Page 46 of South of Nowhere

“Any ETA?” he asked.

“No.”

Maybe soon. The rain continued to grow less fierce and thedrumming on the canvas roof was bordering on pleasant—or would have been, if not for the circumstances.

It was then that Starr noted Colter’s battered cheekbone. “Hey. You all right? You banged into something in the SUV?”

“No. Earlier when I was checking out the drone tag, off Route Thirteen.”

Dorion, who had studied first aid extensively for her job, examined the torn skin. “Wash it.”

He knew she was right and did as she’d said—using bottled water and a small packet of liquid soap he pulled from his backpack. The pharma industry makes huge money off antibiotic lotions and sprays. But most minor wounds are best treated with simple soap and water. Anything stronger often destroys tissue and makes the healing process much longer and more painful.

“Accident?” Tolifson asked.

“No. Battery.”

A frown from the mayor.

Starr said, “I don’t think Mr. Shaw means that like Delco, Mayor. He means he got attacked.”

“My God.” He seemed shocked. Hinowah was probably not known for barroom brawls.

“What happened?” Dorion asked.

“Went to look at the place my drone geotagged as a possible hit on the SUV. Then he came up behind me. Probably forty-five years old. White, six two, two twenty, beard. Red hair. Took off before I got a picture. Objected that I was trespassing.”

“Where?”

Colter explained about the bridge and the creek.

Tolifson was frowning. “Don’t know that’s anybody’s property.”

“Maybe Mr. Redding’s,” Starr said.

The mayor said, “Gerard Redding. Owns that copper mine.” His brow furrowed. “Not a particularly pleasant person.”

“And that’s putting sugar on it,” Starr said. “A goodpercentage of the town works for him. But the man you described, your battery-er? I don’t know anybody who fits that description—anybody who’s a troublemaker, that is.”

Dorion asked, “What would he want to protect? I mean, copper’s valuable, but…”

The mayor flipped drops of rain from his face. “Industrial secrets? Copper mining’s low margin. And they have to purify the ore at the source—before it ships. Has all sorts of secret techniques. Probably thought you were a spy from a competitor.”

Starr said, “That land’s not posted. He can’t do anything without trespassing you first.”

On private property the owner can throw you off for any reason or no reason at all. But you can’t be arrested until you’ve been “trespassed”—meaning a formal complaint has been filed against you.

“And he can’t take matters into his own hands, no matter what,” Starr offered. “My guess, he’s a squatter and just plain wacko.”

Tolifson asked, “You want to file a complaint?”

“No. Just get word around to your folks. He’s dangerous. No idea if he’s armed or not.”

“Handle that, wouldja?” The mayor glanced sideways.

Debi Starr nodded and began typing into her phone. “What was he wearing?”

Colter described the clothing.

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