by Nancy Bush
Hap sauntered over and refilled Tina’s nearly empty glass. “Maybe I’m talking out of turn here, Sam, but I know a thing or two about Joe’s personal finances.”
“Well, there you go. We were just talking about what your financial arrangement is with Joe,” Tina said, offering him a smile, and as he lifted the bottle, said, “Don’t be stingy.”
“Truth?” Hap poured a little more into Martina’s glass. “Mainly it’s just Summit Ridge. We’re still trying to buy those houses out of the Cardaman shit bucket. They’re all good properties.”
Sam set down his last rib, wiping his mouth with his napkin, then cleaning off his fingers. “The houses in Salchuk? The ones that Cardaman sold over and over again. I thought they were never finished.”
“They’re not,” Stuart said.
“Some are,” Hap insisted. “Nobody ever really owned ’em, so nobody ever lived in ’em. They’re just waiting there, and they’re great houses. They just need to be cleaned up, or finished. They’ve got sweet views.”
“They’ll be tied up forever in legal red tape,” Scott Keppler said dryly, and reached into his shirt pocket for a near empty pack of Winstons.
“Where’re you getting the money to finish them?” Bette asked.
Hap gave Stuart’s wife a long look, like he resented the question. “I’m in the business, Bette. This is what I do.”
Tina caught Sam’s eye and shook her head very slightly.
Tutti said, “Ah, ah, ah. I feel like you guys are going to get in a fight over money again. Let’s not do this.”
“They’re not going to be tied up forever,” Hap said to Keppler as Scott lit up. “Joe and I were both interested in saving and finishing those houses. It’s good for everybody.”
“Except the investors Cardaman screwed over,” Stuart pointed out.
“Not my problem,” Hap told him coldly.
Tina put in, “Sam said there was a note about Cardaman on the table in Joe and Julia’s house yesterday, but when he went back it wasn’t there.”
Everyone looked at Sam. He was a little irked at Martina, but he just went with it. And actually, the more people who knew it, the better. “I think someone took it from the house.”
“Georgie?” Bette suggested.
“She was still with her mother,” Sam said.
“You sure it’s not just lost?” Keppler asked. He’d walked a few steps away to keep the smoke from his cigarette out of range.
“Maybe,” Sam said, in a tone that made it clear he didn’t believe it.
No one had anything more to say about that.
Hap put in, a bit grumpily, “Two years I’ll have those Summit Ridge houses finished and they’ll sell in the millions. Better be nice to me, Zoey, if you want the listing.”
“I’m always nice to you, Hap,” Zoey responded, but her eyes were cool.
It’s about the money. Donald had been right. Sam decided he needed to talk to his father again, hit him with the specifics of Summit Ridge. Hope that Donald was having a good day. Tomorrow. Maybe before he picked up Jules.
Keppler couldn’t let it go. “I warned Joe about Summit Ridge. Told him not to go in with you on this. Sorry, Hap, but like Cardaman, you have investors you need to do right by. That’s what I told Joe.”
“I know,” Hap said tightly.
Sam wondered what had happened between Keppler and his brother, why the lawyer and Joe had parted ways. Keppler and Hap sure didn’t seem to like each other much.
“Stop it,” Tina said, lightly slapping Hap’s arm as he’d walked over to stand right beside her. “You’ll give Sam the idea that all we do is fight, and that’s just not how it is around here. We’re all friends.”
Stuart ignored Tina and said, “A lot of people lost their shirts on those properties.”
“You talking about Summit Ridge?” Rob called down to them.
“Yes, Rob,” Tina responded in a loud, bored voice.
“Anybody need another drink?” Tutti asked.
“I’m good.” Drawing on his cigarette, Scott Keppler moved past them and back up the stairs to where Rob Illingsworth was hanging over the rail, listening to the conversation below. His wife, Jackie, was staring across the canal toward Jules and Joe’s house. Sam’s eyes followed hers and he saw a light had come on. He started, half got out of his chair, then relaxed when he realized the light was on an automatic timer.
“Sam,” Hap said. Now he was between Sam and Tina, his back to the rest of the crowd. “When are you getting together with Joe’s lawyers? People are going to be calling when they learn Joe’s . . . gone. Somebody needs to take over.”
“Not me,” Sam said.
“Joe told me he split his estate between you and Julia. That includes the house and Joe’s business. Some of these deals need to be looked at ASAP. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”
“Oh, God, Hap, really?” Tina muttered, with a roll of her expressive eyes. She took another sip from her glass.
Joanie Bledsoe had moved nearer just in time to hear what Hap said. Now she asked on a half gasp, “Does Julia know?”
“That can’t be right,” Sam said. Surely his brother had left his estate to Jules. It annoyed him that Hap was blabbing about his brother’s finances in front of the Fishers, and thinking about Joe was making him feel low.
Hap urged, “Talk to the lawyers. I think Joe moved to Fairbanks and Vincent in Salchuk.”
Salchuk again. Sam was going to have to get into Joe’s office and soon. Maybe there was a key in the house somewhere. Gathering up his plate, Sam decided it was time to leave. “Did any of you see Joe’s boat leave yesterday?” he asked.
They all looked at each other and shook their heads. Bette Ezra said, “We were all probably at work except Tutti.”
“I work,” Tutti sputtered, as if Bette had specifically offended her. “I just was off yesterday. I don’t work Wednesdays.”
“So, did you see the boat leave?” Joanie asked.
“No. I had to meet Dirk to pick up the boys. He needed me to take care of them for a few hours. The sitter was sick and he knows I don’t work Wednesdays.” Tutti sounded slightly defensive. “Joe must have taken the boat while I was gone. I saw Sam around noon on Joe’s dock, when I got back. The boys were playing video games and I was outside.”
They’d all moved to the upper deck. Jackie was finger-combing her hair and looking a little closer to sober. Her gaze trailed after Stuart, who seemed oblivious.
Twilight was upon them and people were beginning to clean up the food. Tutti said, “If Julia’s coming home tomorrow, we should all make a meal for her.”
Joanie pounced on that. “I was just thinking the same thing!”
At that point all of the women started discussing what menu items to make, although Jackie, Tina, and Zoey were listening with only half an ear. A cool breeze had cropped up, blowing off the ocean and rippling the waters of the canal. Sam said his good-byes and was heading for his canoe when Scott Keppler caught up to him. In a lowered voice, he said, “Hap should have kept his trap shut about Joe’s will. Born with a silver spoon, it sure’s never kept him from talking too much.”
“Why did Joe switch to Fairbanks and Vincent?” Sam asked the lawyer.
“Well, we had a parting of the ways, and . . . I’m taking some time to do something I’ve always wanted. I’m doing some commercial fishing. Got the biggest boat on Fisher Canal. Look down there.”
Keppler pointed down the waterway to a two-story house stained dark brown with a large trawler docked behind it. Sam figured the canal must be a hell of a lot deeper than he would have credited it to accommodate the size of the boat. “Fishing’s hard, uncomplicated work, which is just what I want. Cleans the palate, if you know what I mean. But I took a page or two from your brother’s book and bought some income property. Lost the wife and the house during the downturn, but hung on to most of my savings. Joe helped me out. I’m renting the house and I got the trawler. Own a couple of small
properties south of Nehalem, and the kids come and see me, so it all worked out okay.”
Sam thought about his brother, about his business, his finances, his whole life. He knew so little about him apart from the basics. He knew Joe had married Gwen and that Gwen’s child from a teen relationship that hadn’t lasted became Joe’s adopted daughter. Then, that relationship had disintegrated, though Joe was still close to Georgie. He hadn’t known much of anything else other than that Joe had married Jules, of course. He certainly hadn’t known Georgie mostly lived with Joe and Jules.
Sam drifted out of his conversation with Keppler as Martina strolled his way again, wineglass in hand, the red liquid swaying with her hips as she approached. “I think you should stay at the house with Julia,” she said. “She’s going to need help and Lord knows Georgie can’t do it.”
“Georgie’s with her mother right now.”
“Well, then, you’re the only one. It’s terrible about Joe and that’s going to be hard for Julia, too. Besides, it would be nice to have you in the neighborhood. We could use someone like you.” Was there a bit of come-on in her eyes as she looked up at him through her lashes? With Tina, you never knew.
“I’ll figure out who can stay with Julia.”
“If it was you, maybe she’d be nicer to me.”
“Jules isn’t nice to you?”
“Don’t be dense, sugar. I was married to you. She never forgave me for that.”
“She married my brother.”
“Big fucking deal. I was the girl who took you away. And when she married Joe, that about killed you, too.”
“That’s not—”
“Shut up, Sam. It’s true. You and Julia . . . Jesus. Joe knew it, too, but we all acted like it wasn’t there. You should’ve gotten over it long ago, but you didn’t, so here we are. And,” she added, when he tried to break in, “I’d normally be the last person who would tell you to stay with Jules, but these aren’t normal times. Your brother’s gone, and he was a good guy. I’m going to miss him, too.”
Sam couldn’t find anything to say to that.
“I miss you, too, Sam, but you were never really present when we were together anyway. And you weren’t with Dannella, either. Only with Julia.”
“You talk to Dannella?” Sam was taken aback. He hadn’t been aware his ex-wife and ex-girlfriend even knew each other.
“Oh, sugar.” She shook her head at him as if he were a lost cause. “I saw Dannella strolling her new baby down to the beach in Salchuk. She’s happy now. Has a husband who’s present.”
“Well, good. I’m glad.”
“Are you?” She swallowed a gulp of wine and peered at him through narrowed eyes. “Dammit, you probably are. Give everybody a hand and say how great they are while you’re running away.”
Once more Sam looked across at Jules and Joe’s house. He wondered if he’d learned anything here tonight. He was damn tired all of a sudden, and he wanted to be alone. His head was full of information and he needed to sift through it all, winnow it down, separate out anything that might aid him in his investigation, throw the rest away.
“It was good seeing you, Tina. But I gotta run.”
“Asshole,” she murmured as he climbed into his canoe, but there was a note of amusement in her voice as well.
The Illingsworths’ two boys were just arriving, having been summoned by their parents. They showed up in matching kayaks, the sleek crafts slicing easily through the waters of the canal. The boys were in the late tween stage somewhere, eleven to thirteen, and starting to fill out. About Georgie’s age, he realized.
“Sam!”
He looked around to see Joanie hurrying up to him. “You’re leaving?” she asked him, but her eyes were on the Illingsworth boys.
“I’m tired,” Sam admitted.
“Of course you are. I’m so sorry. And I’m sick at heart about Joe. You sure you can’t have another drink? That wine you brought is yummy.”
“Actually, it was from Joe and Jules. And thanks, but I gotta go.”
“You’re picking up Julia tomorrow?”
He nodded.
“Ask her about Georgie, please. I know my girls are going to want to know when she’ll be back. If she’ll be back,” she amended. “She’s really a pretty good kid.”
“Okay.”
“And be careful,” she added as an afterthought, which he didn’t know what to make of.
Sam paddled back across the canal. As he neared Joe’s dock he caught a glimpse into the house next door, the Ezras. The dogs had gone inside, probably through a dog door or one left open. Now they pushed their heads through the curtains, noses up against the glass sliding door. Upon seeing Sam, a stranger, they emitted loud, low-throated growls that could freeze the blood.
Across the canal, Bette yelled, “SHUSH!!” which this time they ignored completely.
They kept it up until Sam had entered the house and walked through, making certain everything was secure. Then he turned out the lights except for the one on its timer. After double-checking all the doors and windows, latching the one he’d climbed through before, he went out the front door, locked up, then drove back to the cabin.
* * *
He stood outside Emergency, watching through the sliding glass doors. Nothing happening tonight. No ambulances screaming in. No injured or sick would-be patients arriving. Quiet and slow.
Which wasn’t working for him. He needed the craziness and bedlam of trauma in order to sneak inside. All the other doors were locked for the night, and the way in was through Emergency.
He sat in his killing vehicle, the gray, five-year-old Honda Civic that was registered to an older man he knew who’d moved to Alaska and was, he’d learned recently, in a nursing home and at death’s door. He’d stolen a few license plates since then, making sure there was a lot of time left on the tags, and he kept the Civic parked down by the marina where there was an empty lot that had become a place you could leave your vehicle with a For Sale sign in its windshield. He always made the phone number smudged enough that it was impossible to read, and he kept the would-be price on the high side. Even so he’d had interested buyers leave him notes under the windshield, asking if he’d take a little less and leaving their phone numbers. He gathered those phone numbers for future use. He even knew the name of one potential buyer, a man named Corey who was kind enough to give his address in Seaside, just in case he might need it someday.
But tonight was a problem. He was tucked into his hoodie, his face pointed downward to make sure the cameras couldn’t capture his features, the hypodermic in his pocket. This wasn’t like killing Denny, which had been a sheer blast. That had been dangerous, sure, but no one had even missed the unlucky bastard. Tiny Tim from the bar might remember Bridget, if it ever came to that, but neither of them was a regular, like Denny had started to become, and no one knew their true names.
Should he try to get inside and take care of Julia tonight? It was dangerous. Foolhardy. The kind of thing that gave him a hard-on. She’d seen him on the boat and she could identify him, that was for sure, so he needed to make certain she was gone for good. It was crazy that he wasn’t more concerned, but then he’d heard through his sources that she might not ever remember the accident. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t in the future, but he felt lucky about the whole thing somehow.
Or maybe that was just his cock talking because he’d like nothing better than to stick it to Joe Ford’s widow. He’d always kind of had a thing for her.
But no, that was too risky. He needed to remove her. Remove the problem. That’s what Bridget wanted him to do, and she always thought she knew best.
She does know best, you asshole. You know she does.
But Julia Ford . . . mmm-mmm . . . luscious in that girl next door sort of way. She’d been in the back of his mind when he’d been eyeing those college girls. They’d been sloppy, sexy, and sweet, but dirty in a way he really liked, but he dug Julia’s strangely virginal appeal, even though he knew for a fact
she’d fucked both of the Ford brothers, even more.
Sam Ford . . . He thought furiously about him for a moment. Ex-policeman, ex-husband of Martina Montgomery. . . How had that loser gotten two of the best-looking women on the whole coastline?
“He couldn’t keep ’em, though, could he?” he growled aloud.
He looked again at the black, hulking hospital with its brilliantly lit Emergency Room.
Fuck her or kill her . . . or both.... Now was the time.
He got out of the car and headed for the doors, head down.
* * *
Jules came to suddenly, fully awake. She was lying in the hospital bed, had been dozing rather than dead asleep after a hard afternoon going over and over Phoenix Delacourt’s words. She’d given the woman a file that could prove, or disprove, her husband’s involvement in financial wrongdoing, and worrying about it had worn her out. Finally, she’d fallen into a fitful sleep, but now she was awake again and full of unnamed fear.
She’d heard something, hadn’t she? It was dead quiet tonight except for the faint hum of the air ducts, the heating and cooling system holding the temperature.
There it was. Footsteps and the soft thunk of the elevator doors closing. Someone on the floor, coming her way.
Without conscious thought her fingers found the call button and she depressed it. A faint chime sounded, way down the hall. Was that her bell? Probably. But what if no one heard her?
Pulse rising, she climbed silently out of her bed and moved toward the closet, then realized that wasn’t going to work. Not enough room. Quickly and quietly she lay down on her back, feeling a twinge in her arm, a throb in her head, then she slid herself under the bed, pulling the bedcovers down on the side nearest the door, hiding herself from view, she hoped with all her heart.
Whoever it was was taking his sweet time. She pictured him peeking in rooms, checking the beds. Why she was so certain he was after her she couldn’t say. Some primal awareness that rose beyond the gray veil.
He tiptoed to her door; she sensed the light quickness. She held her breath, counting her heartbeats. Please come . . . please, please come, she silently begged the hospital staff.
