Oh, well. If things were easy, they wouldn’t be interesting. I hit the top of the next hill, and it opened up to a grassy plateau sprinkled with the widely spaced admin buildings of various shapes and sizes, all single-story structures except one, the main building. Century-old live oaks dotted the ground between the buildings, spreading their boughs over a quarter-acre each. The loiterers I’d spotted from down the road were d-gens, Blue Bean agricultural workers wearing collars, matching baggy shorts, and dirty t-shirts. Most of them seemed to be going nowhere, just wandering. The main admin building, the sole two-story structure, was unapproachable without being seen. According to the information I’d gotten from Ricardo, that was one of the places Sienna Galloway might be. I turned onto a curved driveway I knew from Ricardo’s photos ran a circuit around most of the admin complex, the only grouping of buildings on the farm that had no fence. On the far side of the complex, nearly three-quarters of a mile away, out of my view, sat the residence compound, a second of the three places she might be.
