Marcus pulled out his phone, and she caught a glimpse of the report-uploading software as he scrolled quickly to the date of the tortoise fatality.
“There’s no need to get hysterical,” Rod said. “I know it’s upsetting to be fired, but you’ll get another job. Not as a biologist, certainly, but you’ll need work. To show you there are no hard feelings, I’ll even write you a reference if you’d like to try for a secretarial position at the offices of our construction company. But if you go making accusations toward your superiors, I don’t think anyone’s going to be too interested in hiring you.”
“She’s right,” Marcus interjected. “The next closest assembly crew under Rod’s supervision that day was at 2144. He was on that road after Mari’s crew left and before the mobilization crew found the tortoise.”
“Those are your tire tracks,” Mari said to Rod, her heart beating stronger and more certainly now. “Both of the crew trucks have bald tires. One of them blew out on the freeway last week. The tire it got replaced with is used, too, and barely has enough tread to hold the rubber together. Three of my truck tires are bald, and narrower than this. But your truck has those brand-new off-roading tires. I bet we could even match the tread to this photo. Measure the width.”
“So, what, we’re supposed to believe you’re some kind of tire specialist?” Rod scoffed. “Look, binge-watching CSI isn’t going to do anything but go straight to your thighs. I suggest you stop trying to sound like an expert when we all know you’re just a disgruntled ex-employee.” He raised his eyebrows at Stanton. “How about that security guard?”
“I’m a tracker.” Mari sat back in her chair, crossed one leg firmly over the other. “And those are your tracks.”
“Of course you would say that! You’re trying to save your own ass.”
She couldn’t help but notice that his volume was climbing. Stanton hadn’t reached for his cell phone to call security, if he even knew the number of the rent-a-cop who patrolled the construction lot during the day.
“It’s not just the tires,” she said. “I know that tortoise. It was about a seventy millimeter, wasn’t it, Marcus?”
“It’s kind of hard to tell when it’s flat,” Rod said.
Mari flinched, but only a little. “That’s the only tortoise that surveys found anywhere near Tower 2123. Its burrow is two hundred meters away from the construction area. That’s pretty far for a little guy like that to move, especially in triple-digit temperatures. But if you check my report, I checked on him and logged him as being in his burrow, face out, at . . . I think around two that afternoon.”
Marcus snatched the rest of the papers off Stanton’s desk and shuffled quickly. “Two fifteen.”
“So if the tortoise was found at four thirty, that means he moved two hundred meters when it was 103 degrees, in two hours and fifteen minutes.” Mari gave a look to Marcus, because those numbers would mean nothing to the workers.
“It’s nearly impossible,” Marcus said. “Two hundred meters is very far for a tortoise that size, and most of them won’t leave their burrows when it’s over 95 degrees. If they did, they’d stop at the next shade they saw.”
“That isn’t the only tortoise in the desert,” Rod said. “You can’t even prove the dead tortoise is that same one. What, are you going to say you recognize his hairdo?” He laughed.
“No, but his burrow is on the GPS maps that we all have access to, including you. I bet if you went there right now, he wouldn’t be in it anymore.” Mari’s stomach churned, because recognizing that tortoise meant something very, very ugly. It helped her case, but even so, it wasn’t something she wanted to think about. “What size shoe do you wear, Rod?”
He rolled his eyes. “Look, if you think I’m going to listen to some girl get all PMS-y and try to blame her mistakes on me, saying she can recognize a road-killed tortoise and—”
“Were you at that tower that day, Rod?” Stanton interrupted. “You were on the road, okay, that doesn’t mean anything. So where did you go? You didn’t stop at that tower, did you?”
“No! I was just driving through. Taking the access road to Tower 2144 to see my other crew, like you said.” He threw a glare at Stanton. “Not that I should have to explain myself. I was doing my job. If she’d done hers, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Tower 2144 is closer to your office than Tower 2123,” Marcus said. “To get to Mari’s tower first, you’d have to leave the yard, get on the freeway, get off on the far exit, and come back around the long way. And according to the road traffic records, you were going the wrong way for that to be the case.” He looked to her. “Mari, what were you asking about shoe size?”
“If we went out to that burrow right now,” she said, “I bet you there would be two sets of tracks to and from it. Mine, from checking when we were working that day. Size seven and a half, Merrell hiking boots. And his. Red Wing work boots like most of the linemen wear, size . . .”
She tilted her head to look at his feet, gaining confidence now that she had Marcus on her side. The facts on her side.
She was right and she damn well knew it. No tortoises had been harmed until he put her on his son’s crew, looking for a free pass, and got a double handful of citations instead.
“Looks like you’re maybe a size eleven? Not much chance of another worker being that far from the construction pad, not with the schedule you keep them on.”
Rod surged forward, not leaving his seat but getting right in her face. “Listen, you little bitch—”
She held his eyes, lifting a hand to hold Marcus off when he jumped up to get between them.
“Go ahead, hit me. I know you’re dying to. I know you’re capable of it.” She stared Rod down ferociously. “You carried that little baby tortoise all the way from its burrow in that heat, put it under the tower, and ran it over.”
She blinked away the angry tears in her eyes to sort through the pictures in her lap, and when she found the right one, she put it on the desk for Stanton to see.
“And after you ran it over, you backed up and did it again, to be sure it was dead. Look, you can see the turnaround marks right here. You didn’t even hit it by accident and then try to shift responsibility. You killed it on purpose, so you could frame me because you were mad that I wrote up your son.”
His nostrils flared and goose bumps jumped out along her arms, a warning trilling through her because she damn well knew when a man was about to get violent, and that’s what he looked like. But she didn’t back down, because she’d had worse. She’d had worse, and she wished she could have fought for herself back then the way she could now.
She wasn’t stupid. And she wasn’t wrong.
“Do it,” she said, rising and leaning right into his face so their noses nearly bumped. “Slap me. I am dying for an excuse to hit you back.”
“That’s enough, Rod,” Stanton snapped. “Ms. Tucker, will you please wait for us outside?”
Ten minutes later, Stanton Davis came out, alone.
“I’m going to need you to sit tight until we sort this out, ma’am. Rod will be remaining in the office, and security will be coming to make sure neither of you have any contact with the other or leave the premises. Marcus and I will be going out to check those tire tracks, as well as to check for those boot prints you alleged. Decisions about your job status are on hold for the moment.”
“Thank you,” she told the executive, keeping her voice calm even though her blood was still running hot from the confrontation. She was so not in the mood to sit still and wait.
Andy from lot security let himself into the trailer, gave her a bashful nod. “Mari.”
“Hi, Andy.” She smiled at him as he went to the coffee machine to pour himself a cup.
Marcus came out of the office, and when Stanton turned to go, Marcus gave her a conspiratorial wink, a smile starting to brighten his face. “His boots were a si
ze smaller than you guessed,” he said. “Turns out old Rod wasn’t as big as he looked.”
The two men left together, and she let out a long breath.
When she’d fought with Jack, she was just sliding back into her old patterns of not trusting her own judgment. She’d compared Jack’s protectiveness to Brad’s spying because experience had taught her that a man would only watch over her because he wanted to control her, not because he truly wanted her to be safe. All along, Jack had been right that Rod was dangerous. But he’d been wrong that she couldn’t handle it.
She’d won.
They’d confirm it when they got back, but she already knew. The last two days she’d been jumping at her own shadow, because even with her number changed so he couldn’t call, she could feel Brad somewhere near. Every night, Rajni took her out in the desert so she could practice shooting her borrowed .357 pistol. Though even her increasing accuracy with the gun hadn’t given her the rush of confidence that winning this battle had.
Before, she’d only ever mustered the courage to fight with Rod when she was shielding someone else: Jack, his crew, or one of the desert animals. Even when she left Brad, she’d been in such a bad place that it was less to protect herself and more to protect him from the consequences of what he might do.
But today, no matter how hard Rod had tried to intimidate her, she hadn’t backed down, and she’d fought for herself. Because she hadn’t done anything wrong, and she deserved to be protected from that jerk every bit as much as anyone else. A smile crept onto her face and Andy smiled back, assuming it was for him.
She gave him a nod, and his folding chair creaked as he took up a spot outside the office where Rod still waited.
She was dying to fly back to the motel and tell Jack that she’d done it, that after all this time, it was she who was finally going to get Rod rightfully fired. But he wasn’t there.
Taking out her phone, she scrolled to Jack’s name. It glowed up at her, the simple, familiar letters as comforting as a warm breeze. Their fight had been silly, a hard moment they could have gotten through easily if they’d talked it out after they both calmed down. Except, in the end, he hadn’t cared enough to stick it out.
It had taken her so long to get to a place where she felt valuable enough to fight for herself, and she deserved a man who knew that, too. Who could stand up for his own worth, and their relationship, and not run away the first time things got hard.
Sure, she’d changed her number since he left, but even Brad had cared enough to track down her number, and it’d be far easier for Jack, if he wanted to. All he’d have to do was ask Marcus, or Gideon. Any of the biologists on the project. And yeah, maybe she was being ridiculous and holding a double standard by expecting him to track down her phone number, but what it came down to was that she was done loving men more than they loved her. Finished with soothing hurt feelings while her own ached in silence. If she was going to risk her heart on anyone ever again, it would be on someone who was willing to risk theirs right back.
She clicked off the phone and turned it facedown in her lap.
33
Left Turn
Jack’s fingers tapped against his steering wheel, and he took shallow breaths, because even after two showers and a long stint in the laundromat, he couldn’t stop smelling the raw pizza of their warehouse hideout, and it pissed him off.
“Ain’t you even gonna come in and give me morality support during my trial?” Leroy asked.
Dough. Garlic.
Jack gritted his teeth.
Tomato sauce.
“No.” He lost the battle to keep his mouth shut. “And damn it, it ain’t ‘morality support’!” Not that he had all that much morality to lend, but even if he did, likely it’d just bounce right off Leroy. “It’s ‘moral support.’”
“‘Moral’ is just the singular of ‘moral-i-t-y,’” Leroy argued, standing on the curb but still not letting go of his truck door. “Same thing. Either way, ain’t very brotherly of you to just go off before my trial’s even started.”
Grated processed cheese.
Every breath reminded Jack of where he’d spent the last two weeks of his miserable life. Sitting around Cheesy Charlie’s warehouse with only his silent phone, loud brother, and regret-filled thoughts for company.
He’d finally managed to pay off the guys Leroy owed without getting either of them shot, and babysat his brother until his court date so he couldn’t skip bail. Jack was ready to shake the stench of this place off his boots, but he didn’t really have anywhere to go.
He missed his crew, sad a bunch as they were. Missed having a new tower to puzzle out every few days. He missed the scent of brownies baking in the open air of the desert, and the little inhalation of breath Mari took whenever a house with a particularly nice porch swing came on one of their TV shows. The closer the calendar drew to the end of the power line job, the itchier he got. Once that job back in California was over, he’d never know where to find Mari again. Which was the point, damn it. He wasn’t good for her. Had made her cry and upset her so much she’d changed her number.
“C’mon,” Leroy said. “Pony up for a better lawyer for me and I’ll be out of here by this afternoon. We can grab a couple of cold ones, wildcat around for a little bit.” He grinned. “Ain’t nobody out there who can have more fun than the Wyatt boys on a tear.”
Jack ducked his head, picking at a loose thread in the lacing on his steering wheel. He didn’t have anybody waiting for him, not anywhere. The only person who wanted his company was standing outside the passenger side of his truck.
“Forget all about that pretty little piece who changed her number,” Leroy coaxed. “I’ll introduce you to a real woman. You wouldn’t believe how crazy these farm girls get out here, and they’re a cheap date, too. Twenty bucks’ worth of blow will set you back less than dinner and a movie, and they’ll do a hell of a lot more for it.”
Jack coughed to clear the bitter, greasy taste from his mouth. This was what he came from. This was what Wyatts were always like. It was also why he’d left, the first time and every time since. Because this had never been the kind of man he wanted to be.
“Gimme your phone.”
Leroy frowned. “What?”
“Gimme your damn phone! I’m going to put an app on it,” Jack muttered. “So I can send you money next time you need, without having to drive all the way to goddamn Nebraska.”
“What happened to good old Western Union? Can’t the government trace those apps?” Leroy groused, but passed over his phone. Jack hit a few buttons and tossed it onto the passenger seat. He didn’t meet his brother’s eyes.
“You better go. Judges don’t like it when you’re late.”
“You’re leaving, just like that? Download some app and wash your hands of me, when I’m your only kin?” Leroy pocketed his phone, his tone starting to turn ugly. “Don’t forget, you owe me, kid.”
He always said that, but these last couple of weeks, Jack had started to think it might be the other way around. After they left their dad’s house, his lawn-mowing money used to pay their bills, or at least whatever part of their bills ever got paid. And for all his talk of being the protective big brother, this was far from the first time Leroy had left Jack’s face bruised up, just like it was now. Left him scared and full of regret and wondering how he’d managed to screw up so bad. But he wasn’t a kid anymore, and this wasn’t his mistake.
He used to think he had no choice but to take his brother’s shit because no one else would ever care about him. Until Mari had.
He could still remember pulling into the parking lot at night and smelling spaghetti from her tailgate kitchen, knowing without having to ask that she would have made extra for him. How his crew had started to joke around with him a little bit at lunchtime. How Mari’s hippie boss had invited him to stay and eat a truly terrible dinner with him and Lisa even when
Mari wasn’t around.
In his life out in California, people actually enjoyed his company, and the last two weeks with his only family felt more like a visit to a version of himself that no longer existed.
“Paid your bail. Paid your way out of trouble. Don’t owe you shit,” Jack growled. “If anything, you owe me. Hell of a lot of money and two weeks of my life back.”
Leroy clucked his tongue. “Now, if you’d see your way clear to loan me a little more so I could hire a real lawyer instead of one of those public defense idiots, I might be able to shake these charges so I could turn over some real cash. Pay you back quick like.”
Once, the hint that his brother truly wanted to spend more time with him would have swayed Jack. He’d have bitched and moaned, but he’d have parked the truck and walked into the courthouse beside Leroy.
But now, he knew that the ask had everything to do with Leroy being scared of going to prison, and absolutely nothing to do with any real affection for Jack.
He was starting to wonder how many times he’d ended up feeling like a piece of shit just because Leroy’s misery needed company. Jack had never had too many friends, but that hadn’t always been true. He used to play with the other kids plenty until Leroy had started smacking them around for their lunch money. It might have been that far back that he’d started assuming people didn’t really care to be around him. It wasn’t just about Mari. It was about him and every person he’d ever pushed away, and it all started with his brother.
Now, finally, he knew who really deserved to be alone. And it wasn’t him.
“Turn loose of my door or I’m gonna drive off, and whatever happens to your hand is on you.”
The oily smile on Leroy’s face twisted, and a petulant scowl replaced it. He hurled the door shut and leaned back and gave it a kick. Judging by how the truck rocked, that’d leave a dent, too. Jack hit the gas so hard smoke poured off the tires as he sped out of the lot.
Breathe the Sky Page 26
