Ride the Lightning Page 14

  "Does this have to do with your outside hobby?"

  I hadn't told him about Ethan and decided this was a time for a half-truth. "Yes it does and it's critical."

  "Fine by me. Is Maddie going to work her shift tomorrow?"

  "She's running an errand for me, but she should be here and ready to roll."

  He stood and pulled on his jacket. The silence was heavy with unasked questions.

  I broke the impasse. "What's up?"

  "Nothing. I'm just going to miss you."

  He held up a hand to cut me off.

  "Please. Don't. I know when someone has one foot out the door. I also knew this was only a way station for you. You're good at it. Crazy good at it, but you don't belong here. Before you told me about this death penalty craziness, I would have suspected it was the biker. But now..."

  I didn't have an answer for him because I couldn't deny it. When I'd told Ethan that I could flee at a moment's notice, I hadn't thought about what I'd be leaving behind.

  "Go do your thing and be careful. I've got the club."

  After Joey left, I sat at my desk and thought about what he'd said. He was right. There was no way I could help bring this down and then go on serving beer as if nothing happened. I was going to have to leave.

  But to where? The last time I'd loaded up the camper, the road felt free and full of possibilities. Now it felt like a failure. My phone interrupted my funk and wondering where it was that I belonged. Only one number from Dallas would be calling me.

  "Is this Gerald or Anthony?"

  "Hello to you too, Sunshine. You're going to wish it was Anthony, but I've got info for you about your diary."

  "That was fast. No wonder you get the big bucks."

  "Again, hold your judgment on that. My staff is so damn efficient that I got back from a late meeting to find fifty pages of transcription on my desk. I forgot to tell her to send it straight to you. I apologize."

  "That's amazing. Can you scan and email me the document?"

  "Uh, no. It's after hours, I don't know the passwords to staff computers, and the network admin isn't answering her phone. I'll have her send the whole thing tomorrow. There's an ancient fax machine in my office, I can send you about five pages at a time. I did a quick read and found what I think you're looking for. It's the last few entries."

  "Gerald, you never did get the hang of those computer thingies did you?"

  "Shut up. Do you have a fax machine? What's the number?"

  I gave it to him and said, "I guess that'll be quicker than a carrier pigeon."

  "Remind me again how much I'm charging you for this."

  "Obviously not enough. This is amazing. Thank you."

  "Anytime. Almost."

  The print cartridge on my end left a lot to be desired, but the pages were legible. Gerald had a star in the margin of a particular passage. It was dated two days before she was killed:

  Bad night at the club. Georgie and Cyrus were shit-faced and being assholes, even for them. G is usually good for a big tip, so I went to their table. I offered a dance, and he said how much for an ass fuck. Nothing I haven't heard before, but this time was the worst. Then he held up two papers, one green and one yellow. He said they were worth more money than I'd see in a lifetime, and I'd be sorry I didn't get on my knees with my cheeks in the air. Then he stuffed the papers in my bra and squeezed my tit. Duane was there too and he laughed at me. They were so mean. I know I shouldn't cry, but I did.

  I took a break and made tea. I worked with the dancers every day and often made ribald comments about the business. I never thought about what they dealt with every shift. Her innocent words made me feel ashamed and more resolute to stop this. I turned the page:

  Another shift from hell. Lucky for me, no Georgie. Duane was handsy, but I can handle him. The bad part is when I was heading to the locker room for a break. Tony reached out from the shadows and grabbed me by my hair. He asked me about the papers. I said I threw them out, that they didn't mean anything to me. I said that the only green paper that I cared about has dead presidents on it. He didn't laugh. Instead, he pulled me into the broom closet and made me suck him. My mouth and neck still hurt. I should tell. I won't. Nobody is going to believe me over a sheriff's deputy, especially since we used to date. And I don't want Billy Ray to go to prison for killing him. One more year and I can forget I ever saw this place. I lied about the papers. I have them. I wish I knew what to do.

  It was the last entry. She was killed the next night. I also had a pretty good idea whose DNA I was going to find on the diary's cover. It was Sarah Jean's message from the grave. I wondered what papers she was talking about.

  The chemical plant. One green. One yellow.

  Something tickled in the back of my brain. Ghost of cases past, but I couldn't fit the pieces into the puzzle. Duane, I knew well, too well. The image of his red ugly face the night he tried to fight the MC came into my head. He was mean enough to do almost anything. I needed to find out who the hell "Georgie" is. Joey should be able to help me with that. He'd worked at the plant when all this was going down.

  My phone vibrated with an incoming text. Expecting Ethan, seeing Maddie's name surprised me. It was short and to the point.

  Check your email.

  The terseness got my attention. Mixed in with the hustles from distributors, invoice reminders, and the x-rated spam that went along with the nature of the business, was an email from the Sinclair Law Firm. The message was almost as clipped as the text.

  Sasha found these papers in the back pocket of the diary. She says that'll you know what they are and if they're important. She also told me to send them in color. I'm hitting the road right after dinner. Talk to you soon.

  I clicked on the attachments and mentally drummed my fingers while the documents downloaded. As the pixilated image cleared up, the case came into sharp focus.

  I knew the source of the Shine. I knew what Duane and the mysterious Georgie were talking about, and I knew what was worth killing Sarah Jean for.

  Another text buzzed. This time it was Ethan. I'd forgotten to message him.

  All clear?

  My response was a clipped: Y

  Another ping. You okay?

  This was no time for drama. I responded: 5X5

  He was at the door in minutes. Without a word, I clicked on the music and led him to the dance floor. I wanted to shut out the world for tonight. My news could wait until morning because with what was going down tomorrow, this could be our last night together for a long time.

  CHAPTER 33

  Ethan left after a quick breakfast. We'd agreed to meet at Max's cottage for a briefing on the meet at the farm and what I'd discovered. I only wanted to explain it in depth once. I had one more piece of the puzzle to chase down, and I needed Joey's help.

  My bartender eyed the coffee and toast with humor and suspicion. "Okay, what did I do or what do you want? I already said I'd watch the club."

  "What, I can't make breakfast for a friend?"

  "No, you can't. I'll bite, what's up?"

  "A couple of questions. I was going through Sarah Jean's diary, and two names came up. I was hoping you could give me some info about them."

  "You found her diary?"

  "What is it with this thing?"

  "It was like the worst kept joke-slash-secret in the club. She used to say that you were going in her diary when you messed with her. What happened to it, or if it even existed, has been speculated about more than once."

  "I have it and it may well be why the club was shot up the other night. If you don't mind, I'll leave it there for the moment. I promise, when this is over, I'll tell you the whole story."

  "Fair enough. Right now, what do you need to know?"

  "She had a couple of regulars. Two guys named Cyrus and Georgie. Do you know them?"

  "You're kidding, right?"

  "Do I fucking look like I'm kidding?"

  He slid back from the table and ran his fingers through his hair.
>
  "Sorry, I would have thought that even an outsider like you would have heard the story of George Hawthorne across the bar some night."

  I perked at the name of the family that owned the chemical plant and motioned for him to continue.

  "He was the nephew of the owners. On paper, he was the supervisor of the R&D lab. Mostly he fucked off and hit on the female employees. He wrapped his Corvette around a tree supposedly fleeing from the cops after he was rousted out of a party where the entertainment was a combination of boy and girls, none of them old enough to drive. When they checked his house, the computer overflowed with kiddie porn. The family swooped in and did the big hush-hush, but it's still talked about. Dude was a straight-up asshole."

  "You sound suspicious."

  "Let's just say the EMTs were never called in to do a welfare check on any underage victims. The cops were more concerned about documenting the crash. Yes, he was very dead at the scene. The deputies checked that three times before they'd let us transport him."

  "When did it happen?"

  I already knew the answer, and Joey confirmed it without even realizing it. Georgie Hawthorne died under scandalous circumstances less than a month after stuffing two copies of a Hazardous Waste Manifest into the bra of a murder victim. Documents that were important enough for Tony Romero to threaten, rape, and most likely murder Sarah Jean Simpson over.

  "How about Cyrus?"

  "You know what? I'm not sure. He drove truck for Hawthorne and some of the local transporters. I couldn't tell you the last time he was around here. What's this about?"

  I thought of Dr. Death and his unidentified bayou rats. This smelled like tying up loose ends.

  "I'm a lawyer. My job is to answer questions before anyone else thinks of asking them."

  "How mysterious. We're cool. You going to be around at all tonight?"

  "I don't know. You handle things. I'll leave the liquor vault key in my office drawer. Also, promise me you'll keep an eye on Simon. Please."

  "Okay, now you've got me worried."

  I didn't have an answer for that.

  CHAPTER 34

  I parked in the public lot near the sand and made my way across Beach Boulevard to the cottage complex where Max Gano was holed up. I liked it. Not too fancy and people seemed to be minding their own business. I'd dug around in my drawers to find something a little less strip club and a bit more tourist. I turned up a pair of cut-off jeans, a halter top, and flip-flops. The odds of running into someone who would put it together were slim. Superficial appearances were good enough for today.

  As I headed up the path, I discovered Ethan had the same idea. He stretched out in a lawn chair wearing only cargo shorts and a beach towel draped over his shoulder to hide the ridiculous tattoo. With dark sunglasses and his face tilted toward the sun, it was nice to see the real Ethan Price without any of the artifices of his undercover work.

  I pulled up one of the fancy old-fashioned metal patio chairs. "Hey Handsome, is this seat taken?"

  He pushed up his shades and said, "It is now, Baby. You know any place a guy could get a drink and a good time in this town?"

  "There is one club, inland, where the locals go. I hear the bartender is a big-mouthed bitch. The trade gets kind of rough as well."

  "Then I guess it's you and me."

  "And Gano makes three." Max dragged over another chair and opened his cooler. It was way too early for beer, so I grabbed a soda.

  I leaned back and drank deep. "Why can't any of this be real?"

  Max touched his can to mine and said, "Welcome to the business. We can finish our drinks. Then it's time to get on with the briefing."

  Ethan groaned. "C'mon, give me a few. I've been living like a damn vampire. Isn't there an FBI rule about minimum sunlight exposure or something?"

  "You've got fifteen more minutes to convert vitamin D. Don't waste it."

  I didn't say anything. I'd be doing enough talking soon. Instead, I slipped my hand into Ethan's and enjoyed the sun and breeze off the Gulf.

  * * *

  I spread my documents on the breakfast bar inside the cottage. I'd made extra copies of the diary entries and manifest pages for each of them, but I needed the originals to explain my theory.

  "What are we looking at?" Max asked as he broke spaghetti into boiling water.

  "This is the generator and transporter copy of a Uniform Hazardous Waste Manifest for the Hawthorne plant. It's a four to six-part document that accompanies shipments of spent or contaminated waste chemicals from the source to the disposal facility. Think of it as a multi-part receipt that tracks it from generation to destruction. If the document disappears, effectively, so does the waste. This is how they're getting Shine out of the plant. After it's packaged, they're sealing it in run-of-the-mill haz waste drums, preparing manifests, loading it on a truck, and driving it out the front gate. And then they destroy the paper trail. The disposal facility never gets their copy because it's off-loaded somewhere along the way. With some of the shit that Hawthorne makes, nobody in their right mind would mess with those containers. All you need is a driver who's willing to play along."

  Ethan opened another soda and said, "You've got my attention. What makes you so sure?"

  I read Sarah Jean's last words out loud and then told them about Georgie Hawthorne, his connection to the labs, and his utterly convenient humiliating death while running from sheriff's deputies. I also shared my belief that no one would be hearing anything from Cyrus anytime soon.

  Max dished up lunch. "Your theory is that motherfucker Georgie-boy ran his mouth trying to impress a stripper, and the sheriff's department cleaned up the mess? That's a pretty tall assumption. Let's run with it for the moment. Any idea who gave the orders and who is behind production?"

  "That one I don't know. My guess is they're cooking it up in the R&D or environmental testing lab. Those are usually isolated and have restricted access. To the uninitiated, what's another beaker of smelly stuff bubbling in a fume hood? Some scientific mumbo-jumbo would satisfy the curious. You know there's got to be pay-offs as well. It's your job to get the probable cause to raid the factory."

  Ethan stayed quiet during my explanation, his food untouched. "I'll bet the Colonel knows. He's been an absolute douchebag since we got back from New Orleans. Only one thing makes him that much of a miserable asshole. It's when he's confronted with someone who has more power than he does."

  The defense attorney in me bubbled up. "Will he be amenable to a deal?"

  "He cares about one thing, his own skin. So, yes, as long as it's framed away from the club, he'll roll like a snowball downhill. We already have enough, state and federal, to send the entire MC up for life. If the prosecutors are willing to deal some of that down, he'll sing about Hawthorne. Max, your thoughts?"

  "Let's see if they show up this afternoon with the Shine packed like Jewel thinks it will be. If so, we should be able to shade the reports away from the MC."

  Ethan chased his food around the plate with his fork. "Good. The Colonel will not rat on the brothers. Right now, it's not only the Macon charter that's on the block but also the Augusta and Valdosta crews. They'll chop him into dog food if he talks about the club. I know you'll be watching by drone. What should I look for?"

  I swallowed the last bite of my lunch. "I doubt they'll be stupid enough to show up with the original drum. If I've overestimated them, look for yellow labels and red or multi-color diamond-shaped stickers. If I was them, I'd overpack it. It looks ominous, hides a lot, and protects everyone from spills. An overpack looks like a big plastic trash can. They're usually bright yellow. Since it's used to stabilize leaky containers, no one would mess with it at the chemical plant."

  Max traded my empty plate for a smaller one containing a slice of cake. Unlike Ethan, this mission pushed my appetite to the red line. "What would we do without you?"

  "All part of a day's work. I was a Texas lawyer who specialized in sticky situations. Giant Texas petrochemical companies also spec
ialize in sticky situations, literally and figuratively."

  We reviewed the maps and Google Earth printouts. Max had spent his downtime well and had been doing a lot of spying on the farm. He had the key buildings marked and found a perch where we could watch the meeting by drone.

  "My birds have a four-mile range, but I want to be closer. This spot is only a quarter-mile out as the crow flies and," he pointed to the map, "has easy access and egress. I can drive the van up there with no problem, so I can bring all my toys and your lady friend too."

  "What girl wouldn't swoon at that invitation?"

  "Hey, stop sounding like my third ex-wife."

  The back and forth pulled a smile from Ethan. "Lay off the Hawaiian shirts, okay? It's hard on my pride. Although, I can totally see why she found you irresistible, you are a sexy beast. When we get done with this, I'll tell you about the time Max and I holed up for a week in an office the size of a closet on a wiretap and photo surveillance gig. It was hard to keep my hands off of him."

  Max waggled his eyebrows in response and my apprehension eased. These two guys knew what they were doing. I only saw the product, usually with an exhibit sticker on it. I'd never put much thought into where the information came from.

  After a few more notes and discussion, it was time to put this together. Ethan disappeared into the bedroom and came out in his biker gear. It wasn't only the worn denim jeans and leather vest over his shoulder. He changed his entire demeanor. He was Price again.

  Max held out his hand and said, "See you on the flip side, Brother."

  After the handshake and a backslapping hug, Ethan winked at me and gestured toward the door. I got the hint.

  "Can I walk out with you? I need to get my bag and change. What fits in here at the beach doesn't exactly blend into the background at the top of a hill."

  "Sure, at least to the end of the driveway and then we need to split up. My bike is about a block west of here."

  We walked together without speaking. There wasn't anything else to say. Luckily, I didn't have talking on my mind. When we came to a picnic table surrounded by small trees, I pulled Ethan inside the grove, threw my arms around his neck, and kissed him.