Ruth nodded.
"I can do that."
Gideon looked toward Lydia.
She sat beside the window, carefully reviewing one of her old account pages.
Abigail turned toward her.
"Mrs. Bowman?"
Lydia looked up.
"Yes?"
"You'll be asked why you recorded these figures."
Lydia nodded.
"Because Everett told me to copy them."
"And why did you preserve them?"
She hesitated.
Then answered honestly.
"Because I was frightened of being punished for a mistake."
Abigail nodded.
"Don't be ashamed to say that."
Lydia looked down.
For a moment, she remembered the nights she spent copying numbers beneath the lamp in St. Louis.
Her hands aching.
Her husband drinking nearby.
The fear of getting a figure wrong.
She had believed those secret copies were evidence of her weakness.
Now they had become evidence of her carefulness.
And perhaps something more.
Proof that Everett's business dealings could not be explained away as simple errors.
Harris Crowe was the first of Rusk's associates to cooperate.
He did not do so because he suddenly became virtuous.
He did so because the evidence against him had become difficult to dispute.
Witnesses placed him near the upper diversion.
The tool marks were consistent with equipment connected to Rusk's operation.
And records showed communications and payments that prosecutors believed were connected to the sabotage.
Crowe faced criminal exposure of his own.
His attorney negotiated terms under which he could provide truthful information subject to independent corroboration and judicial scrutiny.
He began by describing the damaged diversion.
Then the effort to pressure landowners.
Then the disputed survey.
Eventually, the questions turned toward Elias Hayes.
Crowe became quiet.
The investigator waited.
Crowe looked toward the table.
"That was supposed to be a warning."
"What was?"
"The bridge."
The investigator leaned forward.
"Explain."
Crowe swallowed.
"Rusk wanted Hayes frightened off the survey. Told us to make the old footbridge unusable so he'd stop crossing into the upper camp."
"Who altered the bridge?"
Crowe stared at his hands.
"Two men working for Rusk. I was there."
The investigator waited.
Crowe continued.
"They loosened part of the support. The plan was for Hayes to see the damage and turn back."
"Did you warn him?"
Crowe shook his head.
"No."
"Did he cross the bridge?"
"Yes."
Crowe's voice weakened.
"The storm came sooner than we expected. The water was high."
He stopped.
The investigator remained silent.
Crowe rubbed both hands over his face.
"By the time we got back, the bridge was gone."
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then the investigator asked, "Did Rusk know what happened?"
Crowe nodded.
"Yes."
"What did he tell you to do?"
Crowe looked down.
"Say the bridge failed in the storm."
The room became still.
The statement was serious.
But the investigators did not simply accept it.
They sought corroboration.
They reexamined preserved photographs of the bridge remains.
Reviewed witness accounts from the original search.
Examined the old county notes.
And compared Crowe's description with the physical evidence that could still be reconstructed.