"Douglas Smith - Spirit Dance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Douglas)

the smells of grains and fruit, wood and burlap, and humans. Vera was
muttering in the storeroom at the back. I could have made out her words if
I had wanted to, but I didn't.
Ed began reading. "Local logging baron Jonathan Conrad and his bodyguard
were found dead early yesterday morning, outside his lodge in the
Muskokas."
Footsteps outside announced a customer to me before the bell over the door
brought Ed's head up from the paper. She looked early twenties, slim with
gray green eyes and long dark hair that wasn't sure where it wanted to
rest. Flashing a quick smile at Ed, she moved to the shelves of canned
goods.
"Morning, Leiddia," Ed said, eyebrows shooting up.
"Morning, Ed," she replied, then looked at me. A familiar aura tinged her
outline. She kept looking as I turned back to Ed.
Ed continued reading. "Conrad's wife had gone into town for the evening.
She found the bodies about two yesterday morning."
"How'd he die?" I asked.
The woman Ed called Leiddia turned toward Ed, but I could feel her eyes
still on me. I didn't look at her.
"They're bringing the coroner up from Toronto. The provincial cops figure
some kind of animal attack, judging from the wounds. They say it was big
whatever it was." Ed looked up at me. "Maybe a bear."
I swore silently. "Guess the environmentalists won't grieve much."
"The parents of those three boys won't," Leiddia said, stepping closer to
the counter. "He killed them, even if he didn't drive the truck. Everybody
knows he gave the order."
"Got off though," sighed Ed. "So'd the truck driver. Accident, they said.
Bad brakes. Conrad got a $500 fine for not maintaining his trucks."
I had heard about the truck incident three days ago. Conrad had been
chairman for a company that owned the paper mill outside Wawa and several
logging operations north of Lake Superior. Recently, the company had faced
escalating pressure from local residents, native bands and environmental
groups. Protests centered on the company's clear cutting methods and
general contempt for the old growth forest. The confrontation climaxed
when a group of students and other protesters blockaded the road leading
to the current clear cutting target.
The first truck to reach the blockade had backed off, driving fifteen
miles back to camp in reverse. Two hours later, the next truck arrived.
This one hadn't stopped.
The kids hadn't used logs or fallen trees to block the road. They hadn't
piled boulders, or sprinkled the road with tire punctures. They had just
stood across it, arms linked, singing.
The truck slammed into them, killing three local students. A female
protestor from out-of-town also died.
"Five hundred dollars," said Ed, shaking his head.
"I went to college with one of them," Leiddia said quietly.
I looked at her, confirming my first impression of the familiar aura.
"Were you there?"
She shook her head. "My stepfather works in the mill. He wouldn't let me
go." She stared at me hard.