Дэвид Балдаччи - Walk the Wire

“You had no way of knowing why we were here,” interjected Jamison.

She glanced at Jamison. “He didn’t really know you, but if you’re an FBI agent, you must be great, too. And I love it that they have women in the ranks doing the job and not just guys.”

“I agree with you there,” replied Jamison.

“Well, it’s nice that tiny London, North Dakota, gets so much firepower. You should finish solving it in no time. Stan said it was a murder?”

“That’s right.”

“Irene Cramer?”

“How’d you know that?”

“Hal Parker. He works for my father sometimes as a hunter. He was tracking down a wolf that was doing damage to some of my dad’s livestock when he found the body.”

“You keep livestock out in this heat?” said Jamison.

“The winter is actually harder on them than the summer. And when it’s fifty below out we provide dry bedding, which is important. Their coats will adapt to the cold, but when they’re penned inside, you have to keep an eye on the ventilation. Too much nitrogen, moisture, or odor in the air, and other factors like that can lead to respiratory infections. With the heat it’s important to make sure they have water and shade and enough to eat. My dad’s been doing this a long time, and he gets the balance just right.”

“And it sounds like he taught you well,” commented Jamison.

Dawson brightened. “He has taught me well. Sometimes too well, such that I’m sitting in a restaurant with two strangers talking about cow pens and nitrogen levels.”

Jamison said, “The closest I’ve ever gotten to livestock is at a petting zoo.”

“What else did Hal Parker tell you about finding the body?” asked Decker.

“That he threw up. That he’d never seen anything that awful in his life. And he fought in the Middle East.”

“But he couldn’t have known it was Irene Cramer. She was identified after she was brought in.”

Dawson sat back and looked at Decker in a new, perhaps sobering light.

“I’m good friends with Liz Southern. She told me. But I don’t want her to get into trouble. I was just curious after Hal told me he’d found a body of a woman.”

“That’s okay,” said Jamison. “It’s a small town and news was bound to get around.”

“Got any suspects?”

“None that we can talk about,” advised Decker quickly. “Did you know Ms. Cramer?”

“No. But I knew that she taught school over at the Brothers’ Colony.”

“Do you know the folks there?”

“I can’t say I really know them all that well.” She glanced at Decker. “So, Stan also told me that you’re his brother-in-law.”

“Soon to be ex-brother-in-law, as I’m sure he also told you.”

“I wouldn’t be seeing him if he were still happily married,” she said firmly.

“That’s good to know,” replied Decker. “I have to admit that I went to the OK Corral Saloon and watched you two dancing. Frankly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him more uncomfortable.”

Dawson smiled. “He is very awkward in his own skin when it comes to things like that. But it’s also very endearing.” She glanced up at Decker. “But I’ve found that I like showing him there’s more to life, you know.”

“I can see that,” said Jamison appreciatively. “Sometimes guys need a little helping hand in that regard.”

“He’s nice and there’s something about him, I don’t know, this naïve quality, that really appeals to me. Plus, he’s quite the gentleman. And he fought for his country. I mean, I definitely feel safe when I’m around him.”

“Did he talk about his combat days?” asked Decker.

“Never, and I’ve asked.”

Decker said, “He was Special Forces. Fought in the Middle East. Got a bunch of medals. Was even wounded. But the ones who do the most in war don’t talk about it. That’s why Stan keeps quiet about it. He’s a straight-up guy.”

“Wow, that’s impressive.”

“I’m not sure he can keep up with you, though,” said Decker.

“We’re not looking to get married. We’re just having fun.” Dawson’s smile faded as she looked over Jamison’s shoulder.

Jamison and Decker turned to see what she was staring at. A short man, barely five-two, in his early sixties had come into the dining room. Despite the heat he was dressed in an expensive woolen three-piece suit and blue paisley tie with a matching pocket handkerchief. Decker thought he had never seen a pair of more intense eyes. Next to him was a good-looking, tall, well-built man about Caroline Dawson’s age.

“Let me take a wild guess,” said Jamison. “Is that Stuart McClellan?”

Dawson said, “Yes. And his son, Shane. I wonder what they’re doing here.”

“Do they not frequent places like this?” asked Decker, studying the two men.

“They don’t frequent any place owned by my father. At least Stuart doesn’t.”

“Well, from what we learned, that severely limits their options,” said Decker.

“Something my father takes delight in.”

Stuart McClellan spotted Dawson and headed over with his son in tow.

“Hello, Caroline,” said McClellan, his voice surprisingly low and baritone. So much so that Decker wondered if it was affected.

“Stuart.” She glanced at his son. “Hi, Shane.”

Shane broke into a grin and drew closer to the table. “Hey, Caroline. What’s up?”

His father aggressively elbowed him aside. “And these two are the FBI agents?”

“Yes,” said Jamison after glancing at Decker.

“Nasty business. I’m Stuart McClellan, by the way. You probably passed some of my fracking wells when you were coming in.”

“We did,” replied Jamison. “And I guess we also saw some of the neighborhoods where your workers live.”

“I had Shane oversee some of their construction, and for once he didn’t... I mean to say, he did a pretty good job.”

“Thanks, Pop,” said Shane, seemingly oblivious to the underlying meaning in his father’s “praise.” He seemed to have eyes only for Caroline, who would not meet his gaze.

Decker said, “Did either of you know Irene Cramer?”

Stuart shook his head. “Shane?”

He finally managed to draw his gaze from Caroline and said, “Nope. Didn’t know her.”

“Why is the FBI here?” asked Stuart. “I mean, don’t you people have anything better to do than investigate local murders? We have police to do that. Shouldn’t you be going after terrorists and the like?”

“We cover a lot of ground,” said Decker. “And we go where we’re told to go. So nothing else you can tell us about Cramer?”

Caroline Dawson said, “She lived in an apartment building. It wasn’t one of the nicer ones, but it was affordable.”

“But it’s also one of the few that your father doesn’t own, or at least we were told that,” Jamison pointed out. “So how did you know that she lived there?”

“I went there to drop off an offer to purchase the building this morning. Ida Simms, the manager, told me that she’d lived there.”

“So you’re looking to buy that building, huh?” said Stuart. “Why’s that? Your daddy’s been building like crazy the last two years.”

“Well, he can’t build fast enough to support all the people moving in to work at your fracking operations,” retorted Dawson. “So we want to buy that building, rehab it, and then rent it out. It needs a lot of work.”

“And you’ll charge a nice premium for it when all is said and done,” commented Stuart.

“That’s sort of the point,” Dawson said. “But it’s also not cheap to rehab, and it’s really hard to find workers. Everyone wants to frack. It pays a lot.”

“That’s not my problem,” said Stuart.