Catalyst by Tracy Richardson

Author:Tracy Richardson [Tracy Richardson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-61254-460-1
Publisher: Brown Books Publishing Group
Published: 2020-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

16

WEDNESDAY NIGHT I’M on dinner duty. I volunteered to do setup and cleanup, so I won’t be needed for the predinner prep. This gives me time for a quick run after we finish at the site for the day. Eric got roped into cooking the meal, which is hilarious since he’s never cooked anything that required more action than sliding a pizza in the oven or melting a cheese quesadilla in the toaster oven.

I’ve run past Pops and Nana’s house the last two days, for my own peace of mind, but haven’t seen any signs of more vandalism. This afternoon I take the opposite direction toward the boat launch area on the river. The launch is about the halfway point of my run, so I stop to sit on the rocky embankment next to the ramp for a few minutes, where I can watch the green-brown water flow slowly past. It’s a good place to gather my thoughts.

Excitement and fear wage a war inside my head. I want to be part of what’s happening with Zeke and Lorraine, but I’m not entirely sure what is actually happening or what my part in it is supposed to be. I try not to dwell on it for too long, though. Better not to analyze it too deeply, or I might totally freak out.

When I get back to the camp area, I have just enough time to take a quick shower before joining Scott and Leo to set out plates, silverware, and drinks for dinner in the shelter. Lainey, Renee, and Eric made spaghetti and meatballs to be accompanied by salad and garlic bread. As I’m carrying out one of the huge bowls of spaghetti from the dorm kitchen to the shelter, I hear tires crunching on the gravel of the parking area.

A white van with the red and blue United Energy logo is pulling into a parking spot. I stop walking so abruptly that the spaghetti sloshes in the bowl, splashing tomato sauce over the rim onto the grass, narrowly missing my feet. As I watch, the silver-haired man from the meeting on Saturday and a man wearing suit pants and a starched button-down shirt get out. I quickly sidestep the tomato sauce, set the bowl down on the serving table, and walk over to see what the hell these guys want, mentally preparing myself for a confrontation.

The man in the starched shirt steps forward as I approach like he’s in charge. He puts on a big smile and extends his hand to me.

“Hello, I’m James Stamatakis. You may know my son, Leo? He’s on the dig here this summer. I thought I’d surprise him with a visit while I was in Evansville for a meeting. Do you happen to know where he might be?”

Leo’s dad.

“Sure. He’s around here somewhere. I’ll go get him.” I glance over at the United Energy guy, not bothering to hide my hostility.

Mr. Stamatakis sees my look. “Stuart offered to give me a ride out here after I finished my meetings with United Energy this afternoon,” he says in an affable voice.

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