Chapter 6 - The Man Who Expected It
Daniel Keller refused to discuss anything by phone.
He agreed to meet Deputy Mercer at the sheriff’s office that afternoon, but only after Mercer assured him his attorney could attend.
Malcolm was not invited.
That infuriated him.
“It’s an investigation,” Mercer said. “Not a family meeting.”
“It’s my house.”
“And if I handle evidence badly because you want answers quickly, every expensive lawyer Summit Crown hires will thank you.”
Malcolm hated that the deputy was right.
The family returned to the hotel.
News coverage intensified.
Drone footage of the destroyed Brooks property spread online.
The headline on one local station read:
FAMILY ESCAPES MASSIVE MOUNTAIN LANDSLIDE SECONDS BEFORE HOME IS HIT
At first, strangers called them lucky.
Then Summit Crown released a statement.
The company said authorized geological testing had been performed “in accordance with industry practices” and that preliminary evidence suggested the landslide resulted from “long-standing natural instability worsened by recent rainfall.”
Malcolm read the statement twice.
“They’re already building the defense.”
Tasha sat across from him.
“They have lawyers.”
“So do we.”
“No, Malcolm. We have a homeowner policy and seventeen thousand dollars in savings.”
He looked at her.
She continued quietly.
“And forty-eight thousand on the home-equity line.”
Jordan and Nia were in the adjoining hotel room with Celeste.
Malcolm lowered his voice.
“Forty-eight?”
Tasha nodded.
“I thought it was thirty-two.”
“It was.”
“What happened?”
“The drainage project.”
“That was twelve.”
“And the roof.”
“Insurance covered part.”
“Not enough.”
Malcolm rubbed his forehead.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did.”
He looked up.
Tasha’s eyes were tired.
“Three times.”
The accusation was gentle.
That made it worse.
“You said we would figure it out.”
Malcolm remembered saying exactly that.
Without opening the statements.
Without asking what “it” actually was.
He sat down.
“Okay.”
Tasha almost smiled sadly.
“You say okay when you’re trying not to get angry.”
“I’m angry at myself.”
“Good.”
He looked at her.
She reached across the table.
“I don’t need you to be invincible.”
“I know.”
“No. I don’t think you do.”
Malcolm squeezed her hand.
His phone rang.
Deputy Mercer.
Keller had talked.
Not fully.
But enough.
“Daniel Keller says Summit Crown hired his company for exploratory drilling,” Mercer explained. “He claims the contract expressly prohibited explosives.”
“So Jordan saw drilling equipment.”
“Yes.”
“Then what caused the collapse?”
“I’m not finished.”
Malcolm waited.
“Keller says his crew left the site Tuesday.”
“Jordan filmed someone Wednesday.”
“Correct.”
“Was it Keller?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“We’re working on that.”
Malcolm stood.
“Keller’s truck was there.”
“One of his trucks.”
“What does that mean?”
“Keller says Summit Crown requested temporary use of two vehicles and some equipment after his crew demobilized.”
“Why would he allow that?”
“He says Price told him an independent engineering team needed them.”
Tasha leaned closer to Malcolm’s phone.
“Did Keller believe that?”
Mercer heard her.
“Apparently not anymore.”
Malcolm asked, “What else?”
“Keller remembered your father.”
“I know.”
“He met Isaiah twice.”
“And?”
“He says Isaiah was right about one thing: Summit Crown had been interested in that ridge much longer than publicly disclosed.”
“Because of the quartz?”
Mercer paused.
“You found that?”
“In Dad’s files.”
“Yes. Keller mentioned mineral testing.”
Malcolm looked at Tasha.
There it was.
Money beneath the mountain.
Mercer continued.
“One more thing. Keller says yesterday morning someone accessed a locked explosives-storage trailer at his temporary yard.”
Malcolm’s pulse changed.
“Explosives were missing?”
“No inventory shortage.”
“Then why does it matter?”
“Because the system logs who opens the trailer.”
“Who?”
“The credentials belonged to a former Keller employee now working as a site consultant.”
“For Summit Crown?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“Evan Rourke.”
Malcolm had never heard it.
Tasha asked, “Was he the man Jordan recorded?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“When will we?”
“Soon.”
The call ended.
That evening, Malcolm finally showered.
Mud and concrete dust ran down the drain.
When he came out, Jordan was sitting on the hotel bed.
“You said you’d listen.”
“I am listening.”
“I remembered something.”
Malcolm sat.
“What?”
“The man by the truck talked to somebody.”
“Could you hear?”
“Not really.”
“Think.”
Jordan frowned.
“He said something about ‘the old man’s line.’”
“Line?”
“Maybe.”
“What else?”
“He said, ‘Once it’s cracked, nobody will build here anyway.’”
Malcolm went completely still.
“You’re sure?”
Jordan nodded.
“I thought he was talking about the road.”
Malcolm took a slow breath.
“Anything else?”
Jordan looked frightened.
“He was holding a map.”
“What kind?”
“A big paper one.”
“Could you see it?”
“There was a red line across it.”
Malcolm opened Isaiah’s black notebook.
Near the back was a hand-drawn diagram of the eastern ridge.
A red line followed a natural fracture zone above the house.
Malcolm showed it to Jordan.
“This?”
Jordan stared.
Then nodded.
“That’s the line.”
Malcolm’s stomach tightened.
The bedroom door opened.
Celeste stepped inside.
She had overheard enough.
“That map,” she whispered.
Malcolm looked at her.
“What?”
“I know where they got it.”
“How?”
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Celeste’s eyes filled with dread.
“Because Patrick Sloan had the original.”
