Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry about his death,” Walter said gently. “But we need to ask you a few questions about your arrests. What were you doing?”
“Protesting,” Sandra shot back. “The clear-cutting of old-growth forests. Pollution from corporations nobody bothers to hold accountable. You know. Basic stuff that shouldn’t be controversial but somehow is.”
Laurel grimaced. She’d had Nester dig up a couple of the reports. “You have quite the record.”
Sandra’s shoulders tensed. “I know. I chained myself to logging equipment to keep them from bulldozing an entire grove of ancient trees. They slapped me with trespassing and destruction of property. The cops acted like I’d burned the place down.”
Walter’s eyes narrowed. “What about the corporate protest downtown? The one where your group caused thousands of dollars in damages?”
“That was an exaggeration,” Sandra snapped. “We walked through the lobby with signs. We chanted. We forced them to face us instead of hiding behind their security. They dragged us out and tore a banner, and somehow that turned into property destruction. Not my fault their fragile egos can’t handle criticism.”
“Tyler shared your beliefs?” Laurel kept her voice congenial.
Sandra’s gaze dropped to the table. “Sort of. He was more into exposing corruption than saving the environment. He thought he could force people to care about both by throwing the truth in their faces, and he loved being a detective.”
“And you?” Laurel asked.
“I just wanted the world to stop being so messed up,” Sandra admitted. “Tyler wanted to blow it all wide open. I wanted to protect the things that matter.” She shifted uneasily on her seat. “I’m going to stay with my aunt in Billings and away from here. I’ll leave the info for you, but don’t tell the Elk Hollow cops.” She wiped a shaking hand across her brow. “I’m pretty sure they killed Tyler.” She gagged and then sniffed loudly. “Or whoever the last podcast was about did. Something big is supposed to happen and Tyler was gonna stop it.”
Laurel thought through what she knew about Tyler. “You have no idea what or who?”
“Nope. Just that he was terrified.”
Laurel kept her voice calm. “Is there any place Tyler would hide something? More info?”
Sandra fiddled with her earring. “Dunno. I went through his fishing stuff. He liked to fish the Red River, right off the Salty Campground? Just fly-fishin’. He didn’t have a boat or anything.”
Walter shoved his hand in his pocket. “We need a list of his friends and their numbers before you go. Is there anybody he trusted more than others?”
“Just me,” Sandra whispered.
Just wonderful. “Did he have any illnesses?” Laurel asked.
Sandra shrugged. “He had bad allergies, and he got a lot of migraines. I think he was stressed.”
Migraines? Ones from lesions? “How long has he had migraines?” Laurel asked.
Sandra picked at a cuticle. “As long as I’ve known him. He said he’s had them for years.”
Long enough for lesions to form on his brain? Laurel pushed a tablet of paper toward the woman. “Please list all of his friends, acquaintances, even sources. As well as places he’d frequent. Does his vehicle have GPS?”
Sandra snorted. “No. He had a beat-up compact from the seventies.”
Unfortunately, his computer and phone had been taken, and according to Nester, never turned back on. His car was still missing as well. “So he told you nothing about this new podcast investigation?”
Sandra took a pen and started a list. “No. All he said was that if he didn’t stop them, a lot of people were gonna die.”
Chapter 20
After making a quick phone call to DC where the deputy director had not only warned her to stay alive but had then questioned her about how many people she’d seen in the last week who’d worn emeralds, just to entertain himself with her memory skills, Laurel sat back in her chair as Walter ambled into the conference room with two buckets of popcorn. He set them down on the conference table before sinking into one of the too-sleek, white chairs that looked out of place around the scuffed, fifties-era table.
He handed her one of the buckets. “Ena popped it. Fish and Wildlife has a better microwave.”
“Thank you.” Laurel took the popcorn, her stomach growling from the scent of melted butter. “We could get a new microwave.”
“We definitely should.” Walter pointed the remote at the wall screen and hit the button.
The monitor snapped to life, spilling Tyler Griggs’s first of two unaired podcasts into the room. His jittery voice filled the air, his pitch too high, his energy twisted and erratic.
Laurel slipped a piece of popcorn onto her tongue. It was warm, buttery, and properly salted.
Tyler’s face appeared on the screen, eyes darting with a fevered energy that seemed to vibrate just beneath his skin. “Hi, folks,” he began, his smile jagged and off-balance. “I’ve been watching the Elk Hollow Police Department, and let me tell you, the stench of corruption is so thick you could cut it with a chain saw.”