Page 133 of South of Nowhere

The text Shaw had received forty minutes earlier, as he’d stood in the command post, was from the desk clerk at the motel where Millwood was staying. Shaw had given him a hundred dollars to text if the man left his room and drove off.

Then Shaw had slipped two hundred to one of the town sandbag volunteers to hang out in his pickup truck on Route 13. If someone matching Millwood’s description in a white Lexus SUV had showed up near the scene of the Camaro accident, inquiring about a young woman, he was to direct him toward the cliffs.

Shaw said to Lavelle, “They got it all. Hi-def.”

Millwood muttered, “You are in so much trouble…” His voice faded as he struggled to take in air.

“You’re insane.” Lavelle’s voice was a cold whisper.

His mood flipped instantly. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry…Really. I am. I was only doing it for you! Maybe I pushed a little too hard. Please forgive me!” It was eerie how quickly he jumped from one state to the other.

“Shhh,” Shaw said. He turned to Lavelle. “Bring the important things with you. We can come back for the rest.”

She gathered up notebooks and her electronics, placing everything in a big yellow backpack.

They walked outside, Shaw leading Millwood by the arm.

“I’m going to sue you.” Millwood was gasping, wincing at the pain too. The limp was impressive. And gratifying.

Shaw said, “Save your breath. I mean that literally. You’ll feel better if you don’t talk.”

They walked—and shuffled—down the mining trail. At thebottom, Debi Starr was standing beside her Public Safety Office pickup. Squinting, she examined Millwood’s zip ties. They passed muster and she led him to the backseat and helped him in.

“I was watching the stream,” she said. “We’ve got battery, menacing, brandishing. And attempted murder. That’s the ace in the hole.”

In California firing a weapon at someone, even a toy, is attempted homicide if you believe it’s real and loaded.

Starr turned to Fiona. “You all right, miss?”

“I’m fine.”

The deputy said, “You know every domestic I’ve answered, it’s always: he said/she said and we’ve gotta figure out which wound came first, the iron burn or the serving fork. Now, we’ve got evidence that’s pure gold. And may I add, Ms. Lavelle, you are a fine actor.”

“Thank you. I told Mr. Shaw the situation and he said me hiding out from him wouldn’t do it. People like him, sociopaths, you have to put them away.”

Through the partly opened rear window of Starr’s cruiser came the words: “This is entrapment, you assholes!”

Without even turning her head, Starr called, “No, it’s not. All right I’ll read him Miranda, and hand him off to the sheriff’s office. The stinker can cool his heels there until county intake opens up again. I’ll need statements from you both but they can wait. We’ve still got a levee that’s debating whether or not to come down.”

59.

Time Elapsed from Initial Collapse: 30 Hours

“It’s Colter. I’m here with Dorion.”

The siblings stood outside the lockup transport van. There were no windows, but in the back was a plate with louvers, for ventilation. The boxy vehicle was parked down the hill from the command post. Whoever had situated it here had courteously parked it under a thick oak, so the machine-gun rattle of rain would not drive the occupant crazy.

“This is goddamn insane,” Annie Coyne muttered.

Shaw said, “I’ve called a lawyer I used to work for in San Francisco. He’ll get somebody to Fort Pleasant as soon as he can.”

Dorion added, “I know him. He’s one of the best criminal attorneys in the state.”

“I didn’t do any of this. I was set up.”

“We know. What we don’t know is why and who did it. We need your help.”

From Dorion: “Day before yesterday, when Bear got into your Wrangler to pretend to get the payoff money, did you see a vehicle behind you?”

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