A coward's command position. His screens showed local temperatures dropping into early evening cool, but humidity remained high. Ground fog would form soon in the low spots adding another layer of concealment for whatever they planned, Deputy Mercer's patrol car was notably absent. Perhaps one conscience had found its limit. The sunset painted everything in deep orange and purple shadows as Elijah watched the deputies make final preparations.
They thought darkness would give them advantage, not knowing his cameras could pierce any shadow. His sensors could map every movement. They thought they were the hunters. Local news vans parked well back from the scene, kept at distance by patrol cars, but cameras ready. Whatever happened tonight, the sheriff wanted media nearby to spin it his way.
The final direct sunlight faded from his fields. In the growing darkness, deputies moved with increasing confidence toward his fences. Night vision gear came out of cases. Radio silence became complete. Night settled over Elijah's farm like a heavy blanket.
The last purple streaks of sunset faded to black as deputies moved through adjacent properties without their patrol vehicles' telltale lights. Their heat signatures bloomed bright on Elijah's thermal imaging screens. 12 men spreading out along his southern field. The first orange glow started small. A match struck against the windbreak.
Then another and another. Flames licked up the dry corn stalks, spreading with frightening speed through his crops. The fire formed an advancing line driven by the evening breeze toward his barn. Through his cameras, Elijah watched deputies cut the metal fencing that contained his cattle. The wire snapped with harsh pings.
His livestock, confused by the approaching fire and smoke, began pushing through the gaps. Panicked moos carried through the night air as his herd scattered. Those bastards are burning his fields. Ruth Ann Carter's voice crackled through her livestream. They're destroying everything.
Her phone light bobbed as she hurried down her driveway broadcasting everything. Hundreds of viewers watched in real time as she documented the flames. Two patrol cars roared up her driveway, lights flashing. Deputies jumped out with hands on their weapons. Ma'am, this is a restricted area.
You need to go back inside now. The deputy's voice was hard. Ruth Ann stood her ground, phone steady. This is my property. I'm documenting criminal activity from my own land.
Final warning. Stop recording and go inside. No, sir. I will not. The whole world needs to see what you're doing to that man's farm.
The deputies grabbed her arms knocking the phone from her grip. It clattered to the ground still transmitting as they twisted her wrists into cuffs. Ruth Ann Carter, you're under arrest for obstruction of justice and interfering with a police operation. The only obstruction here is to the truth, she shouted as they pushed her into the back of a patrol car. Her phone continued streaming from the gravel showing deputies' boots and the growing fire beyond.
Inside his command center, Elijah's fingers flew across his keyboard. He compiled footage from multiple angles. Thermal imaging showing deputies starting the fires, high resolution video of them cutting fences, Ruth Ann's arrest, all synced with GPS timestamps and location data. He encrypted the files and transmitted everything to Naomi Price's secure server. His phone buzzed with her response.