He pointed toward Harold’s property.
“Into the reservoir.”
“Part of it pressurized the county line backward.”
“Because the old check valve failed.”
Emily understood first.
“So my farm got the side effect.”
“Yes.”
Samuel frowned.
“Then Harold was stealing water and accidentally helping Emily?”
Perez winced.
“Technically we haven't determined intent yet.”
The sheriff smiled slightly.
“Daniel likes precise words.”
“He should.”
Emily looked toward Harold.
Harold’s face had changed.
Less angry.
More frightened.
He stared toward his reservoir.
The water level looked high.
Too high for a farm supposedly suffering catastrophic water loss.
Emily had never noticed because the reservoir sat behind trees.
Maybe everyone else had looked only at the fields.
Harold whispered:
“That reservoir is spring-fed.”
Perez shook his head.
“No registered spring feeds it.”
“You don't know everything on my land.”
“That's true.”
“But isotope sampling will tell us whether reservoir water matches county source.”
Harold stared.
Perez added:
“We collected samples this morning.”
The sheriff looked at him.
“You've been busy.”
Perez shrugged.
“You called me before breakfast.”
Emily looked at Sheriff Reeves.
“You knew?”
“I knew county was tracing the pressure.”
“Not what they'd find.”
Harold turned toward the sheriff.
“You let them dig on my property?”
The sheriff answered:
“The trench is inside county irrigation easement.”
“Your deed recognizes access.”
Harold’s face tightened.
He knew that.
The Mercer family had signed the easement decades earlier.
The sheriff continued.
“We'll need permission or a warrant before going beyond it.”
Harold laughed bitterly.
“Then you're done.”
Perez looked toward the reservoir.
“Maybe.”
Emily heard the uncertainty.
Harold heard confidence.
He pointed toward everyone.
“Get off my land.”
Sheriff Reeves said:
“Road and easement are county right-of-way.”
“Then stay there.”
He turned toward Walter and Samuel.
“You coming?”
Neither moved.
Harold stared.
Walter finally said:
“Harold.”
“What?”
“Did you install that line?”
“No.”
Walter glanced toward the invoice.
“Your name's on it.”
“I buy pipe all the time.”
“Four hundred yards?”
“For drainage.”
Perez spoke.
“This is pressurized irrigation pipe.”
Harold spun toward him.
“I know what it is.”
The sentence came too quickly.
Everyone heard.
Harold realized.
Silence again.
Then he walked toward his truck.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
He slammed the door.
Engine started.
Gravel sprayed as he drove away.
Samuel watched him disappear.
Then looked at Emily.
His face carried something she had not expected.
Shame.
“I’m sorry.”