Chapter 13 - The River That Lied
"That's impossible," a technician said.
"Not impossible," Nadine answered. "Just unacceptable."
She called the control room and had workers verify the downstream readings using physical gauges instead of the software display. The mismatch was real. Water was passing through a gate listed as sealed.
A county emergency coordinator named Ruth Bellamy joined our call. She had the kind of calm voice that makes frightened people tell the truth.
"We'll start moving residents from the lowest streets," she said. "Police and fire can assist. Nadine, I need a written risk estimate within fifteen minutes."
I pictured the houses along Maple Bend: tired porches, bicycle helmets on fences, a church that served supper on Wednesdays. My father had worked three double shifts trying to save those streets. Whoever wanted another disaster wasn't gambling with numbers on a screen. They were gambling with people.
Elias called the company's technical director, Amos Greer. Greer sounded frightened before Elias explained the problem.
"I tried to stop the remote upgrade," Greer confessed. "Mara said Everett had approved it. She threatened to report me for manipulating test results if I didn't sign."
"Did you manipulate them?" Elias asked.
"I signed the authorization. I didn't change the readings. There's a difference."
"A difference you can explain to investigators," Ortiz said, leaning toward the phone.
Greer gave them the access logs and admitted he'd kept copies of Mara's instructions on his work computer. He also identified the outside contractor connected to the new control unit: a company Mara had recommended after joining the board's safety committee.
It wasn't proof she'd ordered anyone poisoned. But it gave Ortiz a financial path to follow.
At noon, June arrived with a paper lunch bag and an odd piece of news. A young delivery driver had seen Mara's black sedan at an old ferry landing where the river road met the maintenance trail.
"He heard a kid banging on the trunk," June said. "He thought it was somebody playing around until he saw a guard holding the lid down."
"When?"
"An hour ago. He gave me the location."
Ortiz called dispatch immediately. I watched the officers leave, heartsick that this time they might be fast enough.
Then June lowered her voice.
"There's something else. The driver said the woman was crying. He heard her say, 'I told them not to hurt him.'"
May you like
I stared at her.
"He recognized the voice from the news," June said. "It was Mara."
