Page 32 of South of Nowhere (Colter Shaw #5)

32.

As Colter Shaw parked his bike near the command post, he noted that Officer Debi Starr had risen from the table and was walking to him.

“Hey, Mr. Shaw.”

“?‘Colter,’ remember.”

“Oh, right.” That bashful look again. “Colter. You find anything at the farm or mine?”

“A few things. I’m going to tell the crew.” He nodded toward the tent.

“Sure. Just wanted to catch you here first. Just me. Mayor Tolifson’s kind of new to this business. He’s learning a mile a minute. But he was talking about getting a warrant if it looked like Ms. Coyne or Mr. Redding had started prepping for the flood before they learned about the levee collapse.”

He said, “There’d be no basis for a warrant. No exigent circumstances, no probable cause.”

“Oh, you know about that?” She looked relieved.

“I was thinking of being a lawyer. I read a lot on the subject growing up.”

“You read…what, like Perry Mason?”

“No, law books.”

When Ashton and Mary Dove fled the Bay Area the most well-represented items in the rental truck were books, including an entire set of Supreme Court and Ninth Circuit—the federal appeals court that embraced California—decisions.

She snickered. “Reading books like those growing up? Surprised you didn’t spend your time on a team. And dating.” A smile.

“I was homeschooled. No team, and a half-hour drive on mountain roads to get to the closest girl.”

“Gotcha. Well, just didn’t want us to go approaching Magistrate Dundee with a funky piece of paper. That man does not take kindly to those who don’t do their homework. He will cut your legs right out from underneath you.”

“I think we’re pre-warrant, Officer. I’m curious. Is policing in your blood?”

“No. Outlawing is.”

“Not an admission you hear much.”

“I’m descended from Belle Starr. Not a hundred percent sure but the locales and family trees line up. Besides I’m claiming it ’cause I want to. And the twins get some mileage out of their mom being related to a bandit out of the Old West.”

“I’ve heard of her.” Shaw knew about Starr from Ashton, who read the children books on American history—the gospel and the unorthodox. He recalled Starr was a larcenous, rather than murderous, outlaw who had a winning sense of style, wearing velvet riding gear and a plumed hat. She carried two pistols and was a good shot. Her violent death remained unsolved, though a romantic triangle was likely involved.

He told her about his own connection with early America. “I was named after John Colter, a pioneer explorer and mountain man. Dorion—it’s spelled D-o-r-i-o-n—her namesake is Marie Aioe Dorion, supposedly the first mountain woman. Our older brother Russell’s named after Osborne Russell. He was among the first settlers in Oregon.”

She tsk’ed her tongue. “Any stinkers give you trouble for your collective ancestors’ less-than-correct history?”

“I personally didn’t abscond with anybody’s land. And if someone’s upset because of a name I didn’t give myself, that’s their burden.”

“I like your attitude, Colter.”

In the tent Tolifson, Dorion and Olsen looked up at him as they entered. TC McGuire and Gutiérrez were not present; they were on evac detail.

He glanced at the levee. No, it wasn’t his imagination. It was definitely thinner. And beginning to look fragile.

“Our friend Katz call? From the electronic, not the potato, chip company. With bags of cash?”

Dorion’s sour laugh was his answer.

He asked Olsen, “The bomb curtains?”

“Effing weather. They think forty minutes to an hour. And after sunset, nobody flies, not on a mission like this.”

His lips grew tight, then he asked, “And evacuation?”

“Still a couple dozen remainers we know about. But a lot of the houses are dark—we don’t know about them. Nobody answering the door. Mrs. Petaluma is still ignoring everybody too. Mary Dove called her twice. No response.” She looked to Starr. “And everybody on our list of disabled and home care?”

“They’re out.”

“Good,” Shaw said.

Starr muttered, “And now some kids are playing in the caves on the hillside.” An angry expression on her face, she pointed up the valley.

Dorion added, “That’s on Eduardo’s list, to pry them out.”

Shaw looked to those around the table. “Now, the Hatfields and McCoys…Annie Coyne, the farmer? No sense that she’s behind it. She started trenching after the levee came down, she claims, and I think she was telling the truth. And it was a used machine with no rental sticker on it. Probably hers, so she didn’t get it in anticipation. And she’s doing environmental research. It means a lot to her. A flood would destroy her work. Also, she has sentimental attachment to the farm.

“She admitted the feud with Redding. If she was guilty, she’d steer us away from any grudges she had. Of course, maybe it was an act…But I’d take her off the list as a suspect to the tune of, say, ninety percent.

“Now, Redding. He and some men were sandbagging. He had a big supply of sand and bags. He said he kept them there as a regular matter. He did anticipate there’d be a problem with the levee, but said it was because he followed the weather reports in the mountains and knew the levee was at risk. That seemed credible too.”

“So he’s innocent,” Starr said, sighing.

“I didn’t say that,” Shaw offered.

Tolifson frowned. “How do you mean?”

“Because as I was leaving, there was an employee I saw in one of the buildings behind the offices. He was trying to stay out of sight, but I caught a glimpse of him. I said ‘employee,’ but I’m really going to go with independent contractor.”

“Ha,” Starr muttered. “He means muscle.”

Shaw nodded. “It was Bear, the man who tried to beat me to death with a shovel this morning.”