Scratchgravel Road (Josie Gray Mysteries #2)(64)
“We won’t know until we get the proper equipment and get each of us tested. Meanwhile, Sheila, it is imperative that you call immediately if you see any additional cases. At this point, we’re approaching this as an isolated incident. If we find more people are affected, we could have a serious disaster looming.”
“What about the Feed Plant? Couldn’t they get us equipment?” Otto asked.
“The CDC is sending a certified hazardous materials technician. She’ll help us with the equipment, help us assess the situation and come up with a plan. My contact at the CDC suggested as this point that we wait and use CDC equipment, as well as their staff. Beacon Pathways may be very well trained, but then again, they may not be. I’m not willing to take the gamble.”
Josie was struggling not to look down at the picture of the sores lying in front of her on the table. “What do we do in the meantime?”
Cowan sighed heavily. “I know this goes against your grain. This is very unsettling. It is for me too. But I think we wait another half a day.”
“You don’t think a quarantine is in order?” she asked.
“Radiation is its own special kind of beast. Some radiation can be wiped on your skin and nothing will happen. You ingest the same thing and it will eat your insides up like battery acid. Some spreads through the air, others via surfaces. Some particles are radioactive for miles from the source and can be detected by a Geiger counter if a trace amount is on the shoe of a pedestrian that walks by. Other forms are only radioactive within centimeters of the source.”
Josie listened to Cowan, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “I think we call Diego Paiva and get a list of anyone who had contact with the area of the plant Santiago worked in during his last three days there. We recommend they stay at home until we find some answers. I don’t know what it could hurt.”
Otto gave her a skeptical look. “Gossip travels at the speed of light in Artemis. The Hot Tamale would have it broadcast by nightfall. The trauma unit would be full. And what would we tell people?”
Josie looked at Sheila, who nodded in agreement with Otto. Josie finally shrugged. “Okay. We wait.”
*
Josie left the meeting feeling numb. It had always been the unseen things in life that caused her the most fear: diseases, plague, nuclear radiation, bacteria, and parasites. She liked police work because the dangers were tangible. She could formulate a plan and attack it. A gun was a comfort. When she rested the palm of her hand on the butt of the gun in her holster she typically felt calm and in control. With this investigation she felt none of that.
She drove to Brent Thyme’s at 4:15. After talking with Sarah that afternoon, Josie opted not to call Brent to tell him she was stopping by. Josie was curious why Santiago’s death was troubling him so much, given that they weren’t close friends. She realized the fact that Santiago had been murdered could be reason enough to upset Brent, but it was worth exploring.
The couple lived in a small beige stucco adobe behind the police station. Brent and his wife Sarah were sitting in lawn chairs just inside the open doors of a two-car garage, staying out of the downpour. Josie pulled her jeep up and noticed a small boy pedaling a tricycle in circles inside the garage. Josie got out of her jeep and ran for shelter. Brent stood and shook her hand.
“Sorry to barge in on you like this. I’m hoping I can ask you a few questions about the Santiago investigation.”
Sarah offered drinks and when Josie declined Sarah took the little boy off the tricycle and said she needed to lay him down for a nap. She disappeared inside the house and Brent and Josie settled into the two lawn chairs facing the rain.
“Sarah said you’re pretty upset about Santiago. Anything in particular?”
He looked surprised at her comment. “Well, no, other than my coworker is dead. That’s pretty troubling.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
Again, he looked surprised at the question. “What do you want to know?”
“No one knows anything about Santiago other than he loved his family and wanted to return to Mexico. There has to be something more.”
Brent lifted his hands in a futile gesture. “I don’t know what else I can add to that. I wish there was more we could help you with.”
“Yet, this man with no connections to the community, no money, no friends, no family here in the U.S.—he ends up left for dead in the middle of the desert.” Josie almost added, “wearing his work boots,” but few people knew that information and she hoped to keep it that way.
Brent looked out into the rain. “I feel lousy about it now. I wish I’d made more of an effort with him. Tried to connect with him somehow.”
“What about the work he did at the plant? Can you tell me what part of the plant Santiago was working in?”
“I can’t provide you with that information.”
She sighed. She should have anticipated his reaction, but opted to play the game out. “Why not?”
“When I was hired I signed a nondisclosure agreement. I’m prohibited from giving you any information about the inner workings of the plant.”
Josie gave him a quizzical look. She was asking the questions to gauge his attitude toward the plant, more than his actual answers. If his answers were hesitant, unsure, she was fairly certain he would crack with enough pressure. “It’s not as if you’re giving out company secrets. The plant is closing down.”