Black Oil, Red Blood

Chapter 39



From out of the darkness, I felt a repetitive, wet pressure on my face. A sponge? No. A tongue. In the distance, I heard a voice. It sounded like Miles.

“She found her!” called the voice that sounded like Miles.

I opened my eyes to find Lucy standing on my chest, frantically swiping her tongue over and over my cheek.

“Lucy,” I said. “Good dog.”

I figured I must be dead. I had to be dead, and this had to be some Heavenly incarnation of my dog, because otherwise, what on earth could she be doing here?

I glanced around. I lay in the midst of flattened trees and stripped bushes. I didn’t see Nash anywhere. If I were dead and in Heaven, wouldn’t Nash be here, too? And my family members who had gone before me? Angels? Harps? Singing and that sort of thing?

I saw none of that. Instead, I saw only Lucy and the semi-flattened woodlands around us. But I could still hear the voice that sounded like Miles calling my name.

I turned my head in the direction of the voice and saw Miles, Cameron, and Gracie racing toward me. Wait. . . Gracie?

I did a double-take. Yes, that was definitely Gracie.

“Oh, thank you, Sweet Jesus!” Gracie said, coming to her knees beside me. “Thank God you’re okay!”

“Where’s Nash?” Cameron asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think he might be dead. Am I dead, too?”

“You’re not dead,” Miles said, “which is an ever-loving miracle, I might add! I swear that if you ever try to pull any more crazy stunts like this ever again, I will kill you myself!”

So I was not dead, but Nash might be. Please, God, no, I prayed. Please don’t let Nash be dead. I just wanted to spend some time with him. Any time—even just one day. There was so much I still wanted to learn about him. So much I still had to tell him. So much of his lips, body, and soul I wanted to explore.

“Find Nash,” I murmured.

“We’ll keep looking,” Cameron said. He stood up and called to some dark shapes in the distance. “Over here!”

Large, looming men jogged towards us. They were dressed all in black except for the letters ‘FBI’ in white across their torsos.

The men in black arrived and began checking my pulse and testing my bones for breaks. For the first time since I regained consciousness, my body began to register pain.

One of them looked up at Cameron and nodded.

“It’s okay,” Cameron told me. “You’re okay.”

It was then I noticed that Cameron was also dressed all in black with the letters FBI across his chest.

I frowned at him. “Wait a minute. Where’d you get that uniform?”

Cameron flashed me a badge.

A tsunami of conflicting feelings washed over me. Relief. Anger. Happiness. Rage.

He bent down to help me to my feet. When I was up, I hugged him. And then I slapped him.

“You are FBI and you let me go in there by myself? All alone? To most likely die?” I punched him in the ribs. “FBI?For real?

So that’s why he was able to kill those thugs in the garage so easily. So that’s why life on the run didn’t seem to bother him. That’s why he could be so cheerful in the face of life-threatening stress. He was trained to handle all of it.

Before I could punch him again, Miles grabbed my arms and restrained me.

“Lay off,” Miles told me. “It was necessary.”

“I’m sorry, Chloe,” Cameron said, “but I’ve been deep undercover for more than five years now, and I was under strict orders not to reveal myself, no matter the cost.

“But why?” I said. “Why the press release and all the sneaking around and stuff? If you’re FBI and you knew you had probable cause, why didn’t you go in and raid the place?”

“This was never meant to be a public operation,” Cameron said. “Can you think why?”

I was so tired and hurt and stunned that I could barely think at all, let alone piece together the secret motives of the FBI.

Cameron saw my blank look. “Certain government officials are aware that our energy policy needs to change. And they’re aware of the need for stricter regulation and a move toward green energy. But these officials, who will remain nameless, are also aware that Big Oil is the richest industry in the world and also one of the biggest campaign contributors. There is hardly anyone in office that is not beholden to PetroPlex in some way, shape, or fashion. If these officials came out publicly against PetroPlex without popular opinion behind them, their careers would be over.”

It all began to make sense to me now. “So instead, they launched a covert operation to expose the dirt and corruption in the industry and spark a public cry of outrage. Then when the country cried out for effective regulation and clean energy, the PetroPlex lobby couldn’t hold them back.”

“Right,” Cameron said.

Wow. I felt like my world view had been rocked. “But if it was so covert, why risk the operation by revealing yourself to Miles, Gracie, and me?”

Cameron gestured toward his team. “As soon as it became clear there was going to be a massive refinery explosion, I called in my guys. At that point, I knew we wouldn’t get out of this without a Congressional hearing, and we would need Gracie, Miles, you, and Nash as witnesses.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “My life became valuable to you only after you knew there would be a Congressional hearing? What if Fitz hadn’t set the refinery on fire? What if I went in there and he killed me?”

Cameron put his hand on my shoulder. “You can’t say I didn’t do my best to get you in and out of there, considering the orders I was under.”

Even so. While the logical part of my brain understood, my emotional side still felt a little bit betrayed. I swayed on my feet, but Miles caught me.

“And Gracie?” I asked. “Where did you come from?”

Cameron answered for her. “Remember when I had to hang up on you because someone was coming? Well, it turned out to be Gracie. She saw the news and came home.”

“I knew y’all wasn’t murderers,” Gracie said. “I had to tell someone down here, didn’t I? But when the refinery exploded, we thought you was goners for sure!”

“But Cameron agreed to search the area anyway,” Miles said. “We told Lucy to find you, and she did! We might have missed you in all these trees if it wasn’t for her. Your dog’s a hero!”

I always knew she was.

“Can you walk?” Cameron asked.

I thought so, and I let him take my elbow.

“We’re going to escort you to a secure medical facility and take you into the Federal Witness Protection Program. We have to hurry. We’re still trying to do this without alerting local law enforcement.”

“We have to find Nash,” I said.

Cameron frowned. “I thought you said he was dead.”

“Find his body,” I said. “I’m not leaving him out here to rot.”

Lucy was prancing around my feet joyfully.

“Lucy!” I said. “Go find Nash!”

She stood still and cocked her head up at me. I don’t think she knew what that meant.

“Nash!” I said. “Go find him!”

She cocked her head the other way, uncertain.

Suddenly, she heard something. She spun and growled, then took off running through the trees.

I felt unsteady on my feet, but hope surged through me and I chased after her. Miles, Gracie, Cameron, and his FBI entourage followed.

Lucy stopped beside a fallen tree. I could see something pale and white pinned underneath.

As I drew nearer, I could see that it was a body lying face down in the dirt.

Lucy sniffed it.

It was a man, but his hair color was wrong. Not Nash. Not Dorian. Nobody I knew.

Lucy took off again, and I kept following. A couple of FBI guys stayed behind to check for vital signs, but I instinctually knew they wouldn’t find any.

We were definitely in the kill zone. I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. How on earth could Nash possibly have survived if this other man hadn’t?

As we moved forward, the ratio of flattened to still-standing trees increased. The destruction around me seemed even more evident, and I could see the flames of the refinery still raging only a short distance away.

“Chloe,” Cameron said, not unkindly, “it’s not safe to go any farther in. We can’t be seen.”

Before I could answer him, Lucy sniffed the air and took off again.

“Somebody get that dog!” one of the FBI agents barked.

We all took off after Lucy.

She wasn’t heading straight for the refinery. Instead, she veered a bit to the east parallel to the heap of ruins that was once PetroPlex.

Lucy stopped when she reached a clump of several fallen trees.

The trees appeared to be moving, and Lucy barked at them frantically.

“There’s somebody in there!” I said, daring to hope that by some miracle it might be Nash.

Agent Roberts and his men jogged ahead of us and pulled the trees back to reveal a sinkhole—a natural phenomenon that was common in this area, especially near the refinery.

Then I saw the impossible.

Nash’s shirtless silhouette emerged upward out of the hole.

Cameron helped him climb out, and Nash limped and lurched through the foliage toward me. Lucy pranced around him, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as she panted happily.

Nash had some minor burns and scratches on his torso, and his pants were torn to shreds, but his perfect face was unscathed. He must have found the sinkhole and dived into it in the nick of time. It was more than I had dared hope for. Thank you, God, I breathed.

I ran toward him, and Nash caught me in his arms. My lips found his. My eyes sank shut, and it was as though no other part of my body existed. I felt no more pain. Only the rhythmic, pulsating motion of his lips on mine. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over my soul, erasing the hurt, anger, and loss of the past few days. Kiss by kiss, Nash was making me whole again.

Nash pulled his lips from my mouth and kissed my eyelids, my forehead, my nose. He covered every inch of my face with kisses before moving down to my neck, my shoulder, and then lower.

“Ahem,” Miles said.

Nash moved back to my lips for one last, deep, hungry connection. Then he pulled away. “To be continued,” he said.

“Yes, please.” I grasped his hand and we turned toward the crowd.

“Wait a minute,” Nash said. “Am I seeing things? Cameron is FBI?”

“You’re not seeing things,” I said. “I’ll explain later. Right now, we have to go.”

One of Cameron’s agents, who was apparently unwilling to let Lucy get away from him again, had scooped her up and held her in custody in his arms. She didn’t protest.

Cameron led us to a van parked in a remote location, and we all piled into the back. I wasn’t sorry when an agent put the car in gear and drove away. If I never, ever came back to this place, that would be just fine with me.

However, there was one last order of business to attend to before I disappeared.

I asked Cameron if I could borrow his cell phone.

“It’s not safe,” he said.

“Please,” I begged. “I promise I won’t do anything to give away the operation or location.”

Cameron still hesitated. “You owe me,” I said. “You let me go in that refinery to die, and now you’re about to hold me captive as a witness for God knows how long. One measly three minute phone call before I go is the least you could do for me.”

Cameron sighed, but forked over the phone.

I dialed Dorian’s number.

“Dorian Saks,” came his voice on the other end.

“Now would be a good time to thank me for getting you out of that refinery alive.”

Instantly, he recognized my voice. “Thank you! I am going to sue you! False imprisonment, assault with a deadly weapon, intent to kill, emotional distress. . .”

“Feel free,” I said, “if you can find me. In the meantime, let’s talk about the Miller case.”

Dorian sighed. “That again? Are you kidding?”

“My client is back in town, so I’m going to give you one last opportunity to settle this case equitably. If you don’t, it’s going to court, and let me tell you, thanks to Cameron Gilbert, I have some incredibly damning video of your client committing murder, which I will use against him. In light of recent events and all the media scrutiny surrounding your client, I doubt if it will end very well for you. I can promise you that I will do my very best to make sure it gets high profile coverage, and I’ll pull out every trick in the book. In addition to nailing Fitz for murder, I’ll prove that his history of flagrant safety violations and cost cutting measures also killed Derrick Miller. A jury will have absolutely no doubt believing it after the explosion that just devastated this town. But if you settle it right here, right now, it goes away, and you’ll never hear about it again.”

“I’m listening,” Dorian said grudgingly. I knew the last thing he wanted to do was settle with me right now, but he wasn’t a fool.

“My client refuses to settle for less than ten million dollars,” I said.

“Heavens to Betsy!” Gracie gasped.

“Petroplex makes that much in profit in only a few hours. It won’t be much of a loss compared to what you’ll get if you let me add fuel to an already raging PR fire. Take it or leave it,” I said. “Last chance.”

“Under the circumstances,” Dorian said quickly, “I think I can speak for my client in saying we agree to that.”

“Good,” I said. “I’ll draft the agreement. No pushback, or it’s a jury. Got it?”

“I understand,” Dorian said.

“I want the check in the mail in a week.”

“Okay, fine. Whatever.”

I thought I could hear him call me the c-word under his breath, but I figured that since I’d just beaten him at his own game, I’d let it go.

“So long, Dorian,” I said, and hung up.

Gracie’s face welled up with tears. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “Thank you! Thank you so much! Lord a’mighty, I don’t need that much money. Seeing as how you risked your life for it and all, how about I give you half?”

“No, no, a standard fee would be fine. Actually, a less than standard fee would be fine,” I said, since the original fee agreement stated forty percent. “Send the check to Cameron when it comes in?”

Gracie looked at Cameron for confirmation.

“I’ll give you my address,” he said.

Perfect. My eyes drooped, and my thoughts turned to Judge Delmont. I guessed I wouldn’t be needing to hold those blackmail photos over his head anymore. That was too bad, really. But I supposed karma would catch up with him sooner or later.

That reminded me. Where had Miles gotten those photos in the first place? I decided to ask him, even though there were other people around.

“Hey Miles,” I said. “You know that piece of evidence we used to get Delmont to grant a continuance? Where did you get it?”

“Dick gave it to me,” he said.

“What evidence?” Nash wanted to know.

“Just something pertaining to the case. I won’t bore you with the details,” I said.

I could only imagine how Dick got his hands on the photos. Probably Delmont was stupid enough to set up a rendezvous with his mistress during a poker game and Dick caught it on tape. Then he figured he’d follow Delmont to the motel and snap some photos for leverage on down the line, just in case. He was crafty like that, always making deals and securing insurance.

I wondered for a moment why he would have given them away instead of just using them himself, but then the answer became obvious. He couldn’t have used them without destroying his relationship with Delmont and the poker crew, thus staunching the flow of his inside information. He knew I’d been up against the wall on the Miller case and must have been afraid of losing a hundred grand in expenses. Hence the exchange. That was my theory, anyway. It seemed to fit.

Lucy left her spot at the window and crawled into my lap, where she promptly fell asleep.

“Too tired to enjoy riding in the car, huh?” I asked. “Alert the media. I can’t believe it.”

“I believe it,” Nash said.

My head sank onto his shoulder as I contemplated slipping into my own land of dreams.

“What’s next?” Nash asked agent Roberts.

“After the hospital, a nice farm somewhere in Montana for a couple months. And then Congressional hearings, most likely,” Roberts replied.

In a perfect world, we’d be able to convince Congress to fully close the Enron Loophole, institute campaign finance and lobbyist reform, and add some more teeth to The Clean Air Act. One could only hope.

“After that,” Nash whispered into my ear, “We’ll go spend some of the fee you just earned in Tahiti.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “Can we get one of those little huts that stick out over the water and have glass bottoms so you can see all the fish swimming around underneath?”

“Sounds good to me,” Nash said.

“And margaritas,” I said. “We have to have margaritas.”

“And margaritas,” Nash agreed. “With Patron and a sangria swirl.”

Nash and Patron margaritas and a beach. Heaven. Sheer Heaven. And then afterwards, I could take the money I made on Gracie’s case and start my own firm. Be my own boss. No more having to deal with jerks like Dick. No more blackmail. No more subterfuge. Everything on the up and up. Things were looking better for me, finally. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I was going to be okay. Better than okay.

Look out, world. Chloe Taylor’s on the loose. Here I come.





Thank You, from the Author



Wow, since you made it this far, I'd like to personally thank you for reading this book. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, will you please do me a favor and post a review on amazon.com? Please also feel free to drop by my blog at http://www.blackoilredblood.com and leave a comment or send me a message. I'd love to hear from you! While you're online, take a moment to connect with me on Facebook and Twitter, too!



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About the Author

Diane Castle is the pseudonym of a Texas attorney whose practice experience includes assisting plaintiffs with wrongful death and personal injury cases against Big Oil giants such as ExxonMobil, ChevronTexaco, BP, and ConocoPhillips. Diane has published short fiction under a different name, and she has also written a stage play that was translated into German, produced in a castle near Munich, and sold out three seasons.

Prior to her career as an attorney, Diane was a staff writer for The Dallas Morning News. She also feels privileged to have been honored with two awards for humor and satire and one award for literary criticism. Diane lives in Dallas with her husband David and her three dogs: Lucy, Gracie, and Mouse.