Scratchgravel Road (Josie Gray Mysteries #2)(30)
Josie shook her head in amazement. “The workers had to walk through chemicals so hazardous they melted the rubber and leather on their boots?”
“Yep. I never saw anybody get burnt from the chemicals. Leastwise, not their feet. We were careful. We took precautions. Wouldn’t happen like that today, but back then we had a serious job to do. We were protecting our country, and we took the job serious. We did what we had to do.”
“If the plant is closed down, how would the man in the desert have a pair of the boots? Especially if the workers weren’t allowed to take the uniforms home at the end of the shift,” she said.
“I’m guessing they’re using the old leftover boots for the cleanup. From what I hear, they’re pretty lax on safety. They probably let the workers wear their uniforms home now since there’s no production. No new uranium coming in.”
Josie considered what he said for a moment. Jeremiah had worked at the plant in its glory days and he was obviously proud of the work he had done. She wondered at the validity of his comments.
“When you say ‘lax on safety,’ have you heard workers complaining about something specific?”
Jeremiah frowned and rubbed at his chin, a gesture Josie took to mean he was uncomfortable with the question.
“Just stuff I hear from people,” he said. “Makes me wonder what those workers might be carrying out on the bottoms of their shoes.”
She nodded and decided to let it go. “You ever see anyone who worked at the plant with sores on their arms?”
“What do you mean?”
“Open sores. Something that might have been caused by exposure to the chemicals or the radiation?”
He looked insulted. “No, ma’am.” He paused, and then asked, “You aren’t going to turn this into a witch hunt, are you? The media did enough of that. We don’t need the local coppers stirring things up.”
Josie assured him that was not her intent. “You did an important job for the country. I respect you for that.”
His face softened a bit and he nodded at her peace offering.
Josie thanked him for his time and pulled her poncho back on to wade back out through the mud.
On the slow drive back to town she replayed her conversation with Jeremiah in her mind. Artemis had been ready for war the year she moved to town and took her job as a city officer. As in the Erin Brockovich case, the town was convinced there was groundwater contamination, although instead of chemicals leaching into the groundwater from a gas company, they were leaking from a nonoperational nuclear weapons facility. Artemis received national media attention when a group of local mothers staged a sit-in around the courthouse, protesting the high rates of cancer in the youth living in Arroyo County. A small group of citizens signed with a law firm who specialized in environmental disasters. As a result of the lawsuit the government hired a research company who finally revealed two years later that the rates of certain types of cancer were slightly elevated in and around Artemis. The court ruled against the citizen group in the first trial, citing insufficient evidence due to the small sampling size from the small number of people living in Artemis and Arroyo County. The group appealed and the case returned to court.
During the same time period, the Environmental Protection Agency came to town to survey and evaluate the Feed Plant and discovered abysmal conditions: hundreds of rusted barrels containing nuclear waste, cracked concrete silos filled with radioactive gasses, contaminated soil and water, equipment used in the production of uranium sitting unprotected and unmonitored. The EPA put the plant on a fast track for cleanup and a private company, Beacon Pathways, was hired for undisclosed millions to clean the plant up over a period of ten years. The media coverage died down after the citizens’ case was lost on appeal, and Beacon’s ten-year cleanup contract was extended an additional ten years. Other than occasional grumblings in the local paper about the abuse of taxpayer money, it was a one-time sensational issue that most residents preferred not to think about. For others, Beacon paid well during troubling economic times and those workers hoped the cleanup would be around for decades. Josie wondered if the extensions would ever end.
*
Josie pulled her jeep in front of the police department, anxious to tell Otto what she had discovered. She ran through the rain and into the building, forgoing her umbrella. The bell above the door dinged and Lou, who was pulling folders out of the filing cabinet, turned around, an irritable look on her face.
“Better tread lightly,” Lou said.
“What’s the problem?”
“You heard about Teresa?” Lou scowled and looked behind her as if scouting for spies. She loved gossip. Josie thought the world of Lou, but she had a mean streak a mile wide and she looked ready to use it.
Josie shook her head, and Lou motioned Josie back to her desk.
“That girl did it this time. Teresa took her savings account money and posted bail for Enrico Gomez!”
Josie looked confused. “I just saw him this morning.”
“Sheriff must have got him right after you left. Sheriff Martínez just got off the phone with Marta. He told her that Teresa was at the bail bondsman’s before the ink dried on the paperwork.”
“Damn that kid. What were the charges?”
“Possession. Couple grams of coke. Teresa paid standard bond fees and he was out within two hours.”