Page 15 of Kyle

“It’s a decent living. We aren’t as big as some places around here, but it’s all I know. My grandfather started this place in the forties. There wasn’t much out here back then.”

We drive for a bit, and he makes a couple of turns so we come up along the opposite side of his property. He pulls to the side of the road just before a small bridge over the creek. We climb out and approach it. Standing high on the bridge, we get a good look at all the neon green muck that was visible from the satellite map image. It’s got a nasty smell as well.

“Gross,” TJ says.

“Exactly,” Machado agrees.

Cole scans the west side, pointing to a gravel section. “They’re coming down off the road right there and dumping it.”

“Yep.”

“Have you tried to catch them?”

“I’ve set up game cameras, but I get nothing on camera. Just end up with my units taken.”

“How often do they come?”

“There’s no pattern.”

“When was the last one?”

“About a month ago.”

“And it still looks like this?”

He nods. “I’ve found some wildlife dead around here, too.”

Cole lifts his chin. “Looks like a dead fox down there.”

“It’s such a shame.”

We return to his truck.

“Anything else you want to show me?” Cole asks.

“There is.”

Machado drives us to the other side near his house and slows at the far end of his property, coming to a stop but not getting out.

He points to the side of the road near a small dirt trail entrance. “See the sign warning people to keep out? My neighbor put it up.”

It’s hard to miss. The thing is the size of a shipping pallet and is mounted between two posts.

Cole reads it aloud. “Keep out. No trespassing. Absolutely no more riding. Not a public place. This is private property. No trespassing. Sheriff will be called and vehicles impounded.” He turns to pin Machado with his eyes. “Dude sounds pretty serious. What’s that about?”

“We’ve had problems with dirt bikers. The creek runs between our properties. I don’t care if the kids want to ride there. It doesn’t bother me as long as they stay out of my groves, which they do, because what the hell do they care about some almond trees?”

“Seems like a lot of trouble when they’re doing no harm.” Cole spots a camera on a pole and points to it. It’s aimed at the road from the entrance to the trail, which has a new-looking chain-link fence.

“That’s a lot of security.” Cole lifts his chin. “What’s over there?”

Machado shrugs. “I don’t know. Gravel pit is what I thought it was. Trucks come and go.”

Cole pulls it up on his satellite map again. “This the place?”

Machado looks over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“You know what this is?” Cole points to something. “Looks like an airstrip.”

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