Blackmail (14 page)

He reached for it just as both Sadie and Caleb spoke.

“No.”

“Don't touch that.”

He grabbed the envelope and darted his stare between Sadie and her brother. “What's going on?”

Sadie blinked rapidly, then looked to Caleb. “We might as well tell him, yes?”

Caleb shrugged. “Whatever you think is best.”

Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice would say. “What?”

“Come inside.” Sadie hurriedly unlocked the door and rushed inside, glancing over his shoulder. “How long were you parked in front of the house?”

“Maybe ten minutes. Why?”

“Did you see anybody around the house?” Caleb asked.

“No.”

Sadie slammed the door shut and dropped her purse on the buffet.

“Would someone please tell me what's going on?”

She waved to the living room set. “Sit down.” She took the envelope from his hand as she followed him.

He planted himself on the couch, while Caleb chose the chair and Sadie perched on the arm. “Please tell me what's wrong.”

“Just a second.” She ripped open the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. Caleb leaned forward to read over her shoulder. She gasped.

He couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed the paper from her hands and read.

Blackmail?

“This is because you're helping me about Bruce?” He ached to think he'd brought this on her.

“No. It started before you approached me, when I began my investigation into the sabotages at Vermilion Oil.”

And then it dawned on him. They'd both recognized the envelope. They'd recognized it because this wasn't the first one.

“Let me see.” How had she been dealing with this alone?

She moved to her purse, pulled out two envelopes and tossed them in his lap before returning to the arm of the chair.

He read the first two letters, his gut tightening. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Tears shimmered in her wide eyes. “Because I was afraid if you knew, you'd think I couldn't protect Caleb and would take him away.”

Caleb leaned forward and patted his sister's back.

“Have you taken these to the police?”

“How can I?”

“How can you not?” She couldn't deal with a blackmailer on her own.

“You yourself said that truth and justice are less important than convictions.”

He hadn't put it as eloquently, but that was the gist. “But this is different.”

“No, it isn't. The first thing law enforcement would do would be to remove Caleb from the house, yes?”

“I honestly don't know.” He'd never had a situation similar to this come up, not in all his years of being a probation officer.

“We weren't willing to take that chance. I stay here.” Caleb's voice was firm.

“But you have to tell someone.”

“The letters say not to.” Sadie squared her shoulders. “And I'm not going to give them a reason to come after my brother.”

“But what if they come anyway? You haven't stopped investigating, and you couldn't protect him if they did come.”

“Dude, I can protect myself.”

They were both crazy.

Jon shot to his feet. “You can't be serious.”

Sadie rose, as well. “I'm dead serious. And you can't tell the police, either.”

“Oh, yes I can. And I need to.”

She grabbed his arm. “You can't. It's not your place to tell.”

“Come on, Sadie. This is serious. A man's been murdered and the murderers are threatening you.”

“I'm taking it seriously, but I can't let you go to the police. They explicitly said not to. And because they're murderers, I need to play by their rules. I've made it a point to not publicly work on the investigation, but we're making progress.”

Which explained her terms about working with him to help Bruce. Now it all made sense.

“But, Sadie…”

“Please. Just let me do this my way.”

Her eyes pleaded with him. His heart felt like it was caught in a vise. Against his better judgment, he nodded. “But I'm kept aware of any letters from them. Anything at all out of the ordinary, you let me know immediately.”

“Agreed.” She smiled.

He prayed he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.

W
hat in tarnation was going on?

Sadie parked her car and scrambled to her office building early Monday morning. Members of the press hung around the front door like ants at a picnic.

“Ms. Thompson, what's the status of this latest facility?”

Oh, no. Not again. Why hadn't Deacon called her?

She shoved past the crowding mass. “No comment at this time.”

“What do you mean
no comment?
You're the PR rep.” Jackson Devereaux stood face-to-face with her.

“It means I'm gathering details. I wouldn't want to report anything not factual, now would I?” The sarcasm rolled so easily off her tongue.

A security guard opened the door and grabbed Sadie inside.

She let out a heavy breath.
“Merci.”

“Looked like they were about to devour you.”

“I'll say.” Sadie glanced at the faces milling about, staring out the window at the blood-sucking press. “Where's Mr. Wynn?”

“Haven't seen him since he came in and headed to his office.”

Hiding?

She winked a thanks to the guard and hustled to the elevators. How could Deacon let her get blindsided? Had he just given up? Gone down without a fight? That wasn't Deacon Wynn. Especially when they were getting so close to a solution. She'd
spent the better part of last night talking with the P.I.s and narrowing down the names of suspects.

The elevator door slid open and Sadie marched down the hall to his office. Irritation caused her to forget manners or diplomacy. She opened the door without bothering to knock, tossing her purse and briefcase onto the credenza.

Deacon and Lance stood toe-to-toe, faces red and veins in their necks and foreheads bulging. She'd have to deal with the issue of the latest facility in a moment. “What's going on in here?”

Her boss glared. “I thought I told you to keep a leash on him.”

“I'm not a dog to be leashed, I'm a man.” Lance's fists hung off tensed arms.

“Then why don't you act like one?” Deacon looked as if he'd have a heart attack any second.

“Whoa. Back up a second, guys. Lance, sit over here. Deacon, take your seat.”

Surprisingly, both did as she directed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Why did every Monday have to be a beast? “Okay, let's get me up to speed, yes? Deacon, what's got you so hot under the collar?”

“Why'd you have him give a statement to the press?”

“I did—”

“I told you, she didn't know anything about it. I made the decision on my own.” Lance clenched and unclenched his fists.

Deacon wagged a finger. “You didn't have the right. You've made a bad situation even worse.”

“Hang on.” She turned to Lance. “What, exactly, did you tell them?”

“Just that the Wynn family wouldn't rest until we got to the bottom of the situation.”

She turned back to Deacon. “I don't see anything wrong with that.”

“That's not all he said.”

Feeling as if she were caught in a tennis match gone bad, she faced Lance. “What else did you say?”

“They asked me about my involvement.” He shrugged. “I just told them that I was working with my father to see justice served.”

“Go on, tell her what else you said.”

Sadie tossed Deacon a stern look, then focused on Lance again.

“Well, they asked if the rumors about Vermilion Oil going bankrupt were true.”

Her heart pounded. “What'd you say, Lance?”

“I was trying to make light of the situation.”

“You were not,” bellowed Deacon.

“Shh.” Sadie held her hand up to her boss, but continued to stare at Lance. “What'd you say?”

“That we'd only go bankrupt if Dad's wife got her hands on his checkbook.”

Deacon scowled. Sadie bit back a groan. Of all the childish things…

“Okay. This is ridiculous. I'm sick of this petty stuff.” She shook her head. “Lance, I think you'd better leave.”

“I was only trying to be funny. I want to help.”

Deacon shot to his feet. “You've helped enough as it is. Get off my property or I'll call security.”

“Lance, just leave.” She so wasn't in the mood for a family crisis. Not when she had to find out about the facility.

He stormed from the office, slamming the door behind him. The pictures on the wall shook.

“Look, Deacon, we don't have time for this right now. Fill me in on the latest facility. How badly is it damaged?”

“Pretty bad. It had forty wells connected to it.”

“Tank valve tampering again?”

Her boss shook his head. “No, this time, it was shot.”

“What?”

“I think because we'd vamped up security. Somebody shot it from far enough away to not be caught by the worker on duty.”

“What does law enforcement say?”

“Well, the FBI won't touch it because nothing was leaked.”

“Surely the sheriff's taken an interest?” Sadie sat on the edge of the chair Lance had vacated.

“He retrieved the bullet and is running tests. That's all I know.”

“Why didn't you call me?”

“Lance told me you'd given a statement.”

“I didn't.”

“But you'd told him what to say last time, so I just assumed you'd been in contact with him this morning.”

Sure, it kinda made sense, but still…

“When I heard him say that about Candy-Jo, well, I just blew up. I ordered him to my office.” He shook his head. “I swear, that boy's turned out to be a bad apple. Spoiled rotten and jealous of anyone who might get a piece of what he thought was his. But I showed him.”

“Okay, I don't need to know all this.” She stood and smoothed her skirt. “I'm going to call the sheriff and see if he's got anything yet, then I'll figure out something to tell the press.” She retrieved her belongings and moved to the door. “And next time, call me.”

Sadie rushed to her office, set down her purse and briefcase and sank into her chair. She rubbed her temples as Georgia set a steaming cup of coffee before her.

“Why didn't you call me in early?”

“I just found out when I got here.”

“Oh. Lance said you'd given him a statement.”

“That's a lie.”

“Oh, my.” Georgia's brows shot up. “No wonder Deacon hauled him up to the office.”

“Yeah, it wasn't pretty.”

Georgia clapped her hands. “What can I do to help?”

“Try to get Sheriff Theriot on the phone. See if he knows anything about the bullet used yet.”

Georgia nodded and rushed out. Sadie pinched the bridge of her nose.

Father, what am I missing?

The sooner the case was solved, the sooner the blackmailers would leave her alone. Then she could continue on with a normal life. With her brother. And Jon.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She had to focus. Turning on her computer, she opened a blank document and began work on the press release she'd give out. Not that she'd talk to those vultures downstairs. No, she'd just pass out the release and be done with them.

Georgia stuck her head in the doorway. “Sheriff Theriot's not available to give us any information. Wanna try someone else?”

Who else could she ask? Wait a minute! “See if Deputy Gary Anderson's available. Wasn't he recently named Chief Deputy?”

“Right. I'm on it.” Georgia's head disappeared.

Sadie finished her statement, did a final read, then printed it out. The printer had just spat out the last copy when Georgia hollered, “Deputy Anderson on line two for you.”

She took a deep breath, punched the number and lifted the receiver. “Hi, Deputy Anderson. It was so nice to see you at church on Sunday.”

“Likewise. What can I do for you?”

“As you know, I'm with Vermilion Oil. I know the sheriff's been working on tests on the bullet retrieved from our damaged facility. Mr. Wynn's terribly concerned. I'm just checking to see if y'all have any information yet.” She held her breath and waited.

A sigh came over the phone, followed by—was that a groan? “We just got a positive ballistics match.”

Adrenaline made her heart race. “And?”

“The bullet that was found in the facility is a perfect match to the bullet used to murder Harold Daniels.”

 

Urgent, that's what Sadie had said.

Her phone call had been ambiguous at best, cryptic at worst.
Just that she had some new information and needed him to meet her for an early lunch at the café.

He sat in a front booth, watching and waiting for her. What had happened? She wouldn't tell him—said she couldn't discuss it over the phone. If the blackmailers had threatened her again, he'd…

He'd what? As he analyzed his emotions, he realized he'd been about to think that he'd kill them. No, he wouldn't go there. He and God had just gotten back on speaking terms and Jon was pretty certain God wouldn't approve of murder threats.

The bell tinkled over the front door. Jon caught sight of Sadie making her way to him. Her face was flushed and her blond hair was wind-mussed.

The waitress had been about to set down his glass of water, but halted as she spied Sadie, as well. “Think I'll just hold on to this for a minute.”

He wanted to smile, but Sadie reached them right then. She glanced at the waitress, took in the glass, and her face flushed even more. She smiled shyly at the other woman. “I owe you an apology.”

The waitress set the tray on the table, as if she'd drop it if she didn't. “Excuse me?”

“I'm sorry for the way I behaved the other day. That was terribly rude of me and I made a mess that someone else had to clean up. I'm very sorry.”

The waitress stared at her with a dumbfounded expression. “Uh, okay.” She set the glass on the table and lifted the tray. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Iced tea, please.” Sadie slipped into the booth seat opposite Jon.

What a woman. Jon reached across the table and took her hand. “That was really nice.”

“I owed her the apology.”

“Well, what's so urgent?”

Her words tumbled out over one another. About a facility being damaged, this time by gunshot. The bullet matching that
of what killed the man in the picture—the man the blackmailers had murdered.

The waitress appeared with Sadie's tea. “What can I get y'all?”

“The lunch salad special, please,” Sadie replied without even looking up.

“Make it two.”

The waitress whisked away.

“Sadie, this means the murder, the blackmail and the sabotages are all related.”

“Right. I mean, I knew the sabotages were involved, otherwise, why would they demand I cease my investigation? But this just doesn't stop.” She smiled and shook her head. “Guess I'm not as bright as I thought.”

The thought of her in danger had him tightening his grip. “You
have
to go to the sheriff now.”

She jerked her hand free and frowned. “Nothing's changed in regards to how I feel about following the blackmailer's instructions, Jon.”

“Then why the urgent call?”

“Don't you see? Because now the FBI will have to stop looking at Bruce.”

Jon racked his brain to figure out what she meant. “I'm sorry, but I'm not following you.”

“He's on probation, right? That means he can't have a gun.”

“Oh, Sadie, I wish it were that simple.”

“Now I'm not following.”

The waitress returned with Cajun chicken salads. She set them on the scratched table and left.

Jon took Sadie's hand again. “I'll bless the food.” He bowed his head and offered up a short prayer of grace. When he was done, he raised his gaze to meet Sadie's.

Tears danced in her eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She cleared her throat and reached for the pepper. “So what's the problem?”

“If the FBI thinks Bruce is guilty, they'll just assume he got an illegal gun to use.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Then we need to ramp up our investigation.”