Chapter 11 #3
The first item was a newspaper clipping from the Idaho Falls Post Register, dated six months ago.
The headline read: “Mysterious Deaths Rock Mining Community.” The article detailed the suspicious deaths of two environmental activists who’d been investigating lithium mining operations in southern Idaho.
Both men had been found shot in remote areas after raising concerns about water contamination and illegal mining practices.
Sierra’s blood ran cold as she read the details. The pattern was identical to what had been happening in Renegade—intimidation, environmental sabotage, and ultimately, murder for those who refused to be silenced.
The next item was a hand-drawn map of the local area, with ranch properties marked in different colors. Her own ranch was marked in red, along with the Hendrick place, the Jenkins spread, and three others. A note in her grandfather’s scrawl read:
All have water rights and mineral access.
Beneath the map were geological surveys showing lithium deposits throughout the area, with the highest concentrations centered around the ranch properties marked on his map.
“Mining operations,” Sierra breathed, understanding flooding through her. “It was never about the land. It was about what’s underneath it.”
Her grandfather’s notes were meticulous, documenting months of research into Ralph Rousseau’s business dealings. Shell companies, out-of-state investors, equipment purchases that didn’t match his claimed business activities. And on a Post-it Note, the words Shadow Syndicate.
The final document in the folder was a draft letter addressed to the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. Sierra’s hands trembled as she read her grandfather’s words, hearing his voice.
I am writing to report my suspicions regarding a criminal conspiracy operating in and around Renegade, Colorado.
Local businessman Ralph Rousseau has been systematically targeting ranch properties with significant lithium deposits, using intimidation, sabotage, and, I believe, the killing of cattle to force property owners to sell.
I have documented evidence of environmental contamination, equipment sabotage, and threatening behavior directed at multiple ranchers in our area. Two men who I believe were attempting to expose similar operations in Idaho were found dead under suspicious circumstances.
I fear that this operation is part of a larger criminal enterprise with connections beyond our local area. I urge immediate investigation before more lives are lost.
I have attempted to warn my fellow ranchers, but not all believe the threat is real. I spoke with Mayor Alden Jenkins yesterday to alert him of this threat and am copying him on this letter.
Although I no longer hold the office to compel a further investigation, I request a response to my suspicions and an investigation into this matter.
His signature was scrawled on the bottom.
Sierra’s heart pounded as she processed what she was reading.
What if her grandfather hadn’t died in an accident? What if he’d been murdered because he was getting too close to the truth about Ralph Rousseau and his criminal actions? And why hadn’t he sent the letter?
A phone number was circled on one of his notes, with Call Mayor written beside it in urgent handwriting. The date next to it was two weeks before his death.
“He tried to warn Mayor Jenkins,” Sierra whispered.
She grabbed her phone and tried calling Rowan, but it went straight to voicemail.
“Mom?” Huck appeared in the doorway, dressed in his competition clothes and practically vibrating with excitement. “Is Mr. R back yet?”
“Not yet.” Sierra stood up, forced a smile. “But he’ll be here. He promised.”
“Okay!” Huck bounced on his toes. “I can’t wait! This is going to be the best day ever!”
Sierra managed a smile for her son, but her mind was racing. The evidence in front of her painted a terrifying picture—a criminal organization willing to kill to get what they wanted, and her family was standing directly in their path.
She tried calling Rowan again. This time, he answered on the fourth ring.
“Sierra? Is everything okay?”
“Rowan, I found something. In Grandpa’s office. He was investigating Ralph Rousseau, and—”
“Slow down. What did you find?”
“Evidence. Documents, maps, newspaper clippings. Grandpa wasn’t just suspicious about Ralph—he had proof. Mining operations, shell companies, connections to murders in Idaho. He wrote a letter to the CBI two weeks before he died. But he never sent it.”
Silence on the other end of the line.
“Rowan? Are you there?”
“I’m here, Sierra.” His voice sounded pinched.
“There’s more. He tried to warn Mayor Jenkins a couple weeks before he died.”
Silence. Then, his voice turned hard. “Listen to me carefully. Take Huck and go to the rodeo. Stay in public, stay visible, and don’t go anywhere alone. I’m going to be late, but I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”
She sank down into her grandfather’s desk chair. “Should I be scared?”
“No. Okay, maybe enough to keep you alert. But Sierra? We’re going to figure this out.”
She nodded, even if he couldn’t see her. “Hurry.”
“I’ll be there.”
They hung up and Sierra repackaged all the documents and locked them back in the safe. The frame went back on the wall, and the key went back into the picture frame. To anyone looking, the office appeared exactly as it had before.
But everything had changed.
Maybe she had a little of the old police commissioner in her genes. The war that had taken her grandfather’s life was far from over.
And she was ready to fight.