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Tolifson and Dorion. The mayor walked up to the three of them, while Dorion made a call, possibly to Ed Gutiérrez who was out of surgery. The slug, which Debi Starr had dug out of the earth on the hill near town where he’d been hit, was a hunting rifle caliber, a big one, .308.

Shaw looked around for Bear, notably sniper nests where the man might be sighting on them.

No sign.

McGuire was searching the grounds for him, Shaw knew, but had reported that he’d found no evidence of his presence.

Starr said to Shaw and the mayor, “I asked Mr. Davies about that employee, the man with the beard, the stocky one, and he’s not familiar with anyone of that description.”

Her eyes told him that she believed he was telling the truth.

So maybe Bear wasn’t on their payroll after all.

Which didn’t mean Redding hadn’t hired him on the sly.

Tolifson said, “When Ms. Shaw asked about explosives earlier, to blow part of the spillway, Redding said they didn’t have any.”

Davies responded, “That’s right. We use an outside service. Demo work is specialized.”

Starr asked, “They never leave explosives here, Mr. Redding told us.”

“Nowhere to keep ’em safe. But I’ll call the service and double-check.” Davies took his phone and with shaking hands made the call. He left a message and stood with slumped shoulders as he cradled the silent mobile.

Shaw noted Tolifson was once again fiddling with his pistol.

That was enough.

He gestured for the man to step aside with him. The mayor frowned but did so.

Shaw lowered his voice, so as not to embarrass him in front of anyone. “You’ve got to understand that that weapon of yours has a five-pound pull. It’s not as light as some, but it’s low enough. A twitch can fire it. There’s a rule: Never touch your weapon until you need to draw, and never draw until you see a threat.”

Shaw didn’t know how this schoolmarm stuff would be received.

Gratefully, as it turned out. “That’s helpful. Appreciate it. You’re right. I’m new to this game, but I’m a fast learner. And I’m soaking up stuff right and left.” In an odd move, he shook Shaw’s hand enthusiastically and returned to the others.

Davies explained that Redding had been in the building byhimself, working on one of his inventions. The man frowned. “It used a blank rifle shell to send sound waves into the ground. For identifying ore. You think that could have anything to do with what happened?”

Shaw said, “No, that’s C-four in there, not smokeless powder.” The scent was unmistakable.

He couldn’t help but notice the names of the mines once again.

Hades, Inferno and Hell…

Davies got a call and had a conversation. He disconnected. It had been from the demo company. He said, “They use only gel here—not plastic. And they didn’t leave any here anyway. But for what it’s worth, the guy I talked to said that there was a notice on the Interstate Dangerous Substances Network that four kilos of C-four were stolen from a land-mine manufacturer outside of Seattle. Three days ago. They have no idea who and the police don’t have any leads. Sounds unrelated.”

Never assume there’s no connection when confronted by seemingly unrelated events or individuals.

Ashton Shaw got a lot of mileage out of that one.

Tolifson said, “Maybe we should follow up on it.”

Starr held up her phone. “Already sent an NCIC request.” She then pointed to the front of the workshop. “Look.”

A series of footprints. Somebody had either walked from the door to the fence and back, or the other way around. He and Starr walked closer and studied them, as she taped the trail off with a yellow ribbon.

“No way to tell the sole mark,” she said. “But big enough to be Bear’s.”

“There.” Shaw was pointing up. “Security camera. It might’ve caught him.”