Killing Godiva's Horse. J. M. Mitchell. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: J. M. Mitchell
Издательство: Ingram
Серия: Prairie Plum Press
Жанр произведения: Ужасы и Мистика
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780985227289
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undid the clasp. “Strip. I’ve seen you before.” She tossed the bra into the solution hole. “Use that one for clothes.” She pointed at a larger tank. “That one’s mine. You’ve got your choice of the others.”

      “It’s as if you plan these things. How do I let you talk me into this?” He started on his shirt buttons. “Why are you here? After the last time, I was sure you’d be fired, demoted, or locked in a broom closet.” He slipped off his shirt and dropped it in the water. “Why you? Why here?”

      Her smile grew, bringing a sparkle to grey, predatory eyes.

      “Surely the new regional director knows what happened here. She has to know you were involved. With everything. Her predecessor, his dealings with Mike Middleton. Almost giving away part of the park. How did she let you out of Denver?”

      Erika slipped a rubber band off her wrist and pulled her hair into a pony tail. “How is my ol’ buddy, Mike Middleton?”

      “I don’t know. Frankly, at this point, I’m more worried about the other guy, Harper Teague. The man with Montana connections.”

      “Montana? You don’t say?”

      “I do say. He was not what he presented himself to be. What do you know about him?”

      “He wasn’t a face I remember from Montana, but I thought we were talking about the regional director.” Erika unbuttoned her green uniform jeans, and let them drop to the ground. She stepped out of the legs, jerked the belt from the loops, and tossed the pants in the tank. “The new RD didn’t trust me at first. In time she realized Nick was responsible for his own actions. Made his own bed. Me? I’m a peon, doing my job. I’m also adaptable. I’m creative. I know how to become indispensable.” She spun around, her backside toward him. “Any green?”

      “Kinda goes with the blue, don’t you think?”

      She gave a dismissive shake of her head, stripped off her undies, and tossed them in the tank.

      He turned away.

      “C’mon Jack, if you’re not looking, how can I tell you not to?”

      He unbuttoned his river shorts and dropped them to the ground.

      “You are skinnier than last time. Somehow looks good on you. You know . . . that weathered, withered, wildernessy guy kind of way.” She laughed. “You can look. I’m in the water.”

      “Shouldn’t you wash your uniform first?”

      “Go ahead.” She lay back against the rim and closed her eyes. “I don’t do laundry.”

      He shook his head. “If it’ll get us out of here faster . . .” He knelt over the tank. Pulling out her pants, he worked the soiled spot. “This is stupid. Why suck up to her? This was her fault.”

      “Shut up and keep washing.”

      “What the hell can Prescott do for you? What are you hoping to get from this?”

      Erika opened her eyes. “Jack, it’s you that needs to be sucking up.”

      He stood and laid her clothes on a sun drenched rock. “I’m not concerned about her, or horses. Science will prevail.”

      “It’s not that, Jack. She doesn’t like you. She’s in an important position. Staff for the Senate Interior Committee. Anything you have that needs to go through committee is gonna be touched by her. Kiss of death, if she doesn’t buy what you’re saying. And right now, she doesn’t.”

      “Why?”

      “Because of what happened in Montana. Maybe your association with the senator, who knows?”

      “You’re kidding. He was the only politician I ever trusted.”

      “She knows that. Shortly after that, whatever game she was playing came back to bite her. She was history. She’ll hold it against you . . . unless you learn to suck up to her.”

      “Why?” He worked at a spot on his shorts. “Why should I?”

      “To make her forget how well you got along with Senator Tisdale.”

      “Didn’t help much.”

      “No, it didn’t. You and the proposed park, both, political piñatas. Hit from every direction. Prescott could make that happen again. A good time for her, at your expense.”

      He sat and fell back against the rock. “Why’s she interested in what’s happening here in New Mexico?”

      “Horses, stupid, and if you don’t appease her, she’ll remember that little screw-up of yours at the hearing in Missoula.”

      “It wasn’t a screw up, and it didn’t have anything to do with this.”

      “It affected your credibility. You defended a grad student, who didn’t have the decency to show up for a hearing.”

      “Defended him because that was my job.”

      “It made you look stupid.”

      “Why do you say that?”

      “I don’t know. You just get stupid seeing someone being attacked. All sorts of things can be directed at you—call you a bum, attack your lineage, whatever. Never fazes you visibly. But attack someone else, like that grad student . . . What did we call him?”

      “Kid. He was a local. The Kid was his nickname in high school.”

      “Yeah, right, The Kid. Someone attacks The Kid, you go stupid.”

      “They didn’t understand his research. Locked onto rumors. Misunderstood its purpose.”

      “What’s to misunderstand? He went after fracking. He came up empty.”

      “He did not go after fracking. He was simply doing a survey of water sources. His methods would not’ve told him anything about fracking. No idea where that rumor started.”

      “That was the word on the streets, and people wanted to know, because they were scared. They wanted answers, and all they got was industry rhetoric. Then they heard about The Kid’s research, that he was focused on fracking, and then he wasn’t. You tried to defend him, but you should’ve left him hanging out to dry.”

      “Couldn’t do that.” Jack paused. “We had methane we couldn’t explain, but The Kid’s methods would not’ve allowed us to point fingers at fracking. Then, later, our data were changed. Inside job.”

      “All I know is . . . you looked like an idiot. A man with a hidden agenda.”

      “What does any of that have to do with Prescott?”

      “If she questions your credibility, she’ll accept what any bozo has to say. You’ve got to get on her good side. Politic her a little.” She closed her eyes. “Now finish my clothes. We can’t stay here all day.”

      “They’re done, and wet,” he said, tossing his shirt on the rock.

      “Good. I could use a little excitement. I can’t seem to muster any watching you.”

      He ignored her. “I will not play politics.”

      “Such a Boy Scout,” she said, her eyes still closed. “But you did politic Senator Tisdale.” A corner of her mouth turned up. “You did, didn’t you?”

      “No.”

      “You had briefings. Just you and the senator. Some kind of connection. You put all your eggs in that basket. I think you politicked the hell out of him.”

      “I gave him a few briefings. One with The Kid.”

      Her eyes popped open. “Remember that hearing? I can still see the look you shot Tisdale’s direction, afterwards, like you’d failed him.” She