Kate and I watched in satisfaction as the storm delivered its payload over Belport. The sweltering heat had helped the storm’s convection cycle faster, dropping copious amounts of rain over the city, but it didn’t develop into a full thunderstorm, which was perfect for what we wanted.
If the storm had gotten out of control, it could have opened a rift as easily as the drought. Wonder what the threshold is for a rift? It seems to be different everywhere. But it’s not like we have gauges we can measure this stuff, on. Still, a strong enough tornado to open a rift in Colorado should be able to in Kansas, but yet it’s not. Is reality in Kansas just stronger? Or maybe it has something to do with the region’s native weather? Kansas is used to tornadoes, so it’s okay, but Colorado’s mountains usually prevent them, so—
Kate’s slap to my back killed my train of thought, but I returned her smile.
“Thanks for your help, Reilly. I owe you one.”
I shrugged. “No biggee. I’ll call in the marker some time. So, any idea what caused it?”
She frowned, shaking her head. “No. I’m going to make sure this takes for a few days, maybe a week, then I’m going to start poking around down there to see what happened.
I nodded, then remembered something. “Jack told me he worked with some guy before you got the beat. This guy helped Jack track down a Storm Rider gone bad. God, what was his name?” I slapped the side of my head to get the info to jar loose.
“Alan! Alan something. Alan Matthews? No, that doesn’t sound right. Alan Michaels? I think it was Alan Michaels. Or Michaelson. Something like that.”
Kate took down the name in her phone, then grinned. “Thanks. I’ll look him up.”
“Sure thing. Call again if you need something.”
I took a few steps away, then summoned a lightning bolt from the cloud, riding east, back towards Tornado Alley.