The nighttime maintenance truck.
And the grain company's representative mentioning the drainage problem before the combine became stuck.
She didn't know whether those details were connected.
But her grandfather had taught her something important.
When an explanation didn't fit all the facts, don't force the facts to fit the explanation.
Ask another question.
She climbed out of bed.
Put on a sweatshirt.
Then went downstairs.
The kitchen clock read a little after midnight.
She turned on a small lamp.
Opened her grandfather's map.
And began comparing it with the photographs in his notebook.
The old outlet had been checked several months earlier.
Her grandfather noted reduced flow.
But he'd also written that water still passed through after moderate rain.
Now the culvert was substantially blocked.
Something had changed between those observations.
The girl remembered the maintenance truck.
She had seen it during the storm.
It stopped near the outlet.
Then left.
She wondered whether the workers had been trying to repair the problem.
Perhaps they'd noticed the blockage and attempted to clear it.
That would make sense.
But if they had been repairing it, why was the outlet still obstructed?
She took out her school notebook.
On a clean page, she wrote:
What changed after Grandpa checked the drain?
Then she listed the things she knew.
The new access road.
The reduced flow.
The maintenance work.
The flooded field.
The strange purchase offer.
She looked at the list.
None of it proved wrongdoing.
She understood that.
But the questions bothered her.
Then she found a photograph tucked inside the back of the drainage notebook.
It showed her grandfather standing beside the culvert during construction of the access road.
He held a measuring rod.
A contractor stood nearby.
And behind them was a truck bearing the grain handling company's logo.
The girl examined the photograph.
The contractor's face seemed familiar.
She had seen him before.
Then she remembered.
He was the man who accompanied the grain company representative when they visited the farm earlier that month.
She felt a chill.
The same person had been involved in the access road years earlier.
And now he was connected to the company offering to buy the farm.
That didn't establish anything improper.
People often worked on multiple projects in small agricultural communities.
But it suggested that someone involved in the proposed purchase knew the old drainage system.
The girl stared at the photograph.
Then heard footsteps behind her.
Her mother stood in the kitchen doorway.
She wore a faded sweatshirt and looked exhausted.
"Sweetheart?"
The girl turned.
"Sorry, Mom."
Her mother looked toward the papers.
"What are you doing?"
The daughter hesitated.