Chapter 3 Arrest Her

He didn't let go.

He turned my hand over in his, slowly, the way you'd look at a cracked pipe. His thumb brushed the scar.

"Where did you get this?"

"None of your business." I yanked my hand back. This time he let me. "Who are you?"

A guard behind him actually snorted.

"Rhys Calder," the man said. "Those are my trucks. That is my water they stole. And you're the only witness who isn't face down in the dirt."

Rhys Calder.

I knew the name. Everyone in Arizona knew it. CEO of Ashcroft Water. The man who controlled Meridian Dam. People in Phoenix called him the Water King, and they didn't mean it as a compliment.

He looked past me at Lupe, at her shotgun, at the pot of boiled water on the counter.

"You got water out of a dead station."

"Swamp cooler tank," I said. "Your engineers could learn something."

His eyes narrowed.

"Name."

"June Hale."

"Get in the truck, Miss Hale. You'll give a statement at Meridian."

"I'm not going anywhere without her." I pointed at Lupe.

"She's not my witness."

"She saved my life. So she comes, or I suddenly don't remember a single thing about those men."

For a moment nobody breathed. People didn't talk to Rhys Calder like that. I could see it on every guard's face.

Rhys looked at me for a long time.

"Fine," he said. "Both of you. Get in."

The truck was air-conditioned. I almost passed out from the cold.

Rhys sat across from me, typing on a satellite phone. He didn't look at me once.

That was fine. I didn't want him to.

"You're welcome, by the way," I said.

He didn't look up. "For what?"

"Your stolen trucks. I clocked the fleet numbers. Your people can match them to the convoy logs."

"We already did."

"Then you're welcome for keeping your only witness alive. Saved you a funeral."

That got me one look. Short. Cold.

"You talk a lot for someone with heatstroke."

"You talk very little for someone who just grabbed a stranger."

A muscle moved in his jaw. Lupe made a sound that might have been a laugh.

He went back to his phone. Then, without looking up, he said, "Who left you at that station?"

I hadn't expected that. "What makes you think someone left me?"

"No car. No bag. No water. And a bruise on your cheek shaped like somebody's ring." He finally lifted his eyes. "People don't stroll forty miles into the desert for fun."

I touched my cheek. Diane's wedding ring. Of course.

"My family," I said.

"Names."

"Why? So you can send them a thank-you card?"

"So I know who to watch for."

Something about the way he said it made the back of my neck prickle. Like he already knew the answer.

"Diane Hale," I said. "And my sister. Tessa."

His thumb stopped on the screen. Just for half a second.

Then he kept typing.

I stared out the window and thought about my locket.

The Ashcrofts. Meridian. The family Tessa was running to.

And I was being driven straight into their house.

Four hours later, the desert turned into mountains. The mountains opened up, and I saw it.

Meridian Dam.

A white concrete wall curving between two cliffs, taller than any building in Phoenix. And behind it, impossibly, a lake. Deep blue. Glittering. Billions of gallons of water.

Below the dam, a tent city spread across the valley. Thousands of people. Refugees, waiting at the walls.

I pressed my hand to the glass.

"How much is behind that wall?" I whispered.

"Enough," Rhys said.

"Enough for who?"

He didn't answer.

The convoy rolled through the gates of the Ashcroft compound at the top of the dam. Green lawns. Real grass. Sprinklers. I watched one spray water across a bed of roses while a mile below us people were dying of thirst, and something hot and sick rose in my chest.

Then the truck stopped, and I saw the crowd.

Reporters. Cameras. Guards. Staff in white uniforms.

All of them were gathered on the front steps of a huge stone house.

"What's going on?" I asked.

For the first time, Rhys's face changed. Just a flicker. Something careful.

"Gideon Ashcroft's granddaughter came home this morning," he said. "After nineteen years."

My blood turned to ice.

I got out of the truck before anyone could stop me.

I pushed through the staff. Through the guards. Until I could see the top of the steps.

An old man in a wheelchair was crying. Thin, white-haired, his hands shaking as he held a young woman in a white sundress.

She had her arms around his neck. She was crying too. Beautiful, perfect tears.

And around her neck, flashing in the sun, was my silver locket.

"My Juniper," the old man sobbed. "My little girl. You came back to me."

Cameras flashed. People clapped. A maid by the door was wiping her eyes.

Tessa lifted her head from Gideon Ashcroft's shoulder.

She looked out over the crowd.

And she saw me.

For one second, her face went white. Pure fear.

Then she smiled.

She stood up, pointed straight at me with one trembling finger, and let her voice crack like a little girl's.

"Grandpa, that's her. That's the woman who stole from my family."

Every head turned toward me.

"Arrest her."