Elias told it over two pots of tea, with the evidence spread across a plank table. Harlan Ridge had been dumping tailings at sea for six years, far from any inspector, because the cost of proper disposal was higher than the cost of buying a few officials. Dale Pruitt was the company’s local fixer, paid to make troublesome things quietly disappear: boats, reports, sometimes people’s will to complain.
“I sent copies to everyone I could,” Elias said. “They were intercepted, or ignored. I needed something no one could bury.” “A witness,” Nora said. “A witness and a spotlight,” he said. “A big storm is due on Friday. The barge always works hardest in bad weather, because they think no one will be looking. If we could film the dumping and send it out in one night, they couldn’t pretend anymore.”
Nora looked at the jars, the photographs, the letters. “Then we’ll need the lamp,” she said. “All of it.”
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