“At least he didn’t suffer,” she said.
Cindy wondered what really happened.
“We’ll have a memorial later on,” said his sister. “He wanted to be cremated. Call in a week and I’ll let you know.”
Cindy was utterly, completely speechless. Her stomach started hurting badly, and she doubled over with cramps. Was Greg’s death her fault too? Had the company been watching him and seen him speaking to her? Would this have happened if she’d never called?
This was the third person that had been killed or hurt around Cindy. For a moment she wanted to let it all go, call a truce, go back to the company, take the check and give it all to Heather for Clint’s son.
Cindy lay down on the couch exhausted and shattered . The company was bigger than her, richer, stronger. It had ammunition she couldn’t even imagine. But she had something better on her side. Justice. She thought of the little Bible Tom Mallord had given her. Words from it flashed through her mind.
Someone had to stand up for fairness and compassion. Otherwise, what was it all worth?
She would not back down, not be afraid any longer. She needed a voice of reason, a clear direction. She thought of Ann. Yes. Ann would know exactly what to do.
Chapter 18
Ann was laying in the hospital bed with her eyes closed when Cindy walked into the room. She’d developed a low grade fever and her recovery was slower than expected. The nurse told her that Frank had flown home for the night and would be back for the weekend. Ann opened her eyes, pleased to see Cindy, but then shut them again. She still looked exhausted.
Cindy put the fruit and cookies she’d brought on a table near the bed, sat down next to her sister and took her hand.
“Slow going?” asked Cindy.
“I’m getting there,” Ann managed to reply.
“The doctors say you’re doing well,” Cindy said, trying to be encouraging. “Once the fever goes, you’ll be ready for physical therapy. They might even discharge you in a few days.”
Ann nodded.
“These things take time,” Cindy said.
“Everything takes time,” Ann whispered. “Time is good.”
Cindy wondered how Ann could say that, laying here in pain.
“I’m so sorry, Ann,” Cindy said again.
Ann shook her head, as she always did when Cindy said that. She meant there was nothing to be sorry about.
“The report about the brakes came back from the police,” Cindy said quietly, to fill up the empty time. “They were definitely tampered with.”
Ann shook her head, back and forth again, trying to same something.
“What is it?” Cindy asked.
Ann lifted herself, came closer. “You were right all along,” she said.
Cindy didn’t know what she meant. Then she suddenly got it. “Right about Clint?”
Ann fell back down on the pillow and nodded.
Cindy’s heart swelled to hear that, to hear that.
Finally, she believed her, didn’t think she was crazy. She felt encourage to go on.
“Ann,” Cindy began, “I found a lot of troubling information. About Clint’s company. I have a report he wrote…I know it sound crazy, but I think he was getting ready to implicate them. And I think they got rid of him.”
Ann nodded.
“And I think that whoever got rid of him wants me dead, too.”
“Do you any proof?” Ann asked.
“Just one report he wrote. But it’s pretty damning.”
Ann nodded, eyes drifting in and out.
“What should I do?” Cindy asked. “Go to the police.”
Ann shook her head.
“The FBI,” Ann said.
Cindy’s eyes opened wide.
“It’s an international crime,” Ann continued. “You need the FBI. Go. Don’t wait.”
Ann’s words gave Cindy a chill. They also gave her courage, determination to go on. She squeezed her hand as her eyes drifted closed and she knew, once again, that Ann was right.
Chapter 19
Cindy’s meeting with Officer James E. Farnell at the FBI took less than fifteen minutes. Farnell was a big, heavy set, square jawed guy, who’d been through this a thousand times. Cindy brought all the information she had about Clint’s death, along with everything that had happened since then, including the company reports, and placed it all squarely on Farnell’s desk.
He sat there chewing on his bottom lip, examining the papers.
His eyes half closed, he peered at Cindy. “It’s all circumstantial,” he finally said.
Cindy’d heart dropped. “You won’t take on the case?” she asked.
“There’s no case here,” he said.
Cindy’s heart dropped.
“I’m not saying it’s not adding up. It’s interesting,” Farnell stuck out his jaw and tapped his thumb on it. “I need more. Something solid, something direct. You’re asking us to take on an international oil drilling firm, with connections in Washington. This isn’t enough.”
“Help me out,” Cindy said suddenly aggrieved.
“Sorry,” Farnell said.
“Wait a minute,” Cindy got angry. “You’re telling me to just forget it?”
A little smile crept around the edges of her mouth. He liked her spunk. Cindy saw that.
“No, I’m not. I’m saying there’s not enough here to start an investigation.”
“What else do I need?”
“Get me the original Coroner’s report,” Farnell said. “I want to see it firsthand. Get me a witness. Who found the body? Who collected evidence? What did they find? And what about the crime scene?”
Cindy’s mind was racing. She pulled out her pad and started taking notes.
“The crime scene was in the ocean,” she said, tears suddenly filling her eyes.
“How do you know?”
That stopped Cindy cold.
“What kind of evidence was collected? I need the exact condition of the body, what exactly was inside it or outside?
“I’d have to go back to Barbados to get those kinds of specifics,” she breathed.
“So, go,” he said.
The second he said it, a jolt raced through Cindy. She knew it was right. It felt right. Yes. Barbados. Of course. She had to go back.
Cindy felt nervous, but excited.
“Can I keep in touch with you?”
“Send me evidence if you get it, and I’ll take a look.
