Scratchgravel Road A Mystery

TWENTY-THREE



Otto looked over the shoulder of one of the workers who was checking the satellite picture on his cell phone and whistled at the band of green that signaled rain across West Texas and northern Mexico; it looked as if the rain would continue for at least another hour or two, and from the looks of the radar there would be increased flooding all across West Texas.

While the rest of the men were piling into the pickup truck, Otto and Mitch each climbed on an ATV that Diego had provided. Otto felt as if twenty years had fallen off his back. Maybe even thirty. He wished Delores could see him riding through the desert on a four-wheeler, flinging mud like a kid again.

Mitch took a wide path around the plant and the pickup followed with Otto in the rear. Otto noticed places on the hillside where the ground was cracking in ten- and twenty-foot horizontal stretches, as if big slabs of earth were ready to separate. It was a frightening sight and sobered him quickly. He wondered what the trencher would do to the already unstable ground. They might cause their own mudslide trying to avert another one.

Beacon’s Quad trencher was already at the location Mitch had designated as the starting point for the explosives. Otto had never seen a trencher in action, and this one was obviously top of the line. Otto figured his tax dollars were paying for it, so it ought to be good.

The machine was red, built similar to a bulldozer, but with a large arm on the back of it that looked like a three-foot-wide, five-foot-long chainsaw blade. It sat atop tracks similar to those used on army tanks, however these were triangular in shape, and there were two separate tracks on either side of the machine. It looked as if it could move through about any terrain. The operator left the machine running and hopped out of the cab to meet up with the group.

Mitch got off his four-wheeler and approached the operator with his hand outstretched and introduced himself as the explosives tech.

“Name’s Bob Smitty.” He was a short, heavyset man with a two-day beard and leathery skin.

Mitch pointed to the tracks. “How’s she do in this kind of mud?”

The operator smiled and laughed as if he’d heard a good dirty joke. “You have to try to get her stuck.” He looked up into the sky, where the rain still came down. “She can run in this for sure.”

* * *

Josie called and gave Otto an update on her progress and said she needed another thirty minutes to scan the video through Saturday night and Sunday. She was convinced she knew who the murderer was, and the tape would prove it. She pressed Play again and set it to fast-forward. On Saturday at 10:40 P.M., just thirty minutes past when the security guard last made his rounds of the pilot unit, she saw unexpected movement and clicked Stop. She took a deep breath, certain she was about ready to break open the case, and clicked the Play button to watch the video at standard speed. A person in a white hazmat suit, wearing black work boots, walked into the room.

“Here we go,” she whispered. She could feel her heart race in her chest as she watched another person dressed in a similar white suit enter the room. The two figures walked across the room to a lab table that held various equipment and glass beakers. One of the figures held a hand up to a glass overhead cabinet and unlocked it, pulling out a white box, what appeared to be a first-aid kit. The container was placed on the counter and the two figures faced one another, apparently discussing something. One of them took a tube of something from the kit and tried to give it to the other person. The two appeared to be arguing. After several minutes, the individual who refused the tube turned and started to walk away. The other person picked up a metal stool, lifted it over his head, and came down with incredible force on top of the other man’s head. Josie knew that she’d just seen the blow that caused the injury to Juan Santiago’s head.

“Josie?”

Josie gasped and turned to the door. She had no idea there was anyone else in the building. “Brent! What are you doing here? I thought you were home sick.”

He looked just as surprised to see her. “I was. Someone called and told me about the mudslide. Said I needed to get here and help.”

Josie breathed out, trying to calm her nerves. She noticed him staring at the video. She turned back to the computer and clicked the monitor off to lose the picture.

“What are you watching?” he asked. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Have you talked to Skip or Diego yet?”

He shook his head no.

“Go find your supervisors to see how you can help.”

Pointing at the monitor he asked, “Does this have to do with Santiago?”

“It doesn’t concern you. We’ve got a mess out here.”

Brent held out his wrist, covered with a large bandage. Josie could see the discoloration underneath. It was obvious the blister on his wrist had worsened and was seeping blood.

“I think I deserve to be a part of this conversation. Look at what’s happening to me!”

* * *

Otto stood on the side of the hill with two of Mitch’s crew. His skin felt sticky under the plastic poncho where the rain had trickled in between the gaps and openings to soak his uniform. The smell of wet, sweaty skin was giving him a headache and he was beginning to long for a cool shower. He imagined sitting in his kitchen with a glass of iced tea and a bowl of vanilla ice cream.

They watched as the trencher slowly worked its way down the hill. Two men were laying the blocks of explosive down into the ditch, and Mitch was coming behind them attaching the blasting caps. Another man was attaching the detonation cord. The entire operation was moving smoothly, and Otto had just begun to have hope, when the man standing beside him cursed and pointed to the top of the peak.

“Son of a bitch,” whispered Otto.

They watched in horror as a large chunk on the face of the peak broke free, slamming against the side of the mountain as it tumbled down. The cracking rocks reverberated down the hill. Everyone stopped what they were doing, holding their breath, waiting for the rest of the peak to fall. Amazingly, it did not.

Otto dialed Josie’s number, anxious to get her out of the building before Mitch lit the explosives. She didn’t answer.

* * *

Josie felt the cell phone vibrate against her chest and ignored it, not wanting to spook Brent before she understood his motivation.

She stood and gestured with her hand for him to walk out of the small room, but he didn’t budge. The room was too confined and she felt extremely uncomfortable. His attitude had changed considerably. She realized he was holding one of his arms awkwardly behind his body, just behind the door frame.

He spoke again, his voice low, with a forced calm that made him sound even more unstable.

“I came here to tell you that you’re wanted outside. Things are going bad out there. Someone stopped me and said to get you. They want you out there now.”

His words were carefully enunciated, and his eyes had grown wide and unfocused. Josie wondered if he was on something, prescription or otherwise.

“Let them know I’m on my way. I need to lock things up.” Josie rested her hand on the butt of her gun at her waist.

His face turned red, his eyes wide now. “You do not understand. Things are completely screwed. I will take care of things here. They need you outside!”

His voice had become rigid. It was clear he had no intention of leaving the building.

Josie tried to remain calm and took a step forward to move them into the larger area outside the room where she stood a better chance of defending herself. She brought her hand down toward her gun, but he stopped her with a yell.

“Don’t do that!” He brought his hidden hand around to the front of him. He held a pint-sized glass beaker half filled with liquid.

Her skin grew cold.

“I did not want to do this,” he said.

* * *

When the rock tumbled down Norton’s Peak, the trencher operator stopped and left his machine for further direction. Mitch stopped laying the explosives and ran to catch up with him.

“The trench is about halfway done. I got several hundred pounds of explosives laid. For now, let’s keep going, digging the trench and laying the C-4. If the rest of the peak crumbles, we stop and detonate what we have. Start back up where you left off. Keep running where I have the flags laid.”

The man nodded and took off toward his machine.

“Hey!” Mitch yelled, and the man turned back. “When this blows it’s gonna rain shit on all of us for half a mile. You’ll get hit with some heavy mud. Just be prepared. I’ll call first.”

The man said nothing, just gave a thumbs-up and climbed back up in the trencher.

Mitch turned to Otto. “Get Sandy on the phone. Tell her we’re going to light the fuse soon. This is her last chance to call it off if she’s still worried about the tremors.”

Otto got Sandy on the cell phone and explained.

“It’s not good,” she said. “We’re just east of the peak. Everything is crumbling, breaking loose. Tell Mitch to blow us a hole in the ground before this mess plows through the middle of those barrels and causes a real disaster.”

Sandy hung up before Otto could respond.

* * *

While Mitch briefed his crew on safety precautions and each man’s location, Otto called Josie again and got no answer. He started to worry.

Otto interrupted Mitch’s talk. “I’m taking the four-wheeler to check on Josie. She’s not answering her phone. I want her out of there.”

Otto got on his four-wheeler. Spinning mud behind him, he quickly got it up to third gear, and made it back to the front of Unit Seven. He pulled his gun and used the key to the side door, which opened behind and to the left of Skip’s office. He hoped he was being paranoid and overly cautious, and that Josie would give him hell for playing mother hen.

He opened the door slowly, and stepped inside, then shut it behind him with a slight click of the latch. The humming of the filtration system drowned out most of the background noise, but Otto could hear voices coming from the other side of the office. He made his way down the side of Skip’s office, against the wall, his gun at the ready.

He paused and listened. An angry male voice sounded as if it was facing away from Otto. When he heard Josie respond, her tone forced, reasonable, he knew she was in trouble. He slowly looked around the corner of the office and saw Brent Thyme facing her, standing just outside the door of a small room. He could see part of Josie standing behind Brent, but he was certain she had a clear view of him.

Brent held a glass jar in one hand, his other hand pointing at her. Otto watched Josie nod her head calmly, acknowledging Brent’s words, trying to get him to continue. Otto hoped she had seen him. He walked into the open expanse in the middle of the building, his arms extended, his gun pointing directly at Brent. Otto hoped he could make it to Brent before he sensed movement and turned.

* * *

Josie saw Otto enter the room from the corner of her eye, but kept her focus on Brent.

“Destroy the tape or I throw it. Your skin will melt just like Santiago’s.” He held his hand out. “You don’t want this.”

Brent’s face was filled with a rage that Josie would not have believed he had inside of him.

“We’ll look at the tape together. You explain it to me,” she said.

“That tape means nothing,” he said. “It distorts everything. What Beacon did to us. They killed Santiago! That tape proves nothing, and they’ll make it look like I’m the guilty one!”

“I can help you work through this. You have to trust me, Brent.”

“It’s bullshit! I have a family to take care of. They don’t care about any of us! It’s smoke and mirrors.”

Josie let him rant, and kept her eyes focused on him, encouraging him as Otto made his way toward them.

Otto approached and she watched the expression on Brent’s face change from rage to shock the instant that she knew the barrel of Otto’s gun had reached the center of Brent’s back.

“If you drop that glass, or you raise your arm, you’ll get a bullet through your back,” Otto said. “You’ll die here on the floor, in a pool of your own blood.”

The hysteria from moments before hung on Brent’s face as if frozen in time. He appeared paralyzed.

“You’re going to bend slowly down, and you’re going to set that glass on the floor. Very gently,” Otto said.

His face grew slack, as if Otto’s words were sinking in, and he slowly bent forward.

About a foot from the floor, Brent rose up with all his power, knocking Otto’s gun arm out of the way. He flung the liquid at Josie. She ducked, but received a splash across the right side of her face, and down her right arm. She screamed in shock, then anger propelled her forward and she leaped onto him as he was turning to escape. Otto brought his gun arm up at the same time and hit Brent in the temple. The beaker fell, sending glass shards scattering across the floor. Blood appeared immediately and Brent fell backwards as Josie landed on his side.

She flipped him on his stomach where he lay limp. Her face began to burn.

“Jesus, Josie, get that washed off you,” Otto called. “Go!”

As Josie squatted with one knee on Brent’s back, her arms and legs felt numb, as if weighed down with lead. She couldn’t believe what was happening to her.

Otto pulled a set of handcuffs off his gun belt, and clicked them around Brent’s wrists.

“Damn it, Josie! Get up and find a bathroom. Get that washed off. Who knows what the hell that might be!” he yelled.

He grabbed Josie’s arm and pulled her up and out of her own thoughts. “Go. I’ll call Diego and get him over here.”

She walked, then ran toward the back of the building in search of a bathroom.

She heard Brent groan as if the wind had been knocked out of him. She imagined Otto beating the life out of him, but she couldn’t think straight. She just knew she needed to get water on her face. The visions of Santiago’s arms, the fresh image of Brent Thyme’s wrist, were terrifying.

She stumbled through a door with a sign that said RESTROOM. She turned the water on full force and pressed the lever for the hand soap, rubbing the foam into her face, splashing water, then doing the same on her arm. She wondered suddenly if water would do more harm than good, but continued splashing water and washing with soap until the skin on her face turned bright red. After ten minutes of continual soap and water Josie decided to stop because she didn’t know what else to do. Her face burned, but no blisters were forming yet. After several minutes the burn worsened and she went back to the water and soap routine. She was certain Otto had called the medics. She figured the most effective treatment at that point was continued washing until she heard otherwise.

She looked in the mirror at the red patch on her face. She’d seen pictures of women in Pakistan, disfigured by acid thrown on their faces and bodies as a punishment for accused infidelity. She imagined her face scarred and withered.

The door opened and Diego entered the restroom. “Where did you get hit? Do you know what he threw on you?”

She looked up from the running water and saw his reflection in the mirror behind her. She shook her head. “It was a clear liquid. It hit the side of my face and my arm. It’s burning.”

He looked panicked. “Otto and Skip are taking Brent to the storage room where he found the chemicals.”

She looked at him blankly.

“Keep applying a cool water bath to the area until we find out what the chemical was.”

Diego stayed with her, touching wet cloths to her face, talking to calm her nerves. After what seemed an eternity, Skip entered the small bathroom carrying a glass jug half filled with a clear liquid.

“This is it, Josie. Brent led us to it. The lid was off. It’s hydrochloric acid. In its most concentrated form it would do terrible damage to your skin. The pain would be unbearable. These acids have been prepared for disposal, though. It’s been combined with a base in order to neutralize the acid.”

“So what are you saying?” she asked, wanting irrefutable proof that she would not be scarred for life.

Diego laid a hand on her back. “He’s saying you’ll be fine. You need to see a doctor, but the acid has been mixed with something to make it less harmful. I’m so sorry for this.”

Josie looked at Skip, who stood looking helpless. “Brent poured the acid from that container into another jar? And that’s what he threw on me?”

“Yes.”

She noticed he was wearing latex gloves. “Keep the gloves on so we don’t lose his fingerprints. I need you to get that container to Otto. Ask him to get it labeled for evidence. It’s crucial that doesn’t get misplaced in the middle of all the commotion here.”

Skip left the room with the acid and Diego continued to stare at her face.

“My face still burns.” She looked toward the mirror and saw a red patch the size of her palm along the side of her face.

“The skin on your face is sensitive. I would expect it to turn red. It will fade. You need to get to a hospital to have a doctor treat you, though,” Diego said. “The chemicals are neutralized to make them safe to dispose of, but it’s not an exact science.”

Josie nodded. “Where’s Otto?”

“Skip said he took Brent outside in handcuffs.”

Diego placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her slowly toward him. He touched the red area gently with the back of his fingers. “It doesn’t feel hot to the touch. You need some cream applied to it to stop the burn.”

Josie held her arm out and saw the red that stretched down her forearm and across her wrist.

He removed his hand from her shoulder and looked at her in confusion. “Why would Brent attack you?”

“I watched the security tapes from Saturday and Sunday. I’m sorry. I couldn’t afford to wait for permission.”

Anger flickered across his face, but he nodded.

“Brent killed Juan Santiago.”

“What?” Diego looked incredulous, as if he wasn’t capable of hearing one more horrendous piece of news.

“That’s why he attacked you? You saw him kill Santiago on the security tapes?”

“I was watching the tapes. Brent came into the security room carrying the beaker. When I refused to leave the room, he threatened me with the chemicals. That’s when Otto approached with his gun drawn. Brent threw the acid in an attempt to break free.”

Looking at Diego’s stunned expression she was hit by a sudden realization. This is the difference between cops and other people. He still feels shock and disbelief at the atrocities people do to one another.

“I haven’t watched the rest of the security tape,” Josie said. “But I have no doubt what we’ll find.”

* * *

They heard a boom like thunder ripping through the inside of a metal drum. The sound lasted for what seemed like an eternity. Mitch had just detonated the explosives in the trench. They left the bathroom and ran outside to find Otto with one of the DPS officers who had been helping with the mudslide, locking Brent Thyme in the backseat of his patrol car.

Otto turned to Josie. He looked bad, Josie thought.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice cracking.

She could see he was searching her face for signs of damage, and she realized how shaken he had been over her safety.

“I’m fine. Skip says it was a neutralized chemical. The burning is already easing up. I’m going to be fine.”

Otto’s shoulders slumped in relief.

She noticed Brent in the back of the police car. The anger and betrayal she felt over his attack toward her, and toward Santiago, were too much to put into words at that point. She turned away from the car to keep from looking at him. She needed time to mentally cool off before she had to confront him at the jail.

Diego and Skip left for the parking lot to meet with Sandy to check the results of the explosives. After Brent was driven away in the DPS car, Josie and Otto stood in the courtyard, surveying each other without word.

Josie finally said, “Hell of a day.”

“When I left to get you, the peak was just crumbling,” Otto said.

Josie looked toward the mountain range but one of the buildings blocked the view. “You need to get to the hospital. You need to be examined,” Otto said.

“Let’s go check the hillside. If it’s under control I’ll take off.”

Otto climbed on the four-wheeler, and Josie slid on behind him.