Page 121 of South of Nowhere

A look of disgust crossed her face.

“Now, Annie,” Tolifson said, “work with us. Where can we find him? Bear? And how can we disarm the other bombs?”

The woman seemed to shiver in anger.

“I’m not saying anything more.”

Starr sighed. “That’s your right. Now we’re back to invoking the Fifth again?”

“Yes.”

“We called the magistrate in Olechu. We can get you arraigned later. The county lockup’s been evacuated because of the flooding. We’ve got a van we use for transporting prisoners to county. We’ll keep you in there for the time being. It’s air-conditioned. We’ll get you to a restroom if you need it. And there’s water in there too.”

“Come on, Debi. Are you thinking this through? You really think I’d believe I could get away with a crazy idea like this?”

“Fact is, Annie,” Starr said, “you almost did. Except for two things.” She glanced at Shaw. “Colter here. And a half dozen honeybees.”

52.

TC McGuire had put out a BOLO, a be-on-the-lookout-for bulletin, describing Bear, including screenshots from the mine security footage.

Sitting across from him in the command post, Debi Starr asked, “Did you say he’s wanted in connection to a capital murder case?”

McGuire said he had not but would revise the announcement.

California still had the death penalty for certain homicides—like this, committing murder-for-hire, though the state had not in fact executed anyone in years.

But the designation was an attention-getter.

Starr said to Tamara Olsen, “You ever do demolition?”

“Some.”

“Mind looking at some tough pictures?”

“I guess not.”

The officer displayed what Shaw could see were images of the deadly workshop she’d taken with the digital camera. With the flash, it was as if she had used a vivid setting; the blood was particularly bright, the scorch particularly black.

“Hm. The head…” The sergeant was clearly taken aback. As Shaw had guessed, she had little, if any, combat experience.

Starr asked, “How much C-four would you think could cause that?”

“Half kilo. Maybe little more.”

Shaw would have thought the amount would be less, but his knowledge of explosives was largely theoretical. He’d set dynamite charges to blow snowbanks for controlled avalanches. And he’d disarmed a bomb once. It had been fake—used as a diversion—but he hadn’t known at the time it wasn’t real.

“And how much was used on the top of the levee this morning?”

Olsen now looked over the waterfall. “Two ki’s.”

Starr said, “Assuming that this was part of the batch stolen from the armory, that leaves more than two kilos for the lower part. Would that be enough to bring it all down?”

It was Dorion who spoke now. “It could. But remember, it doesn’t have to blow the whole thing. One big V-shaped notch would still produce the same level of flooding.”

Olsen said she agreed. Her phone hummed and she took a call. After a brief conversation, she disconnected. “The first chopper’ll be here in about forty minutes, with the bomb curtains. I’m going back to the motel to pick up the rest of the gear we’ll need.”

Starr asked, “Anything we should do?”

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