Scratchgravel Road (32 page)

Diego had asked Josie and Otto to follow Mitch Wilson into the area behind the plant where the water was currently flowing. They followed Diego down a hallway to the back area of the staging facility, where he grabbed them each rain ponchos and wader boots from a storage closet.

“You can still set the charges in the rain?” Josie asked Mitch.

He grinned. “I can detonate explosives in a tornado.”

Instead of driving, Mitch asked to walk to check the ground and the effects of the rain. After they were dressed, Diego led them through the back of the building to see the path the water was taking through the plant.

“There’s about a thirty-five percent grade behind the mountain that levels off to fifteen percent,” Diego said. “The problem is the rain that’s pouring down Norton’s Peak is pushing all the water and debris right through the center of the plant.”

Diego led them through the gate and into the production area of the plant. Josie pulled her rain poncho hood up around her face and looked at the dismal, gray sky. The rain continued steadily. She could not remember ever standing in a more depressing place. The partially disassembled buildings and empty machinery, the muddy holes and washed-out pathways were surface issues, but underneath lay a ticking time bomb. She was very aware that Diego and Sandy had avoided explaining the aftermath of what would happen if the mudslide hit the buildings with the massive force it was capable of. Sandy had made it clear they weren’t facing a nuclear explosion, but she hadn’t filled in the blanks.

The walk up the hill to the base of the mountain took just fifteen minutes. As they walked, Mitch stuck spikes into the ground to represent placement of the charges. Norton’s Peak, at the top of the mountain ridge, was directly above them, ending approximately fifty feet up. It was in bad shape. It was obvious to Josie the base was crumbling and would most likely fall that day if the rain didn’t halt immediately.

Mitch had kept up a running commentary to Otto and Diego, who both seemed interested in the logistics of the explosives. Josie wasn’t much interested in the mechanics, as long as it worked and didn’t blow the plant sky high. For that, she had little choice but to have faith.

With Mitch shouting orders, they began digging a shallow trench to hold the C-4. He was laying a sample line of explosives to see how the saturated ground would react.

After Josie had already become covered in mud, the cell phone in her shirt pocket rang. She had no choice but to wipe her hands on her streaked uniform pants, before popping open the snaps on the poncho and flipping open her cell phone to an unfamiliar number.

“Chief Gray.”

“I’m so glad you answered. This is Cassidy.” She sighed deeply and continued. “I need to see you.”

“I’m in a mess right now. Are you in danger?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you need police help?” Josie asked.

“I found stuff on Leo’s computer. Weird shit. I think it’s connected to the nuclear plant. Maybe to the dead guy.”

“Like what?”

Cassidy moaned. “There’s all this weird stuff about radiation and death.”

“What made you search his computer?”

She hesitated. “Leo knew where the body was in the desert.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“I overheard him one night on the phone. I wrote down the directions that he was telling someone. That’s why I took a walk in the desert that day it was so hot. I thought maybe Leo was having an affair or something.”

Josie clenched her jaws and tried to keep her calm. “Why didn’t you just tell us this? You withheld serious information from the investigation.”

“I was afraid! I was afraid he’d kill me if he found out I told you! I’d already seen one dead person!”

“Is Leo there with you?”

“No, but there’s something more.”

Josie waited.

“Leo deposited over a thousand dollars into a bank account I didn’t even know we had.”

“When?”

“Yesterday. He works part time at the plant. And his paycheck gets deposited in our bank. I don’t know where that money came from.”

Josie knew exactly where the money came from but didn’t have time to enlighten Cassidy. “Have you found a set of house keys?”

She hesitated. “Yeah, there were some in Leo’s desk drawer.” She sounded hesitant, already expecting the worst.

“Leave the computer. Take the keys. Get to your parents’ house. Now.”

“I don’t want to drag them into this,” Cassidy said. “This is my mess, not theirs.”

“Trust me on this. Your dad wants you out of there. Go tell him everything. Then sit tight until we can get to you. Don’t talk to Leo. Don’t talk to anyone but your dad. Got it?”

Josie hung her phone up and walked back to Otto and Diego. Otto stabbed his shovel into the mud and looked up at Josie in surprise, as if thoroughly absorbed in his task. Water dripped from the edge of his plastic hood and down into his face, red from the exertion of digging the trench.

“What’s the problem?” Otto asked.

“I just received a phone call from Cassidy Harper. She was snooping on Leo’s computer and discovered he deposited over a thousand dollars into a bank account yesterday. An account she didn’t know they had.”

Otto made a fist. “We got him!”

Diego looked at them in confusion. “What’s the significance?”

“Juan saved his paychecks, took a bus, and delivered the money to his family once a month. He kept the cash in a shoebox in the back of his closet. The box is missing.”

Diego took a step back. “And you think Leo stole Juan’s money?”

“It gets better. Cassidy also said Leo knew where the body was located in the desert.” Josie recounted the conversation for Otto.

“I don’t understand people. How could she sit on information like that and not tell us?” Otto said.

“She claims she was afraid he would kill her if she told anyone.”

Otto shook his head. “What about Leo?”

“I won’t bring him in until I know the charges will stick. We’ll have to wait until we’re finished here.”

*   *   *

They returned to the mud and spent another thirty minutes digging a ten-foot-long shallow trench, each of them lost in their own thoughts, spinning their own theories as to how Juan Santiago lost his money and ended up left for dead. After the trench was finished, they stepped back and watched as Mitch assembled the pieces for the trial run. He laid the C-4, then attached blasting caps to the explosives. Next he crimped the detonation cord into the caps and attached the primer to the end of the det cord. Josie was impressed at his efficiency. He took charge of the situation with ease and had no trouble shouting orders when necessary. She tried to imagine the danger he had been in, setting up similar explosions in a war zone, and figured his life had often depended on his ability to react with confidence.

Mitch was wearing a headset with a direct line to Sandy, who was checking out the peak farther up the mountain. He talked intermittently with Otto and Sandy, explaining his moves as he went. Otto was fascinated by the setup, and Josie was certain he would light the fuse himself if given the opportunity.

“That’s it,” Mitch yelled. “Let’s get these charges set!”

He took off at a fast walk on legs long enough to leave the rest of them jogging to keep up. As he walked, he unraveled the det cord from a large spool hanging on his right hip. At twenty feet he stopped, cut the cord, and told Josie, Otto, and Diego to keep heading toward the plant. They did so, maintaining the jog. They didn’t turn around until they heard Mitch yell, “We have smoke!”

About four minutes later, the ground exploded, spewing mud into the air like a fountain. The mess fell to the ground in patties, splattering their clothes and boots, falling onto the hoods of their rain ponchos like a hailstorm. In its aftermath, a ten-foot-wide swath of ground was carved out of the desert to the depth of about four feet. Mitch and Otto cheered as Diego looked on smiling. It was exactly what they had hoped for. Josie could imagine the sight when a half mile of dirt flew into the sky and landed back down onto the wet ground.

After the explosion Sandy had a four-wheel-drive SUV pick them up for a quick trip back to the parking lot so that Mitch could assemble his equipment and the explosives crew he had called in. A ragtag group of twenty-something-year-old guys climbed out of an extended-cab pickup and high-fived Mitch before he proceeded to explain his plan. Josie was impressed how quickly they turned to business.

The weather remained dismal: the sky full of dark clouds, and the rain continuing to fall in a steady downpour. The clothes under Josie’s rain poncho and the socks inside her boots were soaked. Water dripped down the sides of her face even with the large hood pulled over her head.

*   *   *

Josie noticed Diego and Skip in a serious discussion on the other side of the truck that was carrying the explosives. She realized the timing was lousy, but she couldn’t shake the investigation from her thoughts, especially given the information Cassidy had just provided. She decided to ask Skip about the information on Santiago that she had requested.

When Josie reached them, Diego put a finger in the air to halt her. “Sylvia called and said the NRC is on the line and refusing to hang up before I talk to them. I need to take care of business. Anything urgent?”

“No, I just need to talk with Skip,” Josie said.

“Excellent. I’ll be back shortly.” Diego walked quickly toward the main office building and Josie turned to Skip. “Did Diego tell you I need Santiago’s work duties for the days before he disappeared? I sent you an e-mail too.”

Skip sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I actually pulled that together for you yesterday. I just haven’t had time to call.”

Josie gave a noncommittal shrug. “Discover anything?”

Skip squinted his eyes and looked guilty. “I knew Juan was working on the vitrification project in Unit Seven. Our team has been in the building for almost a year now.”

“Okay.”

“What I forgot, in all the commotion the day you arrived, was that he was working in the pilot unit the week before. Just a short assignment to clean equipment.”

“Why is that important?” she asked.

“The vitrification project is still experimental. We’re working through issues constantly. Our goal is to perfect the science and share it with other scientists.”

Or, sell the science and make a fortune,
Josie thought. “What kind of work was he doing?”

Skip squinted at her again. “He was working cleanup with caustic chemicals. If he was careless, if safety precautions weren’t followed and the chemicals reached his skin, he could have ended up with some nasty sores on his arms.”

“I thought they wore the white hazmat suits?” she asked.

“That’s the company rule. In fact, it’s grounds for dismissal if a worker’s caught performing certain tasks without the suits. I’m just saying, maybe he didn’t follow protocol.”

Josie knew the answer but asked to see if Skip would be honest. “Was anyone working with Santiago those days?”

He nodded. “Brent Thyme.”

At least the stories match,
she thought. “Have you talked to Brent about his own safety yet?”

“No, he called in sick yesterday and today. I was planning on visiting him tonight after work.” His expression was vacant, as if his brain had reached its capacity to process. “And now this. One week it’s business as usual. The next, the whole world crumbles.”

Josie glanced at her watch and wondered if Brent had arrived at Cowan’s office yet to talk with the CDC. She made a mental note to call Cowan when she was done talking with Skip.

Josie took a leap of faith. “There’s something that’s bothering me about this case that I want to share with you,” she said.

Skip met her eyes, his expression earnest. “Sure.”

“When Juan’s body was found, he was wearing his work boots. From the Feed Plant.”

Skip took a second to respond. “That’s against company procedures. It doesn’t sound like Juan. He was one to follow rules.”

“It’s more than that though. Have you ever had any desire to wear your boots outside of the plant?”

“No.”

“Even if it weren’t against regulations. Would you wear your boots because they’re comfortable? Sturdy? Maybe they’re good for walking outside?”

He curled a lip up. “The boots are made for industrial work. I would not wear them if given the choice.”

“Then why would Santiago wear them two days after he left work? He had a pair of boots in his closet at his apartment that looked much more comfortable. He was wearing a nice pair of jeans and a Western shirt. His cowboy boots would have been the natural choice.”

Skip looked at her and shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense to me either.”

They both turned and watched a DPS car pull into the parking area, splashing water onto one of Mitch’s crew. To the man’s credit, he looked at his pants, already soaked from the rain, but didn’t react.

Josie looked back at Skip, her mind still focused on the details. “What if Santiago came back? What if he realized he’d gotten into something, and he came back that night for help?”

Skip raised his eyebrows.

“Are there antidotes? Or first-aid procedures you follow for chemical burns?” she asked.

“Sure, to an extent. If he truly got into the chemicals I’m afraid he touched, he’d need much more than a first-aid kit.”

“But he might not know that.”

Skip looked skeptical. “He certainly knows basic first aid and safety procedures. He would have washed the chemicals off immediately and treated the skin. He’s been through a number of mandatory safety trainings. If his skin came into contact with those chemicals, he knew to approach a supervisor immediately for treatment.”

“What if he came back the night before he died and stopped at his locker to put on his boots? Would he have access to them?” she asked.

“Yeah. He’d been working here for several years. Had a clean personnel record. Some of the guys have keys so they can have access to the buildings they work in. We keep the buildings locked at all times, so we give them keys so they can get in and out during the day. He’s worked here long enough to have his own set. It’s kind of a badge of honor to have a set of keys. A trust issue.”