Authors: Donna Cain
Meadowview Acres (32 page)
“Tell me the whole plan,” she said. “Let’s go over it and see if anything’s missing.”
On the drive home, Darren felt better. He and Shasta had picked the plan apart. What if this happened? What if that happened? Every instance had a contingency. Darren had a Plan B and a Plan C. He was going in with his eyes wide open.
As he pulled into the drive, he could make out his mother’s small shape sitting on the front stoop. He parked and walked over to sit beside her.
“How’s Shasta doing?” Agnes asked.
“Much better. She’s still coughing and her skin still hurts, but she’s feeling a lot better. How’re you, Mom?” Darren was still concerned and didn’t know how to help.
“Oh, Honey, I’m fine. I really am. I think in the last week I’ve gone through every emotion known to man. But I’m coming out the other side.” She reached over and squeezed his hand.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to help you much with all of this,” she continued. “I couldn’t seem to climb out of that hole I was in.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ve been alright. Shasta’s been with me, and you’ve been here too, no matter what you think. Are you sure you’re feeling better?” Darren could see her face; she looked calm and relaxed.
“Yes. I’m still missing your father something awful, but I imagine that will just be a way of life now. He was such a good man. I’ll miss him every day.”
“I know,” Darren said sadly. “I will too.”
“They say it gets better with time. I suppose we’ll have to hope for that. I’m getting used to it a little, though.” Agnes was talking to Darren, but also talking to herself. “I’ll be alright again. We’ll be alright.” She squeezed his hand again then changed the subject.
“Now, how’re you feeling about burying that thing?”
Darren was surprised that she wanted to talk about it, but he was glad, too. “I’m feeling pretty good. Shasta and I went over the plan and I’m feeling confident. Thanks for understanding that I need to do this.”
“You’ve been angry since he died, Darren. We both know this isn’t your dad’s fault, but we both sort of feel like it is. Isn’t that right?” Agnes had known exactly what Darren had been feeling. She knew her son well.
“Yeah, that’s right. But we’ll take care of it and that will be the end,” Darren said determinedly.
“God, I hope so. I hope so,” Agnes said. “Now, this old lady is going to bed. It’s been another long day.” She got up from the stoop and bent to hug her son. “I love you, Darren. You be careful.”
That night Darren woke from a dream. He had been inside the cab of his father’s bulldozer, digging the hole for the artifact. The hole was huge and very deep. The sheriff had just put the safe at the bottom and was climbing back out. Darren was waiting to start covering the safe with dirt, when all of the sudden, the bulldozer started to tip forward. He frantically tried to back up the rig, but the controls weren’t responding. The Cat was tipping, tipping… Darren tried to open the door of the cab, but it wouldn’t budge. He could feel the momentum of the Cat falling forward into the hole. Darren tried to brace himself as the dozer fell down, down, into the depths. In his dream, the hole was never-ending, he just kept falling and falling and falling…
T
he day turned out to be gray and dismal. It wasn’t raining, but the air was thick and humid. The dark gray clouds seemed to bring an ominous feeling to Sheriff Buchanon as he drove west on Route 68 toward Tony Clark’s construction site.
He had just come from visiting Agnes. They had finalized the paperwork which opened an investigation into Claymont’s death. As his widow, it was within her rights to request an inquiry. Sheriff Buchanon had explained to her that the only way to get their hands on Claymont’s Caterpillar was to have it impounded as part of an investigation. As of eight forty-seven that morning, the Hallston Sheriff’s Department had been allowed to take Claymont’s rig. Agnes had been happy with her decision. She told the sheriff that she hadn’t known what she could do to help, but she wanted to do something. The sheriff assured her that this was a big way to help. Having that rig to dig the hole for the burial was a lifesaver, possibly literally.
The sheriff hadn’t really passed this information on to the rest of the department, yet. He was sure that no one would understand why he was agreeing to open an investigation into such a cut and dried medical incident. They certainly wouldn’t get why he had impounded a Caterpillar bulldozer. He thought if they could get this done in the span of one or two days, no one would have to find out anyway. He would work out the details later. First, he had to inform Tony Clark.
He had called Tony just that morning to ask for a meeting. Mr. Clark had been accommodating but guarded. Sheriff Buchanon had an idea that the man thought the meeting had something to do with Claymont’s death. He was right, of course, but it certainly wasn’t going to be the conversation Tony expected.
His cell phone rang, and Don answered quickly. He was expecting an update from Bill on the scouting excursion into the woods. He knew that he and Mark had started out early. He wasn’t disappointed when he heard Bill on the line.
“Hey, Don,” Bill said. “We’ve made some headway here.”
Sheriff Buchanon knew that Bill and Mark were going to head down the existing gravel road as far as it would go. From there they would discern the next course of action. They needed to find the best way into the woods for the bulldozer and other vehicles to travel.
Bill continued, “The old gravel road washes out a couple of miles in. After that, there’s an old dirt path, narrow, but enough room for us to pass. That goes another six miles, so far. We’re still on it.”
Don interjected then, “Have you come across anything looking inhabited? An old shack, a deer stand, abandoned cars? Anything at all that would signify people around?”
“No nothing,” Bill answered. “The woods are empty. We haven’t come across anything like that. There have been no tracks on this path either, not foot nor vehicle. Mark’s maps show an outbuilding further ahead. We’re expecting it to be overgrown. We’ll see when we get there. We’re about eight miles in total and we’d like to at least double that.”
“Do you have a specific site in mind, Bill?”
“We have a fair idea after studying the maps. Mark thinks if we can make it in roughly seventeen miles, we’ll be as far away from Hallston as we will be from Chester, around twenty seven or eight miles. That puts us seventeen miles away from Route 68 and the other side drops off steeply another nineteen miles past. That’ll mean we’re smack dab in the middle of the woods.”
Don thought for a moment. He knew the cliffs that Mark’s maps indicated. “What about moving more toward the cliffs? With that massive drop off, no one would think about building in that area in the future.”
“You’re right, Don. We thought about that, too. It’s all going to hinge on how hard it’ll be to get the equipment through. These woods are getting denser as we go. We’ll exhaust this path then see what we’re faced with. I’ll call with another update in a couple of hours. We should have some more information then.”
“Sounds good, thanks, Bill.” Sheriff Buchanon pushed the END button on his phone. He had reached the trailer at the head of the construction site and swung the cruiser into a roughly outlined parking space.
Getting out of the car, he felt the first small raindrops on his face. He hoped it wouldn’t be a downpour. They needed the weather on their side if they were going to bury that thing tomorrow.
He was a few minutes early but didn’t really care. Sometimes being sheriff had its perks. If he wanted to talk, people talked. He still hadn’t decided exactly how this conversation was going to go. He battled with how much information Clark really needed. The sheriff decided to play it by ear.
Entering the trailer, Don heard Tony’s voice booming. He closed the door behind him and glanced around. It seemed larger inside than he had expected. To the left was a big drafting table with plans and graphs strewn about. File cabinets flanked the table, and a small desk was in the corner. To the right was Mr. Clark’s desk, heavily covered with papers, file folders and maps.
Tony was behind the desk and on the phone when he saw the sheriff and motioned him to the two plastic chairs in front of his desk. Sheriff Buchanon took off his hat and sat down.
“That’s not good enough,” Tony yelled into the phone. “George, this has put me more than a month behind. Don’t you get it?”
His face was red with anger as he paced back and forth behind his desk.
“You gotta get me another operator now. Do you think Howard Brig cares about the reason? He’s all over Gary Sam. And you’re up there sending guys out to job sites in Shale? What the hell?” He stopped to listen to the man’s response then yelled, “Well, fine. The next time I hear from Howard Brig at Oakwood Homes, I’m giving him your phone number, your home phone number.” He continued to pace as he listened. After a moment he said, “I don’t care what you have to do. I’m sick of hearing it from Howard and Gary, too. Send me a bulldozer operator tomorrow. No excuses.” He slammed the phone down.
Sheriff Buchanon cleared his throat. Tony looked up as if he had forgotten the big man sitting in the plastic chair.
“Oh, Sheriff.” He laughed nervously. “I can’t seem to get my point across today. Ever have one of those days?” He said while motioning to the phone.
“Quite a few actually,” responded Sheriff Buchanon. “Sounds like you’re in a little bit of a bind.”
Tony shook his head and said, “It’s too bad about Claymont and all, but damned if he didn’t put me in a pinch. I’m getting further behind every day without a replacement for him.”
The sheriff decided to get to the point. “Well, I’m afraid I might be about to rain on your parade a little more.”
Tony sat down in the frayed leather chair behind his desk and looked squarely at the sheriff. The man was in no mood for more bad news. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, I’m here to inform you that I need to impound Claymont’s Caterpillar. Agnes has requested an investigation into his death. I talked to her just this morning. We’ll be taking it today.” He waited for the fallout. It came.
“What the hell are you talking about, Sheriff? Claymont died of a brain thing, a hemorrhage, right? What’s there to investigate? What’s that bulldozer going to tell you?” The man’s face was getting red again, and he was throwing his arms around as he continued his tirade.
“This is ridiculous! Here I am trying to find a replacement for Claymont’s rig and now you’re telling me that I don’t even have the bulldozer?”
Tony was pacing faster now while shaking his head. Don was getting a little concerned about the man’s blood pressure. He decided to take a different approach.
“Now settle down a minute, Tony. Come here and sit down. I may have an idea that could help us both out.”
Tony Clark looked at him like he was crazy. Don could tell that the man lived his life full of stress. Some people thrived on stress, even made some up if things were going smoothly. He thought Tony Clark was such a person. Nevertheless, he sat back down in his chair.
“We’re going to be building an outpost for training, most likely over in Chester, closer to State College. We’ll need to rent a dump truck from you along with a load of gravel and sand. No drivers, just the equipment and the load. We’ll, of course, pay the going rate.”
He stopped to let this sink in. With a man like Clark, the minimum information was the best way to go. Tony didn’t care what they were doing as long as he got paid. Sheriff Buchanon could tell the man was turning the information over in his mind and trying to come up with a way to take advantage of the situation.
“It won’t take me too long to go over the rig for the investigation. One, maybe two days, and then I’ll have it right back to you.” Then the sheriff dangled his morsel, “I may have a bulldozer operator for you, too.”
“I’m still behind two more days without that rig,” he said still glowering. Don thought he seemed to be pouting and had finally had enough of this guy. He wasn’t only disrespectful about his twelve year employee’s death; he was now trying to work Don for more money.
“That’s tough now, isn’t it,” Sheriff Buchanon said icily. “You realize that I didn’t even have to have this chat with you? I could have just picked up the Caterpillar without notifying you at all. Aren’t you lucky that we’re having this discussion?”
Tony changed his tone immediately, realizing that the deal could go south. “Yeah, yeah, Sheriff, I get it. I’m just a little worked up because of that phone call. Now, you need gravel and sand was it?”
“That’s it,” Don replied, glad that Tony was back to playing ball. “One of the smaller dump trucks. You can just fill it with a gravel and sand mixture. Bill the department for that load and for the dump truck rental for two days.”
“Can do, no problem. Who’ll be picking that up? And when?” Tony was all business now.
“Have it loaded and ready with the keys in it tomorrow morning. I’ll pick it up myself with Deputy Clay.” Don was getting sick of this guy.
“Consider it done, Sheriff, now, about that bulldozer operator. When will he start?” Tony asked.
“He’ll start when he returns the dozer in a couple of days. It’ll just be part-time work for him, but that’s enough time for you to get another full-timer and get you over this hump. That’s worth a little inconvenience, isn’t it?”
Don was being accommodating and extremely political. The bulldozer was the property of the department on paper already. He didn’t need anyone’s permission to take it, especially Tony’s, but he wanted to make Tony happy in case they needed something else for the job.
Sheriff Buchanon knew he was going to pay a pretty penny for the dump truck and the load of gravel and sand, but that didn’t matter. The burial was the most important thing.
Finally, Tony smiled and stuck his hand out for the sheriff to shake. “That’s a deal, Sheriff. A dump truck, a load of gravel and sand, and you get me a dozer operator.”
Sheriff Buchanon shook the man’s hand and thought, “What deal? I’m paying for some equipment and doing you a favor, Jackass.” He smiled at Tony as they shook hands. The smile on his lips didn’t quite make it to his eyes.
