Scratchgravel Road (Josie Gray Mysteries #2)(68)

Josie frowned, not sure she understood the connection. “Beacon is a little different, though. They aren’t misrepresenting themselves as much as they are drumming up business.”

Dillon sipped at his glass of wine and cocked his head. “On one level. But they don’t make it clear their real profit doesn’t come from the cleanup. It comes from developing new technology. They just submitted a patent this past year aimed at cleaning up spent fuel rods—some of the most radioactive of all waste materials. If the technology does what they claim, they stand to make billions.”

“Which means they don’t want to clean up the plant too fast if they can test new products in the meantime, and get paid to do it,” she said.

“Exactly.”

She sat back in her seat. “And what happens if a little radiation slop-over takes place and an employee gets burned? Would they risk a billion-dollar profit on a possible lawsuit?”

“Or the end of the company’s impeccable safety record?” he asked.

“Maybe we know why they have such an impeccable safety record.”

“Because they dump their mistakes in the desert?”

Josie hesitated. “You haven’t heard the rest of it yet. I didn’t give you all the details when I called this afternoon.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“This goes no further.”

He gave her a quizzical look. “That’s a given.”

“I talked with one of the other workers today from the Feed Plant. He woke with a sore on his wrist this morning. The same type of sore found on Santiago’s arm.”

Dillon looked up in surprise. “Did he get it from the plant?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“Have you told anyone?”

“Mitchell Cowan. He talked with the CDC today. They’re flying someone in tomorrow morning to help us figure out what’s going on.”

He frowned. “Should this guy be quarantined?”

“I talked with Cowan. He thinks it’s radiation. Santiago and the other man both worked in the same building together before Santiago came up missing. Now, it’s a matter of calling in the right help to narrow down the cause. Cowan doesn’t want to panic people before we have some answers. We at least need to get some direction.” Josie drank her wine, glad for its bitter dryness. “There’s another problem for the guy with the sore on his wrist. He’s got a wife, son, and a mortgage, and he signed a clause on his contract that strictly forbids him from sharing any information about the plant.”

Dillon was quiet. He was cutting his meat, studying it as if deep in thought.

“Hey. Do you want me to go home? Are you worried this could be contagious? Because it’s crossed my mind too.”

He looked up at her, surprised. “No, of course not! I’m just thinking. Nagasaki is about the extent of my knowledge of radiation sickness. But it sounds horrible. It just makes me wonder how many other employees might have been exposed.”

*

After dinner was finished and supper cleaned up, Dillon went through a stack of information he had printed for Josie on Beacon Pathways. The information included their current holdings, profit margins, even a mission statement and ten-year business plan.

“Honestly? It’s the kind of information that makes me want to buy stock in their company,” Dillon said. “Beacon is opening another plant in California. They have a crew there now, taking stock and running environmental tests.”

Josie frowned and scooted her chair away from the dining room table. She stared out the glass at the cactus and agave plants in Dillon’s backyard. The sun had slipped below the horizon and left a purple haze across the desert floor. The whole situation bothered her on some level that she couldn’t express. She felt jilted. It was the angry taxpayer syndrome. As a kid she used to listen to her grandpa rant and rave about people abusing the system. She’d just thought of him as an angry old man, but she’d been paying taxes long enough now that his words seemed less angry and more rational.

Dillon smirked. “Okay. What’s your issue?”

“Where are the boundary lines? Beacon seems to be benefiting on all sides by dragging their contracts out as long as they can.”

He shrugged. “Not against the law.”

“Here’s my issue. We’re dealing with material that is so dangerous Paiva talked about burying it for thousands of years. I don’t want him dragging his feet on this. I want this mess out of my backyard!”

“You’d have to prove negligence on their part,” he said.

“That’s just it. Who would do that? They’re so specialized, and insulated out here. Who’s keeping tabs on them?” she asked.

“I don’t really know. I guess the Nuclear Regulatory Commission.”

“The whole operation makes me feel helpless. And I hate that.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“You in the mood for a late-night drive?”

He looked surprised. “I figured after your foray into Mexico last night that you’d get to bed early.”

She raised an eyebrow. “How about a late-night trip around the Feed Plant?”

Dillon laughed. “You’re serious. Right now?”

Josie nodded. She was wearing down from the previous night with little sleep. She knew she ought to go home, but curiosity had her. She wanted to see the Feed Plant on her own terms, away from Diego’s careful watch.