Chapter 1

“Don’t touch that gate,” Audra Venn said, as Seth Rell reached past her for the chain.

Wes Kersey, the irrigation district’s gate operator, had been found dead by this creek that morning.

The district’s log said this gate had opened off schedule, and the Rells had four days of water left.

Seth only wanted a look at the lock bar behind the chain. The brass handle that belonged on it was gone, leaving a bare iron stub.

He lowered his hand. The chain hung still below the faded blue gauge. The creek behind it ran low and gray.

“Dad says nobody touches it,” Audra said. “And you show up like he opened it.”

“I didn’t accuse him.” Seth wiped his palm on his jacket. “Wes is dead, and the Rells have four days left.”

“Four days.” She looked at the gauge. “I know how water works.”

“Then help me. Wes found that release before he died, and your father’s still calling it an accident.”

“Dad wouldn’t hurt Wes.” Audra kept one hand on the chain.

“Then open your mother’s room. He’s kept it locked since she died.”

Her jaw tightened. “You don’t get to ask that.”

“Someone has to.” Seth took a step back. “I have a crew interview with the district at nine tomorrow. I need one true record before I walk in.”

Audra looked at the creek. “Mom kept the only copy of the creek schedule in that room,” she said. “If Dad opens it, there’s no way to pretend the water was never promised.”

“What schedule?”

“The one my mother signed.”

A truck door slammed up past the weeds. Orson Venn came down the path, brown vest open, a brass key in his hand.

“Dad,” Audra said, “I’m opening Mom’s room today. You unlock it, or I call a locksmith and a deputy to stand there while he does.”

Orson looked toward the house, then at the key. A muscle moved in his jaw.

“You want to know what Lenore saved?” he said at last. “Come look.”

They followed him to the house, through the back hall to a door with a small round lock. Orson put the key against the lock and paused.

“She was private,” he said. “Don’t touch anything.”

Audra said, “Dad-”

Orson turned the key, and a brass gate handle, dark with blood, lay on the shelf inside.