Hot Water (22 page)

“All right, all right. You’ve made your point,” the woman said. “We’ll see if your theory,” she nodded to the NRC man, “holds true once we go to necropsy.”

He jerked his chin as if accepting a challenge.

Liam and I exchanged glances. “What about us? Does that mean we’re going to get sick, too?” I dared to ask.

“Heavens no. Once we get your clothes off, that will take care of a good 90 percent of the contamination,” Morris said cheerfully.

“And a few runs through the shower will deal with the rest nicely,” the physicist added.

I looked down at my boots. They were new, and I’d only just broken them in to where I liked them. “What are you going to do with our clothing?”

“Destroy it, of course. It’s nuclear waste.”

Exactly what I was afraid of. I glanced at Liam, who either had gas or the slightest hint of a smile cracking his stony features.

“Do we get to shower together?” he asked, surprising me.

I glared at him. “What would Reverend Vincent say?”

He shrugged. Definitely was smiling—in fact, his expression resembled the gator’s right before he’d chomped my belt. “It will give us time to get better acquainted.”

Right. Alone time with Vincent’s pet gargoyle. I could hardly wait.

We pulled up to the loading dock, where workers had prepared a clear path to the decontamination facility. Just as I stepped off the tram, the skies opened up and it began to rain.

David felt some of his dread lift when he spotted Ty’s Tahoe coming up the drive. Ty would understand why he was so worried about Mr. X and since he was a police officer, he had the power to do something about it. Finally, someone who would take him seriously.

Ty and Nikki bounded up the steps. “Hey there, Champ. Hear you got a break in the case for me.”

David showed him his timeline—now carefully copied on a blank piece of paper without the scribbles or doodles. Adult style. “So, you see that instead of trying to find evidence against Jeremy, you need to be looking for someone else.”

“This Mr. X.”

“Right. He’d be a man, probably military or law enforcement training—”

“Just because he knows how to apply a choke hold?”

David heard doubt in Ty’s voice. That was okay, he’d done his research. “Because he knew how to do it without leaving any bruises or marks behind. That’s not something you’d learn just by taking a martial arts class.”

Ty nodded, his face turning grave. “Okay. I’ll buy that. How else can we narrow him down?”

“He’d have access to whichever drug you end up finding in Jeremy’s system—”

“Which might take weeks. If we can find anything. Some of those drugs are virtually untraceable.”

Darn. David should have thought of that himself. “Well, he’d need a reason to do all this. Let’s face it, anyone around here with a grudge against Jeremy would do the same thing they’d do back in D.C.—they’d cap his ass.”

“Your mother know you talk like that?” Ty chided.

They both laughed—David’s mom would never put up with him using street slang. “Seriously. If we can just figure out the why, then we should be able to figure out the who.”

“Big first step there. Especially if Jeremy wasn’t the end target but just the means to something or someone else.”

That was an interesting way to look at the problem. But it opened up all sorts of parameters that complicated things. A lot. “Like who?”

“I wish I knew.” Ty stretched his legs and got to his feet. “You eat lunch?”

“Yep. But I could go for another sandwich. Your mom bakes the best bread—don’t tell Flora I said that, though.”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. By the way, they said Flora can probably come home tomorrow.”

“So I can stay with her again tonight? Someone should be watching over her. Or are they going to let Jeremy?”

“No. The judge won’t let Jeremy anywhere near her for now. He’s staying at Elizabeth’s house. And there’s another slight wrinkle—”

“What?”

“Another judge said Elizabeth can’t watch over you either. Seems like your Grandfather Masterson is taking your mom to court to mandate visitation.”

“What’s that got to do with Elizabeth?”

“It’s complicated, but with your mom out of town, they’re trying to see who’d be best to watch you. Probably gonna have some other folks for you to talk to as well. Like a counselor or social worker or the like.”

David slumped back in his chair so hard that the front wheels bounced. “So I’m getting shuffled around like the kid no one wants on their team for dodge ball. No one wants me, do they?”

“No, just the opposite. They all want you, but that means a judge has to sort things out, and whenever you get the courts involved in this kind of stuff it gets complicated. But it’s just for one more night until your mom is home tomorrow.” Ty paused. “I’m trying to work it so you can stay here—would that be okay with you?”

Ty was the first one who actually bothered to ask David what David wanted to do with his life. That’s why David liked him so much. He got it, he really got it.

“Yeah. That’d be cool.”

“I have the night off, so Nikki and I will be here as well. Plus all the cousins—we can build a fire in the pit and camp out in the meadow if you want.”

Now that sounded like fun. “Great. I’ll have to go home and get my stuff first.”

Ty’s mom appeared at the door leading from the front of the house, accompanied by a strange man in a fancy suit. He must have come in the front door—the door that only strangers and guests used.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to alter those plans a bit, young man,” the stranger said.

David didn’t like his tone. Neither did Nikki, who made a low rumbly noise in her throat and stood, planting herself between the stranger and David. Even Ty, usually the most laid-back and polite adult David knew, altered his stance so that his hip with the gun was aimed away from the man and his hand rested on it.

“David,” Ty’s mom said, “this is Mr. Masterson’s lawyer. He’s been ordered by the judge to take you to Mr. Masterson’s for the night.”

“Like hell he is.” Ty surprised David with his sharp tone. “I have permission from David’s mother to watch over him. I’m not relinquishing him to anyone unless I hear it from the judge himself.”

The stranger smiled, but it wasn’t the kind of smile that meant “of course, I understand.” Rather, it was the kind of smile David had seen on bullies right before they launched a sucker punch. He wanted to warn Ty, but realized he didn’t have to. Ty was already watching the man’s hands even as they reached inside his jacket pocket for his phone. Nikki was at full alert as well.

“That can be arranged, Deputy.” The man dialed. “And then the boy comes with me.”

Hutton watched the response to the Palladino fire from a perch in a kid’s tree house across the street. Perfect. No collateral damage and exactly the outcome Masterson wanted.

It had been almost too easy given the state of the house. The biggest challenge had been in creating the opportunity for a fire that wouldn’t get out of control and feed on all the fuel available. With all the crap shoved into the small house, he was surprised it hadn’t burned down on its own long before he came to do his job.

He called Masterson. “You got what you wanted. They’re homeless and humiliated. Happy now?”

“Good. Now that Edna’s little personality quirk is a matter of public record, only one person stands between me and my grandson.”

Jeez, why was it Masterson always had to talk like he was the villain on a soap opera?

Masterson thought that talking like he was God and everyone else was a peon to either do his bidding or get stepped on along the way somehow made him superior to the people whose lives he trampled.

Hutton had bought into it when he was a kid. Had kissed ass along with the others trying to secure their jobs, feed their families.

Not anymore. Now he understood the truth.

Like most of Hutton’s clients, Masterson was just a narcissist, plain and simple. He didn’t care about other people because he truly didn’t see them as people—in his world there was only room for Masterson.

Usually it didn’t bother Hutton too much—the money more than made up for suffering fools like Masterson. But for some reason, this job was starting to drag on him. Maybe he’d feel better when this was over.

“You ready to finish this?” Masterson asked, eerily in synch with Hutton’s own thoughts.

“Yes sir.”

TWENTY-THREE

Here’s how decon works. Everyone not glowing in the dark puts on funky yellow Tyvek overalls with hoods—like what you see in movies.

So they put on their overalls, then rubber boots, followed by two pairs of gloves, blue next to their skin and white ones on top. Then they go crazy with the duct tape—tape their boots to their pants, tape the gloves to their sleeves. Next, they put on goggles along with respirator masks and then pull their hoods up over everything.

It was our turn next. First, we got “frisked.” We stood, palms up, arms out, while the Tyvek people slowly scanned us with a handheld machine—they called it a GM, but it looked like a Geiger counter to me. They waved a little paddle close to our bodies and listened to the clicks.

Morris got off easy—barely any clicks, only slightly more than the background radiation, the guy scanning him said, so he got to keep his clothes.

Liam and I weren’t so lucky. The clicks revved up to hummingbird speed on both of us—me a little more than Liam. So we were sent to open-doored cubicles and told to strip down to our underwear. Each article of clothing was packaged in a special biohazard bag and we were scanned again. Still too many clicks.

Next, they rammed Q-tips up our nostrils and dug around in our ears and mouths. Of course, all through this, all I could think about was David seeing footage of his mom skewering an alligator. I was putting the poor thing out of its misery, but you know the media, they don’t always tell it like it is.

Morris assured me that wouldn’t happen and that the security guys confiscated all the footage. Poor guy actually believed that. I know how reporters work. They don’t give up a good story, not for anything. My only hope was to get out of here as fast as possible and call David.

But then they sent us to the shower, shouting instructions on how to wash our hair and rinse it away from our body, to work from the head down with the soap and disposable scrub brush they gave us, and they wouldn’t let us turn the water hotter or colder, insisting on a tepid temperature that had me shivering anytime a body part escaped the water stream. I was in there so long my skin looked more wrinkled than Flora’s.

They spread a pad out on the floor for us to stand on and gave us disposable towels to dry off with. Then again with the scan. Fewer clicks, but still not good enough. Back to the showers. Scrub, rinse, repeat.

After three cycles my skin felt raw and my hair literally squeaked, it was so clean. Another scan and everyone was happy, congratulating themselves on their good work.

Liam and I were given hospital scrubs and paper slippers to wear. Lovely. I wondered if Grandel would excuse me from his press conference.

No such luck—he arrived, huddled with the man from the NRC for a moment, then came over to me. “I was going to fire you for that stunt.”

“Stunt? I didn’t plan that. And by the way, you’re welcome for saving your brother’s life. Not to mention anyone else who might have gotten too close to that gator.”

Two sheriff’s men came inside and made a beeline for Liam.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Arresting you for trespassing. Might throw in a federal violation, homeland security or the like, if your boss doesn’t play nice,” Grandel told him. I didn’t like the smug expression he wore as the deputies clicked their handcuffs on Liam.

“Owen, he only jumped the fence to help me. You can’t arrest him for that.”

“Sure I can. But like I said, if Vincent backs down, removes his protestors and those Internet postings, I’ll be happy to drop the charges.”

Liam’s glare was more terrifying than the alligator. “Vincent is the least of your problems.”

“Really? Shall we add terrorist threats to the charges?”