The Glue Guy: The Zoo Crew Series Book 4

by Dustin Stevens

  A moment later Kade slid in beside him. Blew warm air through his tented fingertips.

  Aside from Zoo Crew outings, it was the earliest Drake had seen him awake since their playing days ended. The dark half-moons under each eye and still wet hair showed he wasn’t the least bit happy about it.

  Saying nothing, Drake put the truck in drive. Angled them toward the south end of town. For the second time in three days pulled up in front of Hal’s.

  “How you want to handle this?” Drake asked. Parked a row back from the front door. Surveyed the cars already conglomerated about.

  A few more than Friday morning. Far less than would arrive once the local churches let out.

  “He’s not a witness,” Kade said. “Pretty straight shooter. He agreed to meet, so just ask whatever you want. If he knows, he’ll tell you.”

  Drake nodded. Glanced down at the bag on the seat between them. At the list of questions he’d cobbled together after Kade texted him the night before and said the meeting was on.

  “Thanks for setting this up.”

  Kade dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. Pushed open the passenger’s side door and climbed out. Slowed his pace just enough to let Drake catch up to him, both approaching the shop at the same time.

  The crowd inside was heavier than two days before, most of the booths already taken. The same group of regulars occupied the majority of the front counter, only a couple glancing over as the bell on the door rang.

  Just as fast they returned to their meals.

  Seated along the side wall, a booth to himself, was an aging Native American man. He raised a hand as Drake and Kade stood inside the front door, curled it back towards himself for them to join.

  Falling back a half step, Drake allowed Kade to arrive first. Extend a hand as the man rose from his seat.

  “Sean,” Kade said. Clasped the man’s hand with both his own. “Thank you for meeting with us.”

  “My pleasure,” the man replied. Smiled, a myriad of lines appearing on his skin. “Besides, somebody said the magic words.”

  Kade laughed. Released his grip. Shifted to the side.

  “And this is the friend I mentioned to you, Drake Bell.”

  “Oh, sure,” the man said. Shook Drake’s hand as well.

  Standing almost dead even in height with Drake, his long hair was twisted into braids on either side of his head. Once black, it was trending more towards silver. Dressed in khaki jeans and a red and blue flannel, a pile of extra winter gear rested on the seat in the booth.

  “Sean Bear Don’t Walk. I remember watching you two play out there on Saturdays. Nice to finally meet you.”

  Drake felt a bit of heat flush his cheeks. Same reaction that occurred every time somebody mentioned his playing days.

  “Nice meeting you as well,” he replied. Glanced between them. “Magic words?”

  “Free breakfast,” Kade said. Broke into a smile.

  Was matched by Drake and Sean both.

  “Absolutely,” Drake said. Turned to Sean. “If you can answer a few questions for us this morning, I’d be happy to.”

  The old man motioned for all three to sit down. “I don’t know what I can answer, but I’ll be glad to give it a shot.”

  The idea had come about the night before. Once the realization had been made about the connection with the two forms of gas used in the fire, much energy had been expended researching liquefied natural gas. To their chagrin, Wikipedia seemed to be the only source of any factual data. Beyond that was nothing more than a truckload of conjecture and heated rhetoric.

  Getting nowhere, Kade had suggested that he knew a guy. It was someone his fire jumping unit often consulted with when dealing with gas fires in the wild.

  To both their surprises, he had agreed to meet. Said he would be at Hal’s early in the morning if they wanted to come by.

  Any qualms Kade had had with the hour were quickly pushed aside.

  “So what can I do for you boys?” Sean asked. Rested his elbows on the table. Rubbed his wrinkled hands together.

  Kade glanced to Drake, giving him the floor.

  “Well, Kade here tells me you’re something of an expert on natural gas,” Drake opened. Used a conversational tone. Left his notepad in the bag beside him.

  “Something of an expert,” Sean said. Snorted. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate.”

  “Oh, no, I didn’t—“ Drake began, again flushing red.

  “I know what you meant,” Sean said. Held up a hand to stop him. “And I laugh because that’s a pretty apt way of putting it. With all the new development out there these days, being something of an expert is about as close as a guy can get.”

  Drake smiled. Nodded in agreement. Shifted his attention to the same waitress from two days before approaching.

  “Three usuals for you gentlemen?”

  Friday was the first time Drake had been to Hal’s in months. Never before had he seen Sean.

  The woman’s memory was truly impressive.

  All three nodded in the affirmative as she moved away.

  A moment of silence fell as Drake collected his thoughts. “Okay, so here’s where we’re at,” he opened.

  Ran through the entire story with Sean. Started with the fire at Koenig’s. Followed through to the arson report. Finished with their discussion with Bertram the day before.

  Relayed the entire thing while leaning in close. Keeping his voice lowered.

  Never once spotted anybody trying to listen in.

  When he was finished he leaned back a few inches. Allowed Sean to process it all, his face twisted up, his hands continuing to writhe.

  “So you want to know about LNG?” he finally asked.

  It took Drake a moment to place the acronym. LNG. Liquefied natural gas.

  “Yes?” Drake said. “Or rather, I guess, we do if you think what we’re talking about is even feasible.”

  Most of the research they had found suggested the material was near impossible to work with. It had to be purified through boiling, then super cooled. Kept at a sub-thermal temperature to keep it from evaporating into the atmosphere.

  “Possible?” Sean said. Nodded his head. “Yes. Difficult? Extremely.”

  He paused for a moment as the waitress unloaded two coffees and an iced tea. Moved off again without a word.

  “LNG isn’t your regular garden variety substance,” Sean began. “This is the Cadillac of the natural gas world. You start with a whole bunch of whatever was pulled from the ground, then strip away all the water, carbon dioxide, hydrogen sulfide, any impurity at all.

  “Think of it in terms of alcohol. You’ve heard of proof, right?”

  Drake nodded in the affirmative.

  “Okay, so the higher the proof the higher the purity,” Sean said. “Divide whatever the proof is by two and that’s the percent alcohol. Beer is around ten proof, five percent alcohol. Harder liquors go up from there.”

  Again Drake nodded. “So what proof is LNG?”

  “Two hundred,” Sean said. Paused a moment to let the information sink in.

  Watched as Drake and Kade’s eyebrows both raised in unison.

  “It is the purest form of gas that can be made. That’s why it’s so damn finicky to work with.”

  Adding the information to what he’d read the night before, Drake fought to fit pieces together. To formulate his next question.

  “So to go back to my original question,” Drake said. “Using it for fuel in a fire would be feasible...”

  “But extremely difficult,” Sean said. “So impractical that based off the back story you gave me I’d guess somebody was trying to make a point more than anything.”

  It was exactly the same sentiment Drake had been thinking a moment before. Basic gas, oil, diesel fuel, any of a number of flammable fossil fuels could be had with relative ease.

  The only reason to go through something so difficult was to make a point.

  “How would somebody even go about getting
it there?” Drake asked.

  A smirk rocked Sean back a couple of inches. “Like I said, very difficult. I’ve seen individual canisters designed for such small quantities, look like little more than oversized thermoses.

  “They are thermal insulated and completely temperature regulated.”

  “But probably can’t be picked up at Wal-Mart,” Drake said.

  “No,” Sean said. Raised a corner of his mouth in a smile. “In fact the only place I’ve ever seen them was in Alaska when I was working the pipeline for a spell. Never down here in the lower forty-eight.”

  Like so many things in the preceding days, Drake wasn’t sure how the information fit with what he already knew.

  Was certain it did somehow.

  “Assuming someone had such a container,” Kade said. “Where would they fill it?”

  “Well, simply put,” Sean said, “they wouldn’t.”

  He looked at each of them in turn.

  “I know we use the term gas for this product, but it isn’t gas the way we think of it. It is a colorless, odorless, tasteless vapor. A person couldn’t just go to the corner Exxon and top off a container.”

  “So how would they get it?” Drake asked.

  “Terminals,” Sean said. Took a drink of his coffee. Resumed wringing his hands before him. “There aren’t many in the world, most of them these days over in Qatar. There’s a few scattered around the globe – Australia, Russia – but like most oil, it’s concentrated in the Middle East.”

  Drake nodded.

  “And these terminals...?”

  “Distribution points,” Sean said. Picked up where the question was going. “Only places with the facilities to safely hold and transfer LNG for transport.

  “Once it leaves there, it remains in lockdown until it is ready to be used.”

  “Are there any terminals in America?” Kade asked.

  Sean nodded, the entire top half of his body rocking up and down. “Alaska. A few others have been proposed on either coast, but every time it sends the environmentalists and politicians into conniption fits.”

  A smile pulled at Drake’s features over the choice of words.

  Just as fast it faded, his mind fitting together everything they’d just been told.

  “So you’re telling us that our working theory is possible, but that it would have had to have come down from Alaska to get here?”

  Sean nodded. Pressed his lips together in a tight line.

  “And taken extreme care the entire way here to do so.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Uncertainty.

  Indecision.

  Self-doubt passed through Drake’s mind. Seemed to be rolling off of Kade as well. Hung as heavy in the cabin of the truck as the scent of coffee and bacon.

  “What do you make of that?” Kade asked. Kept his attention aimed forward. His voice low.

  Drake waited a moment to respond. Wound the truck through the thin morning traffic. Lowered his visor in the face of the first real sunshine they had seen in days.

  Outside a stiff breeze blew in from the canyon. Rocked the body of the truck on its chassis. Pushed bare tree limbs hanging down overhead. Shoved traffic lights to a forty-five degree angle on their lines.

  “Well, he didn’t say it was impossible,” Drake said.

  “Just not very damn likely,” Kade finished. Trace of bitterness in his voice.

  “But not impossible,” Drake whispered again.

  There had to be something they weren’t putting together. The number of seemingly enormous pieces of information were piling up too high around them to mean nothing.

  They just had to figure out the proper way to stack them.

  “No damn wonder Taggert gave up on this thing so early,” Kade said. Shook his head.

  Earned a nod from Drake.

  “Okay, so what do we have left to lean on?” Drake asked. Turned off the main thoroughfare. Rounded into view of Kade’s truck sitting on the street.

  “Not a lot,” Kade said. Again raised his hands and blew between his fingers. “We’ve got the pictures from the cameras at the site.”

  Once more Drake nodded. Let his mind play over the information.

  “And we’ve got the security company from Koenig’s.”

  For the first time all morning, a tiny spark passed between them.

  “Yeah,” Kade agreed. “Where we at with that?”

  Drake glanced down to the clock on the dash. Saw that it was just now a few minutes after eight.

  “Eight o’clock here puts it at nine in the Midwest,” he said. “Our contact should be in by now.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  “It’s a security company,” Drake said. “They have to be on all the time, just like last time I called.”

  Turning into the driveway, Drake left the truck running. Turned the fan on the heater down. Allowed the low rumble of the engine to be the only sound as he set his phone to speaker.

  “Good morning, Home Security Solutions,” a syrupy voice said over the line. Seemed to already be on her fifth cup of coffee of the morning.

  “Joyce Summerall, please,” Drake said, his voice a complete opposite to the girl’s in every way.

  The tone did nothing to diminish her level of excitement.

  “Absolutely!” she said. “I’ll push you right through, and thank you so much for calling.”

  Drake glanced over to Kade as elevator music came on the line. Saw his friend roll his eyes.

  Over the phone, an awful jazz rendition of New York, New York by Frank Sinatra filtered in. Sounded so offensive Drake reached out and lowered the volume on the phone.

  “I thought this place was in the Midwest?” Kade asked.

  “Kansas City,” Drake confirmed.

  “Nice.”

  The song made it through one and a half stanzas before being cut off. A harsh female voice interjected. Background noise fell away.

  “Joyce Summerall.”

  She sounded no more pleased to be disturbed than the first time Drake had called.

  “Ms. Summerall, Drake Bell. We spoke before about a camera in Montana.”

  A moment of silence passed, Summerall presumably trying to place the name.

  “Oh, yeah. Right. How are you, Mr. Bell?”

  Another glance between Drake and Kade. Another eye roll from Kade.

  “Cold,” Drake said. Bypassed any pretense of the call being congenial. “I was just checking in about the conversation we had—“

  “About a camera in Montana,” Summerall replied. “Yeah, I sent over the images to you this morning. You should have already gotten them.”

  Sitting straight up in his seat, Drake leaned in close to the phone. Felt his pulse begin to surge through his temples.

  “This morning? I’m sorry, I had a meeting and haven’t been able to check.”

  “Yeah,” Summerall replied. Let it be known the entire thing was a pain in her backside. “Go check. If they’re not there, shoot me an email.”

  The meaning of her last sentence was clear.

  Do not call again.

  “Thank you so much,” Drake said. Reached out and cut the call off before she had a chance to answer.

  Killed the engine and was out onto the driveway within seconds. Heard a door slam and Kade’s footsteps slapping behind him.

  They reached the front door at the same time. Passed down the hallway, both shedding jackets as they went.

  Found Ajax sitting in his armchair eating cereal. Q sitting on the ground by his feet. Ridiculousness on the television before them.

  “How’d it go?” Ajax asked. Stopped a spoonful of Golden Grahams halfway to his mouth. Held the bowl beneath it to catch dripping milk.

  “We’re about to find out,” Drake said. Looped around the couch. Dropped into the desk chair and called the computer to life.

  Feeling his heart rate climbing in his chest, Drake pulled up his school email account.

  Found the message from Summerall waitin
g there for him.

  Opened the attachment it contained.

  Drake was only vaguely aware of Kade standing behind him as he stared at the image. Gave the same amount of recognition to Ajax as he appeared on his opposite shoulder.

  “Hot damn,” Kade whispered.

  Drake nodded. Glanced to the stack of pictures spread out on the desk beside him. Back to the likeness stretched tall on the screen before them.

  “You see that in the background too, right?” he whispered.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Adrenaline.

  Anticipation.

  Anxiety.

  All three roiled inside of Drake as he led Kade to the front door of the Butte Police Department.

  Nowhere near equal amounts. All present and accounted for just the same.

  Since receiving the email from Summerall, Drake’s nerves had pulled taut. Set his every bodily function into hyper drive. Wrapped a sheen of sweat around his torso.

  Moving through the front door, Drake drew in a deep breath. Forced himself to calm down. To stay in the moment. To make sure he didn’t get too hasty.

  His actions in the next half hour could very well dictate how the rest of Tyce Riggins’s life played out.

  Glancing to Kade, he could tell the same thoughts were passing through his mind. See the obvious strain on his face. Feel the tension passing from his body, striated muscles jumping in his neck.

  Knew he didn’t have to worry about his friend speaking out of turn.

  Side by side the two made their way to the front desk. Found Officer Humboldt waiting on them. Saw the same twisted scowl formed on her lips. Obvious disdain on her features as she stared at them.

  “Good afternoon, Officer,” Drake said. Made sure his voice carried no inflection whatsoever.

  “Gentlemen,” she mumbled. Folded her arms across her chest.

  It being Sunday, she had swapped out the official uniform for black canvas pants. A black Butte PD t-shirt.

  The change in attire did nothing to soften her demeanor.

  “We have an appointment with Detective Taggert and Mr. Poe,” Drake said. Wanted to get this encounter with the gatekeeper over with as fast as possible.