by Karen Harper
“He wanted to come in to tell you he’s glad you’re all right, but I told him I’d let you know and he could see you later. He’ll be at the lodge in a guest room down the hall from my suite if I need him.” When Matt closed the door behind them, Royce gripped his shoulders. “At least you’re in one piece.” He hugged Matt stiffly, set him back and headed into the living room.
As ever, the seventy-year-old was elegantly put together in his Italian leather jacket over a striped shirt and jeans which actually looked pressed. Royce’s silver hair seemed sculpted, and his perpetual tan set off his green eyes. Married and divorced three times—and paying triple alimony—Royce had not always been a successful entrepreneur. He’d made his ever-expanding fortune in upscale housing projects, including Lake Azure and another in the Poconos, and also headed up the Environmental Expansion Company, the EEC, which oversaw the majority of fracking for gas and oil in this area. Though he was a trim, fairly short man, Royce Flemming left huge footprints wherever he went.
As the sun set, they sat at the bar in the living area with its views of hills and the lake. Matt’s three-bedroom house was the medium size for the development and blended beautifully into the natural setting, one of the prerequisites for a Lake Azure home. It was perched on a cul-de-sac that overlooked the lodge and lake with its man-made sand beach, boathouse and dock.
“The usual?” Matt asked. “I could use a stiff one myself after today.”
Royce nodded. “Can you believe I’m dating a woman who likes bourbon and branch? But yeah, thanks. Make it my usual—a double.”
“Bourbon and branch? Isn’t that what evil oilman J. R. Ewing used to drink on Dallas?”
“Yeah, that’s right. So, Jennifer called from the office and said it was my truck that went over.”
Matt heaved a huge sigh and handed Royce his Jim Beam on the rocks. “Yeah, the Azure Lake truck Orlando usually drives when the black car seems a bit too much or you’re headed to rough ground.”
“I hear you, partner. That’s why I liked that truck around here. Believe me, I don’t always need Orlando hanging on—or maybe I do now.”
They clinked glasses and sat facing each other across the mahogany bar. Moments like this made Matt really miss his father. As close as he felt personally and professionally to this man who had been his dad’s best friend and who did not have children of his own, it was never quite the same. He admired Royce tremendously, but there was always an edge to the man that couldn’t be smoothed away.
“Okay, I’ll just say it,” Royce said. “The hillbilly jerk who tried to shove you off might have been after me.” It was a statement, not a question, but then Royce always seemed to have all the answers.
“Possibly. But why you, the moneyman, the salvation of this area in people’s eyes?”
“In some people’s eyes. If he was after Brad Mason, my right-hand guy in charge of the fracking contracts, the would-be killer is nearsighted as hell. Brad’s always in that fire-engine red, look-at-me truck, which is good advertising, though I know he’s got fans and haters out there.”
“Woody drove the white truck once in a while but he’s dead, and you’re always driven by Orlando, so that leaves me as the target. But if the guy in that truck wanted me to die, why?”
“Yeah. Matt, you know Woody was a loose cannon. I’m sorry he had that freak accident, but it kept me from firing him for printing up those homemade signs and picketing this place. It shook up the residents here. He should have picketed one of the drilling sites, not here.”
“I hire and fire here, and I would not have fired him.”
“Okay, he was a good worker. I overanalyze everything.”
“Me, too, now. Even after hashing all this out with the sheriff, his deputy and Charlene Lockwood, I still can’t figure—”
“Lockwood’s the woman who just happened to come along in time?”
“What do you mean ‘just happened to’?”
“I checked into her. A bleeding heart social worker who could, possibly should, profit from helping you get out of that truck in time. Maybe it was pushed just so far so it wouldn’t go over, then here she comes to help. I hear she visits families up in the hills and could no doubt use a hefty reward for her Appalachian project. And, like you said, who has the money around here? I do, you do—and people know that.”
“You mean like she set it up?” Matt’s voice rose in tone and volume. “Royce, now you’re over the edge.”
“Calm down. Anything’s possible, that’s all. You’ve got to look at all angles.”
“She asked for nothing.”
“Good. Great. But I wish you’d called me first, not gone to the sheriff. We don’t need negative PR or people speculating. The Chillicothe newspaper will pick it up from the police report, or worse yet, good old gossip will get going around here. We’ve worked damn hard to get along with the townies who think people don’t belong even if they’ve been here for a hundred years. We could have cleaned this up by donating to Ms. Lockwood’s cause and doing an investigation ourselves—which I plan to do. We don’t need the sheriff breathing down our necks.”
Matt slammed his glass down on the bar, spilling some of his drink. “Last time I checked, attempted murder is a criminal offense. Of course I went to the sheriff. He needs to look into it!”
“Okay, didn’t mean to take it out on you after all you’ve been through today. I suppose he had to know, but let’s try to keep it from getting tied to bad local feelings about this ‘ritzy’ area, as I heard one guy uptown put it. And I don’t want it tied to the fracking. Hopefully, money talks louder than the environmental do-gooders yakking about the quality of life around here from our drilling.” He rolled his eyes. “You know, that crazy Bright Star told his disciples that blasting into the bedrock like that could cause earthquakes, one sign for the end of the world—that is, until I bought out his old property for big bucks. Now he’s on my side, and that’s what we need, people around here on our side, not trying to shove us off cliffs.”
“Royce, we can’t sweep what happened today under the PR rug. It might have been some drunk guy, but I think it meant something, and since it was my life on the line, I’m not letting it go. And I mean to thank Char Lockwood and cooperate with the sheriff, too.”
“Sure. Sure, I understand. Too late not to. Hey, let’s get something to eat at the lodge, then I’ve got my fracking superintendent meeting me there later to report on how the drilling’s going. EEC is helping the down-and-outs here with some very nice drilling rights packages, bringing up the whole area, that’s my goal. The locals already owe us big thanks for the influx of jobs and money and revitalizing the stores downtown. Even newcomer Charlene Lockwood must know we’re doing great and are making good profits.”
Still annoyed that Royce was suspicious of Char’s motives, Matt went upstairs to turn out lights. Darkness had descended. As he glimpsed his own reflected image in the large glass window of his loft bedroom before snapping off the light, a thought hit him. If the man in the truck who tried to shove him off the cliff meant for him to die, why did he cover his face? If he just meant to scare him, warn him—set him up somehow, maybe for Charlene Lockwood to come along—he would have covered his face.
No, Royce, wily as he was, had to be wrong about Char. So what if she probably had ties to hill folk, maybe some who owed her favors? Royce just went wild with things his front man and informant, Brad Mason, found out about locals here, so he knew what contracts to offer for what amount where he wanted to drill, including working with that weird cult leader, Bright Star Monson. Talk about a guy with hidden ulterior motives. Royce had said the cult leader was a mind-control guru even he could learn from—which reminded Matt again that, even working for and with a dynamo like Royce, he still needed to be his own man.
He had another unsettling thought. He closed his vertical blinds. If someone
was watching or stalking him, they could see right in, and this house was full of large windows.
“Hey,” Royce said as Matt hurried down the freestanding staircase and went to the front hall closet to get a jacket. “I’m telling you again, you need a good woman in your life, my man. Now Veronica, this new lady I’m seeing, has a younger sister who’s a knockout, and we’d like to fix you up with her.”
“The fixing up I need right now is to figure out who almost killed me and why. And to make sure no one tries it again.”
* * *
“So one thing I haven’t mentioned,” Gabe told Tess and Char after questioning Char about what she’d seen up on the mountain, followed by a late dinner. “In Matt’s burned-out truck, we found a pristine piece of paper that had a crude skull and crossbones on it and read, ‘Your fired.’” He spelled it out for them. “I’m sending it to my friend Vic Reingold at the Bureau of Criminal Identification and Investigation to see if we can get prints or DNA off it, but that may take a while.”
“Bad spelling, so maybe an uneducated writer,” Char observed. “Sad to say, there are plenty of those around here. What do you think it means?”
“Don’t know,” Gabe said. “Nothing about this whole thing makes sense. Despite the fact he usually has a driver, I’m tempted to theorize the attacker thought it was Royce Flemming in that truck. He’s got as many enemies as friends around here, making some folks rich while their neighbor lives in worse poverty, compared to the bonanza next door. It’s splitting not only shale rock layers but friends and families when some cash in on the fracking and some don’t. Fracking breaks a lot of family bonds. Some have their quiet roads ruined by big semis and their views wrecked by rigs and concrete. Outsiders, blasting, worries about the purity of well water most depend on here.”
“Listen, you two,” Char said. “Let’s try to just forget all that for a while. I’ll get the table cleaned up, get things in the dishwasher, then go up to finish my meager packing. You two need time alone without the cares of the world. Go on now. The day care kids will be here all too soon in the morning, and Gabe will be off trying to find the guy or the truck that hit Matt.”
Gabe gave her a tight grin. “Thanks, Char. We’ll take you up on the clean the kitchen offer, and I’ll worry about all that tomorrow. Mrs. McCabe, please come with me. You are under arrest and in my personal care,” he said, and took Tess’s hand to pull her to her feet.
Char sighed as they left the kitchen. It suddenly seemed very empty. She was glad she wouldn’t be intruding on their hospitality and kindness much longer, though they’d never made her feel that way. But as soon as she got the keys to the cabin, she’d be on her own in a beautiful spot. Really, really on her own.
5
“Ah, the keys to the kingdom!” Char exulted to Tess the next morning as her new landlady drove away from Tess’s house after giving her the key to the rental cabin.
“But you promised you’d get the locks changed,” Tess reminded her as she continued arranging the small beanbag chairs in a circle for the children that were due to be dropped off soon. Gabe had already headed for the office. Char had overheard him tell Tess he was going to interview Royce Flemming as soon as he showed up in town again.
“I said I’d get the locks changed, and I will,” Char promised. “I’ll get moved in and do my visits with kids closer to town just for today instead of climbing every mountain again, fording every stream, following every rainbow...”
“The Sound of Music, my favorite musical. I teach the kids the ‘Do-Re-Mi,’ song, you know. Oh, here’s the first drop-off. No,” she said, looking out the window. “I don’t know that car. Char, it’s Matt Rowan! Here, you go to the door, and I’ll keep straightening up. Don’t mind me.”
Char almost scolded Tess for her excitement, but her own heartbeat accelerated. She felt herself blushing. Waiting inside the door for him to ring the bell or knock, she fanned her face.
He rang the bell. She counted to five, and before Tess could run in to see what was wrong, opened the door. He was taller than she recalled and looked so good—that is, no dirt, no messed-up hair, no apparent bruises.
“Matt. Come in. How are you doing after—after everything?”
He brought in a blast of crisp, fresh air with him. The first car with day care kids pulled up right behind him, but Char got him inside before the storm of little squealers hit. “Hi, Miss Tess. Where’s Miss Char?” she heard as she led Matt down the hall.
“Bad timing, I guess,” he said. “Do you help out here?”
“I have but, actually, just if I have free time from my new job. And I’m moving out today.”
She indicated they should go into the living room while Tess herded the children into the large play area. “Do you have kids?” Char asked, then felt maybe she’d overstepped by asking about that right away. Might as well ask if he was married. “Tess loves to teach kids, but I prefer standing up for their rights,” she rushed on as they sat side by side on the sofa. “I’m not quite as much hands-on as she is.” She bent one leg up on the seat and turned toward him. He tilted inward, too, throwing one arm across the back of the sofa, almost touching her shoulder.
“To answer your question, no kids. No wife, either.”
“Oh. Well, I’m so glad you are looking good—okay, I mean.” She felt like a babbling idiot. Usually, she was in control with women or men.
“I’d be happy to take a load up to your new place. Or I could get a Lake Azure truck—one that’s not totaled—to deliver some of your things. Actually, I came to ask something. First of all, I’d like to take you to dinner, and second, I heard from Gabe and Jace that you need to visit the McKitricks up on Pinecrest. I do, too. Yesterday I was taking clothes and food up to the family of Woody McKitrick, our head groundskeeper, who died tragically in a fall.” As he shook his head, she realized he was thinking he could have, too.
“I heard. I’m sorry. I knew that would make my visit there harder. Jemmie McKitrick, the six-year-old I’m concerned about, is Woody’s grandson. I knew he’d be missing his grandpa and, evidently, the family’s major breadwinner. The boy’s father was wounded in Iraq and doesn’t work, gets minimal checks to support the grandmother, mother and Jemmie.”
“Yes, Sam, Woody’s son, has post-traumatic stress disorder. Woody said that Sam wants to go out hunting the enemy all the time, and he’s disappeared in the middle of the night once in a while. They’ve had him treated at a VA hospital, but he’s still not—not right. So I thought it might work out that, as soon as I replace the things I’d bought for them, which I plan to do today, we could call on them together. At least the money I had to help get them through the winter was in my jacket pocket so that wasn’t lost in the fire.”
“Sure, we could go together. I’d be trying to help them in a different way, getting Sam and his wife Mandy Lee, to agree that Jemmie should attend school.”
“Tomorrow then? We could talk about it tonight at dinner if you’d let me take you.”
“That would be great. As for your helping me move things, I’ve never had my own place since I graduated from college, so I travel light. It won’t be furniture or anything like that, but we could put some boxes in your trunk.” She knew everything would fit in hers, but she didn’t want to turn him down on this—on anything, and that scared her.
“Are you sure you want to live alone? In a cabin, even a nice one? I know the owner and the place. It’s kind of isolated.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t you start sounding like my sister. I lived on the edge of the Navajo Reservation, and now I’ll be living on the edge of Appalachia. But thanks for your offer because Tess is busy for a while—obviously.” She smiled as the sound of children singing the alphabet floated to them. “And, of course, Gabe’s going to be extra busy. He said he’s going to interview your partner, Royce Flemming, next time he comes to town. You j
ust winced. What did I say?”
“He’s here. And not too happy to have that sort of publicity for Lake Azure.”
“I can understand that. Oh, can dinner be a bit late tonight? When Tess is done today, we’re going to visit the Hear Ye cult to see our cousins Lee and Grace Lockwood, and their two kids, who live there.”
“Really?” he said, frowning. “I don’t know anyone who lives there.”
“Anyone who’s crazy enough to live there, you mean. The entire area is like one big haunted ghost town. We’re really worried about all of them. I guess it’s an old joke around here, but it sure seems right that the cult has moved onto the old lunatic asylum grounds since their other place was bought with big bucks for fracking—well, I’m sure you know all about that because of Mr. Flemming.”
He frowned again.
“Oh, you don’t think you’re known by the company you keep, do you. I mean that someone would try to hurt you to get to Royce Flemming?” she asked.
“It’s crossed my mind. I’ll be careful.”
She extended her hand to him and he took it, not exactly in a handshake, not really holding hands, but a link, an unspoken bond. The moment passed, and she felt awkward again. She hated to admit it but she was attracted to him, yet felt so vulnerable with him.
“I can wait until you’re ready to carry things out,” he said. “We can put a load in my car, and I’ll follow you up. I’ve got a lunch meeting, but if you give me your number, I’ll call you later, see when you’re ready to be picked up for dinner if you think you’ll be safe with me— You know what I mean,” he added hastily. “Some idiot is loose out there.”
But she was starting to think Matt Rowan was a man worth being near even if someone was out to get him.
* * *
