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.
Whatever you do for the least of my creatures, you do for me.
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.
And as far as all of your theories about DGB and the sudden death of Greg…”
“Hamden,” Cindy said.
He wrote it down. “Hamden, right…well, I’m not promising anything, but I’ll look into it,” he relented.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Cindy said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “Let’s see what you come up.”
Cindy stood.
“One more thing,” he added.
She stopped and turned.
“If there was some sort of cover up down there, you might be walking into the hornet’s nest. If the local police were paid off, if they had a hand in falsifying evidence, then don’t go looking to them for help.”
Cindy swallowed, nervous. She hadn’t thought of that.
“But then…” she began, “who can I turn to?”
“Just keep your head low, get what you need, and come back,” he said. “But if you find yourself in any kind of trouble, get to the U.S. Embassy. And call me from there.”
Cindy’s heart pounded in her chest, as she wondered how badly all of this could go.
Chapter 20
Cindy raced home in Clint’s car, anxious to pack her things and catch the next plane she could to Barbados. The FBI agent was right: she’d never get the answers she really wanted unless she went back there. And no one else was going to do it for her. If she really wanted to solve this, to honor Clint’s life, if she really wanted to put this all to rest, she’d just have to go back.
The more she thought about it, The more she realized that this would also give her a chance to go back to where she and Clint had been so happy. She realized that a part of her had been longing for this—to be back in the place where they were happy, to be able to pick up where they’d left off.
She’d book a room in the same hotel, talk to the staff, see the Coroner, find out the exact condition of Clint’s body. All things she hadn’t been able to do before. She would go to the beach where he had gone surfing and tell him herself.