Perspective. Some poor soul was having a far worse day than hers.
Chapter Ten
“I’m doing my part.”
“And I’m doing my part.”
“At Nations Oil, we’re all doing our part to make this right, and it won’t cost taxpayers one dime. In fact, we’re working with Duluth Public Schools to start a new Outdoor Education Program to help everyone learn how to take care of this beautiful land we call home.”
“Thank you, Nations Oil!”
“Thank you, Nations Oil!”
“And thank you, northern Minnesota, for your trust and patience. We keep our promises.”
Cathryn muted the television and kicked off her shoes, ready to relax for the night.
The ad agency had delivered in a hurry, getting their message on the air in a mere twenty-four hours. Hoss had come through with a check for the schools, and another for a regional wildlife sanctuary.
Their advertising blitz was meant to reach everyone in the four-county media market, countering the efforts of Stacie and her supporters. Average people would be less likely to get involved in protests if they believed Nations Oil was behaving responsibly, and they couldn’t afford to let CLEAN’s campaign grow into a groundswell.
She looked forward to wearing her favorite business suit for the ceremonial presentation of the school check to a classroom of third graders, a nice photo op for the newspapers to go along with their full-page ad. She’d canceled the next day’s press conference, and in fact was cutting back to only three a week in an effort to stay out of the news.
There was still no word from Hoss about when she and her staff could return to Houston. The preliminary report from the PHMSA was due early next week, but that was only for the pipeline accident. The EPA’s report on the spill and cleanup would take longer, and she desperately hoped he wouldn’t make her wait around for that. If they could just get through the next week or so with no more surprises, she was headed back to an office on the East End.
It would be nice if she and Stacie could be together again during whatever time they had left, but they’d have to agree not to talk about work. It wasn’t as if they had nothing else in common. There was yoga, movies…incredible sex. Maybe they wouldn’t even have to talk at all.
Despite their fundamental disagreement on oil production, she admired Stacie’s passion. Anyone who dedicated her life to something she thought would make the world a better place deserved respect, especially since many others with her financial means were jetting off to the Riviera to party on a yacht. Too bad her cause hadn’t been world hunger or stamping out some horrible disease.
A sharp knock on the door jarred her from her thoughts, and she realized she’d almost nodded off to sleep on the couch. She didn’t have the energy to deal with Woody or Amy tonight, and it couldn’t possibly be Depew because it was an ordinary knock, the kind polite people used.
“Who is it?”
“Pizza.”
She swung the door open. “I didn’t order—”
Stacie, wearing a black cap pulled low over her brow, stood holding a pizza box. “I need to talk to you.”
“Get in here before somebody sees you!”
“I’m only going to stay a minute. First of all, this.” She tossed her cap aside and pulled Cathryn into a kiss. “This situation sucks. We have to make some time to be together before I go crazy.”
“Me too, and I’m working on it already. I used your cover story the other night about meeting up with an old friend from St. Paul. What if I tell them I’m driving down to visit her for the weekend? Can you get away?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“But if somebody catches you here—”
“They won’t. I gave the pizza guy a hundred bucks to drive me over in his car. I had to talk to you about Colleen Murray. You need to know this.”
“I heard what happened. She’s going to be okay, right?”
The horrible accident Cathryn had witnessed on her way home from the rally turned out to be Colleen, whose brakes had failed. According to Amy, she was in traction from head to toe with a badly sprained neck.
“I spoke with her son today. He had somebody check out the car and he says the brake line was deliberately cut. Cathryn, somebody did this.” She whispered as though it were a secret she was dying to share.
“Why would anyone want to hurt Colleen?”
“I think you know why—because she was asking too many questions and making the wrong people uncomfortable. The more important question is who, and I think we both know the answer to that one too.”
“You think it was Depew.”
“Don’t you?”
The question shocked her. “Are you serious? You can’t just accuse somebody like that. Do you have any proof?”
“What I know is Colleen was working on a big story that would have made Nations Oil look very bad. I gave her some photos that showed your company was building a dredge pad, and those photos disappeared after the accident, along with everything else in her briefcase—all of her notes and resource documents, and her camera too.”
“That doesn’t prove anything.” But she had to admit it made her dreadfully uneasy to recall Colleen’s aggressive questions and Depew’s rude response. “Why are you telling me this? If you’ve got evidence Depew’s behind it, you should go to the police.”
“You want me to go to the people who did this?” She pointed to her injured eye, which had faded to yellow and green. “Look, I know you can’t do anything about Depew, but I don’t want this to blow back on you. You need to get out of this before it gets even uglier. They could have killed her, Cathryn.”
“Quit my job because of Karl Depew?”
“This is bigger than Depew and you know it. It’s a whole conspiracy. I should have realized that when the SWAT team showed up. He has enough friends in the sheriff’s department to do whatever he wants, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was getting even more help than that.”
“Now you’re sounding paranoid.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time the feds stepped in to protect the interests of their friends with money. People like Hoss Bower don’t prop up politicians without expecting something in return.”
Hoss was definitely cozy with Senator Mike Washburn, but it made perfect sense that both would be interested in economic growth, and the oil industry was a big part of that. “Why do you have to assume everything we do is underhanded?”
“I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, Cathryn, but somebody is pulling a lot of strings. If there’s blowback, your company is going to throw people under the bus. Who better to take the fall than the public face of Nations Oil?”
Cathryn shook her head vehemently. Hoss wouldn’t do that to her.
“I don’t want to see you hurt, sweetheart. Please get out of this before it’s too late.”
Sweetheart. “I could say the same to you. If any of what you’re saying is true, you’re in a lot more danger than I am.”
“If people like me run away, the bastards win. I intend to stop them, but I won’t be able to protect you if it all crashes down.”
“It won’t.” Passion and courage, with no small dose of recklessness. And yet Cathryn respected her more than ever. “Please be careful.”
“I will. Come to the St. Paul Hotel tomorrow night.”
Cathryn watched from the window as she got into a station wagon, its lighted sign the perfect cover for a clandestine visit. Stacie had taken a great risk to show up here, all because she believed Cathryn would be the one to suffer from the fallout.
A dredge pad. The containment area was relatively small, manageable with just a few trucks to haul off the sediment. The only reason they’d need a dredge pad was if they were planning to scrape a wider area…like the whole lakebed.
As much as she tried to deny the puzzle Stacie had put together, her own picture was even more complete given Woody’s estimate and Depew’s cryptic threats. What’s more, she knew exactly
what was at stake, and it wasn’t just a billion dollars in cleanup and fines. The Caliber Pipeline was moving through the Senate committee, and any disruption could kill it once and for all. It represented the future of Nations Oil for decades to come.
For the first time in twenty-two years, she wondered if indeed she was working on the wrong team.
* * *
“Right this way, Miss Pilardi.”
Stacie followed Matt Stevenson’s receptionist to a conference room, where Jenn and the attorney were already waiting. Several documents were spread out awaiting her signature.
“You’re not going to believe what just happened,” Matt said. “I called the sheriff’s office this morning and told them we were making a property claim for eighteen thousand and change. They said to bring it over, they’d review it and cut a check. When I mentioned physical injuries, they offered an extra six thousand dollars for us to waive any and all future claims against their department related to this incident.”
Jenn pumped her fist triumphantly. “Sounds like their lawyers didn’t think much of that show of force. They aren’t used to having somebody fight back.”
“It’s more than that,” Stacie said. “I think their paid thugs inside the department got cold feet all of a sudden. It was fun while they were roughing up a bunch of tree-huggers, but then Colleen Murray got hurt. My guess is they’re crying foul, and this payment is coming directly from Nations Oil as hush money.”
Matt nodded thoughtfully. “That all fits. By the way, their offer for the cabin just jumped to half a million. Not bad for eight hundred square feet. How soon can your friends be out?”
“Another week?”
She’d picked up Izzy’s samples this morning and divided them into two sets. One she’d deliver this afternoon to the Department of Health in St. Paul, and another—just to hedge her bets in case Nations Oil tried to buy off even more officials—to a private lab that offered environmental mitigation services. Both contacts were provided by one of her well-connected donors. With the results in hand by the end of next week, they could go forward with an all-out media blitz against Nations Oil for acting in bad faith. If they made a big enough splash, the EPA would be forced to come down hard. Best of all, it would help their chances against the Caliber Pipeline.
* * *
Woody clacked away on his keyboard while Amy spoke with a congressional aide on the phone.
Cathryn wasn’t accustomed to working with such distractions, especially when her task required concentration. She was writing—spinning, actually—a press release to accompany the PHMSA report, which had landed on her desk early this morning. There was no such thing as a favorable incident report, but this was as close to one as she’d ever seen. The break had occurred beneath the perimeter road, leading investigators to blame it on stress from heavy vehicle traffic crossing above. Nations Oil could reasonably argue the county shared culpability for not enforcing weight restrictions on its roadways.
In response to these findings, her company would launch an immediate inspection across its pipeline network of all segments that might be compromised by traffic. What she didn’t say was that ninety-nine percent of these inspections would be conducted from their computer center in Houston, with only a hundred or so inspected manually. They’d look for anomalous pressure readings that couldn’t be explained by pumping irregularities, and they might even conduct preventive maintenance in a few places. The reality was accidents like this couldn’t be predicted, not when they were caused by variables beyond the control of engineers.
Her phone lit up with a call from Hoss. “Good morning.”
“It certainly is!” he boomed. “Too bad you’re not here with us in Houston. We’re saving a cigar with your name on it.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on that, but I hereby bequeath mine to you.”
“You twisted my arm. So how do you plan on celebrating?”
“Actually, I have a nice weekend planned. One of my friends from college lives in St. Paul. She invited me to visit this weekend and I think I’ll take her up on it. It would be nice to talk to someone who wasn’t pelting me with questions.”
She’d never outright lied to Hoss before. The only way she could justify the betrayal was to convince herself it was personal and not at all related to her job. Convincing Stacie of that was even more important.
“That’s a great idea, Cathryn. Get your mind off work and relax. You earned it.”
“Thank you.”
“Listen, the main reason I called is Larry tells me he’s going to be finished with the cleanup by the middle of next week. I talked with Mike Washburn and he thinks we ought to do a dog and pony show so the press can see what a good job we did. He’s thinking about throwing his hat in the ring for a GOP run at the White House, and he needs some outdoor bonafides. But the main reason is so we’ll have something to brag about when his committee takes up the Caliber Pipeline.”
And maybe after that she could finally get back to Houston and away from creeps like Karl Depew. “We can do that. I assume you’ll want it at one of the downtown resorts on Lake Superior.”
“Oh, no. Mike needs to have it outside. Find us a nice spot by that lake, something with a pretty view in the background. I want people to see everything back to normal.”
She was skeptical, especially given the odor of petroleum and the recent arrival of more heavy-duty equipment, but he wouldn’t plan this if he weren’t sure. “There’s a public park, a boat launch. I’m sure the county will let us use it.”
“Outstanding! Oh, and make sure you plan to join the senator and me for dinner on Thursday night. Mike’ll like you, but you’d better watch out for him. He’s a rascal.”
It was hard not to feel she was being whored out, though Hoss was only asking her to be a charming hostess. She had no choice but to comply, knowing it could mean fending off creepy advances from a US Senator while somehow making sure they didn’t lose his support.
“Looks like we’re going to get out of this with our hide, Cathryn. We dodged a bullet, no small thanks to you. Bryce and some of the others always said we needed a spokesman like Paul Barker who’d go out there and give ’em hell, but I told him we’d catch more flies with honey. Guess we showed them, huh?”
She hated Bryce Tucker and the horse he rode in on. Such an ass, running around bad-mouthing her behind her back. He was no better than Karl Depew. They didn’t have an ounce of decency between them.
It was ironic to think she’d described the higher-ups at Nations Oil to Stacie as kind and decent, when their second in command—and likely the next CEO—was anything but, and she’d always known it in her gut. Obviously he had allies within the company, which meant her future might very well be tenuous if he preferred having someone like Paul Barker as spokesman. Hoss was only two years from mandatory retirement, and Bryce was twelve years younger. Her stint on the East End could be short-lived.
She’d managed to ruin a perfectly good day with negative thoughts. Besides, it wasn’t as if they were home free. If Stacie was right and the EPA discovered bitumen in their pipes, there would be hell to pay, and there was still the matter of how much oil had actually spilled. As of this morning they’d accounted for all but four thousand gallons, according to Larry. Even if they spun it and squeezed it all out, it was only half a tanker load, yet two more tankers had rolled in this morning. Part of her wanted to ask questions, but the smarter part knew better.
* * *
Colleen’s traction apparatus had been replaced by a sturdy neck brace holding her chin firmly in place.
“You certainly look better,” Stacie said. “How’s the pain?”
“I’m fine as long as I remember not to breathe.”
Her son Brian, an insurance claims adjuster from Minneapolis, patted his mother’s knee. “She keeps telling me I don’t have to yell at her for trying to move. Her neck yells loud enough.”
“Any word on when you’re busting out of this joint?”
/> “Doctor says tomorrow. She also said I should take a week off and I told her fat chance for that. I want this story bad.”
“That’s crazy, Mom. You need to be taking care of yourself, and besides, I still don’t think this was an accident.”
“All the more reason for me to keep digging. A good reporter doesn’t pack it in when someone tries to push her off the story. Especially then.” Her eyes turned toward Stacie while she held her head perfectly still. “My editor came up from Minneapolis this morning, something he almost never does. He wanted me to turn over everything to one of his general assignment hotshots but I told him to go to hell. In the first place, I don’t have anything to turn over other than what I’ve already filed. Everything’s gone, but I can reconstruct most of it if you have copies of what you gave me the other day.”
What worried Stacie most was knowing these guys played for keeps. If they’d targeted Colleen because of her reporting, she might not be safe. “Sure, I can do that, but maybe Brian is right. Nobody’s going to think less of you if you take a little break to feel better.”
“Screw that. If Brian’s right about this not being an accident, there’s no way I’m going to hand this story over to someone else now.”
If there was one thing Stacie understood, it was tenacity. That was the single most important characteristic of a dedicated activist, someone who was willing to keep charging no matter how many times he or she got knocked down. She asked Brian, “Did you talk to anyone in the sheriff’s department about what you found?”
“Nobody’s interested. They didn’t even dust for prints and by now the car’s been touched so many times you couldn’t possibly find anything of use. But I’m working another angle.”
“My son, the detective.”
Anyone But You Page 13
