Chapter Thirty-One: Enemy
Lisbon's voice cut sharply through the cold desert air. "Yes, I do realize the position you're in, Commissioner. I'm not questioning your need for a helicopter – I'm questioning your need for all of the helicopters…"
A bureaucratic male voice droned in Lisbon's ear, spouting phrases like "bad PR" and "public safety."
"But you have no reason to believe that prisoner is dangerous!" she argued back. "He doesn't have a violent crime to his name – he was serving four years for tax fraud!" Lisbon made herself take a breath. "All I'm saying is, if you could just spare one—"
The droning started up again – placating, condescending, infuriatingly calm…
"Fine," Lisbon fumed, cutting the Commissioner off mid-word. "Call me as soon as the helicopters are available." And she hung up.
Almost instantly, the phone began to trill again. Lisbon jammed it back against her ear.
"What?" she snarled.
There was a pause, and then Van Pelt's hesitant voice. "Boss?"
Lisbon sighed. "Sorry, Van Pelt. Bad timing. What do you need?"
"I found out why Paul Jorsten was killed…" The young agent sounded hushed, as though what she'd discovered was too horrible, too wrong to be spoken aloud.
Van Pelt was like that – still able to be genuinely shocked by the revolting acts of her fellow humans.
Lisbon, not so much. "Well?" she prodded.
Van Pelt took a deep breath. "It's all about the company. Durenko's bestseller, the Tyger ATV, had a defective part. The rear axle of the original model had a weak spot that could make it crack or break, especially at high speeds or over rough terrain. But by the time the company realized the problem, they'd already sold thousands of Tygers. Hundreds of thousands," the young agent emphasized. "The cost of doing a recall at that point would have been upwards of thirty million. So…they didn't do one."
Lisbon frowned, her breath puffing thick and white. "But then, they'd be opening themselves up to major lawsuits, if anyone got hurt…"
"They knew that. Hoskins crunched the numbers, and figured out it would actually be cheaper for the company to pay off any lawsuits that arose, rather than recalling the entire product line. A few million dollars paid to a few affected families is pennies to Durenko – it even makes them look generous, while really they're saving a bundle." Disgust dripped from Van Pelt's voice.
Lisbon felt pretty certain that same disgust was etched on her own face. "But people might get seriously hurt – maybe even killed."
"People were killed," Van Pelt told her. "A thirty-six-year-old man and a nine-year-old girl. The girl wasn't even riding the vehicle – she got hit by flying debris when it crashed. Another man was paralyzed…and it all could've been prevented."
Okay, maybe Lisbon couldn't be shocked, but she could still be genuinely revolted. "So what about Paul, then?" she asked. "He found out somehow?"
"There's a cost/benefit analysis on Hoskins' computer. I think Paul came across it by accident. Hoskins must've realized what happened, and thought Paul was going to tell…"
Lisbon bit her lip, thinking hard.
"I know it's not enough yet," Van Pelt admitted. "It doesn't concretely tie Hoskins to Paul's murder, but—"
"That doesn't matter," Lisbon interrupted. "We'll keep digging until we find a way to connect him to the Jorstens. In the meantime, you've already got him cold on at least two counts of negligent homicide. Nice work."
"Thanks…" Van Pelt hesitated briefly before asking, "Boss, can I…?" Her voice held a meek note of hope.
Lisbon knew exactly what Van Pelt was asking for. And for once, gave it to her gladly:
"Arrest the son of a bitch."
"Thanks, boss!" Van Pelt gushed.
Lisbon rolled her eyes, wondering when the youngest member of her team had morphed into a twelve-year-old school girl.
"Call me when you're back in Sacramento," the senior agent instructed, and snapped the phone shut.
The soft click carried across the dark desert. High above, the stars glittered blue, silent and watching.
Lisbon sighed.
Her breath filled the air and then drifted away, like a departing spirit.
Without Van Pelt's voice in her ear, the night was cemetery quiet. Lisbon became hyper-aware of each rustle of fabric, every delicate crunch of dirt under her feet. Even the coyote had stopped howling…
Suddenly nervous, Lisbon pocketed the phone and swung her flashlight in a wide arc, scanning over dirt and rocks and sparse vegetation.
She sighed again, in relief.
There was no one near.
Lisbon took out the compass Officer Michaels had given her and checked her bearings.
She was still on course, heading straight Northeast.
She put the compass away and swigged from her water bottle – another gift from Michaels. He'd also given her the backpack she was wearing, and half of the supplies inside it: three more water bottles, antibacterial baby wipes, and a small bag of Better Made potato chips.
If she'd needed the shirt off his back, Lisbon felt sure she would be wearing it right now, and poor Officer Michaels would be walking around shivering and bare-chested.
Poor Officer Michaels. He'd tried so hard to convince her not to come out here, had practically begged her to wait until daybreak, or at least until another officer was available to accompany her, and Lisbon knew he was right – she should have waited.
But she'd seen the side of the garage.
There was an awful lot of blood smeared across that white aluminum.
Jane's blood.
Lisbon didn't know how she could live with waiting.
She wasn't sure Jane could live with it.
Lisbon checked the compass again. Jane, she mused, could probably navigate by the stars. An image came of him standing on the deck of a clipper ship, his hair wild with ocean breeze, blue eyes twinkling with starlight. It made Lisbon smile.
Jane was an adventurous soul…
And a survivor, she reminded herself. He was a survivor.
Off in the distant black, a pinprick of white blinked into view.
Lisbon squinted at it. The white bobbed.
A flashlight.
Someone farther out than she was, heading due East, carrying a flashlight.
As Lisbon watched, the light flashed brighter. The dot started to grow…
Someone heading right toward her, carrying a flashlight.
And somehow, she seriously doubted it was Jane.
Lisbon took out her gun. She stood there, poised, body singing with adrenaline, until the figure slowly melted into view. By the time she could make out the dark blue of the man's uniform, Lisbon's finger was cold and stiff on the trigger.
The stranger had a gun of his own. And it was pointed directly at her.
"CBI!" she shouted. "Identify yourself!"
The man in the cop uniform froze, but didn't lower his weapon. "Officer Ryan Kelly," he called back, in a deep Southern drawl, "Carmine Valley PD."
Lisbon relaxed her grip on the gun. "Officer Kelly, I'm Agent Lisbon – we spoke on the phone earlier."
She saw the line of tension ease from Kelly's shoulders. He holstered his gun and ambled forward to meet her. "Sorry about that, ma'am. Can't be too careful out here – Sheriff says there might still be an armed suspect in the area…"
"It's okay," Lisbon told him. She put away her weapon and shook the hand Kelly held out to her. "Caution is a good thing," she added, thinking of the one person in her life who never, ever seemed to use it.
Officer Kelly smiled. Lisbon took in the tiny wrinkles around his eyes, the little streaks of grey in his black mustache. It was funny – on the phone she'd pictured him much younger. Round-faced and boyish. An earnest rookie.
"Has there been any sign of Mr. Jane?" Kelly asked.
Lisbon shook her head, shoulders slumping. "Not so far. I take it you didn't find anything either?"
"Just dirt. And weeds. And a funny-lookin' rock…" There was a dark glint of frustration in his eyes.
Lisbon knew the feeling. "Well, there's a chance you may have been looking in the wrong direction – we believe he headed Northeast…" She was careful to say "we," even though she was really the only one who believed it. Sheriff Hamilton had been skeptical of her logic, at best.
Kelly, though, looked hopeful at the news. "Is that right?"
"There's a strong possibility. Now, I understand you've been out here searching for several hours, so if you need to head back or take a break—"
"No," he said, quickly and a little too sharply.
Lisbon raised an eyebrow.
Kelly dropped his head, contrite. "Sorry, ma'am, it's just…I'm in this, now, you know? I don't want to quit until we find Mr. Jane, safe and sound…If it's all the same to you," he added, a touch hesitantly.
Lisbon smiled. "It's fine with me. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, right?"
Kelly smiled back, and his teeth flashed in the glow of Lisbon's light.
"Much better," he agreed.