Into the Inferno - Earl Emerson [99]
Beebe’s death would allow his wife and children to carry on in a way that wouldn’t have been possible had he been relegated to a nursing home. Marsha wouldn’t have the nagging worry about whether Stan was being cared for and wouldn’t have to feel guilty for failing to visit a man who didn’t even know she was in the room. Nor would she have to go through the anguish of divorcing the poor bastard if she found someone else to be a father to her four children.
Downstairs, I found Achara sitting in a chair in the watch office, Donovan alongside, Stephanie in the corridor doorway in the sundress Allyson had picked out for her. Achara had a briefcase and papers laid out on the table beside her. As I walked into the room, we all heard a car door slam outside, a child chattering away. Britney.
“Thanks for the call,” I said sarcastically.
“What call?” Donovan asked.
“The one telling us you weren’t going to be able to make it by nine as arranged, but that you’d be here by . . .” I made a production of looking at my watch. “Twelve-twenty.”
“We called,” Donovan said, “but your lines were busy.”
“I have two days left, and you show up three and a half hours late.”
The room grew deathly quiet. Donovan didn’t hold my gaze, turned to Achara and then Stephanie for succor. I’d been getting angry at people all morning, more surprised with each episode.
The voices outside grew louder, and then the front door opened and Wes and Lillian Tindale burst in. My daughters ran past them and into my arms. Smothered in kisses, I held them in my arms for a few moments, and then let them slide to the floor.
Sensing the tension they’d walked into, Wes said, “We got them back in time for lunch.”
“It’s nice to know somebody’s punctual.”
After they left, Allyson whispered to me. “Grandpa said he had to go to the rest room, but he went to the tavern instead.”
“Thanks.”
Achara introduced herself to the girls and said, “Would you two like to show me around? I don’t know that I’ve ever been in a fire station.”
After they left, I turned to Donovan. “So what the hell’s going on?”
“We were late. It’s not the end of the world.”
“Not for you.”
“We’ve been working on it. I’m sorry if we weren’t in touch the way you would have liked. I remember this from Chattanooga. People get emotional. I should have been on my toes. I’m sorry.” Donovan turned his blue eyes to Stephanie, as if she were an ally, or as if he wanted to make her one. “I was at Canyon View at five this morning. Achara was there all night. I brought her up to speed on everything we’d done in Tennessee, and after that she wanted to do some records searches. She’s a better chemist than I am—I’m mostly administrative these days—and she wanted to go over the list of chemicals we’d come up with in Tennessee to see if there were any that might have produced your symptoms. After that we were waiting for phone calls, mine from London, hers from Hong Kong. With the time differences and everything, it took a while.”
“Did you find anything?”
“Unfortunately, not yet. We have two more people back at the plant going through the lists of chemicals we know were involved in Tennessee. We’re doing everything we can think of as fast as we think of it.”
“And what about Jane’s California Propulsion, Inc.?”
“I still haven’t been able to find out if they were involved in Tennessee.”
My cell phone rang. “Yes?”
It was Olefson, one of the county chiefs from our committee. He told me they would be organized and working by Monday morning. “Fine,” I said. I should have told them all at the meeting that I had the syndrome. Everybody was working in slow motion while I was dying at sixteen frames per second.
“Look,” Stephanie said, sensing how irritated I still was. “Why don’t you go break Achara free while Mr. Donovan