“Is there a problem, Dale?” I ask, keeping my voice level.
“Step out of the vehicle, please.” His hand rests on his belt, not quite on his weapon but close enough to make the threat clear.
Ice floods my veins. This definitely isn’t a friendly welfare check…
I unbuckle my seatbelt with careful, deliberate movements and open the door, my mind racing through the possibilities. There can’t be outstanding warrants; I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket. The truck’s registration is current. My insurance is paid.
So just what the hell could this possibly be about?
Chapter 15
Roadblocks and Red Flags
June
I slide out of thetruck cautiously, feeling the deputy’s eyes on me. The scarf around my neck suddenly feels like a brand—visible proof of my connection to Riven. I resist the urge to adjust it.
“What’s going on, Dale?” I ask, keeping my voice steady despite the anxiety rippling through me.
Dale stands with his feet planted shoulder-width apart, official posture fully engaged. “We’re conducting an investigation into the recent mudslides. Need to ask you a few questions.”
The other officer—a stocky guy with a buzz cut I vaguely recognize from town meetings—nods at me but stays by the cruiser.
“And this requires me stepping out of my vehicle because…?” I ask, not bothering to hide my irritation.
Dale’s expression softens fractionally. “Standard procedure, June. Just need a statement since you were up here when it happened.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I’ve got deliveries waiting. People need their supplies.”
“This won’t take long,” Dale says, pulling out a small notebook. His eyes flick to the scarf, and his mouth tightens. “Where were you when the slide happened?”
“On Ridgeline Route, heading to my last delivery.” I’m not volunteering Riven’s name or location. Not with Dale’s obvious tension.
“And after?”
“I was trapped on the mountain. Called my dad. Found shelter. End of story.”
Dale’s jaw works back and forth. “This wasn’t just a routine mudslide, June.” His voice drops. “We found evidence of sabotage.”
That gets my attention. “Sabotage? What are you talking about?”
“Deep gouges in the rock face above the slide area.” He makes a clawing motion with his free hand. “Four parallel marks, about eight inches apart. Too uniform to be natural, too high up for normal equipment. Someone—or something—deliberately weakened that section knowing the storm would trigger a collapse.”
My body freezes as I process his words.
Someone deliberately caused the mudslide? The one that nearly killed me?
“That’s ridiculous,” I say automatically, but my mind is racing. “Why would anyone do that?”
Dale steps closer, lowering his voice. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Could be random vandalism. Could be targeted. But this isn’t the first time something suspicious has happened up in this mountain.” His eyes fix on mine. “Who were you delivering to that day, June? Which of your… clients… live near where the slide originated?”
The emphasis he puts on “clients” makes it clear exactly what he’s implying. My temper flares.
“If you’re suggesting one of my monster clients deliberately caused a mudslide, you’re way off base,” I snap. “Most of them are hermits who rely on my deliveries. Why would they destroy the only road that brings them supplies?”
“Maybe they weren’t trying to cut themselves off,” Dale counters. “Maybe they were trying to cut someone else off. Or trap someone up there.”
A cold knot forms in my stomach, and I immediately hate myself for even letting the thought form.
