The Glue Guy: The Zoo Crew Series Book 4

by Dustin Stevens

  “Enough to earn some enmity right off the bat,” Drake said.

  “Oh yeah,” Bertram said. Stabbed a finger in their direction. “It’s not like the two sides were ever friends, but that’s when they became open enemies.”

  Drake knew he should be taking notes, but opted against it. He figured the information could be found somewhere online later if it was required.

  At the moment, he needed to be in the present.

  Needed Bertram to keep talking.

  “So the reason they hate it so much?” Drake asked.

  Turning in his chair, Bertram grabbed hold of a string that was once white. Had long since faded to yellow. Using it he pulled the blinds on the window behind his desk up.

  Pointed to the drilling rig framed in the middle of it.

  “The first thing we did when we got here was bore a shaft. Then we put up that rig, ran that water line you see there in from the Big Hole River.”

  On the opposite side of the desk Drake stood to get a better view. Identified everything Bertram was pointing out.

  “Okay.”

  “The way fracking works is we mix that water with some chemicals, a few other things – sand, etc – and shoot it down into the hole we dug. Works basically like a power washer. Uses the sand and chemicals to strip away rock strata below. Opens up the channels for us to pull away the natural gas.”

  As he spoke he motioned to a second set of lines rising from the rig. To the oversized holding containers and the silent tanker trucks sitting nearby.

  “And the environmentalists don’t like you guys putting chemicals in the ground?” Drake asked. Lowered himself back into his seat.

  “Not one bit,” Bertram said. Dropped the blinds back into place.

  Made Drake and Kade both squint at the sudden loss of light in the room.

  “The real funny part is they claim it destroys ground water. Contaminates things beyond repair.”

  Already Drake knew what he was getting at. Wanted him to say it just the same.

  Bertram didn’t disappoint.

  “I mean, have you seen that mess up in Butte? Some reports say another ten years and the crap in the bottom of Berkeley Pit is going to seep into the groundwater anyway. Wipe the whole damn town off the map.

  “Why shouldn’t we go ahead and extract what gas we can in the meantime?”

  Drake wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical. Chose not to answer just in case.

  “Anyway,” Bertram said. Let out a sigh. “If what you said about the old man is true, and based on everything around here this week it seems it is, I guess it won’t matter much now anyhow.”

  “Sorry,” Drake said. “I’m sure a lot of people are out of work because of this.”

  Pursing his lips together Bertram nodded in confirmation.

  Said nothing.

  Giving one last glance at his notes, Drake pushed out a breath. When they had set out hours before he wasn’t entirely certain how beneficial the trip would be.

  If the time investment would be worth it.

  Only one last piece could possibly make it any more rewarding than it had already proven.

  “Mr. Bertram, I don’t suppose you have any cameras out here do you?”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Remote.

  Disconnected.

  Off the grid.

  Dale Garvey had stumbled backwards into the place two years before. The previous director of the company had won a tiny parcel of land near the Beaverhead National Forest in a dispute settlement on behalf of the organization. Had used the victory as a stepping stone on to bigger things.

  Brought in Garvey to pick up where he left off. Continue fighting the good fight. Every other overwrought saying he could think to use at his farewell gathering.

  Gifted with a chunk of pristine wilderness in central Montana, Garvey did what any avid outdoorsman would do - built himself a small retreat. Bucked the conventional trend and made it completely self-reliant. Ensured no footprint was left beyond the small structure itself.

  Consisting of a single room, the entire cabin was fifteen feet square. Built from remainder wood pieces gleaned together, it stood just eight feet in height. Had a corrugate metal roof with a slight pitch. Rain collection barrels on either side to catch all runoff.

  The interior walls were bare two-by-fours. Gaps between them were filled with the brown paper backing of rolled insulation. Gray and black indoor/outdoor carpet lined the floors. An ancient cast iron stove in the corner served as the sole source of heat. Included a flat top and a pot for cooking.

  The only other pieces of furniture in the place were a blow up mattress in the corner and a roughhewn table and benches. A half dozen candles were used for illumination.

  Upon completion, Garvey had found the place perfect.

  Only forty miles from town, it was close enough to be accessible. Far enough away to be completely removed from society. To never have to worry about unexpected guests.

  Unwanted visitors.

  The dense forest around provided him with everything he could need while he was there. Reminded him why he fought so hard every day for what he believed in.

  Why he continued to try and indoctrinate people like Megan into his way of thinking.

  Bits of gravel crunched beneath his boots as he crested the ridge overlooking the cabin. Saw the late afternoon sun blinking off the metal roof. Noticed the thin grey tendril of smoke rising from the corner of it.

  Otherwise there wasn’t a single trace of humanity visible as far as he could see. Nothing but the Beaverhead Forest, sprawling for a hundred miles ahead.

  Dark green forestation. Occasional splotches of rust brought on by pine rot and beetles. Dabs of rocky gray outcroppings. A silvery blue ribbon of water meandering through the middle of it.

  Easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

  Standing high on the crest, he let his eyes close. Raised his face to the sky. Felt the cold air pull away any bit of perspiration the hike had caused.

  “Damn,” Megan said. Stepped up beside him. “I thought for sure I’d have a signal up here.”

  The comment shattered the moment for Garvey. Caused his eyes to snap open. Put a scowl on his face.

  Looking to the side he saw her standing a few feet away, her phone extended at arm’s length overhead. Her face was twisted into a look of confusion, rotating in a circle as she tried to get reception.

  “Put that damn thing away,” Garvey snapped. Let the full effect of his distaste for her action show in his voice.

  “Why?” Megan asked. Oblivious. Continued to move about.

  “Because that’s why we came down here,” Garvey said. “To get away from all that stuff.”

  “I know,” Megan countered. Glanced over at him. “I just want to check my messages right quick.”

  Garvey ran a hand over his face. Shook his head. Muttered obscenities to himself.

  Moments like this were what made his work so maddening. For all the effort he had put in to molding her the last year, she was still prone to setbacks.

  For every incident like Monday night, when he thought he had finally made her into a believer, there was a time like now. An instance where she displayed her total reliance on society, on electronic gadgetry.

  “There is nothing in any message that can match this,” Garvey said. Motioned to the view below. “Nothing.”

  The vitriol in his tone finally broke through to Megan. Caused her to lower the implement to her side. Slide it into her pocket and out of sight.

  Her face to fall like a scolded child.

  “I know,” she whispered. “I was just thinking about everything going on. Wanted to get an update.”

  Deep in the pit of his stomach, Garvey felt anxiety and anger ignite in an angry twist. It began small, soon roiling upward. Choked his entire torso.

  Made it hard to breathe.

  “Everything going on?”

  She chanced a glance over to him. Just as fast retu
rned her gaze to the ground.

  “Yeah, with the fire,” she said. “I texted a friend and asked her to keep an eye on it for me while we were gone. Just wanted to make sure there was nothing new.”

  Apprehension spread through each of Garvey’s limbs. Numbed his entire being. Threatened to lift him from the ground.

  Toss him crashing into the trees below.

  “You texted someone and asked them to keep an eye on things?”

  The edge in his voice made it plain an error had been made.

  The look on her face relayed that she now realized that in the fullest.

  “Who?” Garvey said.

  “Nobody,” Megan whispered.

  Rage grew within Garvey. He took a step forward.

  “Who?”

  “Just forget it,” Megan said. Turned her shoulders a few inches away from him.

  Garvey closed the gap between them in two quick steps. Snapped out a hand. Clamped down on her ulnar nerve just behind her elbow.

  Heard her gasp in pain.

  “Who?”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Two weeks.

  Fourteen days.

  Thankfully, that was all the further back the cameras at the mine site held on to recordings. After that they were erased to make room for new footage.

  Any more than that, Drake would have gone mad. Felt reasonably certain Kade felt the same way.

  Was absolutely positive Lee Bertram was in agreement.

  For the first two hours of the hunt, the three had worked diligently in the cramped space.

  Bertram sat on one end of the unit in silence. Attended to paper work. Made the occasional phone call. Twice stepped out to check various readings around the mine.

  On the other end Drake and Kade had pulled their chairs up in front of a tiny wooden end table. Worked on an ancient computer that served as the camera repository. Watched footage play by in black and white. Fast forwarded through most of the parts of inactivity.

  Saved whatever else they found to Drake’s thumb drive.

  By mid-afternoon, the space began to feel cramped. The tedious nature of being stooped over the machine grew wearisome. Kade’s incessant sniffling picked up intensity.

  Bertram’s movements become louder. More pointed.

  By three o’clock it was fast apparent their time was up. Three days still remained to go through, but the moment had come when they had almost overstayed their welcome.

  Asking to finish the remainder would surely push them into that territory.

  Thanking the man for his time and assistance, Drake and Kade excused themselves just after the hour. Stopped on the outskirts of Butte for gas and candy bars.

  Made it home right at five.

  Went straight to Ajax’s workstation and began printing screenshots from the footage they found.

  By seven o’clock a flurry of white paper covered most of the living room floor. Crinkled beneath Q’s feet as she walked about.

  The smell of takeout Chinese food hung in the air.

  “Alright, so what have we got here?” Kade asked. Leaned back on one end of the couch. Dropped his fork into a Styrofoam platter of moo shu pork on his lap.

  “A mess,” Drake said. Leaned forward in the desk chair. Rested his elbows on his knees. Held his container of orange chicken in one hand. Shoveled it upward with the other.

  “Right,” Kade agreed. “Besides that.”

  Drake finished chewing. Grabbed at a napkin wadded up in his lap. Brushed it over his chin.

  “These people are committed, I’ll give them that. They keep longer hours than the damn miners.”

  “No kidding,” Kade said. Nodded. “Who the heck are they? And how do they have that much free time?”

  “I don’t know,” Drake said. Shook his head. “Students? That never go to class?”

  Kade considered the prospect. Gave a non-committal twist of his head. “Maybe. I mean, Western is right there in Dillon. Tech is up the road in Butte. UM or MSU seems too far to make that kind of drive every day.”

  “Maybe this is their job,” Drake countered. “Don’t some of those environmental groups keep staff on hand? Part of their job description is to keep people motivated and participating?”

  The door to Ajax’s bedroom opened on the opposite side of the living room. There was no light on inside as he shuffled out. Wore only a long pair of red gym shorts. Wool socks pulled to mid-calf.

  Tugged on a blue Red Sox sweatshirt, his hair going everywhere as the neck passed over his head.

  “Morning, Sunshine,” Kade said. Seemed to be enjoying the rough state of his friend.

  “Morning,” Ajax muttered. If he noticed the jab in his direction, didn’t say anything about it.

  “Rough day?”

  “Just a nap,” Ajax said. Stopped a few feet outside his bedroom door. Surveyed the spread of paper around him. “Every time I think Montana can’t get any whiter...”

  Drew laughs from both Drake and Kade.

  “General Tso’s on the counter,” Drake said. Went back to eating.

  “Egg rolls?” Ajax asked.

  “And crab wantons,” Drake replied.

  “Good man,” Ajax said. Turned and disappeared back into his bedroom, the light coming on behind him.

  Kade watched him go, the smile on his face growing wider. “Should I even ask?”

  Drake shrugged with one shoulder. Chewed an oversized bite of chicken and rice.

  “He was up digging through financials for us most of the night.”

  After seven years of living together, Drake barely even noticed the random hours anymore. The price of living with a technology savant.

  “Okay,” Kade said. Raised his eyebrows in resignation. “So, the pictures.”

  “I think we can probably go through these and determine who the regulars are and who comes and goes,” Drake said. “Already some of these faces are starting to look familiar.”

  “Yeah,” Kade agreed. “Maybe a half dozen that seem to almost camp out there. Lot of others look like they’re on the twice-a-week schedule.”

  “Right,” Drake agreed.

  “And once we’ve done that?” Kade asked.

  Drake sat back in his chair. Moved his food over to the desk beside him. Folded his arms over his chest and considered it.

  Pictures alone would prove nothing. Bertram had said the people were a pain in the ass. Had insinuated they had sabotaged their equipment. Fully admitted he couldn’t prove a thing.

  There had to be something more to it.

  Snapping to his feet, Drake picked his way through the printouts. Went to his seat at the kitchen table. Opened his shoulder bag and rifled through it. Extracted his legal pad and began scrolling through his notes.

  Halfway down found what he was looking for.

  “Sharon Stump,” he whispered. Read to the end of the page. Raised it to make sure there was nothing more there.

  Dropped the tablet on the table and looked at Kade.

  “Sharon Stump?” Kade asked. “She said she’s been in Philly. You saw her in a picture?”

  “No,” Drake said. Shook his head. “Remember she said that somebody had come to the front door claiming to have a flat tire?”

  Kade didn’t respond immediately to the question. Instead rocked his head back a few inches in understanding.

  “The security cameras. You heard back from them yet?”

  “No,” Drake said. “The woman sounded a little huffy at first, reminded me she had already talked to the police and there was nothing usable from the night of the crime.”

  Kade nodded. “They took out the cameras before torching the place.”

  “Yeah,” Drake said. “Once I asked her to go back a ways though, she softened up. Seemed almost curious even. Said she’d look into it.”

  “And you think if we can match somebody from there with somebody from the pictures...”

  “Worth a shot,” Drake said. “I mean, what are the odds of somebody spending eve
ry day protesting a mine and then just happening to show up at the house of the guy that owns it fifty miles away?”

  “Just weeks before he dies,” Kade finished.

  Drake nodded. Remained standing in place, arms crossed, contemplating it.

  Felt a realization hit him like a sledgehammer to the back of the head.

  “From a gas fire,” he said aloud. Looked up to see the same understanding spreading across Kade’s features.

  Snapping up his notes again, Drake flipped through the loose sheets. Found the half page of things he had jotted down after meeting with Sharp.

  Began to read aloud.

  “The house showed the presence of two distinct chemicals. The first was gasoline, used as an accelerant. The second was liquefied natural gas.”

  A tiny twitch pulled at the corner of Kade’s mouth.

  “How much you want to bet that’s some version of whatever they’re pumping out of that mine down there?”

  “And that whoever’s been making life hell for them somehow found out Wes Koenig owned the place and decided to pay him a little visit?” Drake added.

  Moving his plate to the coffee table, Kade rubbed his hands down the front of his jeans.

  “So we figure out who’s been both places, we figure out who killed Wes Koenig.”

  Drake nodded. “We figure out who killed Wes Koenig, we get Tyce Riggins out of jail.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Sunday.

  The Sabbath.

  A day of rest.

  The words brought a smirk to Drake’s face as he rose in the dark. Heard Q groan in protest as he extracted himself from bed. Pushed the comforter back over her.

  Moving deftly in the semi-light of the house, he showered in just seven minutes. Dressed in roughly the same.

  Was out the door a quarter hour after waking. Saw the first stray shaft of sunlight pass through the Hellgate Canyon just north of their house as he climbed into his truck.

  Had the interior already warm, the hardened condensation defrosted off the windshield, by the time a pair of headlights appeared at the end of the street. Grew steadily closer. Parked along the curb.