Scratchgravel Road (Josie Gray Mysteries #2)(65)

“They’re still making new materials,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows.

Brent groaned in frustration. Josie could tell he realized he’d already said too much.

“Look. I could get fired for talking to you. I was told it doesn’t matter who comes asking for information, whether you’re with the police or not. We’re supposed to refer you to Paiva.”

“I’ll be talking with him later.”

“I’m not allowed to discuss the plant.”

Josie nodded. “I’m not here to cause you problems. I’m here because a man was murdered. Not only do I want to find the man’s killer, but I want to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Brent turned in his chair and glanced back at the door leading into the house. “Are you able to keep my name out of this if I tell you something?” he asked.

“Absolutely.”

“I mean, this remains completely anonymous.”

“Yes, that’s my intent,” Josie said.

Brent sat for a moment and wiped the sweat off the back of his neck, then onto his shorts. His face was beet red and he looked miserable. “Santiago had been working in the pilot unit before he died. I know because I was working with him.”

“I thought you worked in Unit Seven?”

“That’s our assigned area. We spend most of our time there, but we have side projects in other areas. We’ll occasionally do work out of the pilot unit. Santiago and I were assigned to the pilot for two days to sanitize equipment we’d been using in Unit Seven.”

“What kind of work takes place there?” she asked.

“New projects. Pilots. Basic lab work. It’s stuff Beacon tries out before the systems go live.”

Josie narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Once again, I thought you were supposed to be closing the plant down. Why test new stuff?” She wondered if Brent’s answer would match what others had told her.

He shrugged once. “Supposedly, it’s new technology for radiation cleanup.”

“You try new technology in the pilot unit, then try it out in the plant. If it works, I’m guessing Beacon sells it to others in the industry?”

He shrugged again. “Or the government.”

“So, our government is paying them to clean up the plant, and they are using part of that money to develop new technology?” she asked.

He nodded.

“And then they turn around and sell it back to the government?”

“And the private sector,” he said.

“So they’re double-dipping.”

“I guess you could call it that,” he said.

“Can you give me an example of the kinds of projects that take place in the pilot unit?”

His face twisted in frustration, and he rolled his head as if stretching tight neck muscles. After a long moment he said, “After you left the other day? Paiva called all the plant supervisors in for an emergency meeting. Supervisors were told to personally meet with every one of their employees within twenty-four hours, even if it required home visits. Afterwards, Skip gave us copies of the nondisclosure agreement we signed. Someone had taken an orange highlighter and underlined the information on grounds for dismissal.” He pointed his finger at Josie, then at his own chest. “This right here? I’ll be fired if they find out. And I have a two-year-old, and a wife that makes little more than minimum wage.”

Josie felt a stab of guilt for pushing him. If he chose not to share information she could call the company attorney and ask for assistance, but legally there wasn’t much in her favor. A person could not be forced to talk.

She finally said, “Disregard the last question. I’ll be talking with Mr. Paiva. I plan to ask him the same questions I’ve asked you. Your name will not be mentioned, nor will the information you shared with me. At least now I have a point of reference.”

“I understand.”

Josie opened the manila folder on her lap and pulled out several five-by-seven color photographs that Lou had developed for her earlier in the day. She handed the stack to Brent, who grimaced immediately.

“I’m sorry to have you look at these. They’re pictures of Juan Santiago’s arms the day we found his body. The sores are a big concern for us. They may be tied to his death. We have no medical records, so we’re not sure if the situation was medical or possibly job-related. We’re also concerned there may be a public health hazard that we don’t know about.” Josie paused and Brent nodded once. He flipped through the photographs, holding the edges as if he didn’t want to touch the gruesome images.

“Did he have those sores on his arms when you last saw him?” she asked.

“Juan had some sores, but nothing like this.” He stared at the last picture for several moments and appeared to consider Josie’s question. He finally passed the photos back. “The last day he was at work I saw them. Just some red blisters on his arm. I saw him in the cafeteria, but he didn’t talk to anyone. Most days he sat with us. That day he didn’t. He went off by himself and ate. I saw the sores though when he went through the line. I wondered, you know? But it could have been a hundred different things. Then, we didn’t see him again.”

“You didn’t mention the sores to anyone else you worked with?”