His excitement might have been infectious, but no way did Dorie believe folks used to comfort and convenience would enjoy trekking across a mountain that barely allowed her pickup to climb it. Still, she had seen some of those television shows and the guys who attempted a less civilized life didn’t want to come across as weak.
“Maybe those execs you hope to attract will get a kick out of a night or two under the stars,” she said. “But I’m thinking that when their tootsies start to chafe in the cold and they find something curled up next to them in a sleeping bag, they’ll hightail it back to Asheville.”
“That’s where the outfitter plan comes in,” Bret said. He pointed to the shelves lining one wall. “I’m going to fill those shelves with everything the guys might have neglected to buy in the first place, or replacements for anything that proved disappointing.” He enumerated on the fingers of his left hand. “All kinds of camping gear, warm clothing, meal packs, tools...”
“Snake antivenom.”
He ignored the comment. “Sleeping bags...”
“Three-hundred-dollar sleeping bags, I’ll bet,” she said.
“Right. And once the cabins are fixed up, I’ll have the facilities for warm beds and hot meals.” He leaned forward, his gaze intent on her face. “It’s my firm conviction, and my hope, that once the city boys get partway down the trail, they’ll spend whatever they have to in order to make it all the way to trail’s end and not come off looking like they don’t have what it takes.”
“So the success of your little venture depends on the macho stubbornness of your customers combined with an inbred inability to adapt to this environment.” She raised her eyebrows and added, “And the extravagant use of their credit cards.”
He gave her an admiring stare, apparently impressed that she’d zeroed in on the brilliance of his plan right away. In a way, the idea was brilliant if one didn’t consider that Bret Donovan had inherited the same scheming genes that dominated his father’s actions. But at least junior’s plan was legal, and he was only bilking those who could afford it.
“You think it will work?” he asked.
He wanted her opinion? Well, okay. She had one. “Maybe. There could be enough Paul Bunyan wannabes out there who might find your wilderness experience satisfying.” He started to respond, but she held up her hand. “But, honestly? I just don’t see the point.”
“What do you mean?”
She considered not telling him. She didn’t want to make an enemy of Bret Donovan. She needed him to make good on his father’s debt, but he had asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I was just thinking that this place probably was a pretty good Boy Scout camp.”
“I imagine so,” he said. “And I don’t disagree with you that places like The Crooked Spruce could help shape young lives. I’ve seen enough troubled kids in my former profession who might have benefited from the responsibility and work ethic that a youth camp could provide, but I’ve moved on from that life and its problems. And I wasn’t responsible for the Boy Scouts leaving. So if they don’t want to come here anymore, why shouldn’t I take advantage of what they left behind?
“Bottom line,” he said. “The Crooked Spruce is mine now. I need to make a living, and this is what I want to do. This may have been a decent Boy Scout camp, but it’s going to be an even better outfitters.”
“Yes, it will. Still it’s kind of a shame....”
“Dorie, I can’t fix people. Lately I’ve barely been able to fix myself.”
She shrugged. “Fine. Good luck. Now where do you suggest I bunk tonight?”
“Pop and I sleep on the second floor. But you’ll be staying in the spare room down here.” He pointed toward the hallway where she’d gone to use the bathroom. “It’s the last door down on the right. Technically it’s a storeroom right now, but there’s a bed in there. Not fancy, but it’s clean. You can use the bathroom down here and avoid bumping into Pop and me.”
“All right.”
He walked slowly to the kitchen, favoring his right leg. Obviously the inactivity of the past few minutes had affected him. Before going in, he stopped and turned back to her. “I hope we can work this out,” he said. “What happened to you isn’t right.”
“We agree on that.” She waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she said, “So you never told me what’s wrong with your leg.”
He paused as if debating whether or not to tell her. Finally he sighed and said, “A few months ago, when I was still a cop, I got shot in a botched liquor-store robbery.”
She couldn’t control her reaction. A startled cry came from her throat.
“I know,” he said. “Sounds like a cliché, doesn’t it? Liquor-store robbery in the middle of the night. But it happened. And I got a bullet in my thigh for my troubles.”
Her mind flashed back to the details of Jack’s case. A convenience store robbery. Three teenagers. One gun. A downed store clerk. She flinched.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, misinterpreting her reaction. “I’m getting better every day. You know the worst part? The shooter only got a light sentence. He’ll be out in three years if he doesn’t screw up.”
He stared around the room, a faraway look in his eyes. “So, yeah, The Crooked Spruce used to be a Boy Scout camp, but here’s some irony for you that came out in the trial. The guy who popped me was once an eagle scout. Had more medals than a five-star general. Guess you never can tell about people.”
She didn’t know how to respond. It was a crazy bit of irony.
He could have gone into the kitchen, but instead he held up one finger. “One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“You got anything against kids?”
“Of course not. Why?”
“My ten-year-old son’s due back tomorrow. He’s been staying with my sister over spring break from school. He’s a good boy. Quiet. Won’t bother you too much.”
“I don’t have a problem with that...if I’m still around when he gets here.”
“Okay, then. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
Dorie looked at the door after Bret had closed it. Questions flooded her mind. How did a ten-year-old like living on this mountain? Where was the boy’s mother? What kind of a father was Bret? She came to the same conclusion she often did about children who lived with only one parent. They were luckier than those who had none at all.
CHAPTER FIVE
“SORRY TO CALL so early, Bret, but last night you made this sound like a priority so I got on it first thing.”
“I appreciate it, Rob.” Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Bret prayed his cell phone wouldn’t conk out before he got the info he needed. He grabbed the tablet he kept on his nightstand and prepared to take notes. “I knew you’d have the resources at Dade County P.D.”
“You want to tell me why you wanted me to look up this woman? She do something to you?”
“No. Actually it’s the other way around. What I mean is, I’m trying to clear up a problem she had with my father.”
“So I don’t need to suggest a warrant for one Dorinda Howe?”
“Not necessary. I can handle everything from here.” And besides, he thought, thinking of the spare bedroom downstairs, I know right where she is. Or where she’s supposed to be.
“Okay. I’ve got some facts about your Miss Howe. In the past year she’s gotten a speeding ticket and some parking fines. She’s also had some credit problems dating back a few years. Been late on payments and once was turned over to collection. As far as criminal activity, though, she’s not even a blip on our system.”
“That’s good. But it sounds like she’s got a problem handling money, like maybe she could be in some kind of trouble.”
“I suppose. Still, I don’t show anything specific here. But I don’t want to think of you tangli
ng with her younger brother. That kid has a rap sheet that’s been building for a while.”
“She has a brother? So he could be a problem.”
“Not right now,” Rob said. “He’s locked up tight as a tick in Broad Creek, so you can put him out of your mind.”
“What did the kid do?”
“Let’s see here. Jack Howe—let me scroll down. Joyriding in someone else’s car, vandalism in a public park, some petty robbery, stuff like that.”
“And for these crimes he’s in Broad Creek?” Bret asked, knowing the maximum security prison was for serious offenders.
“Hang on. I’m not at the bottom of his stats yet,” Rob said. “The most recent stuff is at the end. By the way, how’s the leg?”
Bret automatically placed his hand on his thigh, an involuntary reaction. He tried not to favor his right leg first thing in the morning. Pain after a night of immobility was common, and he just had to walk it off. “Getting better,” he said. “Giving the injury a good workout by climbing ladders and replacing shingles.”
“Someday I’m going to come up there and visit your slice of paradise, Bret. Sounds like just the R and R I need.”
“Hope you do that, Rob. I had cops in mind when I bought the property. Cops and overtaxed corporate execs. No better place to release tension than this old lumber trail.”
“Sounds good. Tell your boy I said hi. How’s he doing?”
Bret knew his friend was truly interested, but he didn’t want to delve into the honest answer to that question. Luke was due back in a couple of hours, and Bret was anxious about how his son would react to being on the mountain again, especially after a week with his cousins, cable TV, nonstop video games and Happy Meals.
Luke didn’t openly complain about the life he now shared with his dad on the mountain, but he often hinted that he wished things were different. Bret knew the kid had issues, both with the death of his mom and the recent move.
“He’s doing fine,” Bret said, wishing, hoping, it was so.
“Whoa!” Rob said. “Here’s something of interest.”
“About Jack Howe?”
“Yeah. He’s in Broad Creek on suspicion of robbing a convenience store. Says here somebody got plugged.”
“What?”
“I gotta go, Bret. The precinct captain is calling me. I’ll make a copy of everything the brother is in jail for and call you back.”
Bret wanted more details but he knew he couldn’t keep his friend from his duties. He simply said, “I owe you, Rob. Thanks again.”
He disconnected, slid his cell phone into his pocket and headed for the stairs. His heart pounded when he hit the last step, and he speculated about the exertion of the past few seconds. Why was his pulse racing? Was he concerned about the level of crime Jack had committed? He had to face Dorie this morning. And he wouldn’t jump to any conclusions until he had all the facts.
* * *
SHE STOOD AT the counter, her back to him. She apparently didn’t hear him come in. Dressed in a yellow sweater, faded blue jeans and yellow sneakers, she brightened up his drab old kitchen like a sunflower that had just taken root in his pine flooring.
“Good morning,” he said.
She turned. Loose hair brushed her shoulders. Strands caught the dawning sun coming in the window and reminded him of dew on petals. Bret couldn’t take his eyes off her. Jeez, where was all this poetic nonsense coming from this morning? Sunflowers, dewy petals. Mountain life was turning him into Longfellow.
She dropped coffee grounds into a mug. “I found some instant. Hope it’s okay if I make a cup.”
“Of course. You don’t have to ask. I’ll brew a real pot if you want me to.”
“Not for me. I use instant at home. Can I get one for you?”
“Thanks.” He pulled out a chair and sat. “How’d you sleep?”
She turned back to her task, and he watched the subtle movement of her shoulders as she poured water from the kettle. “Fine. Better than I thought I would.” Carrying his mug to the table she said, “I had everything I needed and more. Forty-eight rolls of toilet paper, thirty-six paper towels, Kleenex, a case of bug spray...” She stopped and smiled.
“I told you that room was used for storage.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Did the sounds of our mountain creatures bother you?”
“I found them rather soothing in a way.” Then, as if worried she appeared too complimentary about the accommodations, she backtracked. “Of course, I’m anxious to get back on the road. I’m not much of a country girl.”
“Sure. I understand.” He added sugar from the bowl on the table and stirred. He noticed she left her coffee black.
She took a sip. “So...where are we this morning on this plan of yours? You think it through?”
Right to the point. “I did. Can I ask you something?”
“I guess. As long as I don’t have to answer. You’re not asking as a cop, are you?”
“No. As a friend.”
She gave him an odd look he couldn’t interpret for sure, but he figured it meant she didn’t think of him that way.
“Are you in some kind of trouble, Dorie? Maybe financial trouble?”
She eyed him over the rim of her mug. “Now that sounds like a cop question to me.”
He chuckled. “Old habits. But I am curious. I have the money to pay you. Despite being in debt over this place, I have kept an emergency cash reserve. The money’s in the bank in town. But this being a Saturday, the bank will be closed. In Mountain Springs, our banks keep true bankers’ hours. I won’t be able to get the money until Monday.”
“Is your check good?”
“Right now it is. But my funds are extremely limited. And as I pointed out yesterday, I’m not responsible for my father’s debts.”
She frowned. “I’m not arguing that point. But we’re not going through all this again, are we?”
“I’m just saying, maybe it’s the cop in me, after all, but I don’t especially want to hand over five grand to you if I don’t have a good idea where it’s going. I could be contributing to something illegal or at least dishonest.”
“The only dishonest thing about that money is the way your father stole it from me.”
“I get that, and I’m not arguing with you, either. But I could use some information, Dorie. Can you tell me what you need the money for?”
She scowled at him. He wasn’t surprised. Tact wasn’t his strong suit. “I don’t have to tell you that,” she said.
“No, technically you don’t,” he agreed. “But you said you owed it to someone, and, since it’s my money...”
She started to interrupt and he put his hand up. “I know. It’s your money.”
“That’s right.”
“Okay, but it’s my money that will leave my bank account, and I’d kind of like to know the particulars.” Like is some loan shark after you to pay him back? Bret had had experience with scum like that, and he actually considered that he might be able to help Dorie out of a jam.
“I guess you would like to know,” she said. “But I’m not going to tell you or your father anything about that money. It’s mine. I want it back. End of story.”
He took a sip of coffee. This wasn’t going as he’d planned. “Not exactly. At least it’s not the end of the story if you want the money to come from me.”
The scowl stayed in place. Both hands tightened around the mug until he thought she might crack the crockery. Finally she said, “So that’s your big plan? You’re holding the money hostage until I tell you where it’s going, who I owe?”
“I don’t look at it that way. It’s a lot of money. At least it’s a lot to me right now, the situation I’m in. But I know Pop cheated you, so I’m willing to pay it.”
She smirked. “Great.”
“But I’m not going to hand it over just like that. Here’s the deal. Tell me where this money has to go and I’ll send it directly to the person who’s waiting for it. That way your debt is paid and we eliminate the middle man.”
“Meaning me? I’m the middle man?”
“Well, you are.”
“That’s preposterous. I’m the one who is owed the money. What I do with it isn’t your business.”
“Maybe not, but I’m not giving it to you without knowing where it will end up. The person you owe the money to is the true destination, and I don’t know anything about him or her.”
“You don’t need to! And you don’t pay a debt by attaching all sorts of conditions on it!”
“You’re wrong, Dorie. Again, it’s not my debt, so I think I have every right to place a condition on paying it.” He wasn’t going to relent. “Don’t forget, I know my father. This money could have started a dirty trail of deceit that’s going to end up with whomever you have to pay it to. I’m not about to finance anything illegal. You could be mixed up in something...”
“I’m not! As for your father, that’s anybody’s guess.”
“Exactly my point. I’m offering you a fair deal, Dorie. Tell me where to send the money, and I’ll put a check in the mail on Monday.” He waited for her reaction. All he got was a glare that tightened his gut.
He was absolutely certain that he was doing the right thing. Sure, she had a point about her privacy, but he didn’t know where that money was going. Maybe her con brother was into something in jail. Maybe Dorie was afraid of someone and paying protection money. That possibility worried him more than he wanted to acknowledge. Also, maybe she wasn’t as squeaky clean as her record of parking fines and financial problems indicated.
The stalemate went on for a full minute while he grew more uncomfortable. She tapped her fingertip on the coffee mug, further grating on his nerves. He was being hard on her, but she’d showed up on his doorstep yesterday a perfect stranger asking for five thousand dollars. And she’d been mixed up with his father! That fact alone was enough to make him suspicious.
Blue Ridge Hideaway Page 5
