by Mark Gessner
"No way," said Maari, "that's criminal."
"Yeah, it was some pretty sick shit. Eventually even that didn't work so she resorted to keeping him locked up every night in a furnace closet in the garage. The shrink said he suffered from panic attacks. Apparently over the years he came to believe that the only way to stop the attacks was to drink his own urine. And it worked too, but only because he believed it would. He had a handful of other mental problems I can't remember, but the jury decided it just wasn't enough to declare him legally insane. He knew what he was doing, the printed list was the damning piece of evidence to prove that."
"What'd he get?" asked Jason, firing the soggy nerf ball toward Bonnie, who ducked underwater just in time to avoid being hit in the face.
"He got life, no parole, but it'll be years before all the other trials are finished in all the other states, if they even get that far. When they bring him down to Texas he'll probably get the chair," said Kurt.
"Well, actually we use lethal injection here. So he was an engineer, right? How did he get that job? You can't be crazy and get through engineering school, can you?" asked Ratkus.
"He wasn't crazy, I mean he had mental problems but not severe enough to keep him from functioning. Eventually when he got into his late teens, he ran away from home and--he's a smart guy, make no mistake, maybe not a genius, but close--he put himself through college," said Kurt.
"So what set him off?" asked Maari.
"He got fired from his last job at the defense plant. He spent about six months stewing over it. When he couldn't get another job, that's when he decided to get revenge instead," said Kurt.
"That's twisted," said Bonnie, dunking Jason under the water and holding him there.
"So have you decided what you're going to do with your share of the reward money?" asked Maari.
"Well, I'm not going back to work for awhile, that's for sure. I actually have been kicking around the idea of starting up my own management consulting firm, and I've started writing a book on how managers can improve productivity by rooting out the slackers in their organization. I've always been amazed at how many companies are infested with slackers," he said.
"Just whatever you do, don't root out my slackers," said Jason, who'd come up for air and was forcing Bonnie's head under the water. "I need those guys to help me win the Onslaught Deathmatch tournament next month."
"Actually, I'm still trying to get most of the reward money out of that last victim's company," said Kurt. "Digital Fabrication Systems. They promised $250,000, but now the victim himself, this Stalnaker guy, he's urging them to renege on the deal, claiming that their acting CEO didn't have the authority to offer any reward. So I'm taking them to court."
"Wow that's pretty low," said Jason, "what an asshole."
"Yeah, that could take a while to straighten out. Luckily I've got a good lawyer," said Kurt.
"My lawyer," said Judi, throwing her arm around Kurt.
"The best in the coffee biz," said Kurt, giving her a squeeze.
Chapter 80
Early Fall
"WHAT'S THAT SMELL?" KURT asked, wrinkling his nose, "Smells like battery acid, and--"
"--rotten eggs! Ugh! Like something died in there," said Judi, pinching her nose shut and fanning the air in front of her face. The two had hiked a half mile into Barton Creek Park, in search of one of the older, more difficult caches that neither of them had found yet. Judi decided not to renew the lease on her apartment and Kurt had helped her move into his place. She was spending every night there anyway, and they were ready to live together.
Judi had become a geocaching machine, with over three hundred finds in the last several months, and no one could beat her to be the first to find on a new cache. Once she'd put Rachel in charge as general manager, she had a lot more free time and much less stress. Judi handled the big picture now, and left the details to Rachel. It worked, though it was tough for Judi to let go at first. They were opening two more stores and Judi was kicking around the idea of expanding the operation to Dallas first, and then maybe Houston.
"There's the cache, I think," said Kurt, "Wait, isn't it supposed to be an ammo can?"
"Yeah, says here it's a 50 caliber ammo can, but that looks like a glass jar, that can't be it," she said, folding up the cache printout and putting it in her back pocket.
"Let me see that," he said, picking up the glass jar. "Oh shit, that burns!" he cried, tossing the glass jar away and wiping his hand on his shorts. The glass jar burst into fragments on a rock, and the contents coated the rock in a smoking wet film. "It is battery acid. Aw fuck, that burns."
"Here, hold still, let me wash that off," she offered, unscrewing the lid from her waterbottle and pouring some water over his hand.
"That's better, thanks," he said, wiping the water off on his shirt. "Man what the hell is that doing out here?"
"I don't know but look at all this other junk under here," she said, lifting a rotted sheet of plywood. "Looks like a fire extinguisher or maybe a scuba tank, more of those jars, a turkey baster, and a propane tank.
"Huh, that's weird, look at the valve on that tank," he said.
"Looks like corrosion," she said, "like what you get on your car battery right before it dies.
"Oh shit, Judi we gotta get out of here--and fast," he said, taking her arm.
"Why?" she asked.
"This is a meth lab," he said, pointing to the mess in front of them.
"A what?" she asked.
"C'mon, just back away slowly, and watch your step," he said. When they were safely back a few dozen feet, he said, "I read about this online a few months ago. These labs are set up out here in the woods by drug dealers to make crystal meth."
"A lab?" she asked, "Out here in the woods?"
"Yeah, the smell's so bad they can't set it up in a house or the neighbors will complain and call the cops. Besides, this stuff explodes easily, and boom, there goes the neighborhood. These labs are really hazardous too. Jeez that still burns. Give me some more of that water, there's no telling what got on my hand," he said, pouring more water over his burned palm and fingers. "Help me get a photo of this stuff," he said, reaching into her pack for the digital camera, "I read a posting on the cache-finders site last month where they found a lab just like this up in Cincinnati." He took a couple steps toward the lab and said, "Were there any rubber hoses in there? That's a dead giveaway..."
Judi reached forward and grabbed Kurt by the arm. She pulled him back out onto the trail and grabbed her camera back from him. "Oh no you don't, Buster." She pulled out her cellphone and punched up 9-1-1. "This time we're just going to call the police."
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A number of individuals helped me with this book. I'd like to thank:
Jim Gessner, for carefully reading through the whole manuscript and asking lots of thoughtful questions.
Scott Gessner (aka Daddycacher), Psychologist and geocacher who proofread the manuscript and helped me understand and formulate the psychological motivations behind the twisted mind of Gary Maxwell Navarre.
Brad Belk (aka bbelk), for his boundless nautical knowledge and plenty of free boat rides on his huge collection of boats, including one that really was unsinkable.
Office Michael Blevin, of the Austin Police Department, for his help with some of the forensics.
Bill Schroder, for his help with police procedures and proofreading the entire manuscript.
Eric Smith, for help in proofreading the entire manuscript and offering up lots of good suggestions.
Julie Perrine, Shelly Pain, Ralph & Eileen Gessner, and my wife Allie Gessner for careful proofreading.
The geocachers of Austin Texas, for some truly inspiring and creative cache hides. A few are mentioned in this book.
My Brittany spaniel “Nipper” (1989-2006) and my grey tabby cat “Pokey” (1990-2006), for just being great pets for all those years. I miss you guys.
About the Author
Mark Gessner lives in North
Texas with his wife Allie and their young son Skyler. To date, he's found almost a thousand geocaches, which isn't really considered a whole lot anymore, considering that he's been at it for seven years. He's hidden more than 100 caches in a half dozen states, some of which have won local awards.
He seldom tries to be First To Find.
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