Chapter Thirty-seven
Thirty-seven
Ryker
We stick to the edges of the courtyard until the lights from the party fade behind us. We can just barely glimpse Zach up ahead. Then Tarryn leads the way to her truck, parked by the cellar. She yanks open the driver’s door and hops in.
I open the passenger side, but there’s only room for two.
“Sorry,” I say, flashing Ginny a sheepish look. “You’re stuck with me.”
Her eyes widen just slightly, but she doesn’t argue. She climbs in, settling sideways on my lap as I close the door behind her. My hands go to her hips to keep her steady as Tarryn starts the engine.
Ginny glances back. “This truck doesn’t have a backseat?”
“Nope,” Tarryn says as she reverses hard. “Built for hauling. Not for sneaking around with friends.”
Ginny’s cheeks flush, and I chuckle under my breath as we lurch down the gravel road.
We turn onto the main service lane behind the vineyard, just in time to see Zach.
He’s driving one of the four-wheelers that drags a five-hundred-gallon water tank.
We watch as he hauls up a plastic container, large and square, and pours it into the water tank.
Even in the dim light I can tell he’s up to no good.
I’m sure it’s some kind of chemical. My stomach knots.
“What the hell is he doing?” Ginny whispers as he gets back in the driver’s seat.
“He’s not going home,” Tarryn says, her jaw tight. “That’s the path going toward block nine.“
“Along with blocks six through twelve,” I point out, scanning the direction of Zach’s headlights as he pulls out of the lot.
“I know my own damn vineyard,” Tarryn counters. “I’m saying he’s not headed toward the highway driving that thing. He’s going to the back access road, near the block nine pinots. Why would he be watering tonight? We’ve got to get there first.”
“I think we should stay on him,” I tell her. “What if he turns off? What if he saw us?”
Tarryn shakes her head. “The truck’s too wide for that path on the incline. Plus, he’d see our headlights. Surface streets are faster. And less obvious.”
“I don’t like it,” I mutter.
“I don’t care,” she snaps, then hits the gas. “If I’m right, we’ll beat him there.”
Ginny’s hand finds mine where it rests on her leg. Her fingers curl tightly.
We fly down the road that surrounds the vineyard. Tarryn knows every dip, every curve, and she’s pushing her truck in a way I’ve never seen her drive.
Still, I can’t help scanning the horizon for his lights.
“What if he turned off?” I mutter. “What if we guessed wrong?”
Ginny shifts on my lap to face me more fully. “Ryker, do you see him?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“He’s up to no good,” Tarryn says grimly. “No one waters at night, particularly in the middle of a family party. And if he’s headed where I think, he’s not doing maintenance.”
I hold on tight to Ginny as Tarryn takes a turn.
She grips the wheel tighter. “He’s the one doing the damage. This could finally confirm it.”
Tarryn cuts the headlights as we get to block nine. So far no one else seems to be here. Tarryn angles the truck and coasts to a stop beneath a canopy of fruit trees that borders the edge of our vines.
Just a minute or two later, we watch as the four-wheeler lumbers its way up the hill.
Tarryn’s instincts were spot on. Zach stops by the well.
In the harsh glare of a handheld flashlight, we see him crouch beside the old well cap that feeds part of our irrigation system.
He disconnects the water drum and takes out a large hose, ready to attach it to the water tank and send whatever he mixed up into the well.
My gut flips. He’s going to poison the damn water supply.
“What the hell is he doing?” Ginny breathes.
Tarryn doesn’t wait. She throws on the truck’s headlights, swings the driver’s door open, and storms forward.
“Zach!” she yells. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Zach jumps like he’s been electrocuted, nearly dropping the flashlight.
“I—I wasn’t—” He stammers, scrambling to block the opening. “It’s not what it looks like!”
“Oh really?” Tarryn shoots back. “Because it looks like you were about to dump something into the well.”
“It’s not poison. It’s for maintenance! Just to clear out sediment—”
“Cut the crap,” I say, stepping forward. I reach past him and grab the hose. He resists for half a second before letting go.
Tarryn makes a call. “Hi, I’m up here at the well off block nine. Can you grab a chemical kit and meet me here? Ryker, Ginny, and I watched Zach pour something into a water tank, and he was preparing to dump it into the well until we stopped him.” She listens. “Okay. We’ll be here.”
“You want to tell me what’s really going on?” I ask, turning back to Zach. “Because if I call the cops right now, you know sabotaging vines is a felony charge you’re walking into.”
Zach shakes his head rapidly, his face pale in the flashlight beam. “No, you don’t understand. I wasn’t going to do anything. I didn’t pour anything. I swear!”
“Zach, we watched you. What was in that drum?” Ginny asks from behind me, arms folded tight.
“Just water,” he says, eyes darting to the trees like he’s measuring his chances.
Tarryn steps closer, her voice like ice. “Did Max tell you to sabotage our vines? Or did you just take it upon yourself to poison the section of land we’ve spent the last two years cultivating?”
“I didn’t do anything!” Zach yells, panicked now. “I didn’t pour it. I swear to God. It was a warm day. I thought I’d just water tonight. That’s it!”
Ryker stiffens. “Why would you do that?”
But Zach doesn’t answer. Instead, he bolts.
He sprints back to the four-wheeler, jumping in and throwing it into gear.
He spins it around and takes off, not down the main road, but through one of the narrow dirt paths that cuts through the vineyard blocks.
But he’s managed to leave the water drum he hauled up here behind.
“Shit,” I mutter, heart pounding as his taillights vanish. I almost chase him on foot—almost. But I know it’s too late. He’s gone.
Tarryn runs for her truck.
“You won’t catch him,” I call. “He’s not heading toward the barn.”
“Damn it!” Tarryn slams her fist against the hood.
We stand there in the glow of the truck’s headlights, listening to the fading crunch of tires over dirt as Zach disappears between the vines.
I look at the well cap, still sealed tight. “He didn’t pour it,” I murmur. “But he was going to.”
Ginny steps up beside me, eyes on the spot where Zach disappeared. “Do you think Max told him to do it?”
Tarryn’s jaw clenches. “I have no doubt.”
A minute later, Elise arrives in her pretty dress, lugging our chemical box. “What happened?”
We explain how Zach took off, and between the light of the two trucks, she prepares to test the water.
She snaps on a pair of nitrile gloves and crouches beside the water drum.
She pulls a test kit from her canvas field bag and lines up the vials and strips with quiet precision.
She doesn’t speak, and silence makes the tension crackle.
She unscrews the drum’s lid and winces as a sharp scent wafts out. “God,” she says. “That smells like pickles.”
She fills a small plastic cup with the liquid, the color murky and slightly brown. Dipping the first pH test strip in, she waits a beat—then two—and pulls it out to compare the color with the chart printed on the side of the bottle.
“Four,” she says, frowning. “That’s low. Really low.”
Tarryn steps closer. “That’s acid range, right?”
“Yep. Let me test again.”
This time, Elise reaches for a digital pH meter, pops the cap off the electrode, and dips the tip directly into the cup of liquid. The small screen flickers and calibrates for a few seconds before settling.
“Three-point-two,” she announces.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. That’s not just low. It’s corrosive.
Elise looks up at me. “When you looked at the lines, you told me you saw corrosion. Now, it all makes sense.”
She pulls the probe out, rinses it in a small squeeze bottle of distilled water, and sniffs the sample again. Her whole face twists. “It’s vinegar,” she says, grimacing. “Someone poured vinegar into this. Strong stuff too, not the kind you put on salad.”
Tarryn looks sick. “Could he have been putting this into the well?”
Elise nods. “That makes sense. It would absolutely lower the pH, and that explains why our drip-irrigated vines are dying. It’s targeted, direct to the root system.
Sprinklers like the Dempseys use would turn the leaves.
Adding such large volumes of liquid to the water table also explains why the water levels are all over the place. ”
She packs up her gear but keeps the sample. “I’ll take this to the lab and test for residual acetic acid to confirm it’s vinegar, but there’s no question. This is sabotage to both vineyards.”
Tarryn doesn’t respond. She just stares into the distance, like she’s watching the whole vineyard curl up and die in front of her.
I stand back, hands on my hips, trying to keep my frustration from boiling over. I’ve known Zach my whole life. He’s a screwup, yeah, but this is kilometers over the line.
Tarryn turns away. “I have to tell Evelyn,” she murmurs. “She’s going to lose it. Those were her award-winning vines. And Dad…” Her voice cracks. “They were his babies.”
I walk up behind her, place a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”
We head back to the vineyard in silence, the water drum towed behind us like some kind of explosive. When we return, the rehearsal celebration is still in full swing—twinkling lights, laughter, music—but it all feels far away now.
I hop down from the passenger side and turn to Ginny. “Stay with Tarryn. I’ll get my dad.”
She nods, and I jog up the hill toward the main house, weaving through the outskirts of the party until I spot him near the tasting patio, deep in conversation with one of the vineyard board members.
“Dad,” I say quietly. “I need you to come with me. Now.”
He turns, sees my face, and doesn’t hesitate.
We return to the truck, where Tarryn and Elise are now crouched near the water drum, the fifty-gallon jug we watched him dump into the container beside them. Elise has pulled a portable test kit from her bag and is running a pH test on the jug.
When she stands, her face is pale. “It’s completely off the charts,” she says. “This is acidic. The levels are consistent with vinegar. No wonder everything that well feeds is dying.”
Tarryn’s eyes are glassy. She crosses her arms and looks out over the rows of withered vines beyond the truck. “All that work,” she whispers. “That was supposed to be my mark. My legacy outside of Dad. And he torched it.”
Our father takes the test strip from Elise’s hand.
He stares at it in silence, then looks toward the empty horizon where Zach disappeared minutes ago.
“I want every drop of that water tested,” he says, voice shaking with fury.
“Every pipe. Every wellhead. I want the entire system flushed and shut down. And I want to know how the hell this happened.”
“It was deliberate,” I say quietly.
Elise nods. “There’s no way this was accidental. Vinegar-level acidity doesn’t happen from runoff or algae. Zach did it on purpose.”
Dad’s hands curl into fists at his sides. “Were the Dempseys involved too?”
“No,” Ginny says from behind me, stepping forward. Her voice is quiet but sure. “It was designed to look like them.”
Dad exhales hard. “If you hadn’t caught Zach tonight, we would’ve gone to Evelyn without all the facts and likely started a war. Given Zach is a Paradise, it still may start a war. But if we can admit fault and take care of the damages, maybe we can keep this out of the courts and newspapers.”
Tarryn’s eyes narrow. “Zach’s not smart enough to do this on his own.”
Dad exhales, jaw tight. “This goes deeper than Zach. Someone’s pulling strings.”
“Elise,” Tarryn says, voice shaking slightly now, “can you send everything to the lab tonight?”
“I already texted the lead chemist,” Elise replies. “They’ll expedite it.”
Tarryn nods but keeps her eyes on the dying vines. She sinks onto the truck bumper, her shoulders curling in. Not in defeat but grief. “We’re supposed to be celebrating tonight,” she whispers.
“We still are,” I tell her, forcing a small smile. “We just happened to catch a criminal act while taking a break.”
Ginny gives a soft, dry laugh.
The celebration is still going on down the hill, the music and laughter continuing like nothing’s wrong. But tomorrow, after the wedding, everything we thought we knew will shift. Because now we know someone’s willing to burn us from the inside out.