Wild Secret

when they showed it on the screen. It never ceases to amaze me what people are capable of."
"That's what brings us here. We tracked that barrel to the manufacturer, then to the chemical company, and onto its final destination."
"I'm not sure I follow."
"That barrel was shipped to your facility in March 1988."
Randy lifted a surprised brow. "Really? If you say so. We used plenty of chemicals back in those days, and sodium hydroxide was one of them."
I didn’t mention that the barrel contained sodium hydroxide, but that information could have easily been obtained from the newspaper or TV.
"Do you recall anything about that time?" I asked.
He chuckled. "That was a long time ago, son. I can't seem to remember what I had for breakfast, and you want me to remember the specifics of a barrel of chemicals we got over 30 years ago?"
"I understand, but anything you can remember would be helpful."
"We got a lot of chemicals at that time. Part of the manufacturing process. We weren't regulated as highly back then, so a lot of those barrels ended up in all kinds of places. I paid a guy at the time to haul junk off the lot, and we sold a lot of those barrels to the public. Hell, we practically gave them away. At that point in time, people would wash them out and convert them to barbecue grills, use them as trash cans or rain catches. Hell, I even knew one guy who made a pontoon boat out of those damn things. They’ll float if they’re water-tight. Just because that barrel was shipped to my facility doesn't mean what you think it means."
"True. But it could be somebody associated with your company. How many employees did you have at the time?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe a dozen."
"Do you have any employment records?"
Randy shook his head. "I got rid of that stuff a long time ago when I sold the company."
"Can you remember any names?"
"Let me see… Kenneth was the operations manager. There was George, Edward, Gary, Sam…" He thought for another moment. "I hired kids for the summer. Some of their names escape me. There was one kid named Sean. I believe a kid named Truman worked for me for a while. Marshall worked for me quite a bit. He was part-time during the school year and full time during summers.”
"Marshall Noonan?" I asked.
"Yeah, that's his name."
I described Marshall's appearance just to be certain.
"Yeah, that's him."
I showed him Skyler's picture again. “She was Marshall's girlfriend at the time. Are you sure you never met her?"
Randy shrugged. "It's hard to say. I recall he did bring someone around once or twice. He introduced her as his girlfriend. But I honestly can't say if this young lady in the picture is the same person.”
“How would you describe Marshall’s personality?”
“Typical teenager. As I recall, he worked hard and showed up on time. You think he had something to do with this?”
“Could be.”
Randy frowned and shook his head. “I hope you sort this out. It’s a terrible tragedy.”
“Did you know Skyler was pregnant at the time?” I studied his face for a reaction.
“They may have mentioned it on the news. I don’t recall Marshall saying anything about it at the time.”
He seemed unfazed. If Randy was the married man, I didn’t figure he’d admit to the affair in front of his wife.
I gave him my card. "Thank you. You’ve been extremely helpful. We may be in contact with more questions."
"I'm happy to help.”
We left Randy’s estate and headed back to Sunset Park, hoping to catch up with Marshall. Seems like he had some explaining to do.

26
JD kept his eyes peeled for the green beater as we returned to Sunset Park. There was no sign of the vehicle.
Jack found a place to park that gave him at least one space between other cars. We hopped out and hustled across the lot to the trailer that Heather Wallace rented. We climbed the steps and banged on the door, rattling the windows again.
Heather stomped to the door and pulled it open. A lit cigarette dangled from her thin lips. "He ain't here."
"Where is he?"
"He took my car to get beer." She took a drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke up toward the ceiling. The place reeked of it. "So what's the story? Did he kill the girl? Should I be concerned?”
“Has Marshall ever gotten violent with you?" I asked.
She scoffed. “Yeah, but he found out real quick I hit back. He tried that shit once, and I beat his ass. I ain’t like his past girlfriends."
She looked over our shoulder at the maroon Toyoma that pulled into the parking lot. "That's him now."
We looked at the car, and Marshall looked at us. His eyes widened, and he punched it. The tires did their best imitation of a squeal. More like a chirp. The little four-banger engine rumbled, and the exhaust rattled as he raced through the parking lot.
JD and I plummeted down the steps, sprinted across the parking lot, and hopped into the Porsche. Just as we did, Darby's green trash can pulled into the lot.
JD gave a glance in Darby’s direction, then decided to go after Marshall instead.
JD’s foot mashed the pedal, and we raced out of the lot and onto the road. He floored it, and the flat-six howled. The tachometer redlined, and the wind swirled around the cabin. Exhaust rumbled.
Marshall banked a hard right, screeching around the corner, the small tires barely holding traction.
I called dispatch and told them we were in pursuit. I gave a description of the car and plate number.
We kept after Marshall as he raced down the road, doing 70 miles an hour in a 35 zone. We caught up to him in no time, but he blasted through a red light.
Cars screeched, and horns honked as he careened through the intersection.
Marshall took a hard left at the next corner, and the back end swung wide, tires squealing. He managed to straighten out the