She wasn’t rude, but she wasn’t welcoming, either. Dani went into the bedroom to speak with Allie. Hauck asked if they could speak to her husband one more time.
“He’s out by the barn. But I’m not sure he’ll want to speak with you. He was upset after the last time. We all were. Now that our boy is buried, can’t we just let him lie in peace?”
“If I could just have a couple of minutes, Mrs. Watkins, that’s all I ask.”
She tossed a rag on the table. “Wait here. I’ll see.”
She went out back. Hauck stood looking out the window at the barn. Hay bales were being stacked, hands transferring them into the big barn. That’s what they were farming now. All the land would give them.
The room was a kind of sitting room, with old, upholstered chairs and a wear-worn couch, close to the kitchen. The place had the cozy smell of biscuits baking and there were flowers placed everywhere in all this drought, probably from the funeral. Their daughter, Kelli, who lived in Greeley, came out from the kitchen. She was pretty, in trendier jeans and a red knit top. “You can see how it is here,” she said, with a hint of apology. “She might be right, though. It may just be better if you leave them alone.”
“I’m not trying to cause anyone any pain, Kelli. But there are some things you all should know.”
“You’re not a cop?”
“No. Not anymore.”
“So then why are you digging into this? Why are you putting yourself on the line? What’s your interest in Trey?”
Hauck was struggling for an answer when he heard the screen door in the kitchen open.
Chuck Watkins came in, in jeans and a work shirt and a Caterpillar baseball cap. He stopped, removed a work glove from his hand, and put it on the table. “I don’t mean to be unneighborly, Mr. Hauck, but I’m pretty sure my wife made it clear just how we feel.”
“All I want is just a couple of minutes,” Hauck said. “If that’s—”
“I don’t have a couple of minutes. What I have is twenty acres full of undersized potatoes and beet root that need to be watered best we can. And a whole bunch of hay to stack and bring in. I told you the other day, there’s no point in trying to make some case here. We’re the ones who have to live with what happened to Trey, not you.”
“I know that.” Hauck took a step forward. “But your son—”
The bedroom door opened, and Dani and Allie came out from where they’d been talking.
“My son died from an accident, Mr. Hauck. Not from anything else. The police in Carbondale confirmed that to my satisfaction. The parks investigators looked into it too, and didn’t find any differently. So I don’t know who you are or what you think you have, but all it’s going to do for us is bring up a lot of questions that will never be answered and just upset everyone around here, who are already pretty upset. So I’m asking like I did the first time, to just let us alone now and leave.”
“I want to show you a photo, if I can …?” Hauck told out his phone and scrolled to the shot he had taken yesterday at Alpha of Robertson in the 301st Airborne. He narrowed in. “You recognize this person?”
Watkins shook his head. “No.”
“His name is John Robertson. Do you know that name?”
Watkins shook his head again, but this time after a slight pause.
“I know what it’s like, sir, but it’s important you hear about RMM and some of the contractors they’re using …”
“You know what it’s like? You’ve both been in town all of about two days and you’ve got it all sized up. Well, I’m glad we’re such a learning experience for you, Mr. Hauck.”
“I know you were standing up against them in some way. RMM. I know they use contractors whose job it is to break down local opposition to the wells. They’re trained by the U.S. Army, Mr. Watkins. It’s called the Alpha Group. They all did questionable stuff over there, and now they’re here, and what else you ought to know is, there was someone who was an operative for Alpha who was on the river at the same time Trey was—”
“That’s enough!” Watkins’s voice made a few people turn, then he lowered it. “Our son is dead, sir. Isn’t that enough? He lived in his own freewheeling way and that’s how he died. Why does there have to be anything else to it?”
“Mr. Watkins, I found Trey on the river.” Dani came forward. “I know better than anyone what kind of whitewater he could handle and how he—”
“I said, that’s enough! I know you were his friend, miss, and I appreciate that, and what you’re trying to do. But I’m asking you to leave my house now. Both of you. I don’t want another word.”
“Dad.” Kelli stepped toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Just listen to them, please …”
“Chuck …” said his wife. “Maybe you should.”
“Marie!” His hand met the tabletop, causing the glassware to shake, his eyes ablaze. “Don’t you say another word,” he said to her. “Just don’t.” He turned back to Hauck. “If you had any sense you wouldn’t be looking around this mess in the first place. You’d do the smart thing and just be gone. If we had any sense …” He stopped on the word, as if something inside had stopped him, and his voice softened. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But just go back home. Please … You find anything, take it to the people who can do some good. Just let us alone. That’s all I’m asking now. I know you think you have the answers …” Watkins was a proud, tough man, but Hauck saw tears come into his eyes. “But just go. Please …”
The entire house seemed to stand still like it was in the grip of fear.
“C’mon, Dani,” Hauck said. He looked at her and could see she was bursting with frustration. “I’m sorry to bother you again. All of you. Ma’am.” He nodded to Watkins’s wife.
Dani said, “Mr. Watkins, if you only let us—”