“Kind of like reading an X-ray,” Hauck volunteered.
“Very much like that. You can see the different masses … So we know with a much higher level of probability what’s down there before the first drill bit hits the earth. And over here is what’s down there now …”
He took Hauck over to a different screen, where he saw a computer rendering of the main well, its many protective layers inside it, and then farther down, how it suddenly branched off horizontally. “Hannah One,” Moss said. Thousands of feet down, there were two other horizontal channels that fed out in other directions. “Meet her cousins, Hannah Two and Three.”
It resembled the branches of a tree. Perfectly straight ones. With various colors in the cross section, representing different layers of rock. “How long does it take to drill one of them?” Hauck asked.
Moss shrugged. “Twenty-one to twenty-eight days, depending on if we can go day and night. Previously, we’d be sinking wells into the earth all over this area if there was a high probability of oil. The Wattenberg field we’re in has what we call the EUR, the estimated ultimate recovery, of some fifty-five million barrels.”
“That’s a lot of money at stake.”
“It is, but let’s be clear, it’s not just about the money.” Moss leaned back against the workstation. “Or being able to run your air conditioners twenty-four hours a day and drive around gas guzzlers. We’re not just talking lower gas prices anymore. The real number that matters is the percentage. The percentage of domestic to imported oil. That’s what we’re really doing here, Mr. Hauck. What’s really at stake. It’s about independence. The independence from the Middle East. Economically and politically. Trust me, Mr. Hauck, what we’re doing here is a lot deeper than simply pleasing our shareholders. We’re talking foreign policy, and national security.”
National security … The battle for hearts and minds, just like in Iraq and Afghanistan. That’s how Alpha fit in, Hauck began to see. Shifting the battlefield. The new football fields, fancy parks. Town centers. Inform. Persuade. Influence. As lethal as if they’d sent in the Special Forces commandos to take out a bad actor in the night.
The last thing you wanted was for anyone to get in the way.
“So what do you think?” Moss’s smile had returned. “Impressive …?”
It was clear to Hauck he was getting the tour designed to push him off why he was here. Moss had already been alerted about him. Before Hauck even showed up today. “Very.”
It was Moss himself who had said it: I was using the word environment far more broadly …
What the hell had Trey Watkins’s father done?
On the drive back, Moss’s conversation grew more personal. Who was Hauck up here with? What else he’d done with his time? How long was he planning on staying? They got back to the RMM lot. Moss asked where Hauck had parked and drove him over to his car.
“Sorry I couldn’t have been more helpful on the Robertson thing. Hope you enjoyed the tour, though.”
“Thanks. It was very interesting.” They shook hands and Hauck stepped out.
“Next time through,” Moss said, “I’d like you to meet Mr. Stafford, our regional general manager.”
“Maybe that can be arranged,” Hauck said, watching Moss’s expression slide. “I’m not sure I’m leaving so soon.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Dani was going stir-crazy. Growing worried, too. He had left around ten and it was already after three. She’d called. She sat around watching Oprah and Ellen. She called again.
Finally he knocked on her door.
“I was worried. I didn’t know what happened to you,” she said, shifting on her bed, her arms around a pillow, the TV on. “You left for RMM at ten. That was over four hours ago.”
“I got waylaid,” he sheepishly replied.
“Waylaid?”
“I went to see Hannah.”
“Lucky you.”
“Hannah’s a well, Dani,” he said, noting her perturbed expression. “It’s where those trucks we saw on the road were heading the other day. And I found out a few things you might want to know. The first is, those tankers we almost ran into weren’t filled with oil after all.”
“What were they for then?”
“Water. Lots of water.”
“Okay. And what’s so great about that?”
“Water is how they get the oil out. They—”
“Fracking. I get it, Uncle Ty. I think I told you that when we drove up. I know the process.”
“Dani, look around … What’s the one thing you don’t see around here? The place is in the middle of a two-year drought. And RMM needs thousands and thousands of gallons of water. So where do you think it comes from?”
She nodded. “Those trucks coming up from the river …”
“That facility we thought was a well, well, it isn’t. It’s a pumping station. For water. They’re literally draining the river. And they might well be dumping it back in once they’re through with it. You want your potatoes irrigated with fracking wastewater?”
She shook her head. “No, not really.”
“Neither would I. I’m starting to see how Alpha fits in to all this.” Hauck sank into a chair across from her. “Their job is to eliminate any organized or lingering opposition before the oil companies come in and do their thing. They come up with a strategy, just like they did in the war: persuading the local population, buying any resistance off. E.g. the fancy football fields, health centers, and municipal buildings. And maybe turn the screws on anyone else.”
“I thought they handled issues relating to the environment,” Dani said.
“It is the environment. They’re just using the word a lot more liberally. Meaning anyone—a town council, a building ordinance, or even a stubborn individual who is standing in their way, or maybe stirring up trouble …”
“Trey’s father.” Dani nodded, starting to get the picture.
“I think I’d like to pay him another visit, if your friend Allie is still there.”
“I think she’s heading back tomorrow.”
“Up for it?” Hauck winked.
“I’m up for anything that gets me out of this dump you made me hang out in all day.” She wheeled around and put her feet into her sneakers. “You know you could have called. After what happened on the road, when I didn’t hear back for all this time, I was worried. That wasn’t nice.”
“You’re right.” Hauck tossed her her Whitewater Adventure sweat shirt, which was flung over the chair. “Won’t happen again. My bad.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
They drove back out to the farm, sure that Trey was killed for some action aimed against his father. They got there at around 4:30, hoping to catch Watkins at the end of the day.
This time, there were only a few cars in front of the house and a few hands milling around. They knocked on the front door. Trey’s mother, Marie, a warm, but no-frills-looking woman in her fifties with graying hair and no makeup, opened it, and let them in.
“Mrs. Watkins …” Hauck said.
She wasn’t rude, but she wasn’t welcoming, either. Dani went into the bedroom to speak with Allie. Hauck asked if they could speak to her husband one more time.
“He’s out by the barn. But I’m not sure he’ll want to speak with you. He was upset after the last time. We all were. Now that our boy is buried, can’t we just let him lie in peace?”
“If I could just have a couple of minutes, Mrs. Watkins, that’s all I ask.”
She tossed a rag on the table. “Wait here. I’ll see.”
She went out back. Hauck stood looking out the window at the barn. Hay bales were being stacked, hands transferring them into the big barn. That’s what they were farming now. All the land would give them.
The room was a kind of sitting room, with old, upholstered chairs and a wear-worn couch, close to the kitchen. The place had the cozy smell of biscuits baking and there were flowers placed everywhere in all this drought, probably from the funeral. T
heir daughter, Kelli, who lived in Greeley, came out from the kitchen. She was pretty, in trendier jeans and a red knit top. “You can see how it is here,” she said, with a hint of apology. “She might be right, though. It may just be better if you leave them alone.”
“I’m not trying to cause anyone any pain, Kelli. But there are some things you all should know.”
“You’re not a cop?”
“No. Not anymore.”
“So then why are you digging into this? Why are you putting yourself on the line? What’s your interest in Trey?”
Hauck was struggling for an answer when he heard the screen door in the kitchen open.
Chuck Watkins came in, in jeans and a work shirt and a Caterpillar baseball cap. He stopped, removed a work glove from his hand, and put it on the table. “I don’t mean to be unneighborly, Mr. Hauck, but I’m pretty sure my wife made it clear just how we feel.”
“All I want is just a couple of minutes,” Hauck said. “If that’s—”
“I don’t have a couple of minutes. What I have is twenty acres full of undersized potatoes and beet root that need to be watered best we can. And a whole bunch of hay to stack and bring in. I told you the other day, there’s no point in trying to make some case here. We’re the ones who have to live with what happened to Trey, not you.”
“I know that.” Hauck took a step forward. “But your son—”
The bedroom door opened, and Dani and Allie came out from where they’d been talking.
“My son died from an accident, Mr. Hauck. Not from anything else. The police in Carbondale confirmed that to my satisfaction. The parks investigators looked into it too, and didn’t find any differently. So I don’t know who you are or what you think you have, but all it’s going to do for us is bring up a lot of questions that will never be answered and just upset everyone around here, who are already pretty upset. So I’m asking like I did the first time, to just let us alone now and leave.”
“I want to show you a photo, if I can …?” Hauck told out his phone and scrolled to the shot he had taken yesterday at Alpha of Robertson in the 301st Airborne. He narrowed in. “You recognize this person?”
Watkins shook his head. “No.”
“His name is John Robertson. Do you know that name?”
Watkins shook his head again, but this time after a slight pause.
“I know what it’s like, sir, but it’s important you hear about RMM and some of the contractors they’re using …”
“You know what it’s like? You’ve both been in town all of about two days and you’ve got it all sized up. Well, I’m glad we’re such a learning experience for you, Mr. Hauck.”
“I know you were standing up against them in some way. RMM. I know they use contractors whose job it is to break down local opposition to the wells. They’re trained by the U.S. Army, Mr. Watkins. It’s called the Alpha Group. They all did questionable stuff over there, and now they’re here, and what else you ought to know is, there was someone who was an operative for Alpha who was on the river at the same time Trey was—”
“That’s enough!” Watkins’s voice made a few people turn, then he lowered it. “Our son is dead, sir. Isn’t that enough? He lived in his own freewheeling way and that’s how he died. Why does there have to be anything else to it?”
“Mr. Watkins, I found Trey on the river.” Dani came forward. “I know better than anyone what kind of whitewater he could handle and how he—”
“I said, that’s enough! I know you were his friend, miss, and I appreciate that, and what you’re trying to do. But I’m asking you to leave my house now. Both of you. I don’t want another word.”
“Dad.” Kelli stepped toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Just listen to them, please …”
“Chuck …” said his wife. “Maybe you should.”
“Marie!” His hand met the tabletop, causing the glassware to shake, his eyes ablaze. “Don’t you say another word,” he said to her. “Just don’t.” He turned back to Hauck. “If you had any sense you wouldn’t be looking around this mess in the first place. You’d do the smart thing and just be gone. If we had any sense …” He stopped on the word, as if something inside had stopped him, and his voice softened. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But just go back home. Please … You find anything, take it to the people who can do some good. Just let us alone. That’s all I’m asking now. I know you think you have the answers …” Watkins was a proud, tough man, but Hauck saw tears come into his eyes. “But just go. Please …”
The entire house seemed to stand still like it was in the grip of fear.
“C’mon, Dani,” Hauck said. He looked at her and could see she was bursting with frustration. “I’m sorry to bother you again. All of you. Ma’am.” He nodded to Watkins’s wife.
Dani said, “Mr. Watkins, if you only let us—”
“Dani, please, you heard him.” Hauck took her by the arm. She took a futile glance around the room, ending on Allie, who nodded back at her with a look that conveyed something like, Thanks. It’s best. I’ll see you at home.
At the door, Hauck turned back. The farmer was still standing there with his hands balled around his cap. “I do know,” Hauck said. “I lost a daughter myself. She was five. So I do know how it is.”
Watkins just stared with an empty and impassive expression.
“So, Mr. Hauck …?”
Hauck looked back.
“They say it’ll get better. With time.”
“Which part, Mr. Watkins?” Hauck looked into the farmer’s hooded eyes. “The grief or the guilt?”
As soon as they were on the porch, Dani grabbed onto Hauck’s arm. “Something’s going on here. How can you just leave and not make them see it?”
“Because I can, Dani. That’s all there is to it. You don’t understand.” He went down the steps to their car.
“Uncle Ty, listen, please …” She caught up to him. “Allie told me inside, something’s not right here. She said she heard Trey’s father and mother arguing. She heard her tell him something like ‘You’re not responsible.’ ‘You’re not responsible,’ Uncle Ty … Allie was sure she was talking about Trey.” She latched onto Hauck’s arm and swung him around. “We can’t just leave. She wants to know the truth.”
“Then let her find it. We’re going home. We’re sticking our noses into something where we don’t belong.”
“What do you mean we don’t belong …? What’s happened, Uncle Ty? Why are you suddenly agreeing with him?”
He pulled the car door open, the blood heating up inside.
“Mr. Hauck …”
They heard the front door open behind them. Kelli Watkins came onto the porch. She came down the steps and over to them. “I’m sorry about my father. He’s not that way. Really. You can see, he’s toiling his whole life away, and look what’s happening …”
Hauck said, “You don’t have to apologize. I—”
“I’m not apologizing. I know you both felt from the start that Trey’s death wasn’t an accident, and I don’t want to get my father in trouble, or put anyone else in harm … But if my brother was the victim of something”—she looked up at him—“then I don’t want to keep it quiet, either.”
“I think he was, Kelli,” Dani said to her. “It’s just that no one wants to hear.”
“I want to hear.” She looked at Dani and then at Hauck, and pushed the bangs away from her eyes. “My father was always a courageous man. And look what’s happened. You don’t know the truth of what’s really happening here. My father and a few other townspeople got involved and …
“Just look around,” she said, her gaze swept over the parched, brown fields. “You can see what we’re struggling with here. None of them grew up with a nickel in their pockets other than this land. Now look at it. Then this thing comes like a gift from God that can save us. This was a quiet town, Mr. Hauck. Like some Norman Rockwell painting. Now it’s turned people against each other. To my dad, it was like making a d
eal with the devil to sell your soul. And now we all see the cost, what’s happened. The real cost …”
Hauck put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Tears came into her eyes.
“Look around at this shit, Mr. Hauck. God knows why anyone would want to give their lives up to save it. Other than just their own will and stubbornness.” She wiped the tears away with her arm. “And look what it’s cost us now.”
“Kelli, if you want us to just go home, we will.”
“I don’t want you to go home.” She shook her head and looked up at Hauck, a fire of something, maybe a last hope, flickering through her watery eyes. “Everyone goes home. I’m sorry for what you said in there, about your daughter. I wouldn’t blame you if you did go. We’ve been afraid of the truth, because of what might happen next. But I loved Trey, and if something bad did happen, well then I damn well want to know. And the people who did it made responsible. He was a good kid, whatever my father feels.” She turned to Dani. “You knew that, right?”
Dani nodded. “Everyone did.”
“You go back now and not look into it.” Kelli shrugged. “I don’t know who will.”
They stood here looking at her.
“So actually there is someone … Someone who you can talk to. In Greeley. She’s a lawyer. She might be the only one left who’s not on RMM’s payroll. But you have to understand, you’ll be going up against a lot here, Mr. Hauck, both with RMM and the town. They may be simple folk here, but trust me, they don’t take kindly to someone getting in their way. We see that now.”
“What this person’s name?” Hauck inquired.
“Jen Keeler. She’s with some environmental group. I could find out for you.”
“Keeler …” Hauck said. “Won’t be necessary.” He squeezed her shoulder in a bolstering way.
They got in their car. Kelli took a step or two toward the house as Hauck started the engine, then she turned back to them and Hauck came around.
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