautiful car!” I said to the driver as I cleaned the windshield.

Mr. Personality grunted something from inside, but pretty much ignored the lil’ old gas station attendant. Prick.

I moved to the passenger side and tried the door, which was locked. The noise drew the driver’s attention, and he looked up at me.

“What are you doing?” He barked at me.

Pete reached into the open driver’s side window and turned off the ignition with one hand as he pressed his Glock against the guy’s head with the other. “Police. Don’t move. Place your hands back on the wheel…”

Pete pulled his arm out of the car, pocketing the key, then reached back in and hit the “unlock” button. I opened the door on my side and knelt at the passenger side.

“Howdy,” I offered, with my best smile. Pete still had his gun in the guy’s ear. I took a quick peek into the bag and found a small stack of hundred dollar bills neatly bundled together. Four two-thousand dollar bundles, to be precise. “Eight G’s,” I said to Pete.

“You ain’t cops. This is a shakedown,” he grumbled.

Pete shoved his detective sergeant badge in the guy’s face with his free hand. “You are going to slowly step out of this vehicle when I open your door. You will then place your hands on the roof of the vehicle. Do you understand?”

“He’d love to shoot you,” I said quietly. “You should probably say ‘yes” to the nice officer.”

“What the fuck is this all about?” He snapped at Pete.

“Hey—you shouldn’t curse at the police,” I said.

Pete opened his door as I released his seat belt. At least he wore a seat belt. I mean, you could get a ticket for that, too.

“Real slow,” said Pete as he grabbed the suspect by the shirt and helped him out of the car. He was much gentler than me. I had enjoyed removing Billy from his car much more. Pete placed the guy against the car and I opened the glove box and peeked inside. There was a .38 inside. I quietly closed it. Pete would need to search the car and find it himself, not some ex-cop. I’d make it inadmissible in court. I stood up and walked around the front of the car as Pete handcuffed the pissed off rock-star. I mouthed the word “gun” to Pete, and motioned to the car with my head.

“Where’s your ID?” Asked Pete.

“Back pocket. I’d hand it to you, but I’m handcuffed,” he sneered.

“Yes, I remember. I’m the one that handcuffed you,” said Pete. That made me smile. Sarcasm from Officer Pete. Very nice. Maybe there was hope for humanity after all. “I’m going to reach into your pocket. Anything sharp back there? Any needles?”

“No,” he replied quietly.

Pete pulled out his wallet and opened it, removing his driver’s license.

“Pennsy driver’s license to Douglass Wyath,” he said. “Hold him here,” said Pete as he walked around the car and opened the glove box. I stood behind Doug with my hand on his shoulder.

“Gun!” barked Pete with mock surprise. He removed the gun and opened the cylinder, dropping the live rounds into his hand. He walked back around to Doug and asked if he had a permit.

“Not on me.”

“Have it at home?”

“I don’t recall. The gun was gift. For self-defense.”

“Douglass Wyath, you are under arrest for having a firearm in your vehicle, which is a third degree felony in the State of Pennsylvania. When we get to the police station, we’ll look in the computer and see if we can help you find your license to carry firearms.”

I made no attempt to hide my smile.

Forty-One

· · · · ·

We parked the BMW on the side of the station and put Doug in the back seat of the unmarked cruiser that Pete had hidden in rear of the gas station. We drove in silence to the Meadow Junction police barracks back in the small town where the post office was located. It was a small station, and, as I learned from Pete later, the entire department consisted of twenty-two officers.

We walked Doug into an interview room, and true to his word, Pete allowed me to be present for the initial interview. Pete leaned forward on the metal table and stared hard at Doug. “Okay, Mr. Wyath, besides the felony gun charge, you have a bigger problem which we are going to sort out.”

Doug tossed his head to move his brown mane out of his face. He was a cool customer, and obviously quite in love with himself.

“Want to tell us why you’re paying Billy Strauss to kill cows in my town, mister?”

You could have heard a pin drop. I mean, wham! That just sucked the air out of the room.

The rock star collected himself and leaned forward to Pete. He spoke with palpable anger in a quiet voice. “You have no idea who you are fucking with. I want my lawyer. I got nothing to say to you. And you can kiss your job goodbye.”

“You can help yourself out, Doug,” said Pete calmly.

“Lawyer. Now.”

Pete moved Doug to a holding cell and called the judge. Doug was allowed his phone call, which led to the phone ringing in the police station a few minutes later. The call was forwarded to Pete, who listened to some windbag threaten the entire department if his client was harassed in any way.

Forty-Two

· · · · ·

By the time I got back to Anne’s, I was in a fairly sour mood. While Billy Strauss cooperated to some degree, Doug was a slick little weasel with a high powered attorney, and he wasn’t saying a word. The guy made bail and walked, and we didn’t have the first clue about what the hell was going on.

I caught Anne up on the day’s events, then called Uncle George and told him the whole story as well. Uncle G told me he’d make a few inquiries, particularly on the law firm and the guy who paid Doug’s bail. I didn’t have much on this guy other than a name and home address. He was obviously well heeled, driving a sixty thousand dollar car and having a lawyer “on hand” in record time. I couldn’t help but notice the guy was wearing an 18K Ball watch that would fetch over ten grand and a big diamond ring that cost more than my SUV. Hell, he probably paid more for his last hair salon visit than I paid my barber last year.

Who was this guy?

Uncle George called me back. “Hey, kid. Not sure what all this means, but it is interesting. Your boy’s law firm is one of the biggest in Washington, DC.”

“Washington?” I blurted. “What the hell are they doing in Bumblefuck, PA?”

“No idea. They do a little bit of everything, but it looks like they specialize in civil law—not criminal. I made a few calls—asked around a bit. These guys are connected in DC. They represent every bigwig politician and contractor down there. The lawyer that showed up for your boy probably gets five bills an hour. He has an office in New York on Park Ave, so maybe he ‘was in the neighborhood’ but still—we’re talking huge money for a visit on a third-degree gun charge.”

“Jeez,” I muttered under my breath. So much for some Green Leaf hippy.

“Wait—there’s more. The guy that showed up with your boy’s bail—he ain’t local either. He had to show ID. His name comes back as an employee of the same law firm, although he isn’t a lawyer.”

I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. “What’s the name of this law firm?”

“Yates, Riley & Johnson.”

I chewed on this for second. “So Doug is paying to kill cows, and he’s connected to a huge DC law firm. I’m guessing Billy Strauss is just the local knucklehead with no ax to grind—he’s just dumb and greedy. I gotta’ concentrate on Doug Wyath. Damn. I wish I could have gotten that sleazeball to talk.”

“Look, I’ll keep checking around, but just keep in mind these aren’t local yokels out there. Watch your back. How’s my boy Zeke doing?”

“He’s great, actually. Never seen him happier since he got hurt.”

“And your honey? What’s her name again?”

“Anne. She pretty great, too.”

“Uh huh. You tell her Uncle George can’t wait to meet her.”

“Dirty old man. Thanks for the help.”

I was sitting at Anne’s kitchen table lost in thought when a huge boom made me jump out of my seat. I think I actually yelled, “holy shit!” We’re talking loud. I ran outside, where three very pissed off dogs were barking their heads off. Thom appeared out of the cow barn with Anne and Zeke.

“What was that?” I screamed to Anne. “You okay?”

“We’re fine. I have no idea what that was! Something explode at the Sullivan’s?”

I was about to say “yes” when it happened again, although this time a little quieter. The dogs were still going berserk.

“Come on!” I yelled to Anne as I ran to the gator and started it up. I drove towards them, and she and Zeke hopped up front. Anne told Thom to make sure the cows were under control and yelled at the dogs to quiet down. They were way too excited to obey her command for quiet and continued to run back and forth and scream bloody murder.

We drove out towards the fence line where Assholes Incorporated had set up their equipment and new road. The booming noise happened a few more times as we approached the fence. Mr. Head Asshole was standing up on that same flatbed truck, watching his men operate equipment. There were trucks and gear everywhere.

I slammed the break as we reached the fence and hopped off the seat, followed by Zeke and Anne. “What the hell are you doing?” I screamed at Frank Taylor. He was wearing that cowboy hat again. I swear I wanted to kick this cowboy-wannabe’s ass.

He made a show of wiping his brow and then replaced the hat on his head. He climbed down and walked to the fence line. Even his walk was like a cowboy that had just slid down off his horse. I swear, it was all I could do not to jump over the fence.

“Help you folks?” He asked, like we were sightseeing.

“Yeah, you can stop whatever the fuck you’re doing! You’re causing a damned earthquake!”

He smiled, that fake smile that needed a fist in it.

“Welllllll,” he began, with his fake Texas oilman accent, “I can’t stop drilling. We’re about to hit a major pocket.”

“Did you not hear the huge fucking explosions, you idiot?” I was screaming, and admit that I lost my usual cool, calm and collected demeanor. Again.

“You said the F word again,” whispered Zeke again.

“That’s normal. We’re fracing. The ground breaks up a bit, deep underground. Releases some energy. Perfectly safe.”

“Yeah, like my water’s safe,” said Anne.

“Little miss, I’ve offered to buy this property several times. I’m still willing to talk about that. I’m sure I can get you a very strong offer.” He smiled again. Jesus I hated that guy’s fake smile.

Anne stormed back to the gator. I walked closer to the fence and motioned for him to come closer. He approached cautiously. I leaned in real close. “Listen, asshole. The little miss ain’t selling you her farm. Don’t ask again. And wipe that shit-ass grin off your face before I do it for you.”

He stepped back. He smile had miraculously disappeared, showing his true face. It was similar to paintings of Satan I had seen.

“You stay away from me.”

“I’m on Anne’s property, so you can kiss my ass. You want a hundred feet? Take a walk.” The ground rumbled again. One of the workers screamed over to Beelzebub.

“Hey! Frank! We hit it!”

He smiled broadly, this time for real, and ran back to the center of activity by the trucks. I watched large tanker trucks pulling up as workers were screaming into their radios. Shit. The gas was worth more than the milk. Sell the friggin’ farm and take the cash. I looked at Anne, sitting in the gator cross armed and pissed, waiting for me to get her out of here. I sure wasn’t going to be the one to suggest selling it. We drove back in angry silence.

Forty-Three

· · · · ·

We spoke to Thom when we got back to the barn. The dogs had settled down and the cows were calm. As much as I hated the drillers next door, their pollution wasn’t what had killed Anne’s cows. Obviously, they weren’t squeaky clean, and had polluted the land and water, but they weren’t the ones who had murdered her cows. Billy had been paid by Doug. It was now up to me to figure out who was paying Doug, or if he had some personal “beef” with Anne’s cows.

Anne would have to hire a lawyer and sue Billy Strauss for damages, but the guy wasn’t worth much which is why he took the cash in the first place. While Anne’s farm was insured, her policy only covered equipment, workman’s comp, and the buildings. She never insured the livestock because she was a veterinarian and ran an organic farm. “What could possibly go wrong? Why pay all that extra money?” Oops.

I suggested that we go to town and have a glass of wine and some dinner and try to relax. A good glass of red was like chicken soup—it couldn’t hurt.

“I’m broke and it doesn’t look like I’m paying you any time soon. You sure you don’t want me to cook us something right here at home?” She asked. I don’t recall ever seeing a woman who so desperately needed to get the hell out of the house.

“I’m independently wealthy,” I explained. “I just do the P-I thing because it’s fun and a great way to meet women. No worries, I got this. Let’s shower and clean up and paint the town red.”

I told Zeke to play with Cody for a while, which he was happy to do. That was secret code for me to get Anne into her tiny little shower and seduce her in both the bathroom and bedroom. She started to give me the old “I’m not in the mood right now” story, but I have this little secret technique with my tongue and she quickly acquiesced. We both felt much better after that. After getting laid, I was ready to tell her to get her ass in the kitchen and cook us something, but a deal’s a deal.

As she got herself all dolled up, I went out and grabbed Zeke and made him shower and change, too. He looked stressed, which made me uneasy. I knew I had lost my temper and cursed in front of him, and that always set him off. I tried my best to make him relax, but even his playtime with Cody hadn’t totally cheered him up. He knew something was up, and I couldn’t really pretend there wasn’t. I told him we’d talk about it later and sent him off to shower. He wasn’t gone two minutes when my cell phone rang.

“Hey kid.”

“Uncle G! What are you up to?” I asked.

“Playing detective, since you aren’t very good at it.”

He had a point. My cases hadn’t been anything remotely so complicated in the past, and I really had been pretty friggin’ useless so far, other than finding Billy with the poison in his hand. I was definitely better dealing with dead-beat dads and stalkers than I was with bovine serial killers.

“Okay—so catch me up. What did you find out?” I asked.

“This is big, Boy-O.”

Uncle George was obviously loving the big buildup. He must have something juicy and wanted to savor a little feeling of victory.

“Big, huh? You find out who killed Kennedy?”

“Shit, I solved that one years ago. This is a new development.”

“I’m all ears.”

“That law firm… Yates, Riley & Johnson. The one that sprung your boy Doug.”

“He ain’t my boy, but go on.”

“Right. Yates. That name mean anything to you?”

“Nope. But I bet you’re going to tell me something amazing any second.”

“Well, interesting, anyway. Herbert Yates the Third is the father of Lydia Yates.”

“Oh, well—why didn’t you say so?” I exclaimed. Who the hell was Lydia Yates? I waited.

“Lydia Yates is now Lydia Mistretta.” He let that sink in. Yates didn’t mean anything to me, but Mistretta—I knew that name from somewhere.

“Clue me in, Uncle George. Lydia Mistretta. Why does that sound familiar?”

“Well, you probably never heard of her or her father—but her husband is James J. Mistretta, as in Congressman JJ Mistretta from Pennsylvania, in Anne’s district!”

I thought about that for a second. Where was this all going? “Okay, let me catch up a second Uncle G…”

“Take your time, kid,” he said. I think I could hear him gloating.

“The congressman’s wife’s father’s law firm bailed out the guy who paid Billy Strauss to kill Anne’s cows.”

“Bingo.”

“And what’s the connection?” I asked.

“How the fuck should I know?” He bellowed. “You’re the detective! I just gave you a huge clue! Now go do some detecting!” He hung up. He was probably laughing back in New Jersey somewhere.

My head hurt. Why the hell would a local dirtbag use such an expensive DC firm? It couldn’t just be some coincidence. There was something to this. Maybe Anne could shed some light on it. So the big question: Discuss it over dinner and maintain our stress levels, or just unwind and come home and screw again?

It could wait until tomorrow.

Forty-Four

· · · · ·

As predicted, a great meal and bottle of wine does wonders to the human spirit. Anne and I managed to sneak in another round of widow-farmer-turned-porn-star-sex after Zeke was asleep. I swear that woman wasn’t normal. Thank God. We both slept great, and even Anne was slow to get up the next morning.

I made her coffee in the morning—my little way of saying, “Holy crud that was amazing.” We drank coffee in bed together like an old married couple. I was just having that precise thought when she got all misty-eyed. When I asked her what was wrong, she said, “nothing”, gave me a quick kiss and got up to dress. It was then that I realized she had probably been thinking the exact same thing that I was at that moment. The difference for her was she had actually had those old days to reminisce about—coffee in bed with the significant other. I hadn’t ever had that. I couldn’t miss what I never had, but I could certainly understand why she would.

Love is a funny thing. You have this idea in your head that you might one day meet someone and fall in love, but you think it would take months or years of getting to know the person. I had only known Anne for a few weeks—how could we possibly be so intensely connected already? Strange, indeed.

I dressed and gave her a hug, which she returned in silence. It was actually very nice to just stand there and not need to say anything.

I knew that she knew that I knew.

Which was perfect.

We walked out the front door and were surprised to find Thom sitting on the front picnic table staring at the dirt. We approached him slowly, afraid to hear whatever would come out of his mouth.

“Sorry, Anne,” he said quietly. “Must just take a while, I guess.”

“How many?” she asked. I was still trying to wake up and figure out what the hell they were talking about.

“Five. Three more look sick.”

Anne put her face in her hands. I caught up to what Thom as telling us.

“Did someone else put more poison in the water?” I asked whoever would answer me.

Anne looked at me tearfully. “It’s cumulative. While the toxins are slowly expelled from the body, the damage is lasting and starts a domino effect. They’ve all been poisoned, Noah. The herd’s got to be put down.”

“Put down”. Interesting phrase. I guess it was gentler than slaughtered, murdered or annihilated. I spoke without thinking. “All of them?”

“All of them. The milk can’t ever be used. Beef’s no good, either. They need to be put down and buried deep, Thom.” She tightened her posture and facial expression. I could see her trying to maintain her composure. This was something she had probably been thinking about for quite a while.

Thom stood up. “Today?”

She nodded and turned quickly to head back to the house.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said quietly. He looked at me sadly, shook his head, and walked off to the barn. The fracing wouldn’t be the only “booming noise” today. Today was going to suck.

I went inside and woke up Zeke and Cody. The fearless watchdog was out cold on his back next to Zeke, who was also out cold on his back. I think they were both drooling equally. Cody was the easier of the two to wake up.

As usual, when Zeke finally did wake up, it was with a smile and his usual good nature.

“Hey, Noah!”

“Morning Champ.”

He smiled and chuckled like a little kid. “Champ” always made him smile. Somewhere in his head he knew he was a boxer. He sat up and rubbed Cody who licked his face.

“Jesus, Zeke—not on the mouth!”

“You kiss Anne on the mouth, I saw you,” he said between licks.

“Anne isn’t a dog!” I barked back.

“Anne’s a fox,” he said.

Holy crud. I smacked him, realizing he’d been messing with me. “Get up, Zeke. Shower and dress—especially your face, you nasty dude.”

“You making breakfast?”

“We’re going out for the day,” I replied. There was no way I was going to have Zeke or Anne watching Thom kill and bury an entire herd of cows.

I walked down the hall to Anne’s room and found her just stepping out of the shower. I spoke quietly to her. “Get dressed and we’ll get out of here for the day.”

She said, “Thanks.” I guess she was hoping or expecting I’d know to get her off the farm for the day.

“You’ve never seen my place. Let’s take a drive over to Jersey and I’ll show you how two cavemen live. I also have my computers over there. I’d like to spend a little time on your case. There’s a few leads that need following up.”

Anne walked over wearing just a towel and took my two hands in hers. She gathered herself for a second and looked up at me with eyes that were heartbreaking. “Noah, you’ve done too much already. It’s over. The herd will be gone today. I’ll need to speak to the bank and see if they’ll talk to me about a second mortgage, but even that’s not enough to replace the herd. This will set me back years in the best case scenario. Most likely, I’m just out of business and I’ll lose the farm.” Her eyes watered up. “I owe you money, too. I don’t want you spending more time on this. Billy Strauss will go to jail. That’s the only justice I’ll get. It’s over, Noah. And I’ll pay you, I promise. Let’s get out of here for the day. I don’t know what happens after that.”

“You mean, with us?” I asked.

Tears started running down her face freely. “With us—with my farm—with everything.” She was squeezing my hands harder now, probably not even realizing it. I tried to pull her in close, but she pulled away. “Let me get dressed, Noah. I’ll be out in a minute.”

I took the subtle hint and left her room. For the first time in several days, I felt like an outsider in her house. I know she wasn’t “using me” to help her, but maybe with the herd dead and the case over, she’d just wanted me out of here, too. A clean break from the big mess. Who knows? Women were pretty tough to figure.

I went out to the kitchen and made coffee, then walked out to the side yard. I could see Thom in the distance with a backhoe, digging a long deep trench. I jogged out after him and waved at him until he stopped.

He leaned down and strained to hear me over the engine.

“Hey—I know it’s farther to drag the cows, but dig this trench right alongside the fence where those fuckers are working next door. Let them see a whole herd of cows drop into a hole.”

Thom looked back in the direction where the fracing facility was located. “I won’t drag them over. I’ll walk ‘em over with the dogs. They can all watch me put ‘em down right there. It’s not a pretty sight. Let them all think about that for the rest of the day.”

I nodded in agreement, and so did Thom. We each instantly knew it was exactly how it should be done.

Thom began filling the trench back in, before driving down to the fence that bordered the old Sullivan Farm.

Forty-Five

· · · · ·

Jersey

Anne, Zeke and I left the farm as soon as everyone was dressed. Zeke had been excited about showing Anne where we lived, but was disappointed when I told him that Cody wouldn’t be coming with us. I explained to Zeke that Cody had work to do today. I didn’t tell him it was Cody’s last day with the herd, but I could certainly see it in Anne’s face.

Driving back to Jersey would have been a quiet, awkward trip if not for Zeke’s constant rambling about a million unrelated topics. Anne tried her best to act interested, but mostly just stared out the side window to hide her face.

We stopped at local breakfast place near my house. Zeke and I ate like we were going to the electric chair, but Anne mostly pushed her food around. When we got to the house, Zeke was going on fast and furious about showing Anne his room, and wanted to show her where Cody would sleep. He had obviously given it much thought. Anne’s mouth opened in surprise when he gave us that little bit of information, but I looked at her and shook my head “no” rather than disappoint Zeke. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if Anne would be talking to me in another week, never mind moving in with her dog.

I let Zeke give Anne the quick tour of our house, a small colonial in suburbia where I tried my best to give my brother a normal life. He asked me if he could show Anne the gym down in the basement, and he was too excited for me to say no. We walked downstairs and Zeke hopped onto his bench and got under the bar.

“Hey, Zeke,” I said, “You haven’t been lifting in a while. Start slow and warm up.”

“It’s only two-hundred,” he said, and then proceeded to show us a quick set of ten.

Anne looked over at me. “You going next?” She asked with her first smile of the morning.

“Ladies first,” I replied, with a deep bow.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“You lift weights?” asked Zeke.

“No. Not really.”

Zeke slapped on two more large metal discs, making the weight two hundred fifty pounds. Anne looked at me with concern. I just shrugged and watched Zeke bang out another ten like it was no big deal. When he got to three hundred, I made him stop after five.

“That’s enough, big brother,” I said, slapping his shoulder. “We’ll go for a run later on, maybe, okay?”

Zeke grinned and said okay. Then he proceeded to show Anne every picture of he and I that decorated the basement. He occasionally had to ask me where some of the pictures had been taken, or who was in them, but his brain was obviously working in hyper-drive again. It was actually a good thing for Anne, and I watched her mood improve and she got to see Zeke and I as little kids growing up in pictures with our young mom and dad.

I excused myself to get some snooping done via computer, and Anne seemed fine going through the Barnes’ family history.

· · · · ·

I started reading up on Yates, Riley & Johnson, as well as Congressman JJ Mistretta. The most interesting tidbit about Mistretta was his recent and complete about-face on his anti-fracing position which led to a deadlocked bill being passed. There had to be at least a hundred news stories on that little bombshell. One congressman had single-handedly changed national energy policy. Interesting. I wondered what he had been promised, and by whom? Guys like that either got paid big bucks by lobbyists or under the table for their Swiss bank account, or, they were getting moved up the ladder by being a team player. In this case, the guy had pissed off almost his entire political party, so maybe it was a simple cash transaction. He’d be far from the first crook in Congress. But would he be so obvious?

I sat and read through newspaper articles until my eyes were bleeding. My head hurt. I had been a good detective—a good cop. I should be able to figure out what the hell was happening all around me, but it just wasn’t making any sense. The fracing next door was poisoning the cows. We pretty much knew that to be a fact. They had polluted the water. We knew that to be a fact. But then, seemingly unrelated, some guy with ties to a big law firm pays a guy to poison the water. Why? The cows weren’t dying fast enough?

I sat way back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. I asked that same question over and over until Anne walked up and found me in the same position.

“Noah?”

“The cows weren’t dying fast enough.”

“Huh?”

“That’s got to be it. Why didn’t I think of this before?”

Anne made a quizzical face. “I don’t follow you.”

“Your cows were poisoned by that shit next door. They were already sick. Hell—they were going to die eventually. Just not fast enough. So Yates, Riley & Johnson had to speed up the process. They had to hire a guy to make it happen faster.”

Anne’s face showed how bewildered she was. “Yates, Riley & Johnson?”

“The law firm that represented Doug Wyath and sprung him from jail. Yates, Riley & Johnson. And I’ll give you another interesting little tidbit, too. Congressman JJ Mistretta was the deciding vote on the energy bill that allowed fracing to continue. His wife is Lydia Yates Mistretta.”

Anne walked around and sat on my desk facing me. I watched her brain swirling around the information I had just regurgitated like cud. “Is Yates, Riley & Johnson looking to make money off of the energy company? They going to sue them or something?”

“They’re either looking to sue these guys, or they’re tied to Green Leaf and they’re making a point somehow. It’s all connected somewhere.”

“Green Leaf?”

“Yeah. Those guys are tied in to this, too. Your idiot cowhand Bill said the guy that paid him—Doug, was with Green Leaf. He didn’t say why he thought so, but it obviously meant something to him. It isn’t a coincidence.”

Anne stood up and walked around my small office deep in thought. After a moment she turned and looked at me, her face looking tired and sad. “It doesn’t matter, Noah. My herd’s wiped out. I’ll be out of business if the bank won’t let me refinance. Whatever they did—for whatever reason—they won. It’s too late.”

I stood up without even realizing it. My anger popped out before I could control it. “So that’s it? You just let these guys destroy your family farm and get away with it? You don’t give a shit about why?” I was probably screaming without meaning to.

Anne started crying. Mr. Sensitive had failed to remember this was “Slaughter Your Entire Herd and Drop them in a Hole Day”. I gave her a hug and apologized. When she got herself together, I began again, under control this time. “Anne, I will get to the bottom of this. I don’t know about the financial end of all this regarding your farm, but I do know that some people somewhere are going to go to jail. This isn’t about the money. Forget paying me. I don’t want a dime. But that prick next door and the hotshot in the Beemer—they both think they can do whatever they want. And let me tell you somethin’ little lady—they can’t.”

Anne gave me a hug and started crying again. Jeez. I guess I’d be pretty wiped out too, if my whole life’s work was being buried in the back yard. She thanked me and I walked her to the bathroom to wash her face while I went to get her some water. While I was still in the kitchen, Zeke walked in. His arms looked huge after his workout. His face looked worried. He whispered to me, “Anne’s crying, Noah. What happened? Did you get into a fight?”

I patted his huge arm and told him to sit down. “I have some bad news, Zeke. Anne’s cows are really sick. All of them. They aren’t going to get better, buddy.”

His face showed horror. “They’re going to die?”

“Yeah. Sorry to tell you that, but that’s the truth. It’s why Anne hired me—hired us. To figure out why they got sick.”

“Did you figure out what happened? Will Cody and Max and Bear be okay?”

“The dogs are fine, Zeke. I promise. I’m not sure exactly what happened yet with the cows. But I am going to figure it out.”

Zeke stared hard at the floor and then looked back up at me. “Was it that bad man at the farm? He put stuff in the water didn’t he?”

“Yeah, Zeke. Billy Strauss. That’s the guy we grabbed at the barn. And he worked for that other guy, Doug Wyath. And we’re going to figure out who they worked for. Then we’re going to send them all to jail with the rest of the criminals, okay?”

Zeke looked up at me with eyes that were heart breaking. “Why would anyone want to kill those pretty cows? They wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

I patted his massive shoulder and told him I didn’t know yet, then headed to Anne with water. When she was feeling better, we walked back into the kitchen to find Zeke standing there with his sunglasses on, holding a bat that looked like a toothpick in his huge hands.

“Going somewhere?” I asked, feeling a bit concerned.

“We’re going to find out who killed Anne’s cows,” he said very quietly.

Forty-Six

· · · · ·

I distracted Anne and Zeke as best I could for the rest of the day. We eventually checked in with Thom back at the farm, who informed us that the deed was done. When I spoke with him out of ear’s shot of Anne, I asked about how it went down. He and I had discussed making sure the fracers would get front row seats.

“I walked the first cow right up to the fence and tied her there on a long lead. Them boys next door were laughing at me until I returned with my ten gauge and put two slugs through her forehead. They just about pissed their pants. I repeated that more times than I care to remember. Just kept piling up them cows right on the property line so they could see what they done. A few of them boys left after a while. Then I dug a big trench and pulled them in one at a time. Limed ‘em up and backfilled. Even that boss man next door left after a while. Wasn’t nothing no one would ever want to see.”

It must have been a bloody mess. Eighty or so cows having their heads blown open right there like that. I was very happy Anne was here with me.

“Thom, thanks for taking care of it. I know it was a bad day.”

“I’d do anything for that little girl, mister. You gonna’ do something about it?”

“I sure am going to try.”

After I hung up the phone, I told Anne and Zeke I needed something at the mall, and we killed a couple of hours doing everything from window shopping to buying ice cream to looking at the puppies—which was a huge mistake. The good news was, Zeke’s begging for a dog kept us busy enough to make Anne forget her day, at least for a little while. When we eventually stopped at a local pub for dinner and a few beers, Anne held my hand and thanked me.

“I know what you were doing today, Noah. Trust me, I was very happy to be kept busy all day. Thank you for that.”

I leaned forward and whispered, “And I’ll keep you busy all night, too.”

Big Brother started in again about which of the puppies was the cutest, but he really wanted Cody to stay with us at his house. I kept avoiding dealing with the fact that Anne lived in Pennsylvania and we lived in New Jersey, and we weren’t moving in together any time soon. Even if it was only a pipe dream, the three of us made a nice little family.

My phone buzzed and showed “Uncle G.”

I excused myself and took the call.

“Hey kid. You making any progress?”

“Not much since we spoke last. Anne’s been having a rough couple of days. She had to slaughter her entire herd today. The cows were all poisoned and sick. It’s a bad day.”

“Sorry to hear it. She have insurance or something?”

“Not on the animals, no. She’s basically screwed. It’ll be up to the bank to decide what happens to her farm next. She could try and sue Billy Strauss, the guy that poisoned her herd, but he isn’t worth a hundred bucks. And there’s no shot suing the drillers next door. Hell, they’d just blame the Strauss knucklehead anyway.”

Uncle George let that sink in. “Well, I’ve been thinking about your case all week. You know, us retired guys have way too much time on our hands. You have me feeling like a detective again, I kind of like it.”

“Solve the case yet?” I asked.

“Not yet, but you know there’s only a few motives to choose from in most cases, kid. Money, love and drugs—that’s got to be ninety percent of all crimes, right? This one ain’t a drug case. That leaves love and money. I’m betting on the money.”

“Yeah, and…?”

“Two things. Why Yates, Riley & Johnson, and what’s Doug’s connection to them and your lady friend? Congressman Mistretta—he’s got to be connected somehow. Got to be. You do any background on him yet?”

“Yeah,” I began. “Probably read the same articles you did. This Democrat switches sides and single-handedly gets a bill passed from a deadlock. Mr. Environmentalist votes for fracing, and somehow, fracing ends up poisoning Anne’s water.”

“Well I’m glad to see you’ve been doing some work out there…” said George, busting my chops as usual.

“Wait—there’s more. I have a theory. First real idea I’ve had since I started, actually. Stay with me for a second and tell me if it’s crazy…”

“I’m all ears, kid.”

“Okay—this law firm has a hard-on for these fracing companies. They want to go after them for environmental crimes. Problem is, the fracing isn’t killing animals and people fast enough to really grab headlines, so they need to help it along to build their case. They hire a guy, who hires a guy, to poison the cows so they can blame the gas drillers.”

Uncle George mulled that over a second. “It’s not crazy. But wouldn’t there be easier ways to build a case? I’ve been reading some scary stuff about fracing. People with natural gas coming out of their kitchen faucets, poisoned water supplies, all kinds of shit…”

“Yeah, and have you seen one successful law suit against the drillers?”

Silence.

I grunted at his silence, and then continued. “Exactly my point. All kinds of shit has been happening as a result of forcing chemicals deep into the earth, but not one case has blown the lid off the whole controversy. What if something so big happened that the media couldn’t ignore it? What if some farmer lost her entire herd of dairy cows at an organic farm that was located next to a fracing facility? Don’t you think that would grab national attention? Whatever law firm got that case might make a huge name for themselves. Maybe start a class action litigation worth millions.”

“Interesting theory. But these guys—Yates, Riley & Johnson, they aren’t some ambulance chasers—they’re huge. A D.C. powerhouse. You think they’d stoop to hiring thugs to get a case?”

“I don’t know, Uncle G. But I think the answer to all this bullshit is in Yates, Riley & Johnson. It makes my head hurt thinking about it, but there’s no way it’s just a coincidence. I’m thinking about making a call over to the firm and shaking the trees a little.”

“Waste of time, kiddo. If the firm is legit, they wouldn’t tell you about Doug because of attorney client privilege. And if they’re into something illegal, they sure aren’t going to admit it to you. Either way, dead end.”

“So what do I do? Quit?” I asked, getting irritated.

“I never said that. You just got to go do some detective work, detective. Start poking around. There’s a connection between Yates and Mistretta, right? Maybe you should start there.”

I thought about that for a second. Yates’ daughter was Lydia Mistretta, wife of the now famous congressman. I couldn’t just show up and ask her what she knew, but one way or the other, she was a good place to start. “Uncle G—you’re onto something. Give me a couple of days and I’ll call you back.”

“That’s my boy. Go get ‘em.” He hung up.

My head was spinning a hundred miles an hour. I wanted to leave the pub right then and there and get to work, but Anne and Zeke were still at the dinner table. I went back to the table and sat down.

“Everything okay?” asked Anne.

“Everything just got real interesting,” I replied.

Forty-Seven

· · · · ·

Since the very beginning of taking Anne’s case, I had felt like I was in over my head. Not with Anne—I liked that part of the case, but with the actual case itself. If I hadn’t had Uncle George to talk to I would have been totally lost. But now I had a specific mission that I was good at—tail Lydia Mistretta and do some digging. I was excited again. I’m not too proud to admit that this whole thing had felt way too complicated for my skills-set. But tailing people without being seen, being observant, gathering clues—I was made to do this stuff.

I had driven Anne back to her farm the morning after the herd was put down. She needed a few days to take care of her business over there, which included visits to the bank and the local Ag Board. She would have a few rough days ahead of her that I couldn’t help her with—but I had my own work to do, anyway. Anne had shocked me and consented to allowing Cody to return with us to New Jersey at Zeke’s request. With no herd to attend to, I guess Anne figured the dog would be happier with Zeke, and she would be too busy to pay much attention to him anyway. Even so, Cody hadn’t ever “been on a vacation” before, and it was a big deal for her to let him come with us. Zeke was beside himself with excitement. The good news was, with Zeke occupied with Cody, I could do my work following Lydia Mistretta around for a while without worrying about big brother.

By the following day, after some digging around and making phone calls to the private-eye-underworld, I had enough information on Lydia Mistretta to start doing some real detective work. Thanks to Google Earth, I knew exactly what her street and house looked like, and parked my car down the block where I waited and watched in the early morning sunshine. Sitting on a house is about the single most boring thing there is in detective work. Unlike television, the suspect doesn’t waltz out in front of you five minutes after you get there. Sometimes, you killed an entire day waiting on someone who simply never showed up. When I had Zeke with me, it wasn’t too bad. I used the down time to work his brain out and make him think about his past, which was full of big holes. Without Zeke, I read a book, listened to music, and thought about Anne and her farm, all the while keeping an eye out for her driveway.

It was almost three hours before I saw Lydia Mistretta walk quickly out of her house to her waiting Jaguar. A little digging had revealed she and JJ didn’t have any children, but apparently did have a lot of dough. More digging seemed to show the dough came from daddy, not JJ.

Lydia wasn’t a bad looking lady. Hard looking in a way, but still not bad at all. She was tall, maybe five-eight, and had a great body. Long legs and a perfect little butt in her very expensive blue jeans. She had a sharp haircut, with brown straight hair right off a French runway. If she didn’t look so angry all the time, you might even say she was pretty. She made it from her front door to the Jag in the big circular driveway in a matter of seconds, and roared off down the street. I smiled and followed carefully, staying back but knowing I wouldn’t lose a fire engine red Jaguar.

I spoke quietly into my small recorder. “Almost ten A.M. Subject Lydia Mistretta heading west in a red Jag.”

I drove casually behind her, following her to a large shopping mall where I cursed my luck for now having to go pretend to be clothes shopping for the next ten hours. I could feel my blood pressure rising. This would be a punishment assignment. Right about the time I had resigned myself to the fact that the day was going to suck, everything changed. I always said, I’d rather be lucky than good.

Lydia pulled into a parking space next to a very familiar looking blue BMW. Sonofabitch. She hopped out of her car and quickly hopped into the passenger seat of Doug’s. I had parked myself in a spot where I had a decent line of sight, and grabbed my binoculars. I was expecting to see her hand Doug a bag of money, but this was even more of a “holy shit.” The two of them locked lips and started making out in the car like a bad foreign film. I was pretty sure they were going to just have sex right there, but they broke off and started talking in very animated fashion. This wasn’t going to be such a bad day after all.

“Subject Lydia Mistretta has just made contact with Doug Wyeth, and the two appear very intimate. I am following them out of the Westgate mall where they had planned a rendezvous and ditched her red Jag. Heading out the northern exit to Route 151 North.”

Unlike Lydia, Doug would know my black SUV and my face. I stayed back so far I was afraid I’d lose them a few times, but managed to follow them for almost five miles until they pulled off into a motel parking lot. Well, well…the day was shaping up quite nicely, wasn’t it? I parked at a Dunkin Donuts next parking lot over, and waited for Doug to come out of the front office. He ran back to the car smiling, showing his girlfriend the key like he had just won a prize. I guess he had. They pulled around back and disappeared into room seventeen.

I left my SUV in the lot and grabbed my black equipment bag from the back seat before jogging over to the motel. A fat old man was watching an ancient television with the sound off. I happened the catch the screen and the naked chicks bouncing around and realized he was probably helping himself to the pay per view this very high end establishment offered its clientel.

“Hey bud, I need room fifteen or nineteen. I’m sentimental that way.” I pushed a hundred dollar bill across the counter. “No receipt. I’ll only be a couple of hours.”

“This is a quiet place, mister. No trouble.”

“No trouble.” I held up my left hand. “No wedding band—it ain’t my problem, know what I mean?” I offered my best fake smile.

The fat man pushed a key to me with a large “19” on it. He turned back to his TV like I had already left.

I walked quickly to my room, where I opened the door quietly. Once inside, I smiled at myself for trying to hide any noise. The screaming next door was so loud they wouldn’t have heard me if I had keyed into their room.

I quickly opened my bag and pressed the suction cup to the wall, and then hit the record button on my equipment. Did I tell you? Private Eyes do have the coolest toys. As the recorder was picking up premium sound fornication, I quietly opened my door and glanced up and down the parking lot. There was no activity, so I grabbed my small scope and knelt outside the door. They had quickly pulled their window shade closed, but in their haste, had left a small corner open. I looked through my scope and there was Lydia, plain as day, straddling the rock star and pounding away on their squeaky bed. I attached a camera to the scope and started taking pictures, although this wasn’t a jealous spouse that had hired me. What the heck, though—it was fun.

I took a bunch of pictures like an adolescent boy sneaking into his dad’s Playboy magazines until I had more than enough “evidence”. It was funny how the two prim and proper folks in that sleazy room had the worst potty mouths I’d ever heard. If she screamed for him to “cum in my fucking pussy” one more time, I was going to start banging on the wall. Jesus Christ people—get a room! Oh wait—they had a room. I silently returned to my own room, and waited for them to finish. While they continued their festival next door, I called Uncle George.

“Hey kid!” He said happily as he saw my name come up on his caller ID.

“Hi, uncle G. You’ll never guess where I am.”

“In bed with your beautiful girlfriend Anne.”

“Holy crap, you are so close. Seriously.”

“Yeah?” He asked, sounding like he was worried or embarrassed or something.

“I am at the Blue Moon Motel on Route 151.”

“That’s where you take Anne? Jesus Noah!”

“Not so much, no. I’m here tailing a subject. Hang on for a quick sec.”

I played back the recorder and hit “play” by the phone. Uncle George could hear the two of them cursing and grunting and pounding away for a few seconds before I turned it off. “Guess who that is—and no, it isn’t Anne and me.”

There was the typical silence as George thought before speaking. Finally, I could hear the smile in his voice. “Noooo!”

“Yup.”

“The congressman’s got a girlfriend?”

I laughed. George had it backwards. “Nooo! That’s Lydia next door, but wait—it gets better!”

George was laughing out loud on his end of the phone. “No shit! Good for her. Who’s the guy?”

“That’s the kicker, George—Doug Wyeth!”

You could have heard a pin drop.

Forty-Eight

· · · · ·

Lydia and Doug stayed at it for quite a while. I was actually much more interested in the pillow talk after the session than their dirty screaming during. I put the headphones on and listened after they had quieted down. If nothing else, they had staying power, I’ll give ‘em that.

For the first few minutes, their conversation was typical lover’s subject matter. How much they missed each other, how great it just felt, yadda, yadda. But then Doug finally got down to business.

“Your old man say anything about the case? No one’s telling me shit. I can’t get anywhere near that Strauss idiot, either. Somebody needs to shut that guy the fuck up.”

“Relax, baby. Daddy’s going to take care of everything.”

“Not so easy to relax when you’ve been arrested, princess.”

“Don’t get mean,” she said in a teasing voice. Things got quiet again, and then I could hear all kinds of slurping going on. Jesus. These two put Anne and I to shame, and that was sayin’ something. Within a few minutes, the two of them were out of control loud again, and I had to take off the headphones and wait for round two to finish. When they were done, they resumed their conversation after more pillow talk.

It was Doug’s voice. “When are you just going to leave that asshole? We could be doing this every day.”

“Come on, Doug. Don’t go there now, okay?

He must have been pouting. “Doug, come on, baby.” More slurpy noises. Jesus, not again? They “frolicked a few moments”, but apparently, one or both of them were worn out.

“I need to get back. It’s been a couple of hours. And don’t worry about Bill Strauss, okay? He’ll never testify against you. The firm’s going to represent him, too. You’ll be fine. This whole thing’s going to go away, baby.”

“Easy for you to say, you aren’t the one that got handcuffed.”

“Doug, relax. I promise, everything’s fine. When this is all over, we’ll be counting our money on a beach somewhere…”

Bingo! I knew it. I strained to hear every word.

“It could take years!” He bellowed.

“It’ll take however long it takes. You have to trust me, okay? Daddy’s got this all taken care of. You just keep doing what you need to do, and I’ll just keep doing what I need to do.”

“Yeah? Like what? Fucking JJ?”

“Jesus, Doug! You’re an asshole!” I could hear the shuffling of sheets and the squeaking of the bed. She must have gotten up. The two of them squabbled a few more minutes, then apparently made up and started in for round three. These two liked to fight and make up I guess. Round three was the most vicious of their afternoon—they were either trying to get each other off, or kill each other—it was hard to tell from my side of the wall.

I had to sit through that one for what seemed like forever, but I was afraid to turn off the recorder and miss whatever they were going to chat about next. When they were finished, Lydia said she needed to shower off before going home. How considerate. I waited for the two of them to dress and began listening hard again.

I heard Doug’s voice. “You know, it probably worked out better that he flipped.”

“Fuck you, Doug!”

“I’m serious! Listen to me for a sec. If the bill got killed, the fracing would be suspended indefinitely. Daddy would still have his suit, but it wouldn’t mean nearly as much. With these guys going full bore, Green Leaf has an issue to scream about to the media, and the concern from the public will help sway a jury. The cow farm story is a good one, too. Your husband isn’t getting re-elected, but so what. By then, you and I will be picking which beaches we want to visit.”

When Lydia responded, I could hear the venom in her voice. “I spent a ton of time convincing JJ to make that bill his top priority! I even fucked him to get his attention! For nothing, Doug! The idiot spends two years on energy policy, and then changes his mind overnight without even talking to me about it first? What the fuck, Doug?”

“Listen—we’ve already been down this road. What’s done is done. The guy’s an asshole, which is why you aren’t fucking him anymore, right, Lydia?”

“Just take me back to my car.”

“Isn’t that right, Lydia?” He screamed.

“I said, take me back to my car. I’m not discussing JJ with you anymore.”

Well this was interesting. Lydia either liked to torture Doug, or she was still on occasion banging the congressman. Either way, the lady was off her rocker. The two of them cursed and screamed a while longer, then went out to his car. I packed up quickly and gave them a minute head start. I knew where her car was and didn’t need to hurry.

As I drove back to the mall, I called and checked in on Zeke, who was very happy to have had the day with Cody.

“How’s he doing?” I asked.

“He’s sleeping. I took him for a long run. He’s fast.”

“How far is a long run?”

“The water tower and back,” he said.

The water tower round trip was four miles. “Wow.”

“Yeah, after the third time, he needed to stop.”

“Zeke? You ran the tower three times?”

“Yeah, Cody needs to exercise, he’s a working dog. I promised Anne I wouldn’t let him lie around and be lazy all day.”

“So you ran twelve miles?”

“That’s enough, right? The last one was hard.”

My stomach hurt thinking about it. “Zeke, that’s way more than enough. Make sure you and Cody drink plenty of water. And not from the same glass!”

“Noah! That’s gross! Dogs need a bowl anyway.”

“You keep your face out of his bowl.”

“Very funny. We’re watching Animal Planet.”

“You and Cody are watching Animal Planet?” I couldn’t help smiling.

“Well, he fell asleep. But it’s about hyenas, and they’re like big dogs, so I’m taping it for him to watch later.”

I shook my head. I might have to marry Anne just to get custody of the dog. I said goodbye to Zeke, called Uncle George and caught him up on what I’d heard next door. He was duly impressed with the day’s intelligence haul.

“I’m not exactly sure what it all means, but it sure looks like we’ve got the pieces all coming together,” I said as I pulled into the mall parking lot. I watched Lydia quickly move from Doug’s car to hers, without so much as a kiss goodbye, and watched lover-boy roar off. I’m guessing Doug didn’t like the idea of Lydia doing to JJ what she had done to him all afternoon. I followed her back to her house and re-parked in the same spot under a large Oak. I gave up after an hour of “nothing” and decided to go home and start doing some reading and thinking.

Like they say in the movies, “The plot had thickened.”

Forty-Nine

· · · · ·

By the time I got home, I was starving. Zeke greeted me at the front door with Cody. They both looked pretty happy.

“Looks like your buddy has made himself right at home,” I said, patting Cody’s fluffy head.

“He loves it here.”

“Uh-huh. I bet. I better call his mom and see how’s she’s doin’.” I dialed Anne and got her on her cell phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, gorgeous. How’s it going?”

She started bawling her eyes out. Damn. Not one word, just crying. I hate when women do that. She kept apologizing for not being able to get herself together, and then would proceed to fall apart again.

“Okay—sounds like it’s going great. The boys are starving. Be ready in an hour, we’re picking you up to grab dinner. Besides, I have to catch you up with the latest juicy gossip. And trust me, it is juicy.”

“Noah, I look like shit. I can’t go anywhere…”

“See you in an hour! And you better look fantastic—you’ve got fifty minutes more than you need.” I hung up.

“Zeke! Put on a nicer shirt, we’re going to visit Anne. Oh—and grab your toothbrush and bring your sweats to sleep in.” One thing for sure—after listening to three rounds of screwing next door, I was staying over at Anne’s tonight. And really, it was for her—she had a bad few days. I’d take one for the team…

· · · · ·

We made excellent time getting back to the farm. Nothing like a retired cop badge to give you a bad attitude about speeding. Dr. Doolittle talked to Cody for a good part of the trip. Cody’s occasional whine or kiss on Zeke’s face had me believing the two of them were actually communicating.

When we got to the farm, Cody took off like a rocket to the front door. Anne opened the door and her face lit up at the greeting she got from Cody. As much as Cody seemed to love Zeke, Anne was still his “owner”. Cody ran around Anne’s ankles like he was trying to herd her somewhere, all the while whining and jumping up and down like he hadn’t seen her in years.

“Well at least you didn’t forget me!” She said with a genuine smile. It was good to see her looking happier.

I walked over with Zeke and we gave Anne hugs and kisses like we hadn’t seen her in years as well. I think my tail was even wagging.

“See? You cleaned up okay,” I said as I broke our embrace. That was enough to make her eyes well up with water again. She apologized and quickly wiped it away. She grabbed my hand and pulled me along around the side of the house. We stood in the empty yard, which was recently raked and groomed. It was spotlessly manicured. And empty.

“This is it, Noah. My empty farm. I let everyone go except Thom. He’s part time now, too, until I hear back from the bank. He showed up this morning and raked the yard with the tractor. He even planted mums,” she said pointing to the beautiful fall colors near the barn. “I told him to go home, but he wouldn’t leave until he said it didn’t look so sad around here. He told me where he buried the herd.”

I winced, not knowing how she’d feel about that.

She gave me a quick hug. “Thanks. At least they got to see for themselves. Thom said they all left in a hurry before he was even finished. Cowards.”

I gave her a squeeze. “How’d it go with the bank?”

“Not so great. They understood that the cows had been intentionally poisoned, and it wasn’t a direct result of the drilling next door, but they still have concerns about loaning money to a farm that may become contaminated again.”

“You tell them that the guy was arrested?”

“Yeah. We’ll see. The department of agriculture and DEP is making me fill out a million forms. They’re going to have inspectors come out and take soil and water samples. If they give me a clean bill of health, then I can go back to the bank. In the meantime, I’m going through all of my savings, my retirement, everything, just to pay the bills. I’m trying to stay optimistic, Noah. I’m really trying.” Her voice trailed off a bit as her eyes watered up again.

“Anne, the stress is going to kill you. You have to relax. Come on—we’re going to town and grabbing dinner. I’m starving. Oh—and you better give Cody extra food. My brother ran him twelve miles today.”

She smiled. “Seriously? Twelve miles?”

I shook my head. “You told Zeke not to let Cody get lazy. He took you at your word.”

We took care of the dog and headed out for dinner.

Fifty

· · · · ·

Bombshell

Herbert Yates the Third had just excused the other attorneys from the conference room. As the six junior partners excused themselves, Ian Riley pulled a cigar from his briefcase. There was no smoking in the offices of Yates, Riley and Johnson, but that rule didn’t apply to Yates, Riley or Johnson. Ian Riley offered one to Herb, who declined. As he lit the fifty dollar Cuban, he walked to the door and locked it after the last attorney had left.

“What are we going to do about Bob?” asked Ian. Robert “Bob” Johnson was the third senior partner of the group, and had been vigorously opposed to the methods that his two partners had employed in starting their fracing class action lawsuit.

“Nothing,” said Herb.

“And he gets a third of our share after we do all the dirty work? It’s bullshit.”

Herb eyed Ian, who was only forty-four and twenty years his junior. “Ian, Bob and I started this firm when you were still in diapers. I respect his decision. I didn’t like your idea any more than he did—there’s just one difference between Bob and I.”

“And what’s that?” Asked Ian as he puffed on the cigar.

“Bob’s got morals.” Herb smiled. “I like money too much. Besides, this deal kills two birds with one stone.”

“You mean your son-in-law?”

“The Honorable JJ Mistretta,” Herb said sarcastically.

“Double standard, don’t you think? I mean, you just admitted, you don’t have morals either,” said Ian, goading him.

“But at least my momentary lapses keep me rich. I provide for my family, I’m not sticking it to every skirt I see like that idiot. He could have been President if he’d kept his dick in his pants. My daughter—First Lady of the United States. He knew I would have backed him. Fucking idiot.”

Ian blew a thick smoke ring. “Would have been nice to have a son-in-law in such a high place.”

“Not bad for business, either. Let’s be practical. And a Yates in the Whitehouse... Would have been something. Fucking idiot.”

Ian smiled and opened his arms in a huge shrug. “You gotta’ admit, Herb, that chick Globalvision sent over was primo. What man could have said no to her? You see the tape? She was amazing!”

Herb failed to see the humor. “No I didn’t watch the tape! You think I want to see my son-in-law fucking some whore? Jesus Christ, Ian.”

“No offense, Herb. But I did pick her myself.”

“You were too close to the whole thing, Ian,” Herb snapped back, his finger wagging angrily. “It wasn’t smart. You were just supposed to get the wheels in motion, not be a part of the damned thing.”

Ian leaned forward on his elbows at the mahogany conference table that could easily seat twenty people. “Someone had to make sure it didn’t get fucked up, Herb. Who was going to do that? You? Bob? No—of course not. I get the dirty work.”

Herb looked down his nose at Ian. “Because you’re so damn good at it, Ian.”

“That’s right! I am! Not all of us were born with a silver spoon up our ass. I paid for my own college and law school!” Ian lowered his voice and got himself under control. “I like the cars and boats just as much as you do, Herb—and I hold up my own end paying for them.”

“No one said you didn’t. We just need to exercise extreme caution.”

“Well, you’re the one who agreed to bail out Doug Wyeth! That was insane!”

Herb’s face flushed. He knew that had been a stupid move. “There wasn’t anything I could do about that. Lydia made me promise to help him out. Besides, he’s been useful coordinating those Green Leaf idiots and keeping the media pressure on.”

“He’s a nobody who didn’t know anything. He had nothing on us. Nothing! We should have cut him loose. What could he have told the cops? That some guy gave him money and told him to pay that farm hand to poison the fucking cows? He couldn’t finger anybody.”

Herb’s face was showing his stress. Lydia had definitely put him on the spot with that one. Daddy’s little girl had a habit of doing that. But she was his only child, and he had taken great joy in spoiling her rotten her entire life. Her “allowance” from daddy was more than most families made with two working parents. Herb shrugged it off. “It’s over and done with.”

“It’s not over and done with because now we have to defend these two idiots! And whose idea was it to add William Strauss to our list of clients?”

“Mine. If Strauss goes down hard, then so does Wyeth.”

Ian was incredulous. “And we care why?”

“Because I promised Lydia, now leave it alone.” His anger showed and Ian knew it was useless to discuss further.

“Fine. But those two are your problem. I’m not spending one minute on their cases.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. You’ll be too busy starting the team on the Globalvision suit.”

Ian looked at him suspiciously. “We ready to move?”

Herb smiled. “Yup.”

“Your boy at DEP going to cooperate?”

“Expensive as hell, but yes. The soil and water samples from the neighboring farms show all the same ingredients as the Globalvision fracing cocktails.”

“Who’d you get to sign on for the class action? Don’t tell me you went to that lady who hired the guy that busted Strauss!”

“Of course not—that’s too close to home. There’s two other neighbors. The Hatcher Farm’s a little weaker now because of the Strauss idiot, but there’s another neighbor nearby that tested positive for all the chemicals.”

Ian’s face showed his confusion.

Herb smiled. “You think you’re the only one that get’s his hands dirty around here, Ian? I had that farm signed on weeks ago. No one knows.”

“They have issues with their animals?” asked Ian.

Herb looked deep into Ian’s eyes. “Does it matter?”

Fifty-One

· · · · ·

The conversations at dinner had been light, with Zeke doing much of the talking. Anne was so patient with him, it was beautiful to watch. When dinner was over, we returned to the farm and made a fire outside. We sat around drinking red wine and listening to the wood crackle in the crisp autumn air. I caught Anne up on the sordid details of Lydia Yates and Doug Wyeth, and she hung on every word. I tried my best to answer every one of her million questions as clearly as I could, and I think explaining it to her actually helped me sort it out better in my own head. That said, there were still a lot of unanswered questions and holes in the story.

By the time the stars were out, it was cold enough to retreat inside to a warm house and very warm bed. Zeke had to settle for Cody while I got to sleep in Anne’s bed. I had missed her more than I cared to admit. The next morning, Anne woke up early out of habit, but I convinced her to stay in bed. It was a very nice way to start a day. We ended up having a quiet breakfast in the kitchen, and our little family seemed very normal.

After we had all showered and dressed, Anne told me she wanted to stop by the Hatcher farm and check on Hank’s animals. Being a veterinarian, Anne was very popular in her little community of dairy farmers.

We drove past the Sullivan Farm on the way over, the front gates chained closed with plenty of “No Trespassing” Signs posted all over property line. The Green Leaf folks had given up and gone home, but not before spray painting plenty of graffiti on whatever signs they could find worthy of defacing. It always struck me as funny how the anti-pollution folks never seemed to mind their own mess. It reminded me of the time I watched another group of animal rights activists protesting a fur vault opening at a local mall. Most of the kids were wearing leather sneakers, shoes and belts. Did they think that leather grew on trees?

We arrived at the Hatchers in about twenty minutes and found Hank out in the milking parlor. Anne was shocked to see a pipe running out the back of the barn allowing milk to free flow into an irrigation ditch. We hustled inside to speak with Hank.

“Hank?” called Anne. “What are you doing?”

He looked up with surprise. “Morning, Anne. Nice surprise.”

“Why are you dumping all your milk?” she asked.

“Pump and dump. That’s what the lawyers told me to do. Going to get money out of those sleazy characters next door, but we need to show a loss of revenue first.”

“What lawyers? What are you talking about?” asked Anne, totally bewildered.

“You didn’t sign on with them? They said they had other farms on board—I assumed they meant you, after all the trouble you had.”

“I didn’t sign on with anyone for anything. Is your milk contaminated? Are the animals all right?” Anne patted the head of a Holstein and pulled back her eyelid a bit to check her for symptoms.

Hank walked over and spoke a bit quieter. “Well, that’s the thing. Other than the few cows that Billy Strauss managed to poison, the herds fine. We put down three animals that he’d poisoned, but thanks to your friend here, he didn’t do much damage.”

“So why are you suing the drillers?” Anne asked. Not that she was worried about their fracing operation, but she was very confused.

“The lawyer said that this whole valley is contaminated because of the chemicals those boys are pumping into the ground. They’re doing a class action suit. You should sign on, too. They’re talking big money, Anne. Sorry I didn’t call you. Like I said, I figured they’d started with you after all you’ve been through.”

“Did you call them or they call you?” I asked.

“They didn’t call at all. They just showed up. We talked a bit, and I signed some papers. Ain’t going to cost me anything until they win. Then they get thirty-three percent. All the local farms split the rest. You should sign up, Anne.”

Anne looked upset. “You said the lawyer told you this whole valley is contaminated?”

“That’s what they said. The DEP came back with a bunch of water and soil samples. They’ve got them boys cold.”

“When did they contact you? When did the DEP get test results?” Anne asked, her stress showing.

“Two days ago.”

“Jesus,” she muttered. I looked at her, trying to understand her thought process. She looked at me and told me what she was thinking. “Noah, if the DEP comes out with tests showing contaminated soil, the bank won’t give me a penny. My farm’s out of business.”

“Those lawyer boys told me we’d be looking at enough money to never work again, Anne. Not that I mind the work, I love this farm—but I’d just as soon retire. I’ll be sixty-seven this year.”

Anne looked from Hank to me. “I need to get on the phone with DEP.”

I was thinking a hundred things at once. “Anne, if Billy Strauss’s poison was the cause for your herd’s illness, then these lawyers wouldn’t want you as part of the class action suit because it muddies the waters—I get that. But wouldn’t they at least call you or something? You sure nobody tried to get in touch with you?”

“No one called or came by Noah. If they did, they didn’t leave any messages.”

I tried to follow some line of reasoning. I looked at Hank. “So the lawyers want to sue the fracers—but you didn’t call them, they called you. And they didn’t call Anne. So who called them?”

Hank shrugged. I looked at Anne. “You got a card from them? Name and number?” I asked Hank. He told me to follow him back to the house, and Anne and I walked back with him, both of us deep in thought.

When Hank handed us the business card that read: “Yates, Riley & Johnson” we both said “Holy shit!” at the same time. We looked up at each other and I asked no one in particular, “Are you shittin’ me?”

“What is it? You heard of these guys?” Asked Hank.

Fifty-Two

· · · · ·

We drove back to Anne’s house talking as fast as we were driving. Seriously? Yates, Riley & Johnson? Only the night before I had told Anne about Lydia Yates-Mistretta and Doug Wyeth, the guy that had paid Strauss to poison her cows. This was sounding more like a criminal case of grand proportions. Anne didn’t need me, she needed the friggin’ FBI or CIA or some shit. There was something going on way bigger than a herd of poisoned cows.

When we got back to Anne’s house, we agreed that she’d place a nonchalant call to DEP and the Agriculture Department to see if there were any test results from her farm. I would be calling Uncle George at the same time. Zeke had Cody, Max and Bear out in the pasture, the four of them having the time of their lives.

“Hey kid!”

“Uncle G—I hope you’re sitting down. This little cow caper just blew wide open.”

“Oh yeah? Whatcha’ got?”

“I don’t even know where to start. You know that Lydia Yates is bangin’ Doug Wyeth, the guy that paid Billy Strauss to kill Anne’s cows…”

“Yes, you let me listen to their last love-fest, remember?” Asked George.

“Right—well, it turns out that Yates, Riley & Johnson is starting a class action suit against Globalvision Energy, the drillers next door.”

There was the typical long pause from George as he digested that, but then nothing.

“Well?” I asked.

“Well? I got nothing. I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“You serious?”

“Of course not. I’m an athletic specimen,” he said, looking down at his fat belly. “But I did almost shit my pants. The balls on these guys.”

“So can you make sense out of this? They didn’t call Anne and ask her to be a part of the suit. She had the most damages from this mess.”

“And Yates, Riley & Johnson is defending both Doug Wyeth and Billy Strauss. Strauss is pro-bono, by the way. Because Yates, Riley & Johnson are humanitarians.”

“No shit…” I mumbled.

“So let’s get this straight. Doug Wyeth hires a local farmhand to poison Anne’s cows so it looks like the fracers did it. Then the company sues the fracers for poisoning the land and water in some huge environmental lawsuit.”

“It sounds so simple when you say it,” I said.

“It is. It’s always about money, sex or drugs—I told you that already.”

“Well, Lydia’s bangin’ Doug, so maybe you got two out to three,” I said.

“Too bad they didn’t do any drugs while they were bangin’. We coulda’ had a trifecta,” said Uncle George.

“Lydia’s father is a senior partner at the firm that is defending the guy that poisoned Anne’s farm. This same firm is suing the fracing company. Don’t you think that’s a pretty huge coincidence?” I asked.

“Nope. I think it’s an obvious setup that will get someone disbarred and put in jail. We just gotta’ prove it.”

“We?” I asked.

“Yeah, we. You’re obviously in way over your head, kiddo. These guys won’t be playing around.”

“All I have to do is call the police or the feds and these guys are dead meat, Uncle G.”

“You think it’s that easy?” He asked. “There’s a lot to prove yet, kid. And this isn’t any run of the mill law firm. It’s like having Johnny Cochrane and shit. They ain’t exactly going to roll over for you. Besides, after what they did to your friend Anne, you owe ‘em one.”

I chewed on that for a second. “You have something in mind?”

“Not yet. But we’ll come up with something special for these guys. Just keep snooping on your end, and I’ll keep fishing around over here. This could still get bigger.”

“How much bigger can it get?” I asked.

“Who knows? But we’re talking about a lot of money here, kid. A lot. We’re talking big oil. Globalvision is a multi-billion dollar company. That kind of money brings a shit-storm of trouble with it. We gotta’ be careful, kid. You don’t wanna’ end up with a horse head in your bed or something.”

“Very funny. Listen—Anne’s getting off the phone with the DEP. Let me see what’s up with her and we’ll talk later. Keep snooping.” I hung up and looked at Anne, who was a bit pale. “Well?”

“I’m so screwed. I called the local Ag board. They said any tests they have are clean, other than the tissue samples from the cows, which were Diazinon. No signs of any other chemicals associated with fracing.”

“So why is that a bad thing?” I asked.

“Because I called the DEP. The DEP gave me the list of what they found. I wrote it down… benzene, ethylbenzene, toluene, xylene, naphthalene, polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons; methanol; formaldehyde; ethylene glycol; glycol ethers, hydrochloric acid and sodium hydroxide.”

“That doesn’t sound so good,” I said quietly.

“Yeah, you know why? Because it’s every known ingredient ever used by a fracing company. They’re full of shit, Noah!”

I was confused, which seemed to be happening a lot lately. “Why do you say they’re full of shit? And why do they say you have all this stuff in your water and soil samples if the local Ag Board says you’re fine?”

“That’s just it, Noah. The local Ag Board is just that—local. The DEP is some mysterious state agency who seems to exist only to ruin my life. They have a listing of every known fracing agent on their report. I find it highly unlikely that the guys next door use every single one of these things in their drilling.”

“And you know this how?”

“I don’t know. But I told you, I read a lot about this stuff before I called you. The energy companies don’t have to tell anyone what’s in their fracing chemicals, but there’s a list of what is generally expected. The DEP listed every single chemical. It’s bullshit. They make it sound like my whole farm is swimming in the stuff. My cows were poisoned by insecticide. They had Diazinon in their tissue samples—not all this crap!”

I thought about that for a second. Would Yates have the juice to get the DEP to forge documents? That would be a leap. Or maybe Uncle George was right. Maybe this was about to get way bigger.

“So you’re saying the Ag Board’s results are correct, your property’s clean, and the DEP faked all this stuff?”

“Yes.”

“Okay—so here’s what we do. You take your own samples and send them to an independent lab. The lab will confirm what you know, and the DEP can shove it.”

“You make it sound easy, but in the meantime, the bank won’t loan me a dime. This property is quarantined. I can’t put cows back on this land without the DEP signing off on it, and they’ve just signed my death warrant.”

I started pacing around the kitchen feeling a knot in my stomach. “I need to ask Uncle George something, hang on.” I called him back and told him about the two lab reports, then asked him the big question. “Do you think Yates has the kind of power to get the DEP to forge documents? I mean, that’s a pretty huge bureaucracy to deal with.”

“Ahh, but you’re thinking like an honest man. Yates and company don’t need the whole DEP. All they need is one guy they can bribe. They get one guy on the inside to either fake reports or switch samples, and ‘poof’, they’ve got their smoking gun. By the way, your boys filed their class action in Federal Court this morning.”

“G—how the hell do you find this stuff out so fast?”

“I’m from Jersey. I know a guy who knows a guy.”

“I’m from Jersey, too, Uncle G. How come I don’t know these guys?”

“Because you never made captain. Now listen to me. The class action suit is for two hundred and fifty million dollars. That’s a quarter of a billion, kiddo. Billion with a ‘B’. You think with that kind of money in play, people don’t get bribed?”

I was flabbergasted. I figured this was about the money. I guess I never stopped to think how much. I was thinking the value of a few farms, not a quarter of a billion.

Uncle George finally spoke again. “Is it me or did it get real quiet in here?”

“That’s a shitload of money, G.”

“Yup. And just so you know, the plaintiffs include farms in Pennsylvania where you are, but also properties in Texas, Virginia, Ohio and Tennessee. I told you this firm was big. They’re going after the whole enchilada.”

“Wow,” was all the wisdom I could offer.

Uncle George continued. “Funny how Yates, Riley & Johnson are connected every single way you look at this. It’s like they ain’t even trying to hide it. The Congressman son-in-law flips his vote to allow fracing to continue in the US. The daughter is banging the thug they hired. The firm defends two low life thugs. I’m telling you—these guys have serious balls. They really think they’re above all of this.”

Fifty-Three

· · · · ·

I had a ton of questions, but not a lot of folks to talk to. Billy Strauss was small time. Doug Wyeth was lawyered up and slick, and wouldn’t say a word even if I could find him. Walking into the law firm of Yates, Riley & Johnson was useless unless I had something really solid and a small army to back me up. The fracers next door? Dead end. Every time I thought of something, I came up empty. And then I had a small idea…

“Anne! Who signed off on that DEP report? You have a copy?”

She went to her laptop and retrieved the email “hard copy” version of the report they had told her about over the phone. “Ed Woodward. You know him?”

“Never heard of him. But I sure am going to find out everything there is to know about him.”

I spent the next two hours using every computer program and contact I had on the planet to find out who Ed Woodward was. As a public employee, getting a quick start on his information wasn’t too tough. Ed had been a DEP employee for the past twenty four years, and he was now making almost seventy thousand a year. He was married with two kids and lived in Philly. A little more digging pulled up his boating license, which led to his new Sea Ray 195 Sport, a twenty foot boat that ran about thirty G’s. More digging led to the marina, which helped me find his brand new beach house in south Jersey. None of this would have been a real red flag until I saw the price tag of his newly purchased beach house. Five hundred thousand, with a mortgage of two-fifty. Ed had plunked down a quarter of a mill cash without selling his Philly home. He now had my undivided attention. I called Uncle George, excited like a little kid. I spilled everything I had learned.

“Now you’re sounding like a detective,” he said. “I’m impressed. Nice work.”

“Yeah, except I’m not sure what to do next,” I replied. “I can’t prove he’s on the take.”

“Jesus, kid. You’re getting soft. You and your big brother take a ride down to see him like he was one of your low-life wife beaters, and you give him a little squeeze.”

I cringed. Not that I hadn’t done that a hundred times before, but I was always worried about getting Zeke or myself into real trouble.

“Well?” He asked. “You need me to come with you?”

“No, no. I got this. I’ll see if I can pin him down tomorrow and pay him a visit.”

“What are you going to ask him exactly?”

“I haven’t got that far. Where he got all the cash, I guess.”

“Exactly. You remind him that you have big connections with the IRS. By the time they get done with him, he’ll be broke and in jail for twenty years. Those three initials scare the crap out of people. But most important—you get the name of his contact. We need that guy.”

I nodded, said my thanks, and hung up.

Finally. A real lead.

I checked my watch. It was almost four in the afternoon. The DEP offices would still be open. I got the number from Anne and called over. The secretary I spoke with told me that Ed Woodward would be in tomorrow after nine. That’s all I needed to know. I stared at his photo ID on my computer and smiled. “See you tomorrow, Ed.”

· · · · ·

I was up at six the next morning and woke up Zeke. He opened his eyes and flashed his usual smile. His first words were, “We going to work on the case?”

I had prepped him the night before and patted his massive arm. “Yup. Time to dress and get out of here. Long drive.”

Anne made us a quick breakfast, tried one last time to talk me into taking her, and then gave up. She gave me a travel mug full of coffee, and Zeke a doughnut and glass of milk. She knew her customers.

Zeke and I drove in comfortable silence for almost an hour. The sun was coming up in a wet raw morning. Although the main DEP office was in Harrisburg, Ed worked in the Philly office. As we got closer, I started getting Zeke ready.

“Now remember, you gotta’ be the scary Zeke.”

“Did this man make Anne’s cows sick?”

“Not exactly, but he might be working with the guys who did. I don’t know if he’s the right guy or not, Zeke, but I need to scare him enough so he tells us what he knows, okay?”

Zeke’s voice came out calm and cold, like the old Zeke before a big fight. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

The hair on my arms stood up. I looked over at Zeke. He had put his sun glasses on and had a stone cold expression. “We aren’t going there to kill him, Zeke, okay? We just need to talk to him.”

“Scary Zeke is gonna’ be there with you. You talk good. I’ll be real quiet,” he whispered.

If he wasn’t my big brother he might have scared the shit out of me.

We made it to the Philly office in just under two hours. We stopped at a local doughnut place for a pee, a coffee, a chocolate milk and two doughnuts; then we cruised back over to the large parking lot behind the government building. I had my retired police badge in a small wallet, and had mastered the art of the quick flip so no one could actually read it. It was always a good ice-breaker. We sat eating doughnuts watching folks arrive for work for twenty minutes before the new Ford Super Duty pickup pulled in. I have to admit, the Golden Bronze was a sweet choice of colors. I guess it matched the boat. The chrome trailer hitch was gleaming, even in the dreary day.

Ed pulled into a space all the way in the last row, I guess to protect his new truck, which worked out better for us. I smacked Zeke and we both hopped out of my SUV and walked quickly to his truck.

As he stepped out of his cab, I flashed my badge quickly at him and shoved it back into my jacket. “Mr. Ed Woodward, I’m Agent Jackson, IRS. We can do this here in front of all of your friends and co-workers, or we can take a quick drive and have a nice chat. Up to you. If you’d rather go inside, I can get your boss to give us his office for this interview.”

It was nice watching the blood literally drain from the man’s face. He stammered as he tried to keep from peeing in his pants. Uncle George was right about one thing—those three initials did scare the shit out of folks who had something to hide.

“Do you want me to drive?” H4e managed to ask.

“No, sir. Follow us.” I turned and walked and Zeke stood there like a giant, with his huge arms crossed. The sunglasses in the rainy dark morning only made him scarier. Ed followed me, and Zeke followed Ed. I had Ed sit in back with Zeke, who knew he wasn’t doing any talking. I drove a short distance to a parking lot next to an abandoned warehouse. Ed never uttered a syllable. After I parked, I turned off the car and got into the back bench seat so Ed was between Zeke and I. It was cramped and uncomfortable, which is exactly how I wanted Ed to feel.

“You didn’t even ask why we’re here, which leads me to believe you know exactly why we’re here,” I said.

Ed just stared at me in shock. This was so not how his day was supposed to go.

“I have to ask you, Ed—why didn’t you just retire after your sudden windfall? The beach house, the boat, the new truck—you don’t need the money. Why not just retire and enjoy all the new toys?”

He swallowed hard. “I retire in six months. Twenty-four years in the pension system. The health benefits—you know…”

“Yeah, I know. I know you’re never going to see a dime of your pension or have any medical benefits. Well, you won’t actually need medical where you’re going, anyway. Lewisburg Penitentiary has medical for free. And you’ll need it, too. The amount of sex you’ll be having in that prison will keep you in the infirmary on a regular basis. I’m sure you realize, when I refer to sex, I don’t mean with women.”

I watched the already white-faced, middle-aged man turn old before my very eyes. He actually had tears welling up in his eyes. Hell, I hadn’t even started playing rough yet.

“It’s a shame about your family, most of all. I don’t mean the boat or beach house. They didn’t even have time to get used to that stuff yet. I mean the house the kids grew up in—where you live now. When you’re in the joint, pulling down twenty years of hard time for income tax evasion, conspiracy, falsifying federal documents and so forth, your wife and kids are going to be living where? Her mom’s? Out on the street? You think of any of this before you took the money?”

The tears started to flow. In all of my cases, this guy was by far the easiest.

“I…I…” he stammered and started.

“You? You? What?” I said with my coldest voice.

“Is there anything I can do? My family. It was for them—they don’t know anything…”

“Your wife just thought you had saved up a few hundred thousand cash, Ed? She’s a co-conspirator. Hell, she could end up in the joint herself. At least your kids are grown. They won’t end up with DYFS.”

“Margie had nothing to do with this!”

“With what, Ed? See, that’s the thing. We need to know what, exactly. You might be able to help yourself out a lot. In fact, you give us the right information, and we might just leave. Let you walk back to your truck and calm down, go finish your six months at work, and retire to that nice beach house of yours like we never met.”

He stared at me in disbelief.

“We don’t want you, Ed. We want the big fish. They used you.”

“They’ll kill me.”

“Well then, your wife keeps the beach house, at least. Kids get to play on the boat. Dad’s remembered as a hero. Or, you can embarrass them all. Jail for you for most of the rest of your life. Maybe for Margie, too. Hell—we both know you won’t last in jail anyway, Ed. After you’ve been fucked a few hundred times, you’ll probably just kill yourself…”

He started crying. This guy definitely wouldn’t make it in jail.

“It was so stupid…”

“Sure was. But we’re beyond that now, Ed. So what’s it going to be? You got some names for me? Description? Contact information?”

“The guy gave me his phone number after he approached me. I did a reverse lookup on the phone number and got a law firm in DC. It was a firm that had called on me a few times before as an expert witness in other environmental cases. Civil suits I think.”

I could barely contain my excitement. “Reverse lookup? Impressive for an older guy. Pretty computer savvy.”

“I’m not an idiot…”

“Yes you are. We’ve already established that. But continue.”

He took a deep breathe. “This guy said I had been good as a witness and I knew my stuff. He had me thinking they wanted me as an expert witness again or something. He asked to meet me in person. He made it sound like it was for such a good cause. And I’d be really good at this. And it was so much money…” His voice trailed off for a second as he thought about that fateful meeting where a dirt-bag appealed to his ego with a bag full of money. “Will I have to testify? These guys are scary. It’s not just me—they’ll kill Margie, my kids, everyone…”

He started crying again. Jesus H. Christ. Man up, will you? “That depends. Most likely, no. You just give us everything we need, and we’ll be out of your hair. A name, Ed.”

“He gave me a bullshit name when we first met, but I found out. His name is Herb Yates. He’s the Yates in ‘Yates, Riley & Johnson’, and these guys are a huge firm.”

“Yeah, I heard of them. Go on.”

“They needed me to switch some water and soil samples for a law suit.”

“Tsk, tsk,” I said quietly.

“Look, you’ve got to understand! This is a law suit against these gas drilling companies that are poisoning the water supply. We’ve been after them for years without any success! This case will help protect the public’s drinking supply. It’s a good lawsuit!”

“And you, being a good citizen, donated the money to charity?”

He looked down at his feet.

“How much, Ed? Keep in mind, I never ask a question I don’t know the answer to. Careful now. Think real hard.”

He spoke so quietly I could barely hear him. “Four hundred thousand.”

I let out a slow whistle. “Pretty generous offer to switch a few samples.”

He looked me in the eyes and let his pride sneak out. “He only offered a hundred thousand to start. I kept negotiating until I got what I wanted.”

“Come on, Ed. You asked for at least a half million,” I guessed.

He looked defeated again and said, “I asked for a million. We settled.”

“How many samples?

“I don’t know. A lot. Four different farms were affected by the fracing.”

“So you switched samples from four different properties?”

“Oh, no. I switched dozens. Only four had legitimate problems. I just had to make it look like dozens. Well, sixty or so, anyway.”

I shook my head. “You’ve been very cooperative, Ed. I’ll tell you what—we’re going to let you go now. But you’re going to give us all of your contact information so I can call you back if I need you. Or, if you prefer, we can show up at work.”

“My cell—I’ll give you my cell, okay? Don’t call me at home. Please. Look—this guy said if I ever talked, they’d kill me and my whole family. You have to be able to protect us. You don’t know these guys…”

“I’m about to know these guys very well, Ed. Now give me your number.”

I took his number and opened the door, letting myself out and allowing him to exit. “You can walk back. The fresh air will help calm you down. We were never here, Mr. Woodward. And not one word to Herb Yates or his people.”

It was pretty obvious judging by his ghostlike complexion that he wasn’t going to be talking about this to anyone.

Fifty-Four

· · · · ·

I sat in the car for a while, thinking about every detail Ed had given me. Zeke came back up front.

“Did I do good?” He asked.

“You did well. Very well. And you can take off the sunglasses now.”

The instant he took off his sunglasses I could see his smiling eyes. The big scary guy was gone in a flash. Zeke. Too funny.

“Are you calling the police now?” Zeke asked.

“Not yet. We’re secret detectives, remember? We have more snooping around to do. I have to call Uncle George. I bet he’d love to talk to you—why don’t you call him?”

Zeke smiled and took my cell phone. He stared at it for a moment while he tried to remember the number. Zeke knew how to use speed dial, but I was always telling him to try and remember numbers. I figured whatever brain exercise I could come up with could only help. He smiled as the numbers came to him and punched them in with his big fingers.

“Hey Kid,” said Uncle George.

“Hi Uncle George!” said Zeke.

“Oh! Zeke? I was expecting Noah. How are you Big Man?”

“I’m great! We’re on a secret case!”

“If it’s secret, why are you telling me?” asked George, messing with his favorite person on the planet. Zeke’s face fell for a second.

“But I tell you everything! You’re Uncle George!”

George laughed. “I’m kidding, Zeke. You’re supposed to tell me and Noah everything all the time, right?”

“Yeah. And listen—we got a bad guy to tell us stuff. What’s his name, Noah?”

“Ed. Ed from DEP,” I replied.

I let Zeke chat with Uncle George as long as he wanted as I started driving out of Philly. Being in this city always brought me back to Zeke’s fateful championship bout. The arena where the match had taken place was long gone, or I might have stopped by to see if jogged any memories for Zeke. When Zeke was finished with Uncle George, I took the phone and switched it to hands-free. I reiterated the full version to him.

“So you liked my IRS idea a little more than I envisioned. That’s a good one, huh?”

I laughed. “He turned white, G. Literally. Pretty sad character. But we’ve got him fingering Herbert Yates. It’s all coming together pretty well right now. At some point, we need to decide what we do with this case. I think it’s an FBI deal—it crosses state lines and these guys may know too many judges and cops.”

“Agreed. The Fibbies are the way to go, but not yet. I have a couple of old timers in the Bureau that haven’t retired yet. When we need them, they’re a phone call away. But you’re just starting to have fun. Why give it to them now?”

“Uncle G, I think you’re liking this way too much,” I said.

“You bet your ass. I told you, I’m an old retired cop. I hate fishing and golf, what the hell am I supposed to do with all my spare time other than annoy the Missus?”

I laughed. “So you want me to keep working this until I have the whole thing in one nice, neat bundle to hand to some Fed who will be a huge hero?”

I could hear George’s chuckle. “Hey, these guys did me plenty of favors over the years. It’s good to pay back old chips. Then—when you need them again, they’ll love to take your calls. Know what I’m sayin’ kid?”

“Yeah. It’s ‘cause you know a guy who knows a guy…”

“Exactly. See? I’m learnin’ ya. You coulda’ made captain.”

“So now what? I’m heading back to Anne’s. I’ll catch her up on all this stuff, but I’m not exactly sure where to go next. We know Herb Yates paid to have the DEP reports faked so he can sue Globalvision. Anne’s just collateral damage. Yates paid Doug to pay Strauss to poison the cows and grab headlines. They were obviously going for the long-term big play. Public support, yadda, yadda—maybe sway a jury that reads about fracing in the news. But now what?”

“I really want to meet your new girlfriend. Besides, I ain’t seen you and Zeke in weeks. You going to invite me over to her place or what?”

I smiled. “You want to come visit?”

“Thought you’d never ask. I think I should sit down with my boys for a day or two and figure this thing out. It’ll be fun. Besides, if I don’t get out of this house, Beth’s going to kill me.”

“Bullshit. You better get a permission slip before you leave…”

“You said ‘shit’,” said Zeke quietly.

I ignored Zeke and told George to grab a pen and paper for directions to Anne’s.

Fifty-Five

· · · · ·

I called Anne and updated her on the news of the day and the fact that Uncle George was driving over to meet her. I could hear the nervousness in her voice.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Well, he’s like your family. It’s like meeting your parents! Jeez, Noah! I have to clean this place.”

“You are such a girl,” I said with a laugh as I drove towards her farm.

“I’m glad you noticed. And a proper farm girl keeps a neat house. I’m hanging up now and preparing for company.”

Zeke and I chatted all the way home, and I could tell he was very excited that he would be seeing Uncle George. We talked about boxing at length. Zeke associated George with his boxing memories, from PAL to pro. I always liked to make Zeke think about the time before the head injury to wake up whatever brain cells were still floating around up there. Chronological order was a mess for Zeke, but he did remember a lot of pieces of his boxing career and even his childhood.

By the time we got to Anne’s, my heart hurt. We’d been discussing our parents, and that always killed me. We’d been robbed so early on. I always wondered how life might have been different. A waste of time, I know, but still, it was normal to think about such things I guess.

We arrived at Anne’s and I could smell something amazing before we even got to the front door. Zeke called it before I could figure it out.

“Apple pie!” He announced.

“Ya’ think?” I asked as we walked inside. The aroma inside the house was making me drool. I saw Anne, complete with apron wrapped around her waist, but I could still see her perfect little behind. “Zeke says apple pie.”

“And Zeke is correct.”

“Damn, girl. In the middle of all this, you make an apple pie? You are amazing…”

“You hadn’t figured that out yet? Besides, it’s for your uncle, not you.”

“He’s not really my uncle. I get his piece,” I replied.

She smacked my hand. We embraced and I have to say, it was very corny. The whole scene, I mean. A farmhouse, complete with beautiful farmer lady in an apron with an apple pie in the oven… a dog asleep by the couch…I was living The Waltons for gosh sakes. As ridiculous as the whole scene was, I couldn’t have been happier. Uh oh. What had happened to me?

I took a deep breath and helped Anne set the table with Zeke. Uncle George showed up a while later, honking as he parked out front. Max and Bear were standing on their hind legs screaming their heads off, and George wasn’t getting out of the car.

Anne walked outside and commanded the dogs to sit and be quiet. They listened, which I still found shocking. Anne opened George’s door.

“You must be Uncle George,” she said with her gorgeous smile flashing. “Sorry about the dogs. They’ve been a little freaked out since the herd was put down.”

George stepped out of his car and gave Anne a kiss.

“Hey! Watch that stuff!” I yelled.

Zeke and I gave him hugs and welcomed him to the farm. Zeke started talking a hundred miles an hour, and wanted to give George the tour of the farm. Anne told George to take a tour while she finished getting dinner ready, and she’d get a chance to talk to him then. Zeke wasn’t happy when I told him I was driving the gator, but I was afraid he might give George a heart attack. We squeezed into the small green machine and headed out through the empty farm. I pointed out the milking parlor and the barns, which now seemed very sad without any cows walking around. A few chickens walked around eating bugs. I told George I think we were short a chicken, and he might be seeing it on his plate later.

The low point of the tour was a mound of bare earth along the fence line at the far pasture. Anne’s herd was buried there, within a few yards of the fracing facility where natural gas was free flowing into tanker trucks. Frank Taylor wasn’t around, but a lone worker monitored the valves and filled the tankers. We didn’t stay there too long.

When we returned to the house, we entered the kitchen to find Anne putting some cut mums on the table.

“Fancy Shmancy,” I said.

“I’m trying to make a good first impression,” she said.

“You had me at hello,” said George, quoting an old movie. “Well, that, and calling off the dogs that tried to eat me.”

“They’re all show,” Anne replied. “Good watch dogs, but they’ll just watch. Not exactly vicious.”

“Except for Cody, he’s a killer,” I said, pointing to the den. Zeke was sitting on the floor with Cody in his lap, lying on his back for a belly rub. “Don’t let him fool you—that’s his attack position.”

We cleaned up for dinner, Zeke fed the dogs—his new chore that he loved, and we sat. When Anne brought a turkey to the table, George shot me a glance. “It’s a turkey—you’re safe,” I whispered.

We enjoyed a beautiful dinner and great Chardonnay, and talked for hours. Through George, Anne got a life history of Zeke and I. By the time we got to bottle number three, the stories had become more obscure and hilarious. I think George was just making shit up after a while, but he had us all hysterical. When the third bottle was drained, George announced he was wasted.

“Looks like you’re staying over,” Anne replied. We put him in the third bedroom, Zeke and Cody went to their room, and Anne and I went to hers. We made love gently and quietly, partly because we had company in the house, and partly because it was just a romantic sort of evening. We lay tangled up with each other afterwards, when Anne spoke quietly.

“If I tell you something, promise me you won’t freak out.”

“As long as it isn’t that you used to be a man before the operation.”

She bit me on the shoulder. “Try and be serious.”

I kissed her. “I’m all ears.”

“I wasn’t trying to, I swear, but I think I kind of fell in love with you.”

“Oops.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Shit happens. Listen, if it makes you feel any better, I think it happened to me, too. This whole thing is surreal, you know? I mean, I look at us like a little family, and it seems totally normal. Even in the midst of this huge friggin’ mess. You and me and Zeke—we just seem to fit.”

“Zeke’s just using me for Cody,” said Anne quietly.

“I’m just using you for apple pie.”

“Liar. You didn’t even know I could bake apple pie until today. You’re using me for the best sex of your life.”

She had me there. “Okay, you win.”

“So what happens when this big investigation is over? Do you go back to New Jersey and I don’t see you anymore?”

“That’s an excellent question. I have no idea if you’ll be here with two freeloaders, or if you’ll be in New Jersey as my freeloader. But either way, I can’t see being without you, quite frankly. Which is completely insane for two people who have been dating for about three days.”

“It’s been a several weeks, thank you very much. You just blacked out for a while during the great sex.”

“Funny, that’s the part I thought I remembered.”

We kissed for a while and fell asleep in a very warm pile.

Fifty-Six

· · · · ·

Springing the Trap

Anne woke up early, as usual, and had coffee made before the sun was up.

“You have to stop doing that,” I said as I entered the kitchen.

“Doing what?”

“Getting up before the sun. It’s just wrong.”

“Old habits. I grew up on this farm, Noah. I don’t think I’ve slept past eight in my entire life.

George walked into the kitchen looking fairly hung-over. “Everything okay?” He asked.

“Yes, Anne doesn’t like to miss a sunrise. What got you up?”

“Smell of coffee and the need to pee. My days of drinking a case of wine are far behind me, I’m afraid.” He looked at Anne. “Do you just stay up for the rest of the day now, or are you going back to sleep?”

Anne laughed. “If my herd was intact, I’d already be outside milking them, George.”

“Jeeeeezuz,” he moaned. “I’d rather walk a beat on midnight shift.”

“You’re so full of shit,” I said with a laugh. “First of all, you never ‘walked a beat’ in your life—that was some movie you watched. And you worked nine to five almost your whole career in the detective bureau.”

He shrugged. Anne put coffee in front of him and he genuflected. We sat in silence for a second, sipping coffee and trying to shake the cobwebs out.

“I was thinking it’s time to shake the trees a little,” I blurted.

“What did you have in mind?” asked George.

“Well, we know Ed’s scared shitless. He doesn’t know Anne. What if she were to call him? Tell him she thinks the lab tests were all faked. Tell him the local Ag Board has the correct results and she wants a full investigation. You know- push him around a little.”

“And other than giving Ed a heart attack and you a few laughs, what will that do?”

“I think it will have him on the phone to Herb Yates. Then we see what Herb does.”

“And what if ‘what Herb does’ is kill your little lab rat?”

“I’ll tail him.”

“You’re not going to be able to babysit Ed twenty-four seven. What if he gets whacked when you’re sleeping or something?”

“I have you to take turns with me. We’ll do a stake out. It’ll be like the old days.”

“I don’t know. You might get your lab guy killed.”

“Would I be cold if I said I didn’t really care that much what happens to him?” asked Anne. “These guys are responsible for killing my entire herd and putting me out of business. I’ll probably lose my family farm. I’m not that sympathetic.”

“This guy is just a little fish, Anne, but I don’t blame you for being pissed. George—let’s give it a try. We’ll write a script for Anne, and you and I will head back to Philly for a few days with Zeke. If we do this right, Herb will have someone all over Ed fast, before he can do any damage to them.”

George grimaced. “We screw this up and we might be responsible for a murder.”

“Yates is in DC. He’s not going to be at Ed’s in ten minutes. He’ll probably send one of his guys, and we’ll be all over him.”

“And if we miss him and Ed gets whacked?”

I looked at Anne. She had her game face on—a hard face I hadn’t seen much before. I looked back at George. “Fuck ‘em.”

· · · · ·

We spent the morning writing down an outline and bullet points for Anne. We wanted her to use certain phrases that would get the right reaction from Ed. We had to make sure he’d call Herb, and Herb would react fast so we could intercept him or his goons. After Zeke was up and dressed, I made him breakfast, followed by a slice of leftover apple pie. Damn, that girl could bake.

We wished Anne luck, and hopped into the car. She’d give us an hour and a half before she called, in case these guys were super fast. I was just hoping we wouldn’t spend a week camped out with our thumb up our ass.

I wish I could have been at the DEP office when Anne called. We had added a line about “the IRS made several inquiries here that I don’t understand”. We knew that would put him over the edge. Some of the key words on the cheat sheet she was using included, “conspiracy, falsification of documents, strange phone calls, rumors of a class action suit being brought by a firm called Yates, Riley & Johnson…” these were all serious attention getters for Mr. Ed Woodward.

Anne called us as we were pulling into the DEP parking lot. “Either I’m really good, or this guy is a nervous wreck,” she began. “I had a hard time getting to him—he’s a supervisor, but I kept insisting since he had signed the report and there were serious problems with it, and eventually he came on the phone. He started out with a major attitude, but I started dropping all the phrases on the cheat sheet. When I said I didn’t understand why the IRS had called me about this case, I think he soiled himself.”

“I told you!” Screamed Uncle George. “Scariest three initials in the US!”

I laughed. “So then what?” I asked.

“Well, I started dropping bombs like ‘conspiracy’ and the ‘lawsuit’, and he totally freaked out. He was actually stammering on the phone. I almost felt bad for him, until I remembered that all of my beautiful cows were buried in my pasture.”

“So how did you leave it with him?”

“He said he would do some research and get back to me as soon as he could. I told him if I didn’t hear back from him by tomorrow, the FBI and the news cameras would be knocking on his door.”

“Nice job. I’m sure we’ll be seeing him soon,” I said as I pulled into the parking lot across the street. It wasn’t hard to see his gigantic bronze truck parked in the last row of the DEP office lot.

We hung up and I told George he might want to consider calling his FBI buddies and bringing them up to speed on what was going on. If the shit really did hit the fan, we were going to need some help. With a quarter of a billion in play, I had a feeling things might get a little rough.

Fifty-Seven

· · · · ·

Ed tried to hang up the phone and missed the receiver, the handset crashing to the floor. In trying to grab it, he threw the whole thing across the office with a bang. He jumped at the noise. Ed had his own very small office, since he was a supervisor, but not much privacy, since the cubicles were stacked deep in the center room and were very close to his office door. He could feel his chest tightening like an asthma attack. Maybe it was a heart attack. He sat at his desk, trying to breathe when his secretary walked in, brought by the crashing noise.

“You okay, Ed? Oh my God! Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”

Ed was white and had sweated through his shirt during his conversation with Anne. “”No, no—I’m fine. Just feeling a little sick. A virus, I think. I need to leave for a while…”

“Ed, you look bad. Are you sure you don’t need an ambulance or something? You having chest pain?” Asked his concerned secretary.

“No, I’m fine, really. Just upset stomach. I’ll be back later, okay?” He said as he grabbed his light jacket and headed out to his car as fast as he could walk. When he got to the lot, he broke into a run and made a dash for his pickup truck.

“Holy shit,” I blurted.

“You cursed!” said Zeke.

“There! Right there! It’s our guy! Look at him!” I screamed in the quiet of my SUV.

“No kidding,” whispered George in amazement. “This is like on TV—you show up and bam! There’s the bad guy.”

“Well, not exactly—but I bet he brings the bad guy real fast. He looks like he’s going to die!” I grabbed my binoculars and watched him get into the cab of his truck. He was literally holding his chest in full panic-attack mode. I watched him gather himself and dial a number off of a scrap of paper. I couldn’t help but smile.

· · · · ·

Herb picked up his second cell phone and frowned. Very few people had this number, and tried to think of whose number was showing on his phone. He was alone in his office, and answered the phone.

“Yates,” grumbled Mr. Personality.

“Mr. Yates, it’s Ed Woodward, I need to talk to you.”

“Why are you calling me? Where are you calling from?” Yates snapped. His face was instantly turning a nice shade of crimson.

“I’ve got a big problem over here. I need to talk! I’m scared!”

Yates chewed on the unlit wet cigar in his mouth, spitting a piece of the wrapper on the floor. “What’s the problem?”

“I’ve had a phone call… and…”

“And what?”

Ed froze. If he told him about the IRS visit, they’d kill him. “And I’m scared. This lady called me—one of the farmers. She started saying all this shit to me! Like she knows everything was faked. How could she know?”

Yates bit down hard on the cigar, squeezing the tobacco juice and spit out of it. The acid taste filling his mouth. “She doesn’t know. Unless you told her something. You and I are the only ones that know, Ed. What did you tell her?” He bellowed.

“Nothing!” Exclaimed Ed. “I said I’d ask around and do some additional research. I told her I’d call her back…”

“Where are you right now?” asked Herb, swallowing the vile liquid in his mouth.

“I’m in my car. At work.”

“Don’t go back to your office, understand?”

“Where should I go?”

Herb thought for a second. “Is your family at your new beach house in Jersey?”

“No.” Ed was too scared to even realize that Herb knew about the beach house and everything else Ed had done with his new found wealth.

“Good. Get your ass to the beach house. I’m coming up to Jersey myself to talk about this. We can’t talk over the phone. Don’t say a fucking word to anyone, you understand me? You’re a part of this thing, Ed. A big part. I gave you a big fucking box of money. You want to live to spend it, you just do what you’re told. Get your ass to the beach house now. I’ll find it and be there in two hours!” He slammed the phone down and threw a stack of papers across his office.

Once he had calmed down, he picked the cell phone back up and called Doug Wyeth. He didn’t pick up. Instead of leaving a voicemail, he called Lydia, who eventually picked up.

“Yes?” She stammered, out of breath.

“Where is he? I need to talk to him now!”

“Where’s who?” She asked.

“Wyeth! You think I don’t know? Jesus Christ Lydia—your husband’s an idiot, but I’m not! I know everything about everybody. It’s how I built this little empire. Now get him on the phone.”

There was a pause, and Herb could visualize the horror on Doug’s face as she handed him the phone and said, “It’s daddy…”

Doug cleared his throat and said, “Yes, sir?” trying to act like he was in a board room instead of a sleazy hotel sodomizing this man’s daughter.

“Put your fucking pants on and get to Ed Woodward’s beach house. It’s in Jersey. I’m emailing you directions.”

“And what do I do when I get there?”

“He’s got a boat. Make him disappear. Not a word to Lydia.” He hung up. Herb knew Doug was an ambitious little shit who was over-reaching with Lydia, but Lydia was obviously in love with him based on the reports his own snitches had given him. He didn’t like the weasel, but Lydia’s happiness was all that mattered to him. If that guy was going to one day be part of the “family business”, then it was time for him to earn his keep. Herb was being held over the fire for defending Doug and Billy Strauss—it was Doug’s turn to return the favor.

Ian walked in after a quick knock on his heavy pecan door. “Herb, I’m hearing static from this dairy farmer in Pennsy. What’s with these people?”

“Which one?” Herb’s mind raced to the conversation with Ed.

“This Hank Hatcher character. He’s got the farm next to the Globalvision property. One of our guys went out to have him sign some paperwork, and he started pushing back. He wanted to know why the Lynch farm hadn’t been included in the suit. Anne Lynch, she’s the one with the farm where Strauss did his dirty work.”

“I know who she is,” grumbled Herb.

“Yeah, well, he was told she couldn’t be included because her animals were killed intentionally, and that would be a criminal investigation. He got all pissed off and refused to sign additional paperwork until he had a chance to talk to her.”

Herb shook his head in disgust. Nothing was ever easy. And these fucking farmers all seemed to know each other. “This Lynch lady made a call to the DEP,” he admitted to Ian.

“And?” Asked Ian, looking very serious.

“And she scared the shit out of him. He was easy to bribe because he’s weak. He’ll be easy to turn against us, too, if the shit hits the fan.”

“Jesus, Herb. Now you think of that? You picked this guy!”

“I picked him because I had limited options! How many guys do you know in the DEP that could help us out? Anyway—he’s being dealt with.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Know what?” Sneered Herb facetiously.

Ian shook his head as his face went red. “This whole fucking thing is getting out of control!”

“I told you, I’m dealing with it. There are a lot of moving parts on something this big. You don’t win a quarter of a billion dollars without some collateral damage! Now quit your bitching and do your end!”

“I’m trying to do my end! I have Texas all set, and Tennessee is almost done. I’d have Pennsylvania finished now too, if your fucking idiots wouldn’t screw everything up every time I turn around!”

Herb got up from his massive desk and walked to a cabinet where he pulled a hundred year old bottle of single malt scotch he’d purchased at an auction for six grand the year before. He poured it neat into two tumblers and walked over to Ian, placing it on the table.

“This is some of the best scotch you’ll ever drink, Ian. You like the best scotch. And the best wine. And the finest cars and boats. Your private jet. All the toys. All the expensive toys. I have what I have because I worked for it, just like you. Dirty hands when necessary. We see this thing through to the end, and we’re done working. Your end will be worth millions. More then you’ll ever spend. We just need to keep our shit together, okay?”

Ian picked up the glass and smelled the scotch. It was pretty damned good.

Fifty-Eight

· · · · ·

Doug didn’t like being bossed around by Lydia’s father, especially in front of her, but what could he do? He was already a “hired gun” that had been paid a lot of money to bribe and extort people from Pennsylvania to Texas. Up until the moment Lydia handed him the phone, Doug didn’t think Herb knew about his amorous relationship with Lydia. But this was Herbert Yates the Third. He apparently knew everything about everyone, which is how he clawed his way to the top in the DC legal world and underworld.

As he quickly dressed, Lydia lay naked on the messy bed in front of him. “Where are you going?” She whined.

“Your father knows, Lydia. That’s so not cool…”

“It doesn’t matter. He hates JJ anyway. Where are you going?”

“I have a job to do for your old man.”

“Jesus, Doug—did you not hear my question the second time, either?”

Doug leaned down and grabbed her by her two upper arms. “Listen, sweetheart—when your old man barks, I gotta’ move, okay? I can’t believe he knows I’m fuckin’ his daughter. God damn it!” He threw her hard back down on the bed. She rolled roughly across the soiled sheets, her hair wild in her face. Doug stopped dressing and looked at her. He loved slapping her around a little under normal conditions, but now her father was pissing him off. Fuck it—what was another twenty minutes? He pulled his jeans back off…

· · · · ·

When Doug finished with Lydia, he quickly dressed without even showering and hustled out to his car. He wondered if JJ would notice the few light bruises he had left on the congressman’s wife.

Doug hopped into his blue Beemer and took off for his apartment. His wife and he were separated, but the bitch had a habit of showing up every now and then for makeup sex or a beating or both. She was even crazier than Lydia—just the way Doug liked them. But she had left him after she got sick of his screwing around and never coming home at night. Then she came back. Then she left again, and so on. He needed her not to be there this time—there wasn’t time to deal with her bullshit. He needed to grab his other gun, the first having been seized by the police, and get his ass to Jersey.

Doug pulled quickly into the driveway and ran inside. He was greatly relieved to see he was alone, and tossed his way through his closet until he found the box he was looking for. He grabbed his .357, which was loaded. This time, he’d leave it in the trunk, carefully hidden, in case he was pulled over. He was out on bail and could not afford to get picked up for anything. As he drove off following the directions Herb had given him, he realized that Herb had known about him and Lydia for a while, and still, Herb had bailed him out when he got busted. It was a tacit endorsement of sorts. If he didn’t approve of him fucking his daughter, he would have left him in jail. Doug smiled as he drove. He hoped it really pissed the old man off.

Fifty-Nine

· · · · ·

Penns Grove

I drove carefully, always changing distances and allowing other cars between us and the bronze Super Duty. Zeke sat quietly in the back seat with his glasses on, showing his game face. Uncle George had spoken to me on the side before we left, questioning the wisdom of bringing Zeke to what could be a rough showdown. As I reminded George, Zeke had been with me dozens of times, and knew exactly what his role was. Uncle George was just being protective, which I appreciated. George also informed me that he had brought his off-duty .38 which he had kept after he had retired. Mine was in my gear bag in the back of the SUV as well. Whatever was going to go down, at least we’d be prepared.

“G, we’ve got a long drive. Maybe now’s the time you call your Bureau Boy and catch him up on all this stuff. If we do end up running into one of the firm’s enforcers, and we’re lucky enough to grab him, we should have FBI backup, not just some municipal cop. This crosses state lines and is part of a much bigger picture.”

George agreed, and called one of his buddies, a Fed named Eric Anthony. He and Anthony had worked well together over the years, and had “traded chips” so many times they had a genuine trust and respect for each other. I drove in silence and listened to George’s synopsis. Considering he only knew what I had told him, plus his own snooping, he gave a very accurate account of the situation from beginning to end. Eric didn’t interrupt very much, and allowed George to paint the picture for almost twenty minutes on the phone. At the end of the conversation, Eric told George they’d start looking into it immediately, and asked George how they could help us right now, which George reiteratWood back to me.

“Right now, sit tight. But if we call him, we’ll need someone in Penns Grove fast.”

George spoke to Eric and then told me, “Nearest field office is in Newark, but they have a few guys working in Atlantic City and in Safe Harbor. That’s less than an hour away if they haul ass.”

“Good enough.”

George spoke with Eric for a while and then listened for a long time. When he hung up he smiled. “He says my boys did a good job. He’s not a big fan of Private Investigators, but you two may have stumbled on to something huge. That firm—Yates, Riley & Johnson, the Feds are very familiar with that name, whatever that means.”

I smiled. At least I knew we weren’t crazy. If the Feds were looking at these guys, it was because they were bad news. We had been driving on Route 295 South for an hour and got off at Route 48 westbound headed towards the Delaware River and Penns Grove where Ed had his new “beach house”. There really wasn’t a beach there, but the town was pretty and had access to the Delaware Bay. As we got into the town, it became harder to follow him without being obvious. The streets were narrow, without sidewalks and curbs, and even in October, a few boats sat on trailers in the driveways and on the streets.

“Nice neighborhood,” said George. “Ya’ think a retired cop could afford to live here in the summer?”

“Were you corrupt?”

“Nope.”

“Then no. Look—the pickup.”

The bronze behemoth was parked in a driveway not much larger than the truck, and we stopped where we were while I quickly studied my options. Ed’s house backed up to the river on the right side of the narrow street. I backed my SUV up the road until I came to a short street on the same side of the road as Ed’s house, which led to a boat drop into the Delaware River. I backed into the boat drop and parked on the incline. It was a cold, dark day and there weren’t any boats out. No one would bother us.

I looked over at George. “He knows what Zeke and I look like. No offense, but you’re a senior citizen out for a slow walk through the neighborhood. No one would look at you twice.”

“Fuck you.”

“You said the ‘F’ word,” said Zeke.

“Sorry. Your brother’s being a prick.”

“Is prick a curse?” Asked Zeke.

“No, it means ‘a younger brother with a tiny penis’.”

Zeke laughed at the ‘p’ word.

I shook my head. I was on stakeout with Abbott and Costello. “Take your phone. Just take a nice slow walk up and down the street.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m a rookie,” grumbled the grumpy old man next to me. He got out of the truck and walked up the street, making a right around the corner at a leisurely pace.

“Are we on stake out?” asked Zeke, still in his dark sunglasses.

“Yeah. We just have to wait a while.”

“Can I take my sunglasses off? It’s dark.”

He lifted them up to show me his smiling eyes. I groaned. He looked way too happy. “Yeah, but if that bad guy Doug shows up, you gotta’ put them back on and be the mean Zeke, okay?”

“Mean Zeke,” he said, showing me his war face. Impressive.

We sat for almost ten minutes before my cell phone rang. “Ice this is Viper, come in, over.”

“Very funny, George,” I responded.

“Come on, I feel like a spy. This is cool. I’ve spent the last five years grocery shopping. Ed’s in the house. Nice place, too. Huge wooden deck out back with a boat dock and lift. Sweet set up. He’s got a brand spanking new boat up on the lift. It’s October. Idiot should have that thing winterized and put under cover. I bet it’s his first boat…”

“Are you boat shopping or looking for bad guys?”

“I’m looking—keep your pants on. It’s damp and cold out here. I have to keep walking just to stay warm.”

“That’s why you retired, you’re old, remember?”

“Remember what I told you in the car before I left?” He said.

“Ask Anne. I bet she’ll vouch for me.”

I hung up. We sat for another ten minutes until George returned to warm up in the car. I grabbed a dark hoodie sweatshirt out of my gear bag and pulled it on over my shirt. I pulled the hood up and slid out of my seat.

“We going?” asked Zeke.

“You stay here and protect Uncle George. Mean Zeke, remember.”

He showed me his teeth like Cody.

I walked down the street, on the far side. Large elms and hedgerows offered a bit of cover. The brightest colors of fall had already gone, but still, the street was beautiful in golds and dark oranges. I walked slowly all the way to the end of the street and back, keeping an eye on the house, which showed no signs of life other than some lights on inside.

I walked back towards my car and hung a left to the boat ramp when the roar of an engine made me glance down the block. Blue BMW that was too sweet to miss. I hurried back to the SUV and hopped inside, ducking low. Zeke followed my lead and hit the deck. Only George sat up straight and announced when the car had gone by.

I hopped back out of my seat and grabbed the gear bag where I pulled my handcuffs and .38. Zeke grabbed his bat. I was going to tell him to stay at the car, but opted to have him with me. George hopped out as well.

“Now what?” Asked George.

“You walk back up the street, nice and slow, and keep an eye on things. Zeke and I will move along the river. I haven’t seen another soul since we got here. No one will see us. See you at the house. This guy Doug had a gun last time. Stay sharp.”

George looked at Zeke then back to me. I know what he was thinking. “Zeke, you stay close to me, okay?”

“I got your back, little brother,” he said in the voice that I only heard once in a while. George looked shocked at Zeke’s voice. I shrugged at him.

We all took off for the house, George walking up the ramp, and Zeke and I walking down to the water’s edge until we hooked a left through the first back yard next to the boat ramp. I figured George was walking slowly along the road, but I kept up a fast pace through the yards lest someone spot us. Zeke was perfect, staying single file and not making a sound. If anyone did see us, they’d call the cops in a second—two guys in sweatshirts, one of them a giant wearing sunglasses under a black sky while carrying a baseball bat.

It was six back yards until we got to Ed’s house. Unlike his neighbors, who had older Cape Cod style houses with patchy grass backyards, Ed had an elevated wooden deck and a long dock out into the river where his boat hung up on its lift. We slowed down and followed a row of large bushes closer to his house…

· · · · ·

Ed jumped when the doorbell rang. He had drunk a beer, the only alcohol in his house, to try and calm down, but it didn’t help. Now he just had to pee. He walked cautiously to the front door and looked out the small side window. It wasn’t Herb Yates, the guy from DC that he had met in Philly. He yelled through the closed door.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Ed Woodward,” he yelled back.

“Who are you?”

“I work for Herbert Yates. I need to talk to you, preferably not screaming through this door.”

Ed unlocked the door and began to open it. Doug shoved it in so hard, it knocked Ed off his feet on to his butt. His tailbone sent a jolt of pain up to his brain. Doug slammed the door behind him and pulled out his .357 Magnum with the four inch barrel and shoved it in Ed’s face.

“Herb Yates says hello. Where’s the boat?”

“The boat?” Repeated Ed, terrified.

“Is there a fuckin’ echo in here?” Doug kicked Ed square in the face, breaking his nose and sending a gush of blood all over. Ed cried out in pain and covered his face with his hands. He started sobbing.

“Get up!” He screamed.

Ed rolled over on all fours and tried to gather himself, then stood on shaking legs. He braced himself against the wall for support.

“I didn’t do anything!” He cried.

“You pissed off Mr. Yates. That’s enough. We need to leave this house immediately. You have a boat. That’s how we’re leaving. Where are the keys?”

“Kitchen,” said Ed, holding his nose and trying to stop the bleeding.

Doug pushed Ed along into the kitchen, where the plastic red buoy keychain hung on a hook by the sliding back door. Doug saw it and grabbed it, then opened the slider.

“We’re going to walk nice and easy to the boat together. I’m putting the gun away. If you fuck with me and I have to take it out again, it’ll be the last thing you ever see on this earth. You understand?”

Ed nodded, crying quietly as he held his broken nose.

Ed walked out first with Doug behind him, and they made a beeline for the boatlift.

· · · · ·

I froze, and Zeke froze behind me. We crouched low behind the hedge and watched the sliding door open. Out walked Ed Woodward, his face covered in blood. Doug Wyeth was right behind him, his right hand shoved in his windbreaker. Gun no doubt.

“Zeke, we gotta’ be real quiet, okay? That bad guy, Doug—you remember him?”

“He killed the cows?”

“Yeah. He’s got a gun. You can’t let him see you, okay? Real quiet.”

“Mean Zeke,” he whispered. This time I was sure he wasn’t just playing. My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I opened it quietly.

George whispered, “I’m almost to the house.”

I whispered very quietly back to him. “Enter front door, or if it’s locked, go around the side. He’s got Ed on the backyard deck, headed to the boat. Looks like he’s got a gun.”

· · · · ·

George jogged to the front door and tried the handle. It opened up. He stepped inside, pulled his .38, and scanned the room. Blood on the foyer floor, but no one inside. He moved quickly through the house and looked out the slider door. He spotted Doug, who had his back to him, pushing Ed along towards the boat. He’d need to distract him long enough for Noah to move around behind him.

George took a deep breath and pulled his wallet, opening it up to show his gold badge. From thirty feet, you couldn’t see the word “retired”. He opened the door, stepped out, and held up his badge in one hand, his pistol in the other. In his most commanding voice, he yelled, “Police! Nobody move! Just freeze where you are and slowly raise your hands!”

Doug froze for a split second as his brain caught up to the sudden turn of events. The cops? How the fuck could they know he was here? He gripped the .357 in his right hand and shoved Ed as he made a sprint across the yard.

· · · · ·

It happened so fast, the way it always does. One second, Zeke and I were quietly sneaking through bushes under a dark October sky, the next I see George out with his gun and badge. Doug froze for a second like he was going to give up, but then shoved Ed and ran directly at me. I know he didn’t see me; he was just sprinting to get away. I stepped out from the bushes and pulled up my .38 in a firing stance and yelled “Freeze!” as loud as I could.

In the movies, the bad guy freezes, I think. In real life, Doug had so much adrenaline pumping that he crashed into me at full speed and knocked us both flat. I think we were both trying to shoot each other when I heard the loudest crack outside of Shea Stadium I ever heard. Doug’s head went back to the soft grass next to the deck and his eyes fluttered closed.

I looked up at Zeke, thinking he must have hit him with the bat, but the bat was on the ground a few feet away. Zeke looked at me and held up his right hand.

“Sudden death,” he said with a glazed look, like he was in the ring. Then his face changed to a look of sadness and he said, “Hitting’s bad. Sorry, Noah.”

I pulled my handcuffs out as fast as I could and rolled Doug over on to his face. He was out cold, and his face was already changing color. I’m pretty sure Zeke had just broken his jaw. I cuffed him and turned back to Zeke.

“Zeke, you just saved your little brother’s life. It’s okay, man.”

“He killed those pretty cows.”

“And you got him. It’s gonna’ be all right okay? You’re not in trouble.”

Zeke looked up and saw Uncle George handcuffing Ed. He sprinted over to them and took Ed by the arm, leading him over to a patio chair and forcing him to sit. He leaned over and said, “You don’t move.” Ed looked terrified and hurt. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Zeke helped me pick up Doug and carry him to another patio chair where we re-handcuffed him through the back of the chair. “Now might be a good time to call the Feds,” I said to George.

Sixty

· · · · ·

George called Special Agent Anthony, who picked up on the first ring.

“Hey. We just apprehended Doug Wyeth after he assaulted and attempted to kidnap Ed Woodward. Ed’s the DEP guy who was getting paid by that law firm to fake reports for the class action suit.”

“I remember, go on.”

“Wyeth was armed. We think he was sent here to kill him.”

“But everyone is okay?” Asked Eric.

“Yeah. Never better. Although I think Doug and Ed have felt better. How soon can you have someone here?”

“I already sent them, I wasn’t taking any chances. I’m headed to your farm in Pennsylvania.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah. I ran the information you gave me through a team in our organized crime outfit. They’ve been following that firm for a couple of years. I can’t give you all the dirt, but trust me, you’re tip of the iceberg with these guys. I’ll have a team on site at your location in less than fifteen minutes.”

George looked over at me and told me that the Feds were on their way, as well as headed to Anne’s place. I asked for the phone, which I took from George.

“Agent Anthony, this is Noah Barnes. George told me you’re headed to Anne’s farm?”

“Not just hers—we’re going to be interviewing every farm in that area. So you’re the one that stumbled into this mess, huh?”

“Yeah. I had no idea it was going to end up like this. Crazy. I’ll call Anne and tell her you’re coming. What’s your ETA?”

“Driving up from Newark. Should make it in less than two hours.”

“Okay, thanks. And thanks for sending your guys.” I hung up and walked back to Ed and Doug.

Doug’s cell phone rang in his pocket and I fished it out. Doug was still out cold, the left side of his face swelling and turning a nice shade of purple. The caller ID said “Yates”. I couldn’t help myself.

“This is Doug’s answering service, how can I help you?” I said in my most sarcastic voice.

“Who’s this?” asked a gruff voice.

“The guy who’s going to make sure your ass goes to jail you piece of shit,” I answered with contempt boiling in my voice.

He hung up. Looking back on it now, it was a big mistake—but it did feel good at that moment.

Sixty-One

· · · · ·

A car full of Feds arrived at Ed’s house a short while after I hung up with Agent Anthony. They were keen on keeping us around for a nice long interview, but I had them call Eric, who gave us permission to leave and do the interview later. That was huge, because I was dying to get up to Anne’s farm. Without Eric’s say-so, we would have been tied up all day. Needless to say, the Feds were not happy about allowing us to split. I reminded them that we had just given them a big fat early Christmas present, and they should be extra nice to us.

As we drove, I called Anne and caught her up on the events of the day. She was more than ecstatic, and we both wondered if the FBI could make all of her problems go away. If the DEP reports were proven to be faked, then even with the drillers next door, she should be able to start over again with another herd. That was a whole different set of confusing “what-ifs”, and she’d cross that bridge later. The first thing to do was talk to the Feds and see what was going on up in cow country and down in DC. I had a feeling I’d be reading about this stuff for months in the papers.

I told Anne I’d probably get there a little behind the Feds. I couldn’t wait to see her—it had been a big day.

Uncle George, sitting next to me up front, turned around and smacked Zeke on the thigh. “Hey kid, sorry I missed that right hook.”

Zeke stared off into some distant memory and responded quietly, “Left sends ‘em to the hospital, right is sudden death.”

George’s eyes welled up with tears and he turned back facing front so we wouldn’t see his face. I could hear his voice catch a little as he said, “That’s right, Zeke. Right is sudden death.” How many times had Uncle George made Zeke repeat that as he coached him in his early days of boxing? Hundreds? George had taught him the original skills as a kid, before his real trainer Joe Varoff took over. Zeke was hurt in the ring. How much did George blame himself, I’ll never know. I tried not to let the lump get any bigger in my throat as we drove in silence for a while.

· · · · ·

Herb Yates busted into Ian’s office without knocking, interrupting an important conference call. Ian looked up in shock and pointed to the phone, as if to say, “Hey! I’m on the phone!”

“Hang it up!” Bellowed Herb. When Ian didn’t move fast enough, Herb charged the desk and pressed the “end call” button. “Hang it up, I said!” He was totally out of control, his face red and perspiring. Mr. Calm-Cool-Courtroom-King was a wild man.

Ian looked up at him in annoyed astonishment. “What are you doing?” was all he could come up with.

“Doug blew it! We’re fucked!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Doug Wyeth! That stupid shit was supposed to get rid of the DEP moron for me before the Feds could get to him. I sent him down there this morning…”

“You what?” Gasped Ian.

“I was trying to clean up this damn mess. I just called down there and someone else picked up his cell phone!”

“Who?” Asked Ian.

“How the fuck should I know?” Roared Herb, his now purple with sweat running his neck. He pulled his handkerchief and wiped his face. “If the Feds have Doug, and Ed’s still alive, we’re fucked!”

“Jesus Christ, Herb!”

“You gotta’ get up to that farm in Pennsylvania! That Lynch woman…”

“What the hell for? It’s too late to do anything now, other than get on a plane for fucking Brazil! You fucked us, Herb! You fucked up this whole thing!” Ian was standing now, screaming. His intercom rang and his secretary’s pleasant vice chimed in. “Mr. Riley, you lost your conference call. I have them back on line two for you, sir…”

“Not now!” he screamed so loud she could hear it outside his office without the phone.

Herb started in again. “You have to get up there and get rid of that Lynch woman, then find that fucking private eye. They’re the only witnesses to Billy Strauss, and the Lynch woman’s farm was one of the ones that Ed faked. You get rid of her and the private eye and maybe, just maybe, we survive this thing…”

“Herb, that makes no sense! You fucked this thing up and now you want me to kill two people so you can maybe avoid jail? And what about me? I get the gas chamber?”

“It’s one woman on a farm in the middle of nowhere! If I was twenty years younger and I had a pilot’s license, I’d fly up there and take care of it myself! For Christ sake, Ian, man up and do what needs to be done. We start tying up loose ends and maybe you and me don’t get fucked. Hell—maybe we can still sue Globalvision!”

“You’re out of your fucking mind!” screamed Ian.

“You got a better idea, Ian? The Feds have Doug Wyeth tell a jury that we hired him…”

“You hired him!”

“No, Ian! We hired him! Yates, Riley and Johnson! We’ll all burn together! Doug sings and we’re all looking at conspiracy, attempted murder, murder for hire, you name it!”

“That’s right! So what does it matter if I get rid of this lady or not?”

“Because if their case falls apart, I can still get to Doug. Lydia will talk to him. Even if he goes away for a few months—so what? He’ll come out and be well rewarded. But we have to keep the Feds from building this case. I can’t do it anymore. You have to do it, Ian. And now.”

Ian flopped into his chair. They were so screwed. He could feel the pressure sucking the air out of his chest. He tried his best to think clearly. He was good under pressure—that’s why he made the big bucks. But it was harder when it was your ass on the chopping block, and not some dumbass client.

Ian thought out loud. “So Anne Lynch disappears. The private eye disappears. You handle Doug. That still leaves the guy from DEP.”

“The DEP guy won’t say a fucking thing. He’s weak. A few calls to his wife and kids, and he’ll forget everything. You leave him to me. Come on, Ian—it’s fair. I take care of Doug and Ed. You take care of the woman and the PI.”

“Fair? I don’t see you killing anyone!”

Hank leaned on the desk, closer to Ian. “I’ve done my share in my day. Now you want to keep breathing free air and playing with your expensive toys, you better fly your ass up to that farm and make that farmer disappear.”

Ian ran his fingers through his dark hair and looked at the ceiling. “Fuck!” was all he managed to say.

Sixty-Two

· · · · ·

Ian’s hands were shaking as he taxied his jet out of the private hanger onto the small runway. He had quickly found the closest airport to the farm, another tiny private one like his, and called ahead to have a rental car waiting for him when he landed under a false name. It was paid for, and the keys would be in it waiting for him. Herb had given Ian an unregistered revolver and map of the area. Even as Ian prepared to take off, he wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do when he got there. He had done plenty of lowlife things in his life, but he never actually killed anyone himself. That was always for “some other guy” to do without him knowing about it. He was shivering.

A moment later, Ian was flying his Astra seven-person luxury jet at four hundred knots, headed straight for rural Pennsylvania. By fast jet, the trip from Washington DC to his destination was less than thirty minutes. He sat in the pilot’s seat, alone in his jet, staring at the pistol and wondering what the hell he was doing. He answered his own question: trying to survive.

Ian touched down at the single runway airport in the middle of farm country. He scribbled something unintelligible into the logbook in the empty office, and found the small sedan parked with the keys under the mat as promised. He looked around quickly, saw no one, and sped off down the road to the Lynch Farm. Finding Noah Barnes would be more difficult, and once found, harder to deal with—but one murder at a time for now. Ian was furious at being in this position. He had told Herb to find some other “muscle” to take care of it, but Herb insisted there wasn’t time. Anne had to be dealt with immediately, before the Feds could get to her.

Ian drove slightly over the speed limit on empty rural roads that meandered through rolling hills and pastureland. Stands of trees and larger hills broke up the bucolic landscape. Occasionally, he’d pass a dairy farm with small herds of Holsteins standing in the grass. It was cold out, but Ian continued to sweat. He tortured himself with questions.

What if she wasn’t there?

What if other people were there with her?

What if she had her own gun?

What if the Feds or cops were already there?

He pounded on the steering wheel as he cursed Herbert Yates the Third. He decided he would drive to the farm and look around. Any sign of the cops and he’d split. If anyone asked him anything, he was simply lost. If he really got jammed up, he’d say he was working on the class action lawsuit. As of right now, he hadn’t done anything. It was Herb’s ass so far. But he also knew Herb would make sure to screw him over big time if he didn’t take care of business.

He passed some graffitied signs and slowed down. He was close. It was the Sullivan Farm where the Green Leaf folks had been paid to sit outside and get some media exposure to help with public sympathy for when the case went in front of a jury. The class action suit seemed so far away from this moment.

The next farm had a sign out front. Lynch Organic Dairy Farm. He tried to breath, but his chest was so tight he could barely inhale. His heart pounded so loud he could hear it in his ears. He drove slowly up the gravel road to the farm. No signs of activity. No cows, no people, no nothing. As he got closer, he saw a pickup truck parked next to a farm house. Maybe she was home. No police cars. No Crown Victoria Fed cars. Nothing.

He slowed down as he got close and parked next to the truck.

· · · · ·

Inside the house, Anne sat reading online about Small Business Association Loans. The paperwork seemed insurmountable. She knew the odds of success were extremely low. Still, she had to try something, and after her phone conversation with Noah, she was filled with optimism. When she heard the car door slam outside, she smiled and patted Cody, who sat next to her getting an occasional scratch on his ears.

“Guess who’s home, baby!” She cooed. She couldn’t wait to get her arms around her man—her hero.

Bear and Max slept in a furry pile at the other end of the couch. They had been, for lack of a better word, depressed, without their herd to watch over. The spent their days inside now, with Anne and Cody, waiting for the cows to come home.

· · · · ·

Ian shoved the gun into his jacket pocket. It was a snub-nosed .44. One shot would do it, but he’d need to be inside. Even in East Bumblefuck, someone might hear this little cannon. He approached the door and prepared to knock, his own heart pounding louder than his knuckles could possibly be on any wooden door. He repeated instructions to himself over and over, trying to remain calm, even though he could feel his chest about to explode. “Get her inside, close the door, and shoot her…don’t leave prints…make sure no one else is around…”

When the door opened, it caught him off guard. The pretty face of the woman in front of him also showed surprise.

“Oh, sorry!” she said cheerfully. “I was expecting someone else. Are you with the FBI?”

Ian seized the opportunity to get inside. “Yes, ma’am. Could I come in and just ask you a few questions?”

“Of course,” she said, opening the door wide for him.

Ian fought the panic. He wanted to turn and run before it was too late. It was so much easier to make a phone call and have someone else do this. He didn’t have a choice. As she turned to lead him into the house, he pulled the gun and shoved it Anne’s back, his own fear coming out as a scream. “Don’t you fucking move!” He yelled, his voice cracking like an adolescent boy.

Anne reacted without even realizing it. As she felt the shove in her back and stumbled forward, she spun around and faced this stranger in her house. He had a gun pointed at her chest.

“Turn back around!” He screamed, obviously not comfortable having beautiful blue eyes staring back at him. “Move!” He shoved the gun at her.

Max and Bear had been sleeping until this stranger busted into the house. Cody, who had been sitting by Anne’s feet stood up and began barking loudly. The stranger kicked Cody hard and screamed “Shut that fucking dog up!”

Max and Bear saw the stranger shove their owner. Then they saw him kick Cody. The two of them moved together like one, growling and flying across the room in an instant. They both instinctively went for his ankles, biting and growling as they each bit into his flesh. Anne screamed, and the terrified intruder fired his gun at the wild animals at his feet. Bear let out a yelp as he flew off his legs, and Cody leaped through the air at the man’s arm, catching his forearm below the gun. The man screamed and stumbled over Max, trying desperately to get another shot off, but the pain in his arm made him drop the gun.

Anne was screaming without even realizing, moving on pure adrenaline. She tackled the stranger as hard as she could, and down went the pile—two humans and two dogs. Bear lay on the floor in a bloody heap. Anne scratched, punched, bit and kicked like a wild woman, as Cody and Max continued to growl and bite this intruder like two wolves. The man was screaming—no longer trying to kill Anne, just trying to get out of this crazy house. He shoved and scrambled around on the floor, trying to get the assault off of him. It was only his terror that got him to the front door, blood coming from a hundred tooth marks.

He pulled the front door open and stepped out into the light, moving as fast as he could. A Crown Victoria was pulling up next to his rental car, the doors opening as he came through Anne’s doorway. Two men in suits stepped up out of the car, spotting this disheveled, bloody man stumbling out of the house. Ian froze.

The two Agents pulled their weapons and yelled, “FBI! Show me your hands!”

Before Ian could react, the sound of a .44 exploded. Ian tumbled forward as the two agents quickly looked at each other to see who had fired. A voice inside the house screamed, “Cody! Stay!”

The Agents screamed back at the house, “FBI! Throw out your weapon!”

There was no response from inside the house, and the men quickly scrambled towards opposite sides of the front door, repeating their demands to “throw out the weapon and come out with your hands up”. The first agent to reach the man on the front porch checked his pulse and shook his head “no” at his partner. The large slug had separated the man’s spinal cord and killed him almost instantly.

“You! Inside the house! Last chance! Throw out the gun!”

Finally, a woman’s voice answered from inside. “The gun’s by the front door! I’m trying to save my dog! He’s been shot!”

“You need to come outside with your hands up!”

“You can come inside and shoot me, but I’m not coming out! I’m a veterinarian! My dog’s been shot!”

The two agents looked at each other. One of them yelled back, “You Doctor Lynch?”

“Yes!”

“We’re coming in. We don’t want to shoot you—just be cool!”

They moved slowly inside and saw the pistol on the floor of the foyer. There was blood splattered around the floor and walls, but it was impossible to know the source. They moved slowly, scanning and covering the entrance with their weapons until they saw the woman bent over a dog, with two other dogs standing next to her. She was using her hands to feel around in the bloody fur. The dogs tongue was out and the animal was breathing extremely hard, but was alive.

“Dr. Lynch, we’re FBI. Do you have a weapon?” Yelled one of the agents who had his pistol trained on her face.

“Does it look like it? Go to the back of my house! Over the sink, cabinets to the right—there’s medical supplies! I need a pressure bandage! Please hurry!”

The two agents looked at each other. This was a first. One of them whispered to his partner, “I’ll cover you, go ahead.”

He took two steps closer when Max and Cody showed teeth and growled. Anne silenced them with a stern command, and they sat at her side, watching the intruders and their wounded friend.

The agent ran to the kitchen, and returned with a large box of medical supplies. Anne instructed him on what to take out of the kit while she kept her fingers in the holes. The bullet had gone through the dog’s shoulder, missing vital organs, but making a very large hole. Anne wrapped the bandage quickly and tied it off to stop the bleeding. She looked at the agent that had brought the kit.

“Look, I know I just shot someone and you’re cops, but I need to save my dog. I’m a veterinarian. Help me get him to the kitchen table so I can put him under and stitch him up. Please! You let me save my dog and I’ll answer all of your questions, deal?”

The agent agreed and helped her get the dog up and to the table. He became the nurse as Anne switched into veterinarian mode and instructed him on how to help her. Twenty minutes later, Bear was passed out on the floor, partially shaved, stitched up and heavily bandaged, full of antibiotics and pain meds.

“Thank you,” she said calmly. “Let’s wash up…”

The two of them were at the kitchen sink washing, under the watchful eyes of the second agent who held the butt of his pistol in its holster, when Noah, Zeke and George ran into the house. The three of them threw their hands up and screamed, “Don’t shoot!” as the agent pulled his weapon at the sight of the three strangers running into the crime scene.

After a few frantic seconds and lots of yelling, the situation calmed down. A phone call to Eric Anthony later, and the scene was back under control, with everyone trying to calm down and understand what had just transpired. Zeke stood holding Cody in his massive arms, crying over the injured Bear.

Sixty-Three

· · · · ·

There was a lot to sort out. I guess I wasn’t shocked when they told me the dead guy was Ian Riley. The local cop Pete Davis showed up to make sure Anne was okay, comforting and consoling her so much I almost had to shoot him myself. The Feds decided to interview George, Zeke and myself for a very long time, starting at the very beginning. I decided not to mention anything to the Feds about Zeke as they separated us for the interviews. When I saw Zeke put on his sunglasses and his game face for the interview, I had to bite my lip. I wondered if Zeke’s answers would help them solve the case.

Special Agent in Charge Eric Anthony showed up just as our interviews began. He and George greeted each other with firm handshakes, but kept everything “all business”, at least until after another agent had interviewed George. I really wanted a chance to speak with Anne, but they wouldn’t let me until they had interviewed her separately. When they asked if she wanted a lawyer before the interview, I couldn’t help but announce that there was one on the front porch. She declined, saying she had nothing to hide and had defended herself against an intruder who tried to kill her. I saw George ask Eric if she needed one, and he whispered back something to George, who gave me a reassuring head nod that she wasn’t in trouble.

I ended up sitting outside on the back patio for my interview. It began with a phone call from a woman who I didn’t know, wondering if I could help her figure out what was killing her cows. What a long strange trip to today. I was in mid-interview when another agent stepped inside and spoke privately to the guy interviewing me. They whispered back and forth for a while, and then the one interviewing me said, “Let me finish here first.”

I went on for almost a full hour. When we were finished, my interviewer asked me to follow him inside to the back bedroom where Zeke was sitting on his bed holding Cody in his arms. No one was going to get that dog away from him. He still had his sunglasses on.

“Your brother asked for you a few times. His interview has been, uh…” He searched for the words.

“Different?” I asked.

“Something you want us to know?” He asked me.

“Not that I can think of,” I responded, enjoying this a little too much.

“Read back what you have so far,” my guy asked Zeke’s interviewer.

The other agent looked at him, then at me, then at Zeke, and slowly began reading off of his notes. “The bad guys next door killed the pretty cows. Cody is really smart and I love him and if anyone tries to hurt him I’ll be Mean Zeke. Anne is beautiful and Noah likes her. A lot. I hit someone today. Hitting’s bad. He was a bad man. He killed the cows. I loved the cows.” He looked up from his notes. “I’ve got a lot more of this. Should I keep going?”

My agent crossed his arms and stared hard at me. “Well?”

“I think he summed it up much more succinctly than I did, actually,” I said.

He walked out of the room without another word. The other agent followed him out.

“How’re ya’ doing Big Brother?” I asked.

“Can I take off my sunglasses now?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

He took them off, carefully folded them and put them into his chest pocket, and stroked Cody’s head. Cody hadn’t moved from his position on Zeke’s lap the entire time I was there.

“Was he a good guy?” Zeke asked. “He asked me a lot of questions.”

“It’s okay, Zeke. He’s a good guy. They need to figure out what happened.”

“I told them everything I could think of, Noah. They know I punched that guy.”

“It’s okay.”

“Will they take me away from you?”

I stood up and walked closer to Zeke, bent down and gave him a hug. I had told him a million times after the accident not to hit anyone. My biggest fear was of him hurting someone by accident and being taken from me. I fought back tears as I hugged his giant shoulders. “No one will ever take you from me, you got that Big Man?”

“I know hitting’s bad, Noah. But that man was bad and he had a gun.”

“Exactly. Which is why it was okay to hit him. I never saw anyone who so desperately needed a good punch in the face, okay?”

Zeke smiled for the first time all day. Then he got serious again. “Is Bear gonna’ be okay?”

“Anne’s a doctor, Zeke. If anyone could save that dog, she’s the one.”

“I went to lots of doctors,” he said thoughtfully.

“And see? You came out perfect!” I smacked his massive arm.

“I’m not perfect. I know I’m slow now. I can’t remember lots of stuff.”

“You remember all the important stuff, Zeke. Like who loves you most in the world?”

“You,” he said, with his big toothy grin forming. “And Cody loves me, too. Is he coming to live with us?”

I stared at Cody, who stared back at me. I swear that dog was waiting for an answer. My future would be determined by a dog? “We’ll see, buddy. You know, it gets a little complicated. Anne lives here—we live in Jersey. We both have businesses to run.” I smiled and patted Cody. “He is a cool dog, though.”

“He likes you, too” said Zeke, putting his face in Cody’s face. They stared at each other until Cody had to lick his nose.

Uncle George walked in with Special Agent in Charge Anthony. Agent Anthony gave me a raised eyebrow. Apparently, the other two Feds had reiterated their interview experience with Zeke.

Uncle George walked over to Zeke. “Come on, kid. Let’s go see the other dogs and Anne. I think she needs a hug.”

Zeke looked at me and I gave him a nod. He let Cody hop down and they followed George out.

Eric walked in and sat down on the bed. “Zeke Barnes: professional boxer. Twenty-nine and one professionally, most by K-O. Want to tell me what happened to him?”

“Like you said, twenty-nine and one. That ‘one’ almost killed him. Cheap-shot artist head-butted him a few hundred times before clobbering him. Bounced his head off the mat. His brain bled and put him in a coma. This is the Zeke that woke up.”

Eric nodded, satisfied that Zeke wasn’t playing games with his agents. “Seems like a gentle giant.”

“That pretty much sums him up. Although he saved my ass this morning with a right hook to Doug Wyeth’s face.”

Eric smiled. “You might be happy to know Mr. Wyeth had his jaw wired shut this morning. He’ll be enjoying prison cuisine through a straw for a while.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” I said.

“He wasn’t much for talking anyway. You’ll be shocked to know his attorneys from Yates, Riley and Johnson have already showed up to represent him.” Eric motioned towards the front of the house with his thumb. “Mr. Riley is out front,” he said with an evil smile. “I guess I should have said ‘Yates and Johnson’,” he added.

I didn’t attempt to hide my smile. “So now what?” I asked.

He shrugged. “The ‘powers that be’ will decide what to do about the other two senior partners at ‘Yates, No Riley and Johnson’. The Organized Crime Unit is already going through every piece of this class action lawsuit scam. Looks like these guys were working in half a dozen states.”

“What about Anne? You going to jam her up with the shooting?”

Eric stood up and gently closed the door. He spoke quietly. “She shot a man in the back who was attempting to flee her residence. If we wanted to ‘jam her up’ we certainly could, I suppose. I have spoken at length to George Bauman and I have read every report. The woman’s already been through enough. A man showed up at her house to kill her. She defended herself.”

“That’s how I would see it, too, if I was still on the job. Thanks.” He accepted my handshake.

Eric cocked his head and looked me. “Yeah, you were a cop. What happened with that?”

“Zeke. I needed to take care of him. The schedule wouldn’t work.”

Eric nodded thoughtfully. “You are your brother’s keeper.” He said it with respect. I appreciated that.

“I’ve used that line myself on more than one occasion. Truth is, we lost our parents when we were young. He was really my keeper until the accident.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you’re lucky to have each other. I come from a big Italian family—three brothers and two sisters. When we aren’t killing each other, we love each other, too. I’ll tell ya’ something, strictly off the record.”

“Shoot…”

“Couple of my guys went next door to interview the crew at the drilling operation. They said the foreman, a guy named Frank Taylor…”

“I know that asshole…”

“Yeah, well, they said that he turned white as ghost when he saw Feds on site. Swore up and down they hadn’t dumped anything illegally. Which was fine, except that no one had asked him about illegal dumping. The guys simply were there to do routine questioning. Ended up temporarily closing them up pending a full environmental investigation.”

“Ed Woodward going to run some tests?” I asked sarcastically.

“Ed’s going to be busy for a while. The DEP’s pretty big though, Noah. I’m sure they’ll have other folks available. I spoke with Anne. If it turns out that Globalvision did dump illegally, she’ll have a civil case and we’ll have a criminal case. Either way, the drilling stops until we sort it out. Just thought you’d want to be able to tell her. I know about her herd of cows.” He smiled. “And I know Zeke was fond of them, as well.”

I chuckled. I know he wasn’t making fun of Zeke’s condition, just acknowledging Zeke’s interview.

“So, maybe she can start over,” I thought out loud.

He shrugged. “We’ll have the crime scene finished in a few hours. Why don’t you guys all take a break and go get dinner or something. I have your cell number if I need you. I promise that when you get back, the foyer and front deck will be spotless. Anne won’t have to be afraid to walk around her own house, okay?”

I extended my hand. “Thanks, Eric. No wonder Uncle George always liked you. I appreciate the courtesy.”

I walked into the den. Anne had an IV running into Bear right there on the den floor. The dog was asleep, heavily sedated.

“Think Bear can be alone for a while? Let’s get out of here and take a break while these guys finish up.”

Anne looked at her patient. “The bag will finish in a few minutes, then I’ll pull the line and let him sleep. There’s nothing else to do for him. I thought about an animal hospital, but the bullet was through and through, and the bleeding stopped. He should be fine in a week or two.”

“So how about you take a quick shower, and we get out of Dodge?”

She walked over to me and gave me a big hug. “I didn’t say thank you to my hero yet.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’d probably feel safer with two big strong men living out here. I’m just saying…”

“That an invite?”

“Do I need to send it in writing?”

I kissed her, even with a dozen Feds and cops walking around the house. “This is going to get a little complicated.”

“Lynch and Barnes, Dairy Farm and Private Investigations,” she said softly.

I looked over at Zeke, sitting next to Bear with Cody on his lap. “I guess that might work.”

Sixty-Four

· · · · ·

Herbert Yates sat in his office with the door shut. The office was long closed, and even the hardest working attorneys had gone home. Herb was too scared to go anywhere. Ian Riley hadn’t returned his calls. He knew from the rental agency that the car had been picked up, but that was it. Where was Ian?

Herb poured some of his expensive scotch into the crystal tumbler. He wondered about his options. He was too old to leave the country with a briefcase full of cash. Besides, he was surrounded by the greatest attorneys in the country. There was no way the Feds could put him away as long as Doug and Ed kept their mouths shut. He already had a guy watching Woodward’s house to deliver the subtle message when he returned home.

His office phone rang. Wife maybe? Lydia? Maybe it was Ian! He grabbed the phone. “Yates…”

“Mr. Yates, this is Special Agent in Charge Jay Walters. I have a no-knock warrant for your office. We’d prefer that you just opened the door for us. We’re outside. You have sixty seconds before we remove the door from its hinges.”

Herb took a second to find his voice. “I’ll open the door. Give me a couple of minutes—I don’t move that fast.” He hung up and threw back the scotch, then walked out to the main office floor. He unlocked the large door and opened it to face several large men in blue windbreakers with FBI printed in bright yellow.

Agent Walters walked Herb back inside and asked him to sit at the nearest desk chair.

“Mr. Yates, at seven this evening, Federal Agents in Atlanta arrested Mark Robbins from Globalvision Energy for extorting Congressman James J. Mistretta. Mr. Robbins has been most cooperative, implicating this law firm in the process.”

Herb felt his heart beating faster. “That wasn’t me. That was Ian Riley…”

“Mr. Riley was killed this afternoon when attempted to murder a dairy farmer in Pennsylvania. I’m sure you’re very familiar with the class action suit—at every level.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ll be seeking legal representation immediately,” mumbled Herb, now feeling physically ill. Ian was dead.

“Mr. Yates, your daughter has been detained this evening as well, for questioning in connection with Doug Wyeth. I’m sure your cooperation would help her out, but that’s your call. In any event, Federal Agents will now be seizing all documents related to the class action law suit. Your legal office is temporarily closed.”

“You can’t do that!” He yelled, his voice cracking. The room began to spin.

“Actually, we can.” Special Agent in Charge Walters pulled court documents from his jacket and placed them on the table. “I’m sure you know how to read these. Oh, by the way, we arrested a man named Charles Davis this afternoon outside of Ed Woodward’s family home. Clearly a parole violation. He was also very cooperative. I guess he didn’t want to go back to jail. The Woodward family is now safely in Protective Custody. Mr. Woodward has a lot to say about you, as well. Based on your age, I’d say you’re looking at a life sentence, Mr. Yates. You can be sure we’ll try our best to put Lydia away as well.”

Yates felt like he might vomit. He grabbed the side of the desk as his face began to sweat.

“It’s over, Mr. Yates. You can’t save yourself. How about your daughter? Maybe you can spare her a few years in jail. She’s very attractive. She won’t do well in a maximum security federal penitentiary.”

Herb leaned forward and vomited into a trashcan. He clutched his chest and tried to breathe as a wave of pain seized his arm and chest. As he fell forward, he heard the agent say, “Call an ambulance. Looks like cardiac arrest…”

Sixty-Five

· · · · ·

The smell of turkey permeated the house. It was so strong that Bear and Max had to be kept outside to keep them from whining. Bear had healed perfectly, and could once again keep up with Max and Cody. Cody sat on Zeke’s lap by the fireplace, the two of them watching the Thanksgiving Day football game with Uncle George and Aunt Margie. Mrs. Hatcher had come by with a pumpkin pie, which she traded for one of Anne’s Apple pies—a long standing tradition I had just happily found out about.

The two women stood in the kitchen for a while, discussing Anne’s new starter herd. Hank Hatcher had given Anne one of his own cows as a present. So had the Murphys. And the Cooks. And the Smiths, Wileys, O’Haras, Johnstons, and a number of other dairy farmers in the valley. The small dairy farm community had pitched in and helped one of their own. Dr. Lynch had saved more than one cow in the area over the years, and these folks didn’t forget. The news stories even resulted in two anonymous checks arriving in the mail. While the herd was still small, bills were getting paid again.

I had called an old friend of mine, an attorney in Jersey. Anne would have a long time to wait, but she was one of several parties suing the now defunct law firm of Yates, Riley and Johnson for damages. The federal government had seized all of the firm’s assets pending the outcome of the investigation. Almost the entire firm jumped ship the second Herbert Yates the Third was indicted on too many charges to list. A few lawyers hung in there with Yates’ partner, Robert Johnson, but for all intents and purposes, the firm was vaporized with vultures circling to divvy up the firm’s bank accounts.

Herbert Yates recovered from a mild heart attack and fell on the sword for his now-separated-getting-divorced daughter. The scandal of Congressman Mistretta’s extortion trail was the center of DC gossip, complete with pictures that had been leaked to the press. In exchange for Lydia’s suspended sentence, Herbert Yates agreed to cooperate fully with the FBI. The number of arrests that would follow the FBI’s full investigation broke a hundred in six different states. Not bad. Yates would spend the rest of his life in a small cell in Federal Prison, trying to remember what single malt scotch tasted like.

As I pulled the turkey out of the oven, I thought about how much I had to be thankful for. Only two months ago, I met a woman and tried to learn what fracing was. Now it was Thanksgiving, and Zeke and I were living in Pennsylvania on a dairy farm. Anne had given me a spare bedroom to convert to an office, and Zeke was turning into quite the farm hand. While his mental capacity would never be the same as it was before the injury, I could see the excitement with which Zeke greeted each new task he had to learn around the farm. He was masterful with the dogs and handling the herd, and he could do a job where he really could contribute. Not that “Scary Zeke with a bat” hadn’t been a contribution, but this seemed much more constructive.

As we gathered around the table and toasted Thanksgiving, I guess Zeke said it best. “I love everyone at this table. And the dogs, too. And the cows.” He was never one to leave anyone out, lest they be offended.

Epilogue

· · · · ·

I had been working inside the house, making the bedroom into the world headquarters of Barnes Private Investigations when the doorbell rang. It was the mailman with a registered letter for Anne, but he let me sign for it. I couldn’t help but wonder as I looked at the return address of a law firm in Atlanta, Georgia.

I walked the letter out the milking parlor where Anne and Thom were chatting while watching the cows being milked. We took a walk back to the picnic table out in front of the house and opened it together.

Dear Dr. Lynch,

Our firm represents Globalvision Energy Worldwide, Inc. As we work through the unfortunate events of this past October, we are looking to clear our client’s excellent reputation as a world leader in energy production, mining and exploration. Several individuals, while employed with Globalvision, were found to be negligent in their duties, and, in fact, criminal in their actions. Rest assured that these individuals are no longer employed by our client.

It is the wish of Globalvision Energy Worldwide, Inc. to compensate you properly for the loss of your livestock, interruption to your business and remediation to any soil or water contamination. Experts on site have assured us that proper environmental procedures are now in place to prevent any further problems. Safety for our employees, the environment and the community is of primary concern to Globalvision.

Local appraisers were hired to estimate damages to your dairy operation and livestock. We have taken it upon ourselves to add thirty percent to the appraised value of the livestock to ensure your ability to replace your herd with the finest animals available in your local marketplace. We have also added to that one full year of loss of revenue based on your county’s average dairy sales.

Acceptance of this check will constitute your willingness to accept this payment as final settlement from Globalvision Energy Worldwide, Inc.

As we finished reading, Anne immediately went to page two to find the computer check. We looked at the amount and then at each other. Two hundred forty thousand dollars sounded like a lot of money to me, but what did I know about running a dairy farm?

“Is that good?” I asked.

Anne grabbed me and started kissing me, then crying, and then finally squealing like a little girl. I guess that was good.

After she finished covering my face in kisses, she cried out, “I can even pay you now!”

Also by David M. Salkin

Crescent Fire

Necessary Extremes

The MOP

Forever Hunger

The Team

All titles are available for Kindle and audio as well!

Table of Contents

Deep Down

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Forty

Forty-One

Forty-Two

Forty-Three

Forty-Four

Forty-Five

Forty-Six

Forty-Seven

Forty-Eight

Forty-Nine

Fifty

Fifty-One

Fifty-Two

Fifty-Three

Fifty-Four

Fifty-Five

Fifty-Six

Fifty-Seven

Fifty-Eight

Fifty-Nine

Sixty

Sixty-One

Sixty-Two

Sixty-Three

Sixty-Four

Sixty-Five

Epilogue

Also by David M. Salkin