Scratchgravel Road (Josie Gray Mysteries #2)(93)

She left Diego and walked through the plant toward the parking lot when she heard a female voice calling her name. She turned and saw Sylvia Moore walking quickly down the sidewalk in her high heels and dress, carrying a brown paper bag.

“You left these!” she called.

Josie turned and walked toward her, and accepted the bag.

“It’s your uniform boots. You left them when you changed into the waders.”

Josie looked down at the pair of waders someone had given her after she lost the first pair in the mudslide with the trencher.

“Thank you. I forgot all about these. If you’d like I’ll come back inside and change,” Josie said, expecting her to be a stickler for the rules.

“No, no. You can return them later.” She hesitated, her face conflicted. “We appreciate everything the police did for us today.” She paused, obviously struggling. “People view Beacon as the bad guys. We’re the scoundrels, when all we want to do is help. The company is here to clean up our community, not destroy it. It just gets frustrating.”

Josie put her hand out and the two women shook. “I understand the feeling well.”

*

Josie sat in her jeep for a few minutes, her body sore and tired. She called Otto and he stepped out of the meeting with Cowan and the lab tech from the CDC.

“She’s got her equipment checking out all the stuff in the morgue. She checked Santiago, his clothing, the evidence we collected. Santiago has elevated radiation.”

Josie sighed, feeling the last bit of energy drain from her body. “Did she check you and Cowan?”

“Yep, and there was nothing. Looks like chemicals were the culprit. We’ll know more shortly, but I think we’re out of the woods. Radiation, or negligence from the plant, weren’t what killed Santiago. It was human intervention.”

Josie explained what she and Diego had discovered on the security tapes.

“If Brent had gotten to those security tapes before you did, we’d have trouble.”

“I want to interview him, get his statement. Marta finished with the evacuations about an hour ago. She brought Cassidy Harper and Leo Monaco in for questioning. I’ll see you back at the jail when you’re finished.”

Josie called her family doctor, one of two in Artemis, and met him at his office before she went home to clean up and change. She gave him the name of the chemical that burnt her skin and explained the neutralization. He checked her thoroughly, gave her an ointment to apply twice a day, and sent her home with a clean bill of health. Before she left the parking lot at the doctor’s office she called Dillon and said she wouldn’t be coming over. She was too exhausted for company. When the day finally ended she wanted a hot bath, a warm tumbler of bourbon, and clean sheets all to herself.





TWENTY-FIVE


Josie made a quick trip home to shower and change into a clean uniform, and then drove to the Arroyo County Jail. She was led down the hall by the intake officer. Maria was one of Josie’s favorite employees at the jail; she took pride in her work and was a cheerful woman who rarely let the stress of the job bring her down. That evening, however, she was clearly agitated by the arrest of Brent Thyme.

They reached the interrogation room and Maria stood in front of the door with her arms crossed over her chest, the keys firmly grasped in her hand.

“I’d like to get him in the back parking lot and beat the tar out of him myself. That precious little boy at home? A wife who depends on him?”

“Hard to figure people out,” Josie said. She’d already suffered through the thoughts now plaguing Maria and was anxious to get to the questioning.

“Sarah will lose that house. She can’t afford it on a waitress salary.”

“We’ll see what he has to say for himself.”

Maria shook her head and seemed to realize she was detaining Josie. “His attorney is with him. It’s Oliver Greene. Public defender from Presidio. Brent’s been read his rights.” She turned to unlock the door. “Have at him.”

Brent looked wired. He wore the same jeans and navy blue long-sleeved T-shirt that he was arrested in earlier that afternoon. His pupils were dilated and he appeared to have difficulty focusing and paying attention to the directions his attorney was attempting to provide. Josie wondered again if he was on something.

Oliver Greene was an expatriate in his sixties with a soft, dignified British accent and bearing. He was a private man who had never explained to anyone in the law enforcement community how he’d ended up in West Texas. Greene was not a showman; he was an excellent public defender with no patience for theatrics. Josie liked him a great deal.

Once the preliminaries were out of the way, and the tape-recording equipment set up, Greene provided an additional verbal warning to Brent.

“I expect you to consult with me about anything that could possibly be construed as incriminating. I realize that isn’t always clear. If in doubt, stop and ask me. Understood?”

The warning seemed to have no effect on Brent. He remained hunched over the table, staring at his folded hands. Greene finally sighed heavily and told Josie to proceed with questioning.

“I watched the surveillance video. Have you explained to your attorney what’s on it?” she asked.

Brent stared at his fingers as he shredded the trash from a sugar wrapper used to sweeten his coffee. He said nothing and Greene finally shook his head once. Josie could tell he was in the dark and frustrated.