Free Hot Water by Erin Brockovich Page B

anyone. Within five minutes you felt like you’d been best friends for life.
    “I’m going up to the house, say goodnight to Gram Flora,” he announced, cringing as his voice cracked.
    Elizabeth didn’t even look up. “That’s nice. I’ll be here, ready to tuck you in when you get back.”
    Tuck him in? She did think he was a baby. Not even his mom tucked him in anymore.
    He needed help. Desperately. Jeremy was his only hope.

TEN
    By the time the ambulance arrived, the woman was fine and refused transport—or rather the men with her refused for her. I was about to intervene but she warned me off with a glance that said she’d end up in more trouble if I made a fuss, then she signed the papers the paramedics gave her.
    The rest of the crowd had pretty much dispersed—some were enjoying cold refreshments under a bright blue awning that Grandel’s security guys had conjured up while the rest had driven off. Grandel had dropped his suit coat, rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a lemonade, and began working the crowd with the charm and zeal of a politician running for office.
    Morris ended up at my side, watching his brother from the shade of a live oak—on the other side of the road from the river and its alligators. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to show you around the plant today.”
    “That’s okay.” Grandel had the crowd laughing. Morris nodded his head, beaming like a proud parent. “Are you older or younger than he is?”
    It was hard to tell Morris’s age—his face was creaseless, his hair hung thick and full with the overdue for a haircut swing of a college student. And he seemed so much more relaxed than Owen.
    “Older. By three years. But we watch out for each other.”
    I squinted in the bright sunshine slanted low through the trees as the sun began to set, reappraising Morris. “Your brother said you run the plant?”
    “Yes ma’am. But without Owen everything around here would fall apart.”
    Owen certainly made it clear that he agreed with that sentiment. “Is that because Owen designed it?”
    Morris looked down, shuffled his feet in the red clay dust. “Actually, I designed it. But Owen got it built. Without him, this place would just be some sketches on the back of napkins.”
    Now I really didn’t like the way Owen treated his older brother—taking credit for his work, acting like Morris was some kind of charity case that he’d given a job to. It was clear that Morris was different—not Asperger’s, not exactly, more like socially inept and uncomfortable. He kind of reminded me of me, in fact.
    It was also clear he was absolutely devoted to his younger brother—something I was certain Owen manipulated as easily as he had manipulated me into taking this job.
    “Morris, do you think I could get that tour tomorrow?”
    He turned to me, startled, his face lighting up in a way that made me think of David. I had the sudden urge to call home and check on him, see what adventures the day had brought—if he was speaking to me again.
    “I would love to give you a tour, AJ.”
    Morris headed back to work. A guard drove up with another dark SUV—this was my car to use for the duration, he explained as he had me sign forms in triplicate before giving me the keys. He’d also drawn a map to my accommodations and transferred my luggage to the rear of the SUV.
    “Here are your security badges for re-entry. They will only get you to the front gate, then you’ll be given an entrance pass. No cell phones, electronics, or recording devices of any kind are allowed past the entrance. Mr. Grandel is expecting you tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”
    He was gone before I could thank him. Grandel was still entertaining the masses, embracing his new role as gracious host. I decided I’d get out of the heat and my sweaty clothes, clean up, wade through the reams of research Grandel had given me, and call it a day.

    David rolled into Flora’s kitchen without knocking—they were family, and family