by Diane Castle
I hoped that once I got to the refinery, I wouldn’t be so funny looking that I couldn’t get anywhere inside of it. Maybe I could find some protective gear once I got in and improvise.
I opened the closet door and was ready to go.
“Cameron,” I said, “I know it’s risky, but set up your network in the house and give me your cell phone. That way you can get on Gracie’s land line and walk me through what’s happening. If I can get in the building, and if you can keep an eye on the security cameras and get me where I need to go, maybe I can unlock the door and get Nash out.”
“With what key?” Miles asked.
“Good point,” I said. “Miles, give me your credit cards.”
“No way,” Miles said. “This is never going to work. You’ll just get yourself caught or killed, or both.”
At this point, I wasn’t sure I really cared. “My boss is dead. I have no job. I have no house. I have no car. I have no money. If anything happens to Nash. . .”
Miles looked at me for a moment, then crossed his arms defiantly.
I raised my gun and pointed it at him.
“Are you serious?” Miles said. “What is your problem?”
“Give me your credit cards,” I said softly.
“You wouldn’t,” Miles said.
Yeah, of course he was right. I wouldn’t. I lowered the gun. “Please, Miles. It’s important.”
“Oh, all right.” Miles yanked his wallet out of his pants, flipped it open, and flung his credit cards at me. “But this is never going to work.”
“It’s our only shot,” I said.
“Are you sure you’re up for this, Chloe?” Cameron asked.
“What other way is there?”
Cameron hesitated, thinking. “Options are limited,” he said carefully.
“Limited!” I said. “That’s the understatement of the year. Now, if you’re operating inside the house, you’ll have to be extremely careful,” I told Cameron.
I thought I saw a hint of amusement flit across his face, but surely I was imagining it?
“The cops will be going door to door,” I said. “Try to stay low and keep out of sight. If any of the neighbors see you. . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Cameron said. “Trust me. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Ain’t,” Miles said. “The expression doesn’t sound right if you don’t say ‘ain’t my first rodeo.’”
Cameron shrugged.
“Miles, while Cameron’s on the computer, you and Lucy sit by the window and look for police or snoopers,” I said. “If you see anyone, get out the back door and back into the root cellar. Got it?”
“Never gonna work,” Miles said.
“We can try,” Cameron said, ignoring the daggers Miles looked at him.
“We have to get it done,” I said. “If we don’t, Nash is dead.”
“And so are you,” Miles said. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.”
“Unless you are prepared to physically restrain me, you don’t have a choice.” I gave Cameron and Miles quick hugs and raced out the door. “Call me from the landline when you get set up!” I called back to them.
Forty-five minutes was an ambitious estimation of time, since I was pretty out of shape. I raced down Gracie’s sidewalk and into the open road, praying my hat and sunglasses would do the trick and hide my identity. If it didn’t, I was toast for sure.
CHAPTER 35
Anna Delmont had been calling Joe Bob all morning, but as usual lately, he didn’t return her calls. She’d have absolutely no idea what was going on at all if it weren’t for that nice Chief Scott, who did actually call her without her even having to call him first.
He sounded like a real wreck, which of course, was understandable. The whole town was in turmoil looking for Detective Nash, Chloe Taylor, and her paralegal, and he wanted her to get out there and help.
This, of course, she was happy to do. The problem was, all the neighbor ladies were calling her up and asking for more information than Chief Scott had been willing to give, and since Joe Bob wouldn’t return her calls, she still didn’t really understand what was going on. It was downright inconsiderate of him not to have informed her there was a situation brewing. He knew she hated to appear out of the loop.
She kept calling him, but he refused to pick up the phone. There was nothing for it but to go down to his office and tell him what for. The current situation was intolerable. She just knew that catty Mrs. Dagney was wagging her tongue all over. She could just hear her now. “Judge Delmont don’t trust his wife. He never tells her anything.” The nerve of that woman!
As she drove to the office, she watched the neighborhood waking up. People were out grabbing their papers, watering their lawns, or going for a morning jog, just like that girl in a Stetson hat and jean shorts over there. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to go jogging in a Stetson hat. After all, those were mighty fine hats, and it seemed like sweat would ruin the brim. Well, there was no accounting for taste.
When Anna got to the courthouse, it was all but deserted. In fact, the whole square, police station and everything, seemed deserted. Everyone must be out on the hunt.
Anna walked into the courthouse and took the familiar route to Joe Bob’s chambers. She knocked on the door. There was no response, so she went right on in.
“Joe Bob?” she called.
He didn’t answer.
Maybe she could figure out what was going on if she rooted around on his desk. His desk was a fine mess, covered with stacks of paper that were three or four inches high in some spots.
She moved some papers around gingerly, wanting to find information, but also not wanting to destroy the natural order of things. She’d hate for him to find out she’d been all through his stuff.
She picked up a particularly large stack of paper and noticed something brightly colored underneath. A photograph.
No, a set of photographs.
She’d recognize Joe Bob’s naked behind just about anywhere. And who was that in bed with him? All that blonde hair and the size of those breasts were unnatural. Ain’t nobody in the world should have breasts that big, except for maybe Dolly Parton. They looked like way more than a handful for Joe Bob.
Anna began to shake. How could he? After all these years! After everything she’d done for him! What would Mrs. Dagney say when she found out?
Anna felt nauseated and faint. She swayed and gripped the edge of the desk for support. There was a letter opener lying on the edge of the desk. A fit of rage tore through her, and with renewed energy, she grabbed the letter opener and brandished it above her head. Then, in swoops of pure, unadulterated grief and anger, she brought it down over and over again, driving the point into the offending images beneath her.
The paper ripped and tore satisfactorily as her steel point drove through it four, five, ten times. She would gouge out the very image of this woman’s breasts and her husband’s naked behind. No longer would this unholy amalgamation of flesh on flesh remain joined in frozen union on coated glossy card stock, a moment captured on film and available for the whole world to see. She would obliterate the image. She would obliterate the event.
Judge Delmont appeared in the doorway.
“Anna! What in tarnation are you doing to my desk?”
Anna, blinded with rage and hardly aware of what she was doing, screamed in tortured fury and rushed toward Joe Bob, steel tip upraised.
Joe Bob seemed like a thin, cardboard excuse for a man. Not the passionate man of flesh and blood she had admired, loved, and married. The man who stood before her was merely a shell of the man she’d been living with all these years. She didn’t know who this man was.
She knew he had his faults, but she never in a million years dreamed that he would have betrayed her trust like this. The sanctity of their marriage, the highest holy sacrament of the church, was destroyed! She had taken a lot from Joe Bob lying down, but not this. This was too serious. This was not to be t
olerated.
Her adrenaline surged. She plunged the letter opener into his heart. It pierced easily. She pulled it out and plunged again. She felt strong and furious. The steel seemed to simply melt into his body with no resistance—it was just like stabbing air. Just like going through paper. It meant nothing.
It was so easy, she stabbed again. And again. And again.
Joe Bob sank to the floor, his eyes wide with astonishment and pain.
Anna lifted her letter opener for one last plunge. She knew exactly where to aim. Her hands, armed with steel, swooped down and plunged into Joe Bob’s crotch. It was a clean stab, straight down, and the letter opener lodged in the floor and stuck, skewering him in death through the part he had enjoyed most in life.
And then, Anna’s fury subsided.
She looked at Joe Bob’s limp and bloody body on the ground and felt nothing. Perhaps the feelings would come later.
It struck her that she was going to need a good lawyer.
That nice Dick Richardson was a good lawyer.
And now she was single, just like he was. It occurred to her that it wouldn’t be in her best interests to arrange dinner for him with Widow Schumacher after all.
CHAPTER 36
As I ran, I kept my eyes peeled for faces in windows and cars on the street. At first, I jogged steadily. Then I started to worry that a woman running around in a Stetson hat and high heels might look suspicious. After that, every time I saw a car or a face in the window, I lowered my head and slowed to a walk.
Even though it was still early, it felt like the temperature was already in the upper nineties, and as always in this area, the humidity was high, making it feel even hotter.
It didn’t take long for my heels to start rubbing blisters in my ankles. Not to mention the terrible pinch in the toes. I took them off and clutched them hard as my bare feet pounded pavement. The sidewalk was heating up with the day and began to burn me. I switched to the grass, running through people’s front lawns.
Unfortunately, a lot of lawns were covered with sticker burr plants, and I kept having to stop and pick stickers out of my feet. Tiny little blood pricks dotted my soles and the sides of my feet. I sighed. This wasn’t going to work.
I cursed my shoes and put them back on. I would just have to endure the pain as I limped hurriedly along. I knew I looked ridiculous.
The neighborhood seemed a little more populated this morning than usual. The residents of Kettle were starting to appear in their front yards, watering plants, pruning bushes, and knocking on neighbor’s doors for a morning chat. The grapevine must already be active.
I slowed to a walk, nodding good morning to anyone who looked my way. I was starting to freak out a little. At this rate, I’d never make it to Miles’s house in time to save Nash.
As I rounded the corner onto Fifth Street, only one-third of my way to my destination, I saw rusty gold lying in the driveway of an old wooden house. A bicycle! A big, pink girl’s bicycle with an 80s-style flowered white basket on the handlebars! If I took it, it’s not like I would be stealing it, I told myself. I would bring it back.
Then the lawyer in me remembered a bunch of larceny law, and I felt a pang of guilt. Okay, yes, it would be stealing, even if I brought it back, but it was for such a good cause! And it was necessary. I’d have to use the necessity defense if I got caught.
Willing myself not to overthink it, I glanced furtively around, hoping no one was watching. Seeing no one, I grabbed the bike, tossed my shoes in the basket, and pedaled as fast as I could.
I was almost to Miles’ house when Cameron’s cell phone rang.
I picked it up. “Are you set up?” I huffed.
“Ten-four,” Cameron said. “Where are you?”
“I found a bike. I’m almost there. What’s happening?”
“Nash is still stuck in that room,” Cameron said. “Fitz is focusing on media spin for now. He’s fielding phone calls left and right. I’ve tried to look up some of the numbers, and a lot of them are to Mineral Management Services and other agencies in Washington D.C. I have a feeling he’s trying to call in some favors.”
“What did they do with Dick’s body?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I can only look at so many cameras at once. I’ve got one on Nash and one on Fitz.”
“How about the building schematic? Do you have that pulled up?”
“Yes,” Cameron said. “If you take the Meadow Road entrance to the back of the refinery, there are a bunch of old, rusty barrels stacked out by the creek. There’s a door back there that leads through a giant concrete retaining wall in an open-air warehouse area where they fill and load barrels of gasoline and chemicals. Let me know when you’re there, and I’ll loop the camera feed so it looks like you’re not there.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll call you back.”
I rode the rest of the way to Miles’ house. When I got there, I popped inside for a glass of water and a fresh shirt. My body was soaked with sweat, and I felt like I’d lost ten pounds in water weight on the trip over here. I selected one of his designer tees, which was made to fit him tight and show off his pecs. It fit perfectly on me. And it actually kind of looked cute in a redneck punk kind of way with my heels.
I hopped in his car and raced to the refinery, taking the Meadow Road entrance. The trip took me three minutes in the car. When I got close, I pulled out the cell phone and dialed Gracie’s land line.
“I’m here,” I said.
Miles walked me through parking the car outside of the security video feed.
“All right,” I said. “I’m parked. Run the loop. Tell me when.”
There was a pause. I used the time to mutter a quick prayer, begging for this plan to work.
“Okay, the loop is running,” Cameron said. “When you go in, I’ll jump the loop from camera to camera and follow you. If you can try to stay out of sight of actual people, I’ll do my best to keep you off the security feed. First thing I’m going to do is take you to a supply closet. That’s where they keep the spare protective jumpsuits everyone wears. If you can find one of those and get into it, you’ll blend in a lot better. That sound okay to you?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said. “Okay, I’m going in.”
I ran toward a rusty chain metal fence that abutted the barrels and planted myself behind them. They smelled to high heaven and appeared to be leeching chemicals into the nearby creek. That didn’t bode well for the safety of the groundwater in the area.
Edging my way past the barrels, I made a run for a large concrete wall with a door in it. My heels snagged on a piece of scrap metal and I fell, putting a gash in my knee.
Wiping away the blood, I got back on my feet and proceeded more carefully.
High above me, on the other side of the wall, smoke stacks belched smoke and fire. PetroPlex was burning off chemical leaks with flares, filling the air with toxic clouds. The roar of the flames serenaded me on my journey inward.
I crept forward and used the credit card on the lock. It worked. I cracked the door open. Before me was a large storage yard. Big, open—a large concrete-encased room with no ceiling. It was full of barrels and opened out onto a busy loading dock on the other end.
“Try to stay behind the barrel inventory,” Cameron said. “If you can do that, you can get to the other side of the dock and get through the door. From there, if you go left, that will take you deeper into the refinery. Right will get you to the corporate offices. You want to go right.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
I waited until the workers had their attention glued to several of the large barrels that were being crane-lifted out of the warehouse area and into the loading dock. Then I slipped through the door, shutting it softly behind me.
I ran towards the giant drums and wedged myself in between the wall of barrels and the back wall of the warehouse. There was just enough space for a very thin woman to edge through.
I lowered the phone, flattened myself against the wall, a
nd went in. The air was hot and putrid. The chemical smell in such close quarters was almost overpowering. I fought to breathe. Fought the nausea welling up inside my stomach. Even though the barrels were sealed, there had been small leaks during the filling process, and the evaporation from the gasoline leaks burned my nostrils.
I passed one barrel, two, three. Then five and ten. Eleven. Fifteen. Some of the barrels were tighter squeezes than others, and my phone scraped against them as I pressed myself through.
After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the end. There was at least a fifteen yard run out in the open to the door.
I lifted my phone to my ear and whispered, “Cameron?”
“I’m here,” he said.
“There must be a hundred people out on the dock. I’ll never make it.”
“Hold on,” he said. “Let me create a distraction.”
As I watched, one of the conveyor belts malfunctioned. Dock workers swarmed over it, trying to figure out what was wrong.
“Go! Go!” Cameron said. “Hallway’s clear!
I ran for it, barely breathing in the fifteen yards it took to reach the door.
I slipped through it and found myself in an empty hallway, Cameron’s phone glued to my ear.
“Watch out!” Cameron said. “Incoming! There’s an empty office a hundred yards down the hall on your right. Run!”
I ran. “Which office?” I whispered.
“Almost there,” Cameron said. “Keep running!”
I ran. “Tell me when.”
“Now! Now! On the right!”
I grabbed the office doorknob and skidded to a stop, then ducked inside.
“Tell me when I’m clear,” I said.
“Okay, wait for it.”
I had one ear jammed to the doorway and the phone pressed to my other ear. I heard two guys having a conversation as they walked down the hall.
“It’s a bad business,” said one guy with a gruff voice. “Bet half of us lose our jobs before it’s all over with.”
“I dunno,” said a guy with a higher pitched, smoother voice. “Fitz is no dummy. Word is, some lunatics killed Lewis this morning, and Fitz already has one of the guys locked up somewhere in the building. He shot the other one in his office.”