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 laughed. “And frankly, in the burning ruins of that hearing, you’re lucky he didn’t . . .”
“Stop,” Jack shouted, cutting her off. “No more.” He tossed his shorts on a rock, and settled into a tank. He closed his eyes.
“You’re thinking about getting whacked.”
“What?”
“Whacked. That’s what you’re thinking.” She stood, water up to her knees. “I can see it on your face.” She stepped out of the tank. “You don’t even see me, do you?”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.” She found a spot in the shade. “Here I am, as if alone, naked as a jaybird, enjoying the scenery. Like the shadows on that butte . . . which are really beautiful, by the way.”
He heard her words, and let their meaning escape him.
How had that hearing gone to hell? The Kid. Why didn’t he show? When his data would have cleared everything up. And The Kid’s phone call that morning, saying he’d found something new. Something he’d share at the hearing. What happened?
“Stop thinking about that,” Erika muttered. “Think about schmoozing Claire Prescott.”
A shudder shot through him, recalling his testimony. Approved and polished by Interior. All of it, fodder for one particular congressman. Every word, prey to a pat response. Bureaucratic double talk.
Other testimony seemed loaded. As if tested, played out, and known to work on the psyche of anyone who heard it.
Members of the public, long supportive, grew confused.
Facts withered on the vine. Truth died.
People had worked so hard. People who loved the place so much. Who fought so hard to preserve it. How disappointed they were. And the senator, listening in the galley. The look on his face.
“Jack!” Erika shouted. “We’ve got to go.”
“That congressman at the hearing. The one from Indiana. It was as if he knew more about The Kid’s research than I did. Almost. He knew just enough to turn it into something it wasn’t. Lies. And the family of that sick little girl . . . who died. What they were put through. When in reality, The Kid’s research had nothing to do with her. How that started, I do not know.”
“It started. You failed to control it.” Erika picked up her uniform and began to dress. “This is a beautiful place, if it wasn’t so damned hot.”
Jack watched her without seeing.
“We don’t have all day. It’s later than you think.”
He nodded.
“See you back at the truck.” She turned to leave, then stopped. “Tell Kelly—you know, your girlfriend, my dear old friend—remember to tell her we used separate tanks.”
—·—
Jack trudged uphill, Erika ahead in his sights, Claire Prescott already at the pickup, leaning against a fender.
Erika arrived, then Jack, their uniforms already dry. Without words, they climbed in.
Erika pulled the pickup around and headed back the way they came.
“Could you drop me at my vehicle?” Jack asked.
“Where?”
“River takeout.”
Erika nodded.
“Does
