Page 33 of South of Nowhere (Colter Shaw #5)

33.

Shaw watched TC McGuire climb the hill to the command post.

The big man was fit but was walking slowly. It had been a long day—the time was after 5 p.m., though it seemed as if the levee collapse had happened days ago.

Tolifson had pulled him off evac detail and briefed him on the assault suspect having a likely connection to Gerard Redding.

Shaw said, “We’d like to get some surveillance on the mine—from someplace safe, of course. You know the area?”

“Like the back of my hand. Hell, yes.”

Shaw asked Tolifson, “You have any telephoto surveillance cameras?”

The mayor in turn looked to Starr, who said, “Hm. Speed guns are about as high tech as we get. And they’re two years out of date. That’s it.”

McGuire said, “Got my phone. It’s a new one. So you’re looking for that guy with the beard, right?”

“Yes.”

And the officer was nodding. “You hoping for some shots to use for facial recognition?”

It was Starr who answered—absently, as she was staring at the map of the town and the surrounding area. “Don’t think we can pull that together, TC. I’m guessing Colter just wants a video of Bear and Redding together. Hopefully, a shot with Bear’s vehicle make and model and, if Santa’s good to us, a tag number in our stocking.”

Starr had summarized exactly what he wanted.

“I’d still think about facial rec, but I’ll aim for what you’re saying,” McGuire said. He rose and sauntered off.

Starr leaned close. “He’ll do a good job. He’s the best hunter in town, so he can stalk like nobody’s business. And for fun, you can believe it, he writes computer code and does AI with his kids. Can you imagine?”

Olsen asked, “That man you’re talking about? Bear? Ex-service?”

“You usually teach better hand-to-hand, but yes, could have been.”

“So he could have a source for explosives.”

Starr responded, “If TC comes through for us, Colter, you do an affidavit that this Bear attacked you—sounds funny saying that seeing as how a real one did come after me once. Different story. You do an affidavit he tried to brain you. Show the picture of him and Redding together. We’ll get that warrant, sure as shootin’. Open up the Jumanji box of Redding’s phone records, texts. We may get all sorts of goodies. I’m thinking—”

She was interrupted by the squeal of tires above them, a car braking to a stop beside the Winnebago.

Shaw at first thought the Chip Man, Katz, had returned. But this was a late-model Lexus SUV.

“Hey!” a man’s urgent voice called as a door slammed hard. “Police? I need the police!”

He was in his late thirties and wearing a rumpled, though to Shaw’s eye, expensive suit.

The man radiated concern, not danger, and Shaw’s gun slipped from his mind as he saw the arrivee run to the breach in the levee and stare at it, dismayed.

Good-looking and with the body of a health club aficionado, he sported thick hair that probably brushed up into a stylish cut but that was now rain-messy and unattended. No shave that morning, and a thick growth further darkened his troubled face.

“Sir?” Tolifson called. “Help you?”

He hurried down the hill to the command post tent. “Up the highway, where the road’s blocked off. They said there were some police here for the accident. You have to help, please!”

Shaw was examining him clinically. “You need medical attention?”

“No, no, it’s not me. My fiancée. She was going to be driving this way earlier today, going to a spa in Fresno. She never showed up, and she’s not picking up her phone. I heard the news that the dam had collapsed and a car went into the river. Is that true?”

“An SUV, and we saved the people inside. There was no one else.”

He lowered his head and muttered something. Maybe a prayer of thanks. Then he looked up. “But something must have happened. I mean, I told her not to take her car on a day like this. But she insisted.”

Shaw and Starr looked each other’s way. She said, “Sir, did it happen to be a Chevy Camaro?”

“Yes! A blue one. How did you know?”