One Mile Under (22 page)

“Hmm, guess I know what you’re taking about.” He exhaled. “The balloon thing. Guess you’ve heard by now? So you were right on that, Danielle, they did find some possibility that there might have been foul play. Though I stress the words
possibility
and
might
.

“But at the same time you oughta know that both sets of customers on that balloon only booked the day before, so it seems whatever it was, if it turns out true, wasn’t aimed at them. More like someone here looking to do some mischief, God knows why.”

Dani said, “It wasn’t some mischief maker, Wade. You know damn well who it was aimed at.”

Wade felt a bitter taste on his tongue. “You ought to come back now, Danielle.”

“First you want me as far away as possible, now you want me back. I’ll be back when we’re ready to come back, Wade. Some things are starting to come out up here.”

“I just want to watch out for you, Danielle. Whether you know it or not, I always have.”

“Why do you need to watch out for me, Wade? Tell me what’s going on.”

“Just leave it all up there, darlin’, whatever it is you think you’re finding. Come on back here and go down the river like you always did. And let that uncle of yours, or godfather, go on back home.”

“I think it’s too late for that now, Wade. I have to go now. You’re sounding a little strange. You sure everything’s okay?”

Okay …?
No, they weren’t okay. Nothing was okay anymore. He had a boy in the VA hospital who barely knew his name and had to learn how to put one foot in front of the other again. He had no money left in the bank but that he had to lie and look the other way for. He had a ruined, corrupted life that was falling apart a little more every day, save one last thing, the last thing he could hold on to—and that was the sliver of trust he had left with Dani.

“Nah, just worried about you,” he said, “that’s all. A stepfather’s allowed to feel that way, ain’t he? You never get too old for that, or too far away.”

“I wish you’d just looked into it, Wade. I know you know now that I was right. About Trey, and Ron. And I can’t just come on back right now. I can’t just go down the river, as if nothing has happened. There are a lot of people dead. And a lot of questions that need to be answered.”

He had the bottle in front of him. The bottle of Maker’s Mark he kept in the drawer. As a test of his conviction. He took it out every once in a while. To gauge his strength. This time he felt his hand shake, running his fingers down the bottle.

“Take it easy, Danielle,” he said, a sense of sorrow sinking in. “Do the smart thing, and come on back. Y’hear …?”

She hung up. Or he did. It wasn’t clear who.

Wade unwrapped the foil on the bottle and pulled out the cork.

I can’t protect you up there anymor
e.

“Ty …
”

Hauck grappled for the phone on the night table: 6:05
A.M.
The voice on the other end took him by surprise. “Tom …?”

“Always thought you were an early riser, guy,” his boss, Tom Foley, said with a chuckle. “Didn’t mean to be waking you up out there on vacation …”

Foley was about the last person Hauck wanted to have to deal with right now. And the word
vacation
felt like it had been marinating in sarcasm for a week. The morning sun shined in through the shades. He rolled over, forcing his brain to alert. He was usually up at six anyway. “No. I’m fine.”

“Hell, if I didn’t know how much you actually missed us here, I’d be thinking you’ve somehow been avoiding me.”

“I’ve just been out of earshot, Tom. They don’t have cell phone service half the places I’ve been.”

“
Aspen …?
I was out there myself not too long ago and I distinctly remember mine working just fine.”

“I’m just doing a favor for someone out here. I won’t be out here long.”

“And when you’re done with that …? When we heard you’d left the Caribbean, Ty, we were all actually figuring that we’d be seeing you back here.”

Hauck hadn’t decided anything, anything further out than learning whatever he could about Watkins and how that connected to Alpha and RMM. “You will, Tom. Soon. But listen, as long as you called, maybe there is something you can help me with. We’ve got a large oil and gas client at Talon, don’t we? I’ve never worked with them myself, but I’ve seen a few of the presentations.”

“Global Exploration. Yes, we do. Very large. They’re out of Houston. We handle some of their employee protection details in Saudi Arabia and Nigeria. Some cyber-work back home as well. Why?”

“I’m looking for whatever you can tell me about an outfit named the Alpha Group.”

“
Alpha Group?
”

“They do consulting in the oil and gas field. A lot of ex-military personnel it seems.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard of it. But what are you doing all wrapped up with them?”

“I’d rather not tell you why just now, Tom. I’m just doing a favor for a friend.”

“That’s becoming kind of a second career with you, isn’t it?” It was a friend of his who was killed that had started him on the Gstaad Group case. “I hope you understand what’s at stake here, Ty. There’s a lot of big things in the works. Not just here, but internationally. You share in all that, if you remember, Ty. I brought you in as a partner quicker than anybody.”

“I know that, Tom. And you know I appreciate it. I just need a bit more time.”

“I thought that’s exactly what we’ve given you these past two plus months … Time.”

“You know I put my salary on hold, Tom. I’m not taking a nickel. Just bear with me a little longer.”

“You have to make a choice, son. I know the money thing isn’t what gets you, but there’s an awful lot of it at play here. And I know you don’t relish the role of being in the limelight either. But whatever it is you’re doing out there, it can’t be worth what’s on the table here. Get on a plane and come on back. Hell, I’ll send one out for you. Say tomorrow …”

“Just tell me whatever you can on Alpha, Tom. And thanks for hanging in there with me. I appreciate it.”

“I don’t want you to appreciate it, Ty … I want you to earn it. When this is over, and I hope it’s quick, I’m looking forward to seeing you back here.”

“Soon, Tom.” Hauck climbed out of bed. “I promise. Soon.”

Hauck knocked on Dani’s door and she answered through the crack. She was in a T-shirt and panties and her hair was messed.

He said, “You want to come along so bad, come on.”

“Come on where …?”

“I got an address for Jen Keeler. I’m going to have a little breakfast and then head over.”

“
So we’re staying …?
”

“One more day.”

“Give me fifteen minutes to shower and get ready and I’ll be there,” she replied, excited.

“Ten,” Hauck said, backing down the hallway toward the lobby. “I eat quick.”

Half an hour later, Hauck having finished a cereal with some syrup and a banana, and Dani taking a yogurt and granola in the car, they headed into Greeley.

The Weld County Open Range Initiative wasn’t situated in some fancy office complex like RMM and Alpha. It was a storefront in a strip mall, between a pawnshop and a package store. And despite the big-sounding name, the office was tiny. There were a couple of desks. Posters and newspaper clippings on the walls. A young gal with red-and-green-dyed hair, big glasses, and tattoos running down her arm was manning the front desk, sorting papers from the copy machine. “Can I help you?”

“We’re here to see Jen Keeler?” Hauck said.

“Is she expecting you?”

“No, she’s not.”

The girl looked at them warily. “You’re not with the CSRC, are you?”

“The CSRC?”

“The state regulatory council. They come around here twice a year, get taken out to a steak dinner by the oil companies, and basically rubber-stamp their safety forms. There’s a group in the area now.”

“Do I look like I’m with the CSRC? We’re actually here about Charles Watkins.”

“Oh …” The girl put down her stack of papers. “We were so sorry to hear about that. And sorry for the third degree, as well. We get a lot of cranks and rabble-rousers in here who want to close us down. Or upset the townsfolk about us.”

“No worries. His daughter Kelli told us to stop in. Tell her my name’s Hauck.”

Jen Keeler was tall, thin, boyish in shape, her shoulder-length blond hair in a ponytail, a red shirt worn out of her jeans. There was kind of a look in her eye, a glint of determination that said that while her office and staff might be small, her energy and commitment were high, and she was not a person to be trifled with.

“You from the press, Mr. Hauck?” she asked, as they sat in front of her brief-filled desk. “Monica said this was concerning Charles Watkins.”

“Friends.” He shook his head. “Actually friends of his son, Trey. Or Dani was. He died in a rafting accident last Thursday in Aspen.”

“I know about it.” Jen nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I saw you at the funeral Wednesday,” Dani said.

“I was there.” Jen shrugged. “I didn’t know Chuck’s son. I’ve only known
him
for just a few months. But it’s clearly had an effect. It’s kind of derailed everything.”

“
Derailed …?
” Hauck asked.

Jen put down a paper. “What’s your interest here, Mr. Hauck? As I said, I didn’t know Chuck’s son. It’s a terrible thing to happen on any level, but it was damn poor timing for us here. It’s hard enough just to take small steps forward, and then something tragic happens like that, and sets it all back. It’s kind of how things work here.”

“Watkins’s daughter Kelli suggested we talk with you.”

“Kelli did?”

“She thought you could explain some things to us. Like why a lot of the town had turned against her father. What sort of business did you have with Mr. Watkins, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She looked back at him. “I’m actually thinking that’s more like the question I ought to pose back to you, Mr. Hauck.”

“Dani here is from Carbondale, Ms. Keeler. She was a rafting friend of Trey’s. She was actually the person who found him. He was killed at a spot that should have been a cakewalk for a person of his ability level. So we were kind of thinking, and there’s a growing stack of evidence to back this up, that maybe what happened to Trey up there wasn’t much of an accident at all.”

“I see.” The lawyer stared back at them, sizing them up. Hauck noticed a gleam in her eye, that she understood precisely what he meant. “Monica, hold any calls,” she called out to the front room. “Mr. Hauck, Dani, why don’t we step into the conference room?”

“I’m a lawyer,” Jen Keeler said in the cramped, windowless conference room stacked with briefs, after they brought her up-to-date on everything going on. “If you hadn’t figured that out yet. But one with an advanced degree in environmental science from Colorado State. Normally, I don’t take on litigation. Mainly I do watchdog work; try to make the energy companies accountable in the face of the major threats to both the water-table levels and contaminants in the soil. Not to mention how that affects the things we eat—crops, livestock.”

“From fracking?” Hauck volunteered.

“Fracking’s one aspect. The Wattenberg shale deposit is a mile and a half belowground. So that’s the only way the oil and gas are able to be captured up here.”

“You said you don’t normally handle litigation. But you were representing Watkins?”

She reached across and pulled a large stack of papers and folders toward her. “I was. Among others.”

“Why?”

“Why were we suing or why did I choose to represent him?”

“Both.”

“As to the first question,” Jen said, “it’s because there were no other lawyers between here and Denver who would agree to do it. Most of them already have retainers with RMM, and that’s hardly accidental, of course. The one or two that were willing to listen to him eventually had to recuse themselves …” She gave them a cynical smile. “A sudden matter of conflict of interests …”

“Meaning they were bought off.” Hauck picked up what she was saying.

“Call it whatever you want. One day they’re nice and helpful. Next day, they’re recommending someone else. It’s what we deal with here.”

“And then the same thing would happen to
those
lawyers …?”

“Funny how that kind of things spreads like a virus in these parts.” Jen smiled sagely.

“You said ‘others.’ So there was more than just Watkins in the suit?”

“At first. I can show you. It’s all a matter of public record.” She went through the folders and pushed one across to Hauck.

Hauck leafed through it. There were seven names. Fisher. Loney. Price. Samuelson. Whyte. Vasquez.

Charles Alan Watkins, Junior, at the top.

“So as to the second question,” he said, “what the suit was about, I assume you’re an environmental activist?”

Jen grinned. “I’ve certainly been called a whole lot worse. Pinko. Traitor. Opportunist. Whore. Dyke. We’ve had to replace our windows here a number of times. We’ve had to work in our parkas when our heat was suddenly turned off in the middle of winter. I’ve had my tires slashed; even had my car run off into a snow ditch.”

“Ha, I knew we had something in common.” Hauck grinned.

“Already?” Jen laughed. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Mr. Hauck. You certainly made your presence known here quick. I call myself someone who stands up for individuals who are being railroaded by larger interests. Surely no one else is doing that here. I get that today it’s all about jobs and energy independence, and that’s fine. I want those things, too. Trust me, everybody’s rubber-stamping anything that comes before them today in the name of lower oil prices and job creation. I just want to make sure that once these wells run dry, and one day they will … we haven’t handed over our towns and way of life to people who weren’t operating with the same ideals in mind and without any governance over it.

“So that’s my speech. What’s yours? And you better say it very quietly if you’re peddling the idea that Watkins’s son was, what, murdered. I hope you have someone who can back that up.”