Page 114 of South of Nowhere

“Gerard Redding is dead.”

She spun around, brow furrowed.

“He was murdered. A bomb in his workshop.”

“Bomb?”

“And something I didn’t tell you before. The levee didn’t collapse on its own. It was sabotaged. Also with explosives. The same kind, or very similar.”

She took the news with a mixture of shock and confusion.

“And Gerard was behind it?”

“Yes. It’s not public knowledge about the levee.”

“I won’t say anything…But why on earth?” She swiveled her gaze. toward the window and her eyes narrowed. “My farm. He wanted me out of business and wanted my property! He was going to flood me out.”

“No. Nothing to do with you. There are lithium deposits under Hinowah. For batteries. He wanted to flood people out and was then going to buy up the land, turn the town into a pit mine. But if there’s lithium under your property, then he’d want that too.”

“But who murdered him? Why?”

“We don’t know. Maybe competitors. Rival lithium mines.”

“Why isn’t the levee safe, if he’s dead…Oh, wait…” Her eyes widened slightly in understanding. “Somebodyelsewants to take over what he had planned?”

“It’s likely. There’s a lead I want to follow up on. We have the bomber on video getting away from the mine into your property.”

“Myproperty?” Her sun-brushed, freckled face grew troubled. “Where?”

“There’s a post-and-rail fence along Route Fifty-eight, near the entrance to the mine. Is there a place where somebody could park and not be seen from the road or the mine?”

“Probably. I think there’s an old tractor trail. Do you want to go look for it?”

He nodded again, noting that she was looking out the window at his bike, maybe wondering if he had in mind they ride together. But few dirt bikes were meant for two passengers, and the Yamaha was no exception. Especially on a windy, dark evening.

“Your Jeep?”

A faint smile. “Sure.”

She grabbed a navy windbreaker from a hook near the door and tugged on a baseball cap withUC Davison the crest.

Outside they walked to the vehicle. He glanced to the barn. “How’s your second-story cow?”

“Confused. But that’s pretty much the waiting state for bovines.”

Making their way as best they could through the yard, skirting around puddles and patches of mud, they got to her Jeep. The vehicle was an old model, roofless, though today, with the storm, she had snapped into place sheets of yellowing plastic for a roof and side panels.

She fired up the engine and clicked on the headlights and powerful spots mounted on the top frame. She snapped on her seatbelt. A glance at his. “You better.”

He strapped in and she sped off.

Under her urgent hand, the vehicle bounded along, sometimes on paths, sometimes off-road. Mud flew in their wake and raindrops appeared like coldly iridescent fireflies in the fierce beams from the lights.

He tugged out his phone and, as best he could with the turbulent ride, consulted a map of the area.

“That way,” he said and pointed, directing her toward one of the spots where Bear might have parked.

In five minutes he said, “Here’s good.”

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