Page 134 of South of Nowhere

There was silence while she thought. “No. But who thinks they’re being followed?”

Colter said, “This whole thing’s been carefully planned. And fast. And it would have to have started as soon as reports about the record snowmelt came in and it was predicted the Never Summer would flood. Make that, what? Three days. They’d need time to fake the lithium documents and find samples to plant in your barn.”

Dorion asked, “Did you see anybody parked near the farm?”

Shaw added, “A pickup. Like the tire treads we found on your property near Redding’s.”

“Maybe. But it’s planting time for some crops, and then trenching in case the levee came down. That’s all I was focused on. He could have strolled right past me and had a cup of coffee in my kitchen and I wouldn’t have noticed.”

Disappointing they didn’t have the truck’s tag; Shaw really wanted a car registration. They were better than fingerprints because prints weren’t always in the system. Cars were ninety-nine percent of the time.

“Can I use your phone? Is that all right?”

Shaw didn’t care whether it was all right or not. He slid his through the small gap.

She placed a call and Shaw heard her speak in Spanish. “Manuel, it’s me. I need help. Can you ask everyone on the crew if they saw a pickup truck parked near the property in the past few days? A truck you didn’t recognize. It’s important. Call this number. Thank you.”

She slid the phone back.

Shaw asked, “You want to call Bedroom-Clothes Guy?”

“No.” A pause, then, “Look, Colter, last night—”

“Annie, don’t think I formally introduced you to Dorion. She’s my sister.”

Coyne fell silent, though Shaw believed she might have chuckled, even under these circumstances.

He was also aware that Dorion was regarding him with a look that could be described only as wry. She’d been after him for yearsto settle down. She knew perfectly well that he was the Restless One in the family, though she also would be thinking: People change.

He asked, “You have the money for bail?”

“No. And the property’s mortgaged to the hilt.”

“I can loan it to you.”

“Colter, no.”

“I know you’re good for it. What’re you going to do, take your dirt and skip town?”

—

Waylon Foley drove through the deserted village of Hinowah.

No, not quite empty. A few people remained. He noted several faces peering at him as he made his way to the woods on the north slope of the valley. Reluctant to leave their homes, suspicious of the government telling them what to do, he guessed. They tended to live in houses that needed painting and repair, lawn art in the form of broken auto parts.

And there were still some stragglers evacuating, taking their precious possessions with them.Theirfaces were dark with concern. A couple of these looked his way warily. Were they wondering: Is he crazy, not getting the hell out of town? Isn’t he worried about the flood?

And of course the answer to that was: There won’t be a flood until I decide to blow the second set of charges.

He drove partway up the hill at the top of which was the command post, but turned off before he got near it. He edged into the woods, parked and climbed out. He was behind a tall cluster of gray rocks, out of sight of the CP and anyone nearby.

Crouching, he scanned the area and spotted his target: a white transport van. At the moment, two people were outside, at the back. Colter Shaw and his sister.

He had a brief fantasy of Alisette Lark and Dorion together.

Military uniforms were involved.

Then, back to business.

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