The Moon Pool (28 page)

“Well, that's just it. Ricky can't go back to being a derrick hand, and he can't earn anywhere near that kind of money doing anything else. I know from my job that he's got a lot of occupational therapy ahead of him. And he's got a couple of friends willing to testify that there was all these safety violations. I guess the cable hadn't been oiled and it was all clogged with dirt, and that was what caused it to snap.”

Already Scott was shaking his head, frowning. Shay knew she probably wasn't getting the details right but she was counting on him chalking it up to her ignorance. She rushed ahead before he could interrupt her. “One of his friends took pictures on his phone of the logbook where they were supposed to initial that it was getting oiled, and there were all these gaps, whole weeks with no entries. And this thing was dated with the supervisor's signature. So Ricky's mom, my friend, she's wondering if she's got a case? If she hires a lawyer?”

“Look,” Scott said. “I shouldn't even be talking to you about this. You got to understand, I don't just answer to my own boss, I've signed so many confidentiality agreements you could paper this room with them. I'll guarantee you right now there's not an attorney in this state who would give your friend the time of day.”

She was losing him, she saw; his expression had turned wary and his posture had gone rigid. Suspicion clouded his expression and he looked at his watch.

“I know that,” she said hastily. “I know it's an uphill battle, my friend is just so worried. Ricky and his wife bought a house, they just moved in before the accident, and their second baby is on the way. They're desperate.” She made her voice soft and tremulous, brushing away an imaginary tear.

“Aw, now, hey,” Scott said. “Look. What you got to understand, rig work's dangerous, it's just the nature of the job. Then you got OSHA coming around changing the game every few months, half the time we can't comply simply because we haven't got the latest updates to the standards and procedures. I know everyone's ready to point the finger at the big bad corporation, but the truth is, and you can ask any hand worth his salt, that ninety percent of accidents on the rig are just plain human error. Inattention, shortcuts, whatever you want to call it, it's when the guys themselves don't follow company procedure. Case in point, your friend's son. And I'm not even saying that the state of the draw works is what caused it, because it's frankly impossible to know, but even if it was due to maintenance gaps, whose fault is that? I mean, was it the company president's job to get out there and oil the damn thing?”

“Well, I guess that—”

“No way, it's not. That's a case, and again I don't mean to generalize, but a lot of your younger hands, they're finding what you might call
chemical
ways to tolerate the twelve-hour shifts where your more experienced guys know how to pace themselves, you see what I'm saying? I'm not trying to tell you that your friend's boy was using uppers, but you wouldn't believe how many of them do, and
that's
where you get your procedure failures. Skipping steps like that.”

He shrugged, as though that closed the case for him.

“I don't think Ricky was the type to do drugs,” Shay said doubtfully. “I mean, I'm really grateful you're talking to me about this, telling me what her chances are. It beats paying some guy three hundred bucks an hour to hear the same thing.”

“Yeah, which is exactly what would happen, if she could even find someone to be honest with her. Trouble with a lot of these personal injury outfits, they're not going to shoot straight. Hell, they might manage to get a couple thousand more out of Hunter-Cole, especially if they're willing to sign a covenant not to sue, but where do you suppose that's going to end up? Lining the lawyer's pockets. Seriously, if I was you, I'd tell your friend to save her money.”

Shay took a sip of her wine, waiting until Scott did the same. She had to push him just a little bit further, and she wasn't sure he'd follow. While she was hesitating, he put his hand on her knee; his fingers made slow circles around her kneecap.

She figured she had nothing to lose. “I know this is going to sound crazy,” she said. “But Rose says a guy came to see her and told her to drop it. She says he threatened her. That if Ricky's friends didn't back off about the maintenance logs, they'd regret it. She asked if they were going to get fired just for making a report, and she says he said something like, not just their jobs. Like their
safety.
”

Scott's fingers stilled on her knee. “Rose has always been kind of dramatic,” Shay said, pretending she hadn't noticed. “So I don't even know what to believe. I mean, it sounds kind of crazy, right?”

“I got to say, I've just about had enough work talk for today,” Scott said stiffly. “I mean, you're asking things way out of my expertise. And frankly it sounds a little suspicious.”

“No, you're right,” Shay said. “God, I'm sorry. I feel like an idiot. I mean, I don't think Rose is trying to take advantage or anything, but yeah, she's kind of hysterical about this whole thing.” She gave him an apologetic smile and placed her hand on top of the one resting on her knee. “Don't mind me.”

“Yeah, sounds like you're better off staying out of this one,” Scott said. His fingers traveled an inch up her leg, kneading the flesh through her jeans. “I mean, they don't call this the Wild West for nothing. Hunter-Cole has a reputation for playing hardball. You don't see the same culture at White Norris. But that still doesn't mean anything, and believe me, these things change slowly, if they change at all. There's not a man on either side of the desk who's a fan of OSHA. So. Now, can we put this behind us and try to enjoy what's left of the evening?”

“Mmm,” Shay said, giving him her most winning smile. He leaned forward and put his hands around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. She could feel his erection through his pants. His face was at the level of her breasts, and he bent forward and nuzzled at her cleavage.

“Will you excuse me,” Shay said, extricating herself gently, caressing his face with her hand as she stepped over his legs. “If I don't visit the little girls' room now, I'm afraid I'll get too... distracted.”

Scott leaned back against the couch, a dazed grin on his face.

“Maybe we can check out the bedroom when I'm done,” Shay said, backing toward the bathroom, unbuttoning her blouse as she went, giving him a good look at her bra and the white skin of her stomach. She grabbed her purse off the coffee table and took it with her.

In the bathroom, she closed the door and looked around quickly. She'd lucked out: a monogrammed kit sat on the counter. She dug her phone out of her purse. There were two missed calls and a text from Colleen:
Please call me. I need your help. Please.

Shay was flooded with worry and remorse, but Colleen would have to wait. She picked up the kit and snapped a picture of herself holding it in the mirror, letting her hair obscure her face but making sure her unbuttoned blouse showed, as well as the monogram
STC.

When she came out of the bathroom, Scott had moved to the bedroom. He was sitting on top of the bed, as naked as the day he was born, with one hand behind his head and the other at his crotch. Shay made sure she got close enough for some fine detail before she took the second picture.

Then she put her phone in the purse and started buttoning her blouse.

“What the
hell
?” Scott said, grabbing the sheet and pulling it up over his pale, flabby gut.

“Settle down,” Shay said calmly. “We just need to have a conversation. I'm not here to make trouble for you. I don't want anything from you other than your room.”

“My...
what
?”

“This room. I need it. I need you to call down to the desk and prepay it through the end of the week and let them know that your employee will be staying here. And don't say they won't let you, because I've done it before.”

She hadn't, actually, but Mack had done it once when she went up to Sacramento to see him while he was at a conference. He'd had to leave early when his daughter fell off her bike and broke her leg, but he made sure she was set up for the rest of the week in case he could come back.

“Where the fuck am
I
supposed to stay?”

Shay shrugged. “Not really my problem, is it? You told me you had a whole team here, you made sure I knew that all those guys reported to you. So send one of them home and take his room. Look, it's already almost one. You can probably crash in the lobby until morning. Or call one of your guys and bunk with him, whatever, I don't really give a shit.”

“You're out of your mind. Who the hell
are
you, anyway?”

“Start getting dressed and I'll tell you. Oh, and don't forget your things from the bathroom. I got a picture of myself and your little bag in there. You know, the one with your initials on it. Gift from your wife?”

All the color had drained from Scott's face. He got out of the bed, dragging the sheet with him. As he struggled to get his underwear on without letting the sheet drop, Shay edged toward the door. Scott, with his soft hands and embossed business cards, hardly looked like the violent type, but safe was way better than sorry.

“I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and tell you the truth now. Maybe it will make you less upset with me. I'm the mom of one of the missing boys.”

Scott had been tugging his pants on. At her words, he stopped, and stood up slowly to stare at her. “The Hunter-Cole boys?”

“Yes. I'm trying to find my son. I found out there's been some safety issues that a few of the boys wanted to report. One of my son's friends said he'd been threatened. I want to find out if my boy got into trouble with Hunter-Cole.”

Scott swallowed, then resumed dressing. He didn't say anything until he'd got his shirt on and was fastening his belt.

“If your son is half as crazy as you, if he was making trouble around the rig... Look, there's no way I believe they'd hurt anyone, even over at Hunter-Cole. But a payoff? Money to get them to leave town, lie low until they can cover their tracks? Maybe. I'm not saying it happened, or that I've ever seen anything like it happen, but it wouldn't surprise me.”

He went into the bathroom, emerging a moment later with his toiletries, which he flung into his suitcase. He pulled his shirts and suit coat from the closet and threw them in, not bothering to fold anything. He picked up his phone and stuffed it in his pocket, and got his coat from where he'd thrown it.

“Look,” he said, as Shay backed away from him, giving him access to the door. “Christ. Why didn't you just ask me about this? Why all the...” He gestured at the wine, the half-empty glasses, the sofa cushion that had fallen to the floor.

“Right. Like you would have told me?” Shay shook her head. “This is my
son
who's missing. He's been gone thirteen days. His odds are shit. Don't you think I know that? I'm balls to the wall here. And if I hurt your feelings, well, I guess I'd be sorry if I had the time. But I don't. So why don't you run along now? I'm going to call down in fifteen minutes for room service, so I'll know if you took care of things like a good boy. If you did, you won't hear from me again. If you didn't, well, let's just say I'm good with a computer and I'll be able to get these pictures to your home address by tomorrow afternoon.

“The name to put the room under is Capparelli,” she added. Then she spelled it for him, twice, slowly. “And, just in case you're wondering, my son's name is Taylor. Now if you don't mind, I think I'd like to be alone.”

KRISTINE ARRIVED IN
fifteen minutes. She was unwinding the scarf from her neck and unzipping her coat when she came into the restaurant. Her gaze found Colleen immediately.

Colleen jumped up from her stool. “I'm Colleen Mitchell.” She put out her hands, and when the girl hesitantly gave her one of her own, she squeezed her cold fingers. “Please, come sit down.”

Emily came over to the booth, bringing two cups of coffee without being asked. “Hey, Kristine,” she said.

“Emily, thanks.”

“I don't even know where to start,” Colleen said when Emily walked away. “I mean, I guess, maybe... I'm not really myself right now.” She touched her face self-consciously. “I've been sleeping in a motor home, though it's been hard to sleep, and I've been worried sick and—oh, God, let me just get right to it, you were with Paul?”

“Yes,” the girl said carefully. She seemed frightened. “He and I... since last Halloween.”

Colleen wanted to touch her, just to feel her skin, the hands that had once touched her son. “I'm—his dad and I—well, I can't even begin to tell you. We just... anything you can tell me. Anything.”