Double Helix Ch. 21

"There isn't anything we can do from here," I said. "We have to hope that he can figure this one out on his own."

Someone touched me on the shoulder, and I turned to look. Stansy stood next to me. "I have an idea."

I listened to what she had to say, shaking my head the whole time. "No, that's insane."

Stansy pointed at the monitor. "We're in a desperate situation. When Daniel gets here, those people are going to put pressure on him. They're going to tell him that if he takes responsibility and confesses, his father can go free. You know him. He'll take the fall if he thinks it's the only way out."

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of responsibility pulling me down. If I made the wrong call here, we could all be hauled off in handcuffs before the day was out. "Alright," I said, nodding. "Let's do it."

Nock, Stansy and I went through the lab and pushed past the doors that led to the emergency exit. On the other side was a tunnel that sloped upward for about ten feet, ending abruptly at a pair of large metal doors mounted horizontally in the ceiling.

"Are we clear?" I called back through the lab.

"All clear," Tilly said.

"Alright, quickly," I said, and Nock pulled on the cable to one side that was attached by pulleys to the doors. Dirt poured down in a shower onto the sloped floor for a second as the metal doors opened upward, followed by daylight as a gap appeared between them.

"That's enough," Stansy said, once the gap was two feet wide. Nock held the cable in place as she went up the slope, cast a glance back at the house, then sprang into motion, leaping out and running around the trap door, back toward the house.

Nock pulled the cable upwards against the counterweight and they closed once more, the seals on the doors' edges once more blocking out the daylight. He gave the cable a few experimental pulls, satisfying himself that the dirt still covering the doors was enough to hold against the counterweight.

"Okay," I said with a sigh. "It's up to her now."

We returned to the monitor, confirming that none of the people inside had noticed Stansy's departure. Tilly had added a few inset images, showing a view from the camera down at the road, and another that tracked the two deputies. The USDA officers were discussing the handwritten notes that the woman had scrawled. After a few more minutes of searching the bedrooms, Flaco suggested that they check the barn.

"Wonder what they'll make of that piano." Nissi said.

I shrugged. "It's no stranger than anything else they've seen."

"Here comes Daniel," Tilly said, and swapped the camera from the dining room with the one at the road.

The car approached the camera's location and swept past, on its way to the driveway. I felt my teeth clenching and tried to force myself to relax.

Tilly switched the main view back to the dining room, where Mason and Davis seemed to be working on a column of numbers. She checked the barn next, where the camera showed the two deputies checking every crack and crevice of the structure. She kept an inset view of the front door. A good ten minutes after we had first seen it, Daniel's car finally appeared, pulling up next to the sheriff and USDA vehicles. Daniel and Stansy got out, heading for the front door. She was speaking to him in a low tone that the microphone picked up only when they got close. "Just remember, once they start in, don't say anything unless I tell you to answer, okay? Do it just like we rehearsed."

Tilly split the screen between the dining room and living room, the latter also covering the entryway. Daniel pushed the front door open and put his head in. I saw Davis and Mason both react, whirling and pulling weapons from holsters at their backs.

"Hello?" Daniel called. "Is there someone here?"

"Identify yourself!" Mason shouted, moving out of frame from the dining room.

"Whoa!" Daniel said, putting his hands up. "This is my house, who are you?"

"Calm down, I know who it is," Davis said, putting her weapon away and moving out of frame herself. She appeared in the living room camera a few feet from Daniel. "Mr. Daniel Harris, I presume? I'm Officer Davis from the USDA compliance division. Come on in. Are you aware that there is an open investigation into...?" She trailed off when Stansy followed him into the room. "And who is this?" she asked.

"Oh, uh," Daniel said, appearing flustered.

"Connie," Stansy said. "Connie Reed." She put out her hand. "I'm Mr. Harris' lawyer."

"Oh," Davis said, in a tone of suspicion. "Interesting that you would show up here."

"Well, we were, uh, we were just-" Daniel stammered.

"It's alright, pumpkin," Stansy said, patting Daniel on the shoulder. "It's not like we're breaking any laws. Mr. Harris and I are in a sexual relationship. I'm currently advising him about a possible tort case from one of his former clients, so we've been meeting here on weekends to avoid any appearance of impropriety. I would appreciate if we could keep that little fact just between the four of us."

The woman frowned. "I see." That bit was meant to explain why the place looked so clean and recently lived in. It would also help to explain any nervousness from Daniel. Stansy assured me that client-attorney relationships, while frowned upon, where not strictly illegal, or even considered unethical, except in certain situations.

Davis recovered herself and continued, "Ms. Reed, you wouldn't mind stepping outside for a moment so that we can speak to Mr. Harris about a private-"

"Not a chance," Stansy said, smiling. "That is, if Mr. Harris here requires my representation in this matter?" She turned to face Daniel. "I'm already on retainer, and the usual hourly rates apply."

"Yes, yes please," he said. "I do want it."

"Perfect!" Stansy said. "Why don't we have a seat and the two of you explain what this is all about?"

The two USDA officers were obviously bristling at Stansy's intervention, but Davis led her and Daniel over to the table and the figures written out there. "As you can see, by even a low-end estimate, the documents submitted by your client's father have reported a yield well below what we would expect to harvest from an orchard of this size. The only conclusion to be drawn from this is that he has been committing fraud and hoarding the excess." She pointed at Daniel. "And you've been complicit, haven't you? You are the one doing the harvest, aren't you?"

Daniel looked at Stansy. She smiled again. "Those are very serious charges, I must say. Both felonies, if I recall?"

"That's right," Mason said. "Your dear old dad is guilty of some serious crimes, Mr. Harris. He could go away for ten, maybe twenty years for this. Unless you have something you'd like to tell us?"

"Yes," Stansy said, looking at Daniel. "Do you have an explanation?" Her tone said that she already knew the answer.

"Wow," he said, and I thought he probably didn't need to fake his concern. "I had no idea. Do you mean to tell me that I'm required to harvest the entire orchard all by myself? St—uh, Connie, Is that what the law says I have to do?"

Stansy gave him a wry smile and shook her head.

The two officers exchanged a look. "You mean..." Davis said in a disgusted tone. "You're telling me that you just leave half of your harvest out there to rot on the trees?"

"Technically it mostly rots on the ground," Stansy put in. "After it falls off the trees."

Daniel sighed. "Well, yeah. Look, my dad puts in a ton of hours at his company. He doesn't have time to worry about this place. I handle the harvest myself, but I can't put in the time it would take to pick all of it."

"Mr. Harris," Davis said, slapping her hand down on the table. "Did it ever occur to you what you're doing by allowing all of that food to just go to waste?" Her voice grew more loud and shrill with every word. "There are people out there, literally dying of hunger and you, you..." she paused in her rant, apparently to take a few deep breaths to calm herself.

"Officers," Stansy said. "I believe that the law is very clear on this point. Mr. Harris is required to relinquish half of everything he harvests to the USDA, and anything above a certain allotment, which he clearly has not exceeded. He is not required to harvest every possible fruit and nut that might grow on his property. That would be an unreasonable requirement, would it not? Tantamount to slavery? In fact, if one year he chose to let all of the food rot, there isn't a damn thing you could do about it, is there?"

"The fact remains-" Mason started.

"Furthermore," Stansy said, talking right over him, "I'm going to take a wild guess that you managed to convince a federal judge to issue a warrant to arrest my client's father and search these premises for a crime for which you actually had no evidence whatsoever. Is that right? You planned to accuse an innocent man of felony fraud and felony hoarding."

Davis pulled more papers from her clipboard. "Receipts," she said. "These are from two years before and after the Rot appeared. We got these from a distributor who was buying from this property. You didn't have any problem harvesting everything back then, did you, Mr. Harris?"

Stansy looked at him for a moment, probably evaluating his body language. "Go ahead and answer."

"Yeah," Daniel said, anger in his tone. "That was while my grandfather was alive. We quit selling to that distributor after he died. Heart attack. He worked this land right up until his last day."

"Well, I would say that explains that little discrepancy," Stansy said. "Got anything more substantial than that?"

"This place is far too clean for a house that no one lives in," Mason said. "If you come here to fuck on the weekends, why would you bother dusting all the tables in the den? Would you care to explain that, Mr. Harris?"

Stansy cocked her head and her eyes widened as though she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Would you care to quote me the law that states that it is a crime to keep a clean house? Is that a county ordinance I hadn't heard about?"

Mason went silent, and I almost thought I could see Davis grinding her teeth together in frustration. No doubt her pay was at least partially based on convicting hoarders and seizing their lands. "It should be a crime," Davis said, "to just let all of that food go to waste. If I had my way, you would be..."

It was in that moment that the two deputies returned, and Davis trailed off.

"No food out in the barn," Flaco said. "Not even hay. It's all been cleared out and cleaned up. Who is this?"

Davis crossed her arms. "The son of the accused and his plucky lawyer," she said scornfully.

Stansy spread her hands. "I'm just doing my job, protecting my client's interests. You've searched the whole property. Would you like to check his pockets?" She leaned forward. "Really, Officer Davis, if I were in your shoes, I would put some serious consideration into how this is going to look to your superiors. You going after this poor, overworked widow of a man and his innocent father. They'll need to blame someone for this fiasco when the press gets ahold of the story."

Davis glared daggers as she shook her head. "What do you want?"

"Release Mr. Harris' father, for a start, along with an apology to both of them for this unfortunate mistake. I take it this farm is within your jurisdiction? For now, anyway."

Davis sighed. "Yes, it is."

"Very good. I'll be documenting everything that was discussed here today. If you or one of your people ever come around here, trying to bully my client into a confession for a crime that he didn't commit, I will make sure that you are nailed to the wall along with the judge that approved this little circus. Is that clear?" Stansy's grin could have been lifted from the mouth of a shark.

Davis clenched her fist so hard that her arm shook. "Yeah."

"Good," Stansy said. "I think you have a call to make."

Jim looked between Davis and Stansy. "Ma'am? What just happened?"

Davis waved a hand without looking at him. "Your services are no longer needed. You and Deputy Castillo will report that you found no evidence of hoarding, and that the USDA is dropping its charges against Mr. Harris."

Jim tipped his hat to her, and gave Stansy a little nod before turning to go.

Davis made a phone call, instructing whoever was on the other end to let Daniel's father go free. Then she and Mason left without another word.

Once both cars were long gone down the road, the rest of us ventured back upstairs. Stansy and Daniel were having coffee at the table. Now that the danger was past, he looked more than a little shaken. Wendy ran up to him and hugged him for a long moment.

"I was so worried," she said. "That was really brave to come in here and face those people down." Then she turned to Stansy. "Pumpkin? What the hell kind of nickname is that?"

Stansy shrugged. "That's what I called my ex-husband."

"And what do you call Stan?" Wendy asked.

Stansy didn't say anything for a moment, but her face had suddenly gone very pink. "No comment."

"Oh, come on," Wendy said. "What is it?"

"I'm going to go tell Stan and the others we're all clear," Stansy said, standing up from her chair and hurrying for the back door. Wendy followed her out, still cajoling her about the nickname.

"That was too close," I said, shaking my head. "Stansy made an impression, but I'm not sure we won't be seeing Ms. Davis again."

Nock patted my back. "Oh, you've got bigger problems to think about right now, boss."

I turned to him. "Oh? Like what?"

He smiled wryly. "Like the fact that we just lost everything in our greenhouse. It's going to take a week to reassemble it, more weeks to sterilize all that soil, and two months after that before we'll see another harvest. This visit just set our food production back by almost three months."

I sat down in the chair that Stansy had vacated and dropped my head into my hand. "Shit."