Scratchgravel Road (35 page)

Otto killed the engine and the group turned briefly to ask if everything was okay, but the focus was now on the mudslide. Massive slabs of earth were dislodging and collecting with the debris and water sliding down from the base of the mountain. The mess was fortunately following the path Mitch had predicted, headed straight for the ten-foot-wide ditch that would bypass the Feed Plant. The problem now was the mudslide was spreading wider than the ditch and was about to catch the trencher and pull it along.

“We’ve got to get him out of there!” Otto yelled. Josie could tell he was ready to start up their four-wheeler and take off toward the machine, but she was afraid it would just put another vehicle in the way of the slide.

Mitch turned. “You gonna throw him a rope? What the hell can we do?”

Josie yelled over the engine, “Let’s at least get up there closer.” She looked at Sandy and Diego, who stood together watching off to the side. “Do you have any chains?”

Mitch yelled, “It’s too late! Somebody call and tell him to leave the machine. Just get out and let it roll.”

“He can’t jump into a mudslide! He could kill himself getting out. That trencher could roll on top of him,” Josie said.

In a matter of seconds the slabs of mud had gained momentum, floating on the loose desert sand, mixing with the slew now pouring down the mountain. It had turned into a river of thick mud. The edge of the slide reached the trencher and began to turn the machine, finally taking it down the hill with it. The operator had no control. The tracks would be useless with nothing solid to grab on to. Josie prayed the massive machine wouldn’t tip.

Otto and Josie followed Mitch and Diego on the ATVs, up the hillside toward the trencher, staying on the solid ground to the right of the flow. Josie looked behind her and saw Sandy driving the Excursion back toward the plant before it got stuck in the mud.

As they came toward the machine, it tipped on its side, the cab moving in slow motion, the massive trencher slipping down into the middle of the mudslide. The windows were covered in thick sludge and the driver was no longer visible. They watched in awe as it was swept away, on its side, like a paper boat floating in a pond.

*   *   *

The mudslide stretched for about two miles to the left of the plant before the slight slope it was following flattened out and the mud dissipated into flat, barren desert. The trencher lay on its side completely engulfed in brown sludge. Otto and Mitch each drove the ATVs within thirty feet of the machine and had to stop. A layer of mud stretched around them, slowly flowing outward in all directions. Josie and Mitch both waded through almost a foot of thick mud to reach the trencher. After several torturous steps, Josie pulled her feet out of her wader boots, which were forever lost to the mud, and then pulled her muddy socks off. She pulled her poncho over her head and left it in a heap on the ground.

Josie yelled out to the driver, but heard nothing. In her bare feet, she approached the tracks and tried to find something to grab hold of to pull herself up, but every surface was slick. With the trencher lying on its side, it was almost impossible to find a foothold. Mitch stood beside her and laced his hands together.

“Step up here. I’ll boost you up,” he said.

She placed a foot in his hands and he easily pushed her up and onto the side of the machine, almost on top of the door.

She took careful steps on the slippery surface, then, bending over, she reached down for the handle and twisted it. She pulled hard on the door to break the mud seal that was caked around the edge, yanking at the door until finally it broke free. She pried the door open and found the operator looking dazed and confused, still sitting in the cab chair, still strapped in by his seat belt.

“Any place on you that hurts?” she asked.

“I don’t think so.” He struggled to speak, sounding disoriented.

Mitch managed to climb on to the machine and was suddenly standing at her side. He held one of her hands as she climbed inside the cab. The driver was lying on his side, one of his hands still clenching the steering wheel. Josie bent over the top of him and unbuckled the safety belt from around his waist.

“You think you’re okay enough we can move you? No broken bones?” she asked.

“Hard to tell. I think I’m okay.”

“I got you unbuckled. Mitch is going to put his hand down here, and we’re going to both pull you up out of the cab. You yell if anything hurts and we’ll wait for the medics. Okay?”

He finally turned his head to the side and made eye contact with Josie. “Scared the shit out of me.”

She laughed, relieved to hear him coming around. “Scared me too. And I wasn’t inside this thing! Let’s get you out of here.”

Josie and Mitch each took a hand and helped pull him to a standing position. His head appeared out of the cab and he seemed fine, just shaken up. The rest of the group had assembled and watched as he was slowly pulled from the cab. Cheers and applause broke out as he made his way down from the machine, hanging on to Josie and Mitch for support.

*   *   *

Back at the staging facility, Josie and Mitch rinsed the mud off their feet and pants using a water hose outside the main office. Sylvia Moore brought them each another pair of waders and they got back to work. The mudslide lost intensity but continued for another three hours, then finally stopped after the rain ended. Additional workers were called in and spent the day monitoring the mountainside and cleaning up the aftermath. The crew moving the barrels had managed to move only twenty-five of them into the semis before the peak crumbled. Debris and water had flowed through the center of the Feed Plant, but not enough to topple any of the decaying barrels or to invade the buildings. The explosives had worked as hoped.

When it was clear that the crisis had been averted and moved into cleanup mode, Diego called the cafeteria workers and asked them to prepare meals for the crew. A large group of women and men showed up and began preparing meals for a team that had grown to almost seventy-five. As the day drew to a close, Diego called the officers and company employees who had been a part of the initial planning effort into the cafeteria to debrief. As the bedraggled group entered the room, the cafeteria workers stood in a line and clapped. When Mitch entered he smiled and waved to a room full of cheers and applause. Josie looked around the cafeteria at the mud-covered, exhausted group of people and was proud of what they had accomplished. They had worked together as a team and achieved their goal. It didn’t always work that way.

After Diego thanked the group, the cafeteria ladies began serving a sit-down meal of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Josie and Otto stepped away from the group to plan their next steps.

“Can you go meet with Cowan and the CDC technician? I want to make sure that what we suspect matches with what the CDC has found on the body.”

Otto nodded.

“I’m not leaving until I get back into that security room to watch the rest of the tape. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

Diego and Skip approached them. Diego looked exhausted. Josie knew there were many plant managers who would have sat in a dry office all day barking orders. She was impressed with his willingness to work alongside of, instead of in front of, his employees.

“Quite a day,” Diego said.

Otto grunted. “You could say that.”

Diego turned to Josie. “I’m assuming the security tape will be taken as evidence. Is it possible for me to watch the tape before you take it?”

“That’s where I’m headed.”

Diego considered her thoughtfully for a moment. “Can I ask you a question regarding the case?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you suspect Brent Thyme? I thought Leo was your primary suspect. You just discovered he stole Santiago’s money.”

“Leo was used. He was broke. I had no trouble believing he stole the money, but there was never a good connection between Leo and Juan.”

“But Brent and Juan were coworkers. Friends even,” Skip said.

Josie gave him a skeptical look. “Maybe on the surface. This whole case came back to the boots for me. I felt certain the murder took place at the plant. And then I remembered, Juan didn’t have a car. Who took Juan to work every day?”

“Brent did,” Skip said.

“Then we discovered Brent had a sore on his arm, similar to the sores that were on Santiago’s arms.”

Skip and Diego both looked at each other in surprise. “I had no idea,” Skip said.

“Brent didn’t want you to know. He was afraid he would lose his job.”

Diego stared intently at Josie, processing the information. “I’m sorry, I still don’t see the connection,” he said.

“From what I’ve seen in reports, things I’ve read on the Internet, and even what we’ve heard from employees, there’s one thing you stress to your workers. Above all else.”

Diego nodded. “Safety above all else.”

“There are Safety First signs everywhere. Crews are called Safe Shut-Down Crews. Then when I interviewed Brent and he told me about the sores, he practically begged me not to tell you. He was terrified you would suspect protocol hadn’t been followed. That he’d lose his job. He said he had a wife, kid, mortgage. The job meant everything to him.”

“Brent was a great worker,” Skip said. “We were grooming him for a promotion.”

“When I talked to him at his home, I was disappointed in him for not doing the right thing. For not going to you with the truth about what had happened. But the more I thought about it, I realized, he had probably sat on information that could have saved Santiago’s life.” She turned to Diego. “Let’s pull up the tape from the pilot unit. From the last day Juan and Brent worked together. My guess is, safety was compromised and led to their injuries. Juan was going to blow the whistle, and Brent could only find one way to stop him. He lured him to the plant and killed him.”

*   *   *

Otto said his good-byes and left for the health department, and Skip joined a group of police officers for dinner in the cafeteria. Josie thought he still looked shell-shocked by the day’s revelations. Diego and Josie walked to the pilot unit under a gray sky that looked as if at any moment the thin membrane holding back the rain might break, allowing yet another drenching. The forecast called for rain through the evening, but promised an end to the deluge by morning. Josie glanced down at her soaked uniform, her pants covered in mud from mid-thigh down. She had pulled her wet hair back into a ponytail again, but it had done little to help her appearance. Diego somehow managed to still look businesslike even with mud splattered across his suit pants and shirt. He’d lost his suit jacket and tie sometime earlier in the day.

Apparently sensing her train of thought, Diego said, “You look quite good in brown. It might be your color.”

She laughed as they walked. She could feel him studying her face.

“I can still see the burn, although it’s faded. There’s a fair chance the top layer of skin will turn brown and peel. You should still have your face checked, but don’t panic.”

“Don’t panic. Phrase of the day.”

*   *   *

They reached Unit Seven and Diego unlocked the door, then led them to the security office. The building appeared empty.

They sat next to each other on chairs facing the computer screen. Diego had closed the door behind them and Josie could smell the damp from their clothes in the small space.

“I never dreamt one of my employees could be capable of such an act,” he said.

Josie cued up the tape, then reversed it so that Diego could watch from the moment the two men wearing hazmat suits entered the laboratory. They watched as the box was taken from the cabinet, the tube declined by the man Josie identified as Santiago, then finally as he was hit over the head by the stool.

They watched as he fell to the floor, and the minutes of indecision as the other man paced the floor, then stood for a long while just staring at the body.

“What a horrific thing,” Diego said. “He is rationalizing the death of his friend.”

After a full five minutes of indecision, the figure bent down and unfastened the hood of the man on the floor, then pulled it off. Josie and Diego both leaned forward, straining to see his face. When the other person stood, they got a clear shot of Juan Santiago. Diego made a noise, then cleared his throat. “I recognize him from his photo on his ID. And I’ve seen him around the plant. There’s no doubt.”

The other person kept his hood on and Josie assumed he was doing it to hide his identity. He opened several cabinets, and rifled through their contents, obviously searching for something. He finally pulled out a glass jug, similar to the one Brent had used earlier in the day against Josie. He uncapped the liquid and bent down beside Santiago. They watched in horror as he pried Santiago’s mouth open with his hand and poured the liquid down the man’s throat.

Diego made a sound of disgust.

Josie said nothing. She imagined Sarah, Brent’s wife, and their small child at home right now, probably still oblivious to the horror he had unleashed upon their family.

“What in god’s name was he thinking?” Diego said.

Shortly after, the man replaced the chemicals and bent down to pick up the lifeless Santiago. He struggled, but finally managed to maneuver him over his shoulder and walk out of the lab. Diego fast-forwarded through the rest of Sunday to when the tape ended at 6
A.M.
Monday. Other than one security guard walk-through, the lab remained empty.

Diego faced Josie. “How can you be certain that was Brent Thyme?”

“Let’s pull up the tape from last Monday, the last day that Brent and Juan worked together in the pilot plant.”

Over the next fifteen minutes they fast-forwarded through tape, watching scientists and technicians come in and out of the lab. Then, at 11:10
A.M.
, two men in hazmat suits took off their helmets and peeled down the top portion of their suits, allowing their upper body and arms to be exposed.

“Brent and Juan. There’s the safety breach,” Diego said.

Several minutes later they watched Juan drop a glass jug of something and both men jump away from it. They appeared to argue, Brent obviously furious with Juan for the accident, Juan apologizing. Then both men pulled their suits back up and put their hoods on and began cleaning the floor.