Sarah Armstrong: Blood Lines Part 16

"Acquire Century?" I repeated. "Billie c.o.x was working on a buyout of Century Oil?"

"Of course," McBride said. "Clayton Wagner and Ty d.i.c.kson were giving her a sweetheart deal. Theyre ready to move on, finally. Im sure they told you that. The plans were on the Q.T., sure, but I dont know why theyd hide anything now. Since Billies death, theyve got the company publicly up for sale."

"Why are they selling?" I asked. "Some reason beyond just being old?"

"Nah. Thats the main motivation. They figure times limited, and those two old geezers want to spend their final years setting up a foundation. Theyre drawing up plans to build a charity hospital for kids. With no children of their own to leave their money to, they see it as their legacy, the way theyll be remembered by generations to come. The Wagner-d.i.c.kson Trust is the pride of their lives. My theory is that they see it as a way of making amends. Neither one of those two old wildcatters was particularly thrifty. They spent a bunch on big houses, cars, beautiful women. In fact, they brag about the fortunes they squandered. But with limited years ahead, they seem intent on leaving something behind that ensures theyll be remembered."

"That sure is good of them," I said. "Sounds like a great cause."

"Unlikely for the two of them, I admit. Those old scoundrels have always been better known for finagling deals than good works. For most of their lives, there wasnt a soul they wouldnt have taken advantage of for money," McBride said, with a laugh. "But in this case, looks like theyve learned a new trick."

"That I dont doubt," I said with a smile.

"Since they lived large, they havent got a bunch. Not as much as youd think for two oil men. And to do what they want, they need more," he said. "Selling Century Oil to Billie was going to provide most of the nest egg for the trust."

Based on how freely he was talking, when I took out the photo from c.o.xs computer, I wasnt surprised that McBride didnt hesitate. "Sure, thats me," he said. "I didnt know anyone snapped a photo, but thats Wagner, d.i.c.kson, and me out at the field."

"When was this? Why were all of you out there?"

"It was last summer, July or so, and we went out so they could show me the property. Id done some work for them in the past. They said they wanted me to see what I was representing so I could pa.s.s on their enthusiasm to prospective buyers," he said. "We had a lot of paperwork to pull together, so the place really didnt go up for sale until late last year, but its been in the works for a long time."

"Now, maybe Im getting confused, here," I admitted. "I thought you represented the owners of the field?"

"Well, yeah," McBride said. "I do represent the owners."

"You told prospective buyers that it was owned by a partners.h.i.+p of some kind, right?"

McBride smiled. "Well, kind of," he said, for the first time seeming reluctant to open up. Rather than offer any information, he said, "Didnt you ask Mr. Wagner and Mr. d.i.c.kson who owns Stanhope?"

"No, Im asking you," I said. Of course, by then all the clues were tumbling into place in my brain, like those little mosaic pieces in a kaleidoscope that click, click, click until they form a pattern. McBride frowned, reluctant to go on, so I put my theory on the table, if for no other reason than to gauge his reaction. "What youre going to tell me is that Wagner and d.i.c.kson own that oil field. Thats right, isnt it?"

McBride frowned and appeared to consider the situation.

"Remember, Mr. McBride," I cautioned. "Im a police officer, a Texas Ranger here on official business. You need to tell me what you know."

Lawyers arent always the best interviews. They can be reluctant to open up. But McBride paused for a minute, shrugged, and then said, "Well, I guess theres no harm. I mean, its all really public record, if someone knew where to look and spent the time to trace all the records and the sh.e.l.l companies back."

"Sh.e.l.l companies set up to disguise the fact that Wagner and d.i.c.kson own Stanhope, right?" I asked again.

This time McBride didnt hesitate. He appeared to have convinced himself he wasnt doing his clients any harm. "Yeah, Wagner and d.i.c.kson own Stanhope. They purchased it on spec in the seventies, a.s.suming the field wasnt played out and banking on someday being able to figure out how to get at the rest of the oil."

"Did Billie c.o.x know they were the sellers?"

"No," McBride said. "Id been asked not to tell anyone, even Miss c.o.x, who the real owners are. It was all supposed to be done anonymously."

"Why?" I asked.

"The truth is, Lieutenant, I dont know," McBride said. "I asked both the old gentlemen, but they never said, and I was there to facilitate the deal, not figure out their motives."

"Thats what you meant by most of the money for the hospital coming from the sale of Century Oil," I speculated. "The rest was coming from selling Stanhope?"

"Thats right," he said. "Wagner and d.i.c.kson told me they needed enough to ensure that the trust endured well into the future. The hospital is their legacy. They didnt want to take any chances that it wouldnt survive."

It had been a cordial conversation, and, for the most part, McBride had been forthcoming. I figured he had no inkling of how important the information hed just given me might be. It was time to give him a clue. "Mr. McBride, theres something I would suggest to you," I said.

"Whats that?" he asked.

"I wouldnt tell anyone just yet that we talked, especially Clayton Wagner and Ty d.i.c.kson."

The attorney looked surprised, even startled. "Well, theyre my clients. I havent told you anything wrong, and they have a right to know."

"Billie c.o.x didnt commit suicide. She was murdered. If someone killed her over this oil field-Im not saying thats what happened, but if someone did-your knowledge of this deal could make you a liability," I explained. "It could occur to the murderer that having you available to talk to the police isnt in his best interest. Right now, no one knows weve talked. Its best if you keep it that way."

"Youre not saying that someone might murder me?" he said, suddenly alarmed.

"Im offering you a suggestion that may keep you safe," I said. "For now, Id forget to mention my visit. Theres time enough in the future, when all this is settled, for you to bring your clients up to speed on our conversation."

That may have been the first time McBride understood the reason for my visit. A full two shades paler than when I arrived, he nodded and I left, figuring Id shaken him up enough to buy myself at least a day before he began worrying that he may have talked too much and would hold a meeting to advise his clients.

On the drive to the ranch, I thought about what McBride had told me. It seemed that Wagner and Clayton were trying to cash in, first by getting Century Oil and Bobbys company, Barker Oil, to hand over millions more than it was worth to buy the dried-up oil field. The two old wildcatters would then be in a position to score again, by getting Billie c.o.x to pay an inflated price for Century, factoring in the exaggerated worth of the Stanhope holdings. If it all checked out, what McBride had given me was a motive to kill c.o.x. If shed uncovered the ruse, she was in a position to expose them and not only ruin their plans, but send them to prison for conspiracy to commit fraud. Still, all I had was a theory, not one piece of real evidence.

Convinced he was somehow involved, Id already asked Janet to subpoena financial records for Grant Roberts. Now I called her and asked her to do the same for Wagner and d.i.c.kson. To speed things up, I asked her to zero in on the past three months, the time period leading up to and continuing through Billies murder. Next, I considered the other evidence in my possession. When and if I asked a judge to sign warrants for Wagners and d.i.c.ksons arrests, Id need something well beyond speculation. It would help to be able to prove they were the ones, not McBride, who lied about when the photo was taken. That meant that I needed a way to date the photo, but how? Pa.s.sing time in the car on the drive back to the ranch, I used the new cell phone the captain had supplied and called Mom and Maggie.

"Were fine, Sarah," Mom said. "Its kind of nice having folks wait on us like this. We just had chocolate sundaes with whipped cream and cherries, and Maggies already picked out pizza off the room-service menu for dinner. Im not sure how sh.e.l.l like the feta cheese and fresh basil, but Frieda and I are looking forward to it."

"Geez, and Im still trying to work in lunch. A Big Mac would taste good right now," I said.

"Sarah, I told you, with your dads history of heart disease you shouldnt eat like that."

"Just kidding, Mom," I said. "I knew that would get you sputtering. Put Maggie on. I miss both of you."

"Wish you could sneak away and join us," Mom said. "Wed order you one of those sundaes. It would be worth the drive downtown."

I laughed, and then Maggies voice came on the telephone.

"Hows Warrior?" she asked, point blank.

"He was in the front pasture with Emma Lou when I left the ranch. They looked happy as clams," I said. "Im headed back there now. Buckshot was cleaning their shed when I left, so theyre probably in their little home resting up after their big outing."

"Thats really good. I was worried. But Mom, this is fun," Maggie said, her voice relaxed. It sounded like the captain was right, and Mom and Maggie were enjoying their little vacation. "Weve been watching movies and playing cards with the troopers. Gram told you about the sundaes?"

"Whipped cream and cherries," I said, with another chuckle. This was what I needed. Hearing their voices made the whole mess tolerable. "Ill call you before bed tonight, Maggie. Love you."

"Love you, too, Mom," she said. "Later, alligator!"

"After a while, crocodile," I replied.

Id almost reached the house, when I had another thought, and I called back. Mom chattered about some movie they were watching about wolves, but I cut her off and told her I needed to talk to Maggie.

"Yeah, Mom," my daughter said, her voice distant, like she, too, was more interested in the wolves. "What do you need?"

"If I fax you a photo at the hotel, one with a night sky, do you think you can tell me when it was taken?" I asked.

My someday-Ill-be-an-astronomer daughter paused, and I could picture the serious look shed have on her face, her front teeth holding down her lower lip. Then she said, "If I had my astronomy books, I might be able to say what time of the year it was when it was taken. But I probably cant tell you what year."

Thinking about the discrepancies in the two accounts, the attorneys statement that it was taken in July and Wagners and d.i.c.ksons a.s.sertions that it was December, I said, "Time of year works. Ill send Buckshot over with the photo and your astronomy books."

"Okay, Mom," she said. "But Ive got to go. Grams got the movie paused right where the wolf cubs are chasing jackrabbits. Its really funny. The cubs keep falling down."

Once I got to the ranch, it only took a few minutes to make a copy of the photo on my workshop scanner and grab Maggies books. Everything necessary in hand, Buckshot left in his silver pickup for the downtown Houston hotel where Maggie and Mom were watching movies. Hed make a couple of stops first, one at the feed store to buy Warrior a vitamin supplement Doc had called to say would be good for the foal and then at the drugstore, to pick up contact lens solution for Ca.s.sidy. We needed the supplies, but the stops would also help to make sure no one was following.

That done, David and I went over what the FBI had discovered in northern California. "Turns out that we had ten registered s.e.x offenders living within fifteen miles of the trailer park during the years Ca.s.sidy and her mother lived there," David explained. "Weve had some natural attrition. Two died. That leaves eight. One is confined to a state prison, has been for two years, so hes ruled out. Now were down to seven."

"Any hunches on whos our most likely guy?" I asked.

"Our California agents faxed information on the remaining seven. I read through it and narrowed the search down to three. Id like you to do the same. Well see if you pick the same men," he said. "Then lets compare notes and plan our next move."

That decided, David left me with the faxed reports at the kitchen table. I grabbed a hunk of Moms cheddar and jalapeno bread, slathered b.u.t.ter on top, and munched while I read. Of the ex-cons in the prospect pile, I tossed out two immediately, based on victim choice. They were all disgusting excuses for human beings, but these particular perverts werent into young girls. Their victims of preference were adolescent boys. They might branch out to girls if presented with an easy score, but it seemed unlikely that theyd pursue Ca.s.sidy when there had to be thousands of potential young male victims who were easier to get to. Horrible folks. Those discards whittled the list down to five.

Since our guy was adept at maneuvering undetected through the cyber world, I figured Argus had to be exceptionally bright and self-taught or have a solid background in computers. Suspects number two and four both had diminished intelligence, one from a blow to the head in high school and the other mentally challenged from birth. Neither had any technical training. I drew lines through both their names on my list.

That pared the possibilities down to three.

The first, a dentist with a small private practice, was married with two kids. He lived a block from the trailer park and had an office that was only half a mile from Ca.s.sidys old elementary school. The guy had three convictions, two for exposing himself to kids and one for the aggravated s.e.xual a.s.sault of a twelve-year-old girl. Sure that working that close to a school was a parole violation, I figured Id make sure California authorities heard about it one way or the other. But for the time being, I was more concerned about whether the dentist had any e-mails on his computer signed Argus.

The suspect I penciled in as choice number two, a sixty-eight-year-old ex-con, had one conviction for child molestation on his record. He lived two miles from the trailer park and worked in a nearby town, managing an office-supply store that included a computer section. He hadnt been in trouble in a couple of decades, but pedophiles often dont quit because of advancing age.

All that considered, it was number three who struck me as most likely. Forty years old, Jack Shaw not only had a first name Ca.s.sidy remembered but also a twenty-year, computer-related resume, much of it selling information technology. A decade earlier, hed been downsized from his slot with a national cell phone company, where he worked in research and development. As recently as two years ago, hed sold computer networking systems to small companies. Along with multiple charges of exposing himself to young girls, Shaw had child p.o.r.n convictions, including selling the revolting stuff on the Internet. I found the final entry in his file upsetting: "Jack Shaw left the area approximately one year ago while under investigation for s.e.xually a.s.saulting an eleven-year-old girl. His location is currently unknown."

I found David in the shed brus.h.i.+ng Emma Lou, while, to my surprise, Ca.s.sidy did the same for Warrior. The colt kept licking and nudging her, and the teenager giggled so loudly I heard her before I walked in.

"Thought wed have a little fun with the horses," David said. "Warrior seems to have taken a real liking to Ca.s.sidy."

"What a crazy little dude," she said, with another chuckle. "Every time I run the brush down his back, he pushes me."

The kid laughed again and I didnt have the heart to tell her that the foal was probably hungry and confusing her with his mom. "Well, if you two are finished, Id like to sit down with both of you," I said. "Id like you to look over my list, David, see if we agree. And Ca.s.sidy, you need to look at the photos, see if any of the men look familiar."

While David paged through the files Id selected, Ca.s.sidy stared at photos of all seven of the registered s.e.x offenders laid out on the kitchen table, a rather bizarre lineup of possibilities. The photo of Jack Shaw was smack dab in the middle. She paused, looked at him, even picked that particular photo up and held it in her hand, but put it down and said, "Maybe this guy. Im not sure."

"Okay," I said. "So, David, does my list match yours?"

"Yup," he agreed. "Ill call our California guys and get them to round these three up, bring them in for questioning. Since they all have priors, our guys should be able to get some kind of a warrant, at least for their computers, so we can look for files relating to Cas-sidy or Argus."

"Did your people indicate if they have any leads on the whereabouts of that Shaw guy?" I asked. "He looks like the most possible."

"No leads," David said. "He was my top pick in this lineup of losers, too. The California office will beat the bushes, let us know what they find out by morning, Id guess."

After Ca.s.sidy left the room in search of a soft drink, I mentioned to David, "We only have one day left before shes scheduled to play the rodeo. Does she know shes going to have to perform even if we havent arrested this sc.u.mbag?"

David frowned. "No," he said. "Were hoping we dont have to tell her."

"My guess is that the kids too freaked to go along with your plan," I said. "But I hope we dont have to ask her to. I hope by then Argus is history."

"Yeah," he said. Holding up the files on our new suspects, he added, "Maybe one of these will pan out."

"Hope so," I said, but if hed asked, I would have admitted that I had my doubts.

Half an hour later, the captain personally delivered a cooler full of hamburger meat with all the fixings. David lit the grill and cooked the burgers, and our patrol of state troopers and rangers ate in s.h.i.+fts at the picnic table under the corral elm tree. At dusk, the captain, David, and I took our turns, just as Maggies lights clicked on. I thought about her and Mom and missed them.

"Rick Barron is fit to be tied about us not telling him where Collins is being kept," the captain said. Ca.s.sidy was upstairs in Maggies room, listening to music while she ate her dinner. In addition to her burger, she covered her plate with cole slaw, potato salad, and a thick slice of Moms egg twist bread Id covered with melted cheddar cheese.

"You explained that no one can know, Im sure," David said, taking a bite out of his burger.

"Yeah, but that didnt cut the mustard for him. He figures hes her head of security, and hes ent.i.tled to an answer," the captain said, dripping mayonnaise onto his plate from an overstuffed bun that held two beef patties and three slices of cheese with lettuce and tomato. It looked like one of those two-thousand-calorie burgers in the fast-food ads.

"You tell him well be more than happy to clue him in, but then shes going to have to come out of hiding, and h.e.l.l be responsible for protecting her," I said. "The only way she stays here is that no one, not even her own people know where to find her."

"Im aware of that, Sarah," the captain said. "I told him to go pee on a fencepost if he needs to mark his territory, but hes not in charge of this operation. We are. The chief and the governor dont even know where Collins is, but they know weve got her in hiding for her own protection, and theyre in agreement that we have no other choice. Since the girl had herself legally declared an adult in California last year, shes ent.i.tled to make her own decisions, and shes not asking to leave, so were not telling Barron or anyone else where to find her."

"Okay," I said. "That works for me. But I wish Id been listening in when you told him to pee on a fencepost."

"Gotta admit that the man was still angry when I hung up the telephone," the captain said with a chuckle.

I left the captain and David talking at the picnic table and settled in the living room, glad for the downtime to work on the c.o.x case. To get started I called Torres, the departments computer guru. Hed left a message asking me to call him about c.o.xs computer. The darn thing had spooked me enough that I put everything else on hold to find out what he wanted.

First thing out of Torress mouth was, "This d.a.m.n computers jumpier than a jackrabbit eyeing a rattlesnake."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It keeps turning itself on," he said. "We found a short in the plug, which is odd since its pretty new, but its there. Fixed it, and it hasnt happened since."

"Thats interesting," I said, thinking back to my experience in c.o.xs office. "When it happened, turned itself on, I mean, what comes up on the screen?"

"The opening screen," Torres said. Then, to my relief he added, "And about half the time, it automatically fills in that womans pa.s.sword and pulls up something from memory, different every time. A couple hours ago we had her 401(k) holdings, and earlier this afternoon it flashed a photo of the victim with her sister."

"Imagine that," I said. Could it have been a coincidence that when I was in the office it pulled up a photo of the oil field? Is it possible that a simple twist of fate delivered what could be an important piece of evidence? "Youre telling me that theres no rhyme or reason to what pops up?"

"Not that we can tell," he said. "Weve been over and over this computer, tore it all apart, I promise. d.a.m.nedest thing Ive ever seen."

"Okay," I said. From fans and TVs that turned themselves on to a computer with a mind of its own, I knew Faith would argue there were too many coincidences to be just that. For me, though, faulty wiring was at least a plausible explanation. "Thanks, Torres," I said. "Good work."

As soon as I got off the phone, I turned my attention to more concrete matters, ones that didnt make the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention. Along with dinner, the captain had brought the first batch of financial records Id subpoenaed for Grant Roberts, Wagner, and d.i.c.kson. Janet had been busy. So far, all shed collected on the two oilmen were credit card bills, but Id only been at it for a couple of hours when I thought I found something interesting.

"Captain," I said, breaking into a conversation on the pros and cons of fis.h.i.+ng with lures versus live bait. "If you can stay here to cover for us, Id like David to come with me to talk to a possible suspect on the c.o.x case."

"Sure, Sarah," he said. "No problem."

Right then my new cell phone rang. "Mom, its Maggie," my daughter said, as if I wouldnt have recognized her voice.