“Let’s move! Let’s move!” Fausto ordered as he pulled Sanchez toward the pickup.
Sanchez held his ground. His gaze sharpened on the tanker. All it took to say good-bye to one life for another was a phone call from Mexico. He thought of everything this day would bring him-money for his children, for his wife, Maria, for the things he saw on television but only dreamed of owning. Sanchez shelved his apprehension. It would be worth it in the end, Sanchez assured himself.
Efren depressed the gas pedal with the brakes still engaged, and the tanker’s engine revved like a bull readying to charge. Sanchez was already in the pickup, sandwiched between Fausto in the driver’s seat and Armando to his right. The tanker’s engine revved up once more. Sanchez could tell Efren was trying to put the truck in gear. A horrible grinding sound, metal on metal, rattled Sanchez’s fillings. The tanker lurched ahead several feet but stopped abruptly; then it bucked forward again. Sanchez grimaced at Efren’s apparent incompetence.
Fausto took notice and set a comforting hand on Sanchez’s shoulder. “Fear not, friend. Efren is a fine driver. And besides, the quality of those gears won’t matter a few moments from now.”
The tanker lunged forward again, this time without the sudden stops and starts. Fausto hit the gas on the pickup. After a spray of loose dirt as the tires fought for traction, Fausto was keeping pace alongside the rumbling tanker. Sanchez gripped the seat hard enough to turn his knuckles white. The road was not wide enough for a car driving in the opposite direction to pass safely.
“Are you sure about those detours?” Sanchez asked.
“Cousin, you worry too much.” Fausto pushed on the gas some more as the tanker picked up speed.
Sanchez watched the speedometer’s needle rise. Fifteen… twenty… twenty-five…
The pickup pulled slightly ahead of the tanker, until the truck bed containing a cushion of chemical suits was even with the tanker’s driver’s-side door. With the truck still in motion, Efren took his foot off the gas pedal, but the truck kept most of its speed, partially propelled by a gradual downhill slope. Efren’s eyes showed no fear as he opened the door and gave Fausto a big thumbs-up sign. Without hesitating, Efren leapt from the truck traveling thirty miles an hour and made a bull’s-eye landing in the middle of the pickup truck bed, using the chemical suits to cushion his fall.
As soon as Efren landed, Fausto slammed on the brakes. The driverless truck plunged ahead just as the road bent sharply to the left. Sanchez reflexively pantomimed slamming on the brake pedal, as though he were able to prevent a collision with the fast-approaching tree line.
A moment later, the air vibrated with a thunderous crash that sent clusters of birds into frantic flight. The engine compartment folded around a thick oak tree, which swayed from the violent impact. The sides of the cabin crumpled until the glass windshield shattered and the metal twisted like origami.
A contained tsunami of chemicals jackknifed the tanker. The massive steel drum spun sideways and sliced through a thicket of pines, snapping trees like blades of grass. Another series of chemical waves pushed the tanker off balance until it teetered on the uneven ground and eventually tipped over, with an earsplitting crunch of metal and snapping branches. Large gashes opened up in the metal wall, spilling gallons of poisonous liquid by the second. The air was fouled with the stench of rotten eggs and ammonia.
Sanchez buried his face in his hands. “Oh, sweet Lord, what have I done? Forgive me. Please forgive me.”
Fausto shot Sanchez a disapproving look tempered with a hint of sympathy. Maneuvering within the pickup truck’s cramped quarters, Fausto put his knees on the seat as he placed his hands over Sanchez’s ears. It was a gesture meant to comfort a distraught man. He appraised Sanchez once more, looking deeply in his eyes, and seemed satisfied by what he saw.
“I forgive you,” Fausto said as he twisted hard in one direction, while pulling his arms the opposite way. The spin generated enough torque to snap Sanchez’s neck like a tree branch crushed beneath a tanker truck. Instantly Sanchez’s body went limp. Fausto released his grip and Sanchez’s head slammed against the dashboard and lolled to one side at a ghastly, unnatural angle. “I am truly sorry, my friend,” Fausto said. “But this was Soto’s desire.”
Efren didn’t waste a single second. Without prompting, he hopped out of the truck and dragged the body outside. From the back of the pickup, he grabbed a chemical suit for himself and one for Armando. Armando assisted Efren with the zippers before he put on his own suit. They both wore respirators underneath a yellow hood, and the front visor shielded the rest of the face from chemical exposure. The suits were banana yellow and covered every inch of their bodies. They were challenging to walk in, and it took a lot of effort to drag Sanchez twenty feet beyond the mangled truck. They dropped him faceup on the hard earth. When Armando let go, he was breathing heavily, but Efren was stronger and not at all winded. Both men appraised Sanchez thoughtfully.
“He looks like he came shooting out the window,” Efren said in Spanish. The respirator altered his voice, but his words were intelligible enough.
“Let’s make it look a little more authentic anyway,” Armando said. “Just to be sure.”
Efren returned to the wrecked truck and grabbed some shards of shattered glass from inside the cab. All the while, liquid poured out from various breaches in the tanker walls and formed poisonous lakes in the saturated earth. Efren sprinkled the glass shards over Sanchez’s face, hair, and clothes. Then the two men, both dressed in bright yellow chemical suits, took turns beating a dead man’s face with thick tree branches.
And they had only just begun.
CHAPTER 16
Four miles from the tanker crash, Officer Ellie Barnes didn’t know anything terrible had happened. She was sitting in her patrol car, hoping to snag unsuspecting motorists. She wasn’t going to ticket all the speeders, only the frequent violators. Essentially, she was a mobile-radar-speed display, there to inspire motorists to adopt slower driving habits on a stretch of road notorious for speeding.
Ellie glanced in her rearview mirror and saw an SUV slowing down as it approached. Normally, she would have been on guard, but Ellie recognized Jake’s Tahoe from a signature dent in the front fender. Jake pulled up alongside Ellie’s cruiser and lowered his window.
“Morning, Officer. I thought you might be thirsty, or sleepy, or both.”
Jake slid over to the passenger side so Ellie could reach the Dunkin’ Donuts coffee he bought for her. One cream, two sugars, just the way she liked it. Ellie took a sip and made a delighted hmmmm sound.
“You free for dinner tonight?” Ellie asked.
Jake shook his head. “I need to be there for Andy right now.”
Ellie returned a nod.
Two nights ago, Jake had called with the bombshell news that Laura had shown up at his house. Ellie was caught off guard both by the news and a sudden flash of jealousy. It wasn’t entirely logical; Jake had never expressed any lingering feelings for Laura, but they still had a long history.
“I wish I could see you,” Ellie said. She tried to sound more understanding than disappointed. She was both.
“Next week, I’m all yours,” Jake said. “Monday, dinner at your place?”
“Always at my place,” Ellie said, sounding a bit doleful.
Jake gave this some thought. “How about dinner at my place?”
Ellie’s face broke into a bright smile. “I’ve been waiting for that invitation a very long time, Mr. Dent.”