During Neal’s explanation, Otterman had removed a fifty-cent piece from his pants pocket and was now deftly rolling it back and forth across the backs of his fingers. In response to Neal’s statement, he said, “There are still a few die-hard tree huggers who are critical of my outfit in particular and the industry in general.”
“Progress usually meets with some resistance.”
Crawford was beginning to understand why Neal, being Neal, was kowtowing to Chuck Otterman.
The Lerner Shale spread over one hundred square miles in southeastern Texas and neighboring Louisiana. Prentiss County lay in the center of it. Over the past few years, natural gas companies had paid well for land leases and drilling rights, and, in the case of many, speculation had turned into filthy lucre.
Many local residents had expressed concern over fracking and the detrimental effects that the drilling and extraction process might have on the environment, but they had been outnumbered by those enjoying the up-tick in the local economy.
With it, however, came a corresponding spike in crime. Roughnecks went where the work was. Many took advantage of living away from home, free of wives, girlfriends, and other shackles of domesticity. They brawled, gambled, drank, and womanized in excess. On days off, they were the contemporary equivalent of cattle drive cowboys coming into town to blow their paychecks on various vices and essentially to raise hell.
Law enforcement officers were frequently summoned to the man camp, a village of temporary dormitories that housed the roughnecks, either to settle disputes or mop up after one that had ended with bloodshed.
Crawford figured that one of Otterman’s men had gotten sideways with the authorities.
Neal pulled his chair back to his desk and sat down. “To what do we owe this honor, Mr. Otterman?”
“This morning’s news.” He shot a significant glance toward Crawford, flipped the coin, and caught it in his fist. “It was a shocking turn of events. Floored me, if you want to know the truth.”
Neal asked, “Any particular reason why?”
“Because I was in the courthouse at the time of the shooting.”
The statement stunned even Crawford. No one spoke for a moment, then Neal stammered, “I…I didn’t notice your name on the list of people evacuated.”
“My name wasn’t on the list.”
“That explains it,” Nugent exclaimed, as though he’d just discovered gravity. He grinned across at Crawford, who immediately had the attention of the other two as well.
He held Otterman’s gaze for a beat, then addressed Neal. “Nugent and I discovered a discrepancy in the number of people evacuated and the number questioned before being released.”
“And you kept this information to yourself?”
“I’ve been busy,” he said in terse reply to Neal’s superior tone. Fending off your illogical allegations. Neal probably would have rebuked Nugent for failing to pass along the information, but Otterman picked up there.
“I’m sorry for creating confusion.” He had resumed fiddling with the coin. “I thought, as everyone else did, that the man killed on the roof was the culprit. End of story. This morning when I found out differently, and realized that a madman was still at large, I knew I had to do my civic duty and admit to leaving before I was accounted for.”
Neal shook his head with perplexity. “The entire courthouse was secured within minutes. How did you manage to leave undetected?”
“Before you answer that one,” Crawford said, “I’d like to know why you were there in the first place.”
Otterman shifted in his seat to look more directly at Crawford. “To meet with an assistant DA.”
“Why?”
“In the hope of getting charges against one of my employees dropped or reduced.”
“What’d he do?”
“It’s alleged that he assaulted a man with a tire iron.”
“But he’s innocent.”
Crawford’s droll tone caused the other man to smile, but it wasn’t a pleasant expression. “No. He beat the crap out of the guy. But the guy had it coming.”
“How so?”
“He’d caught his wife in bed with my roughneck. But instead of laying into him, the man started in on his wife.”
“Your roughneck came to her defense with a tire iron,” Neal said.
“That’s right.”
“Cool.”
That from Nugent, who’d been hanging on to every word. Crawford wasn’t so caught up in the tale as he was in Otterman’s calm telling of it. He couldn’t pinpoint what bothered him, but something was off, possibly the man’s arrogance. Most people entering any law enforcement agency did so with a degree of self-consciousness. Not so Mr. Otterman. He was supremely cocksure.
He caught Crawford watching his play with the coin and chuckled. “I used to smoke four packs a day. This took its place. No nicotine, but it gives me something to do.”
If he figured to steer Crawford away from the topic, he figured wrong. He asked, “Which assistant DA did you meet with?”