Page 17 of Massive Size Lumberjack

Robbie’s not intimidated.

“Yeah, but this shit happens so often these days, and Fairview FD is backed up right now. Hell, most of our firefighters are still down in Southern California, trying to assist with the Palisades Blaze. They won’t be home for a long time, and maybe anotherfire will start up before they’re back. Then, they’ll have another tour of duty, and who knows what will happen then? Besides, it’s always PG&E’s fault. You know these utilities. They’re controlled by the government, and I wouldn’t be surprised if our government is trying to destroy its own people. Call me a conspiracist, but there’s truth to those claims.”

Chief Roscoe and I share a quick glance.

“So you think PG&E caused the fire on your property,” the officer says in an even tone.

“Yeah, definitely!” Jimbo interjects. “It’s always them. They’re such a bunch of tin-hat fuck-ups. Take the utilities private, that’s what I say. That’s what Elon Musk proposes too.”

By now, I’m starting to think that these men have lost touch with reality. Who am I kidding? They definitely have, but at the same time, I suspect that this is all an act. The Treadwells are canny and cunning, and could be playing dumb to throw us off the scent. But Chief Roscoe has known the family for years, and he pins them with a look.

“The destruction of the property doesn’t have anything to do with water theft, does it? You know that happens in our part of the world, and the CPUC has opened an investigation.”

That’s when Robbie and Jim Treadwell look surprised for the first time.

“Water theft?” Robbie asks in a blustery tone. “What’s that?”

“We’ve never even heard of that concept,” Jimbo adds while picking at his teeth.”

Chief Roscoe maintains a neutral expression.

“There’s a lot of water theft in California, and authorities have begun to take these matters seriously because we no longer have enough water to fight wildfires. Wells have gone dry; storage tanks are empty; and this is a public resource that private individuals are siphoning for their own good. You wouldn’t be doing that at your farm, would you?”

The two men’s eyes are as round as saucers, but Robbie manages to speak in calm tone.

“No, not at all. Besides, our farm is small so we wouldn’t be using much. Who tipped you off anyways? I mean, who’s spreading these malicious rumors?” he hisses.

Chief Roscoe stays calm.

“Well, it would be Mr. Rockwell, right here beside me. He’s your neighbor, and noticed that his water bill indicated far higher usage than anything he was doing on his property. That raised questions of water theft, and that’s why we’re here. To talk about the issue, in addition to the suspicious fire that recently broke out at your cabin. And again, we’d love to speak with Grace too. If you could get her on the phone, that would be ideal.”

For the first time this afternoon, the Treadwells look scared. The conversation’s taken an unexpected left turn and Robbie turns to me slowly.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Braden Rockwell,” I reply in a deep tone. “Not Braden Rock.Rockwell. I live in Vegas most of the year, and came to Tahoe to relax for the summer. Like Chief Roscoe mentioned, I’m building a lodge up the way from your property. We’re neighbors.”

Suddenly, whatever the Treadwells believed is obviously lies and nonsense. They’ve been caught off-guard, and a sweat breaks out on Robbie’s lip as Jim begins to tremble.

“Well, ah, Mr. Rockwell—”

That’s when I hear it. Actually, all of us hear it. There’s a distinct knocking noise which is repetitive and also a bit hollow-sounding. What the fuck? What is that?

“Someone’s banging on a pipe,” Chief Roscoe growls. “Who else is here?”

Holy shit, Gracie’s signaling to us! They’ve trapped her somewhere in this godforsaken shithole, and I’m going to tear the place apart finding her.

They can’t stop me either. One moment, I’m on the couch talking, and the next, I’m wandering around the room, touching walls and looking up at the ceiling. Thetap-tap-tapcontinues and Chief Roscoe fixes the men with a stare.

“Where is she?” he demands. “It’s your sister, isn’t it?”

“Oh no, it’s just a water leak,” Jimbo explains quickly. “The house is old and we haven’t had time to call the plumber yet. It’s the dripping of the leak.”

“That’s not a leak,” Dave Roscoe growls again. “That’s a fucking signal.”

By now, I’ve identified the door to the basement and wrench it open. A dark maw yawns up at me but I step into the void because goddamnit, they have Grace in here. I know it. I can feel it in my bones.

“Hey, stop, stop!” Jimbo cries with desperation. “The basement is unsafe! The house is structurally unsound and we’ve been warned not to go down there.”

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