Zombies in the Delta (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 1) Read online

  “Yeah, I’m fine. The computer’s locked by someone named Jake, so Maria told me to reboot it.”

  “Why were you under the desk?”

  “Trying to find the plug.”

  Marco leaned over the monitor and pressed the start button, holding it down. He didn’t know a lot about computers, but he knew how to force quit. He figured it was something most people knew.

  “You must be Captain D’Angelo,” she said, beaming a smile at him.

  He released the start button and straightened, curling his fingers on his cane. “Yeah, how did you know?”

  “Maria said you were hot.” Her eyes widened and she clamped a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. That wasn’t very professional. I wasn’t trying to sexually harass you or anything. Oh God, you’re probably going to report me now.”

  Marco stared at her. Was Maria freakin’ kidding? This was his new secretary.

  He heard a chuckle behind him and glanced over his shoulder. Jake had entered the precinct. Just perfect!

  “You are?”

  “Carly Shaw. I’m your new secretary. Maria hired me yesterday.”

  Jake pushed open the half door. “Jake Ryder. Nice to meet you, Carly Shaw.”

  “Where’s Maria?” asked Marco, giving Jake a glare.

  “She brought coffee cake for everyone and she’s putting it in the break room. She wanted to treat all of you for her last day here. She’s going to work in the Chief of Police’s office. Did you know she’s dating one of the detectives? I think his name’s Cho or something.”

  Marco held up a hand to stop her. “Can you get Maria for me?”

  She glanced at the cane. “Oh, right. Your leg. She told me to be careful about your leg. Gunshot, right? Oh my, I’m so sorry.”

  “Carly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maria.”

  “Right.” She hurried off, the click clack of her heels echoing back at him.

  “I like her,” said Jake, tucking his hands in his pants pockets. “She’s something.”

  “You would.”

  Jake chuckled again. “Mighty Mouse is gonna hate her, though. Oh, man, Adonis…”

  “Captain.”

  “Captain Adonis, you just bought yourself a heap o’trouble.”

  Marco faced Jake. “Don’t you have something to do!”

  “Yeah, I’m gonna go get coffee cake. Have I told you how much I love it when we don’t have a case?”

  “Call Devan and find out if he got my warrants for the Carissa Phelps’ case.”

  Jake gave a dramatic sigh. “Isn’t that your secretary’s job now?”

  “No, I just gave it to you. And it’s Administrative Assistant, not secretary.” He turned to go, but looked back at Jake. “You were my secretary.”

  Jake made a scoffing sound.

  “By the way, Peyton wants you to come over for dinner tonight. Are you free?”

  “I don’t know. I mean this is such short notice, I’ll have to check my calendar.”

  Marco leaned on his office door. “You can bring Tater.”

  “Are we eating vegetarian?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do I have to call you Captain Adonis there?”

  Marco scowled at him. “Come or don’t come. This was Peyton’s idea.”

  “You don’t have to bark at me. I’ll shift some stuff around, but I’ll come.”

  “You’ll shift some stuff around?”

  “On my calendar.”

  Marco started to respond, then changed his mind. “You do that.”

  Maria appeared around the corner of the precinct. “You wanted to talk to me, baby.”

  “Wow! She gets to call you baby, but I have to call you Captain Adonis?”

  Marco pushed away from the doorjamb and motioned Maria inside. “Go call Devan about my warrants.”

  “Shesh! Talk about a double standard here. And after you invited me to dinner.”

  Marco bit his bottom lip as he followed Maria into the office and closed the door behind him. Maria took a seat in the armchair before his desk.

  “So about Carly Shaw?” he said, limping to his chair.

  “She’s horrible. I know. But there was no one else even remotely qualified.”

  “She was rebooting your computer by unplugging it.”

  Maria held up her hands in a helpless gesture. “It’s either her or Jake and I’m afraid you might shoot poor Jake if you have to spend too much time with him.”

  “Good point. Can she answer the phones?”

  Maria made a skeptical face.

  “Can she type reports?”

  “Uh.”

  “Maria?”

  “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll see if I can keep working on it, but she’s what you’ve got for right now.”

  Marco slumped back in his chair. “Okay.” He took a greeting card out of his jacket pocket and passed it over to Maria. “Here. Thanks for everything you’ve done. We’re gonna miss you.”

  Maria took the card and opened it. She read it, then held up the gift card she’d found inside. Peyton had picked it up the other day when they went shopping together. “Thank you, baby. This is my favorite store.”

  “Well, I wish it was more. This place isn’t gonna be the same without you.”

  She rose to her feet and crossed around his desk, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry,” she said, smiling at him. “You’ll see me all the time. I’m your fiancée’s best friend.”

  Marco laughed. “That’s right.”

  “I’ll just go get Carly trained.”

  Marco nodded. “Can you also see if Jake called about my warrants and tell Stan I need to talk with him?”

  “Will do.” She went to the door and opened it.

  Tag Shotwell loomed in the entrance.

  Maria took a step back, placing a hand over her heart. “You scared the crap out of me?”

  “I need to talk to the captain.”

  “Come in, Tag,” said Marco.

  Tag Shotwell had been Peyton’s last partner. She was a sturdy five feet ten with bleach blond hair cut short and swept back over her head. She sported a host of tattoos, including one of a skull on her neck and she liked to wear leather – all leather. It made the vegetarian in Marco squirm.

  Tag loomed on the other side of the desk.

  “Take a seat.”

  “I’d rather stand.”

  Marco exhaled and reached for his cane, pushing himself to his feet as well. God, he hated having to worry about looking weak. He had a new respect for the crap Katherine Defino must have put up with in her career.

  “What’da you need?”

  “Is Holmes going to be my new partner?”

  “If he passes the inspector exam tomorrow.”

  “Do I get a say in this?”

  “Do you want a say?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” He held out his hand. “Have your say?”

  “He’s an annoying butt.”

  Marco drew a patient breath. “Fine. Is he unskilled in some way?”

  “No.”

  “Is he unprofessional in the field?”

  “No.”

  “Is he a liability as far as his police work?”

  “No.”

  “Is he unable to fire a gun or follow police protocol?”

  “No.” Tag shifted weight, crossing her arms over her chest. “He’s an annoying butt.”

  “You need a partner, Tag. That’s how we work. Do you have another suggestion?”

  “No.”

  “Then Holmes will be your new partner.”

  “Fine.” She pointed a finger at him. “Just for the record, he’s an annoying butt.”

  “Recorded.”

  “Good.” She turned to go, but she paused by the door. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks.”

  Then she was gone.

  Marco sank into the chair and stared at the door. Damn, he respected Defino more and more.

 
* * *

  The driveway to the farm was a steep drop from the levee road, angling away from the river. It led to a small white farmhouse with a wrap-around porch. On either side were vast orchards of cherry trees, their gnarled, twisted branches awash in pink blossoms. Peyton stepped out of the Suburban and stretched. The air was warm, the sky a brilliant blue without a single cloud. She could hear the call of birds among the trees.

  Two sheriff patrol cars waited in the long drive, Bob Sharpe and another deputy leaning against the side of one of them. Sharpe pushed himself away and strode toward them, the other deputy following. The second man was shorter than Sharpe, mixed ethnicity, probably Hispanic and white. They both wore their hats on the back of their head, hanging precariously from their crowns.

  Radar stepped forward and shook both of their hands. Peyton lifted her hand to acknowledge Sharpe. He gave her a lift of his chin.

  “Nice day,” said Radar.

  “Yep,” answered Sharpe, then he indicated the other man. “This is Deputy Juan Jimenez.”

  “Special Agent Carlos Moreno,” said Radar. He didn’t bother to introduce the rest of them. “Did you get clearance from the owner of this property to view the crime scene?”

  “Yeah, but she’s upset. We really need to approach this gently.”

  “Her son has cancer and he’s in the Bay Area right now, so she’s all alone,” offered Deputy Jimenez.

  “Where were the bodies found?”

  Sharpe pointed to the orchard behind them. “There.”

  “Both bodies?” asked Radar.

  “Yep. Just rows from one another.”

  “Same M.O. as the guy in Locke?”

  “Yep. Head bashed in. Face eaten. Brains too.”

  Deputy Jimenez shivered. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Peyton looked back toward the road. She could see a faded sign. Harwood Farms. It was nice and quiet here, but there was also something lonely about it. They were about a half mile from Locke, but that meant less than nothing. From what she’d seen of Locke yesterday, there weren’t many people there either – a bar, a restaurant, and a few art galleries. The residents had stayed inside when the feds showed up. Still, there was something alluring about the quiet. Something intriguing about the peace. Unless it was disturbed by a zombie killer. Damn but they needed to find this guy. There were so few places of quiet and calm left in the world.

  When she turned back around, she caught motion from the corner of her eyes. Something flitted around the side of the house and disappeared into the bushes growing there. She took a step forward, squinting.

  “Agent Brooks?” asked Sharpe.

  She turned to face him. “I saw something dive into the bushes over there.”

  “Probably a coyote,” he said with a shrug.

  “Coyote? In broad daylight?”

  “They’re bold as all hell out here, living off people’s garbage.”

  “Seemed too big to be a coyote.”

  Radar cleared his throat. “If the nature education portion of this visit is finished, can Deputy Jimenez take my people to see the crime scene?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Bambi, Tank, you’re with Jimenez.” He shifted and gave Peyton a dark look. “Brooks, you’re with me.” He turned back to Sharpe. “Can we talk to the woman who owns the farm?”

  “Yeah, just try not to upset her.”

  “That’s why we’ve got Brooks here.” He clapped a hand on Peyton’s shoulder. “Right, Sparky? You’re just a basket of charm, ain’t ya?”

  Peyton glared at him, but she followed Sharpe toward the farmhouse.

  “What’s her name?” she asked as they went up the neatly swept walkway.

  “Agnes Harwood.”

  “And her son?”

  “Named for his father. Roy.”

  “Thank you.”

  He gave a nod and opened the screen door. “She’s frail, Brooks, so go light.”

  “I will.”

  He knocked at the door. A moment later a stoop shouldered woman in a pale pink cardigan and baby blue capris opened it. She was wearing jogging shoes and her white hair was combed and coiffed. She’d even put on a bit of lipstick.

  Peyton smiled at her and she smiled back.

  “Agnes, this is Special Agent Brooks and Moreno with the FBI. They wanted to ask you a few questions about the incident in the orchard.”

  She stepped back and motioned them into the house. “Please come in, Agents. I’m happy to help you any way I can.”

  Peyton and Radar stepped into the house, followed by Sharpe. The door opened into the living room. Filled with sunlight, it was kept neatly with two sofas in floral print facing each other, separated by a wooden coffee table. Tiffany lamps sat on the end tables and a few magazines dotted the surface of the coffee table.

  “Please take a seat. I made lemonade. I know how Deputy Sharpe likes my lemonade. Just let me get it for you.” She shuffled off into another room.

  An upright piano stood in the corner with a quilted pillow resting on the bench. As Radar and Sharpe took a seat on the couch, Peyton wandered over to the piano and looked at the pictures on top. A smiling, plain-faced man stood next to a small boy. He wore a flannel shirt and jeans, work boots on his feet. The boy was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. As she studied the pictures on the piano, the boy grew up. Pimple-faced and gangly in a middle school photo, then primped and pressed in a prom picture, and finally, decked out in a bowtie and black tuxedo jacket for his senior portrait.

  “That’s my son, Roy,” came the woman’s voice behind Peyton.

  Peyton turned and watched her set a tray on the table, passing out the glasses to the two men. “Is this your husband?” She pointed to the picture of the man and boy.

  “Yes. Lord, he was terrible about having his picture taken. Hated it. I’d have to beg him to let me take it. Even on our wedding. Can you believe that? I have one picture from our wedding and it’s upstairs next to my bed.” She held a glass out to Peyton.

  Peyton accepted it. “Thank you,” she said, lifting it for a sip. Sweetness ran across her tongue, blessed sweetness, then just a hint of lemon.

  Radar made a face and lowered his glass, but Peyton took another sip.

  “This is really good,” she said.

  Agnes beamed. “I’ll tell you my secret ingredient. Cherries.”

  “I can taste that. And it’s good and sweet, the way I like everything.”

  Agnes laughed. “A girl after my own heart. I have the worst sweet-tooth myself.”

  “Agnes, how’s Roy doing?” asked Sharpe.

  She turned back to him. “He called two days ago. They’re trying a new treatment, but it makes him feel so weak.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Deputy Sharpe said your son has cancer?” asked Peyton.

  She gave Peyton a sad nod. “Yes. Poor boy’s been fighting it for years now.”

  “Where’s he getting treatment?”

  “Stanford.”

  “How long has he been gone?”

  “Oh, it’s been weeks now.” She motioned to the couch. “Won’t you sit down, Agent Brooks?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Peyton took the seat beside her. “You have a very pleasant house.”

  “Thank you, dear.” She gave Peyton an appraising look. “I’m so delighted to see a young woman with such an important job. It’s about time us women made something of ourselves.”

  “Thank you. Actually this is my first week. I was a cop in San Francisco for eight years.”

  “Well, look at you. FBI. My goodness, that is exciting. So, is this your first case?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, look at that.”

  Radar gave Peyton a pointed look.

  “Mrs. Hardwood?”

  “Agnes, dear.”

  “Agnes, you know we’re here about the bodies, right?”

  She sighed. “Yes. I was so shocked when Deputy Sharpe told me about them, I had to go to the hospital.
”

  “He told us. I would have felt the same way.”

  “Aren’t you a dear for saying that. I just couldn’t believe something so horrible was found in my orchard. Twice. Those poor people.”

  “A field worker found both bodies, right?”

  “Right.”

  “How far from the house?”

  “It was back in the river-bottoms.”

  Peyton glanced at Sharpe.

  “Back in the flood zone.”

  That didn’t clear much up, but Bambi and Tank were going to see it.

  “How many acres do you have?”

  “We have 60. We used to have over a 100, but we had to sell off some of the land when Roy got older. Too hard to maintain and it was too expensive to hire the workers.”

  Peyton nodded. “I’ll bet 60’s still a lot of work.”

  “It is. I keep thinking about selling, but my husband wanted us on this land. And my son doesn’t want me to sell. I don’t want to get him too upset right now.”

  “I understand, but now that your son’s sick, who does the work?”

  “We hire a crew. They’re mostly migrant workers, who come through during harvest and pruning season. Li Wang does the hiring.”

  “Li Wang? Does he work for you on a permanent basis?”

  “Sort of. He comes out and checks on things every couple of weeks and then sets up the workers for us.” She clasped her hands. “I don’t know what I’d do without him. He takes care of everything. I just pay the bills.”

  Peyton exchanged a look with Radar. “Can you get me Li Wang’s number, Agnes? Was he the one that discovered the bodies?”

  “No, it was one of his workers. I can’t remember his name. Shook him up so bad, they had to get the paramedics out here to check his blood pressure.”

  “Do you have his name?” Peyton asked Sharpe.

  “Yeah, I’ll get it for you. I’ve also got Li Wang’s number.”

  Peyton nodded.

  “Have you ever had a problem with trespassing before, Agnes?”

  She gave a laugh. “Once in a while, teenagers come on the property to drink, but other than that, no. It’s always been so quiet. My husband used to say that there was no place like an orchard. You could tell it your problems and it would never reveal them to anyone.”

  Peyton gave her a smile. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

  “Not that I can think of, Agent Brooks.”