Blue Ridge Hideaway

by Cynthia Thomason

  “This is a way out of the problem, Dorie,” he said at last. “Look at this from my point of view for a moment.”

  “As if we haven’t been,” she said.

  He pressed on. “I’m an ex-cop. I’m on disability from the Miami Police Department. If I end up involved in something illegal, I could lose my monthly payments.”

  He didn’t know if that was true or not, but he figured she’d believe it.

  He looked around his kitchen. “I’m deep into this place. It’s a hardship for me to give you this money now, when I’m so close to opening. And remember, I hardly know you. Once I’m satisfied about where the money is going, I’ll settle your debt and take it out of Pop’s hide, but I’m not giving you the money directly.”

  “This is ridiculous...”

  “It’s the deal.” He shrugged with pretended indifference. “Take it or wait for Pop to settle up with you.”

  She drummed her fingers on the table, took a deep breath. He knew she’d agree. She had to.

  “Okay, but it will have to be a cashier’s check. This guy won’t take a personal check from someone he doesn’t know.”

  “No problem, but again, it will have to be Monday. The bank’s...”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “You can stay here until then.”

  “Goody.”

  He smiled. “Like you said, plenty of paper towels and bug spray.”

  She stood. “I’ll go to my room and get the name of the person you should send the check to.”

  His instincts went on overdrive. “You don’t know the name?”

  “It’s a group of people. I’m not sure of the spelling of the main guy. Then if it’s okay, I’ll use your computer to find his address.”

  Despite the vagueness of her answer, he nodded. She started for the exit, but he stopped her at the kitchen door. “By the way, Dorie...”

  She turned, stared at him. “What?”

  He got up and walked to the sink to rinse out his cup. “Were you ever going to tell me your brother’s in jail?”

  * * *

  DORIE’S KNEES LOCKED, preventing her from scurrying into the hall as if she hadn’t heard his question. She felt ambushed and grasped the door frame for support. “What did you just ask me?” She almost didn’t get the words out before her lungs emptied of air.

  “Your brother.” His voice was calm, as if he’d planned this confrontation to watch her squirm. “I understand he’s in jail.”

  “How did...” She stopped herself and rephrased. “Why would you think that?”

  He leaned against the counter. “Is that why you need the money, to help him?”

  Oh, no, he wasn’t going to get her to admit to something by tricking her into a confession. She might have told him about Jack on her own, but now she realized he was still cop enough to pull a couple of tricks out of his sleeve.

  “I don’t have to tell you why I need the money,” she said again. “It’s bad enough that you conned me into giving you the name of the person I owe.”

  “And once you do, you think I won’t be able to track down who that is?”

  His expression was a little too smug. He was too certain of himself. And she suddenly figured out what was going on. Anger built inside her until she felt it thrumming in her temples. “You’ve checked me out! You and your cop buddies! How dare you? You’re acting like I’m the one who committed a crime here.”

  “Of course I checked you out. I don’t know you. I’m sending someone five grand on your say-so. Only an idiot wouldn’t investigate your background.”

  “Or a self-righteous cop who doesn’t want to admit his father is a crook.”

  “I admitted to my dad’s faults. I know him better than anyone else does except for maybe my mother. You didn’t show up here with a revelation my family and I haven’t heard a hundred times before.”

  She took several steps back into the kitchen. She thought he might inch his way down the counter. Most men backed up from her when she was as hot-tempered as she was right now. But not Bret. He just calmly scooped more grounds into his coffee mug and put the kettle back on a burner. She wished she had that can of mace right now. She’d spray him just for the heck of it.

  He set the cup on the counter. “You want to sit back down and tell me what’s really going on?”

  “So you can judge me? Make conclusions about something you know nothing about? I’ll pass.”

  He smiled. Smiled! “Believe it or not, I thought maybe I could help you. I have known quite a few people who have gone to jail.”

  “I’m sure you have. Criminal activity is in your gene pool.”

  “Unfortunately that’s true. But so is a commitment to the law. So if you want to tell me what you need the money for...”

  “Are you going to back out and not give it to me?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I figured maybe you’d change your mind now that you know about my brother. It seems like cops judge all kids by the actions of a few, assume someone is guilty just because of his associations.”

  “I’d prefer to believe I’m not like that.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Right. So here you are, an ex-cop who got shot by a guy robbing a liquor store, and you’re going to tell me you don’t have a preconceived opinion about my brother because he’s accused of killing a convenience store clerk? I don’t be...”

  She stopped talking as if a bucket of cold water had been tossed over her head. The room had gone deathly silent. Bret’s face blanched and his eyes widened.

  “Say that again.” The words seemed to come from the dark place of his own misery.

  She drew in a sharp gasp. “Oh, my gosh, you didn’t know that part.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “MURDER? I KNEW someone was shot, but this... Your brother killed someone?” He closed his eyes for a few seconds and drew in a long breath. When he looked at her again, he seemed almost calm. She wondered what kind of mental discipline he’d mastered to pull that off. She was clenching her hands to keep them from shaking.

  “I didn’t mean to tell you that,” she said. “At least not in that way.”

  “Obviously. But now you have, and you should sit down.”

  “I don’t want to sit.” The words were a feeble attempt at displaying confidence she didn’t feel. She couldn’t very well refuse his request. She’d opened her big mouth and let spill the secret she’d wanted to reveal only on her own terms. She went to the table and pulled out a chair. “I suppose I could use another cup of coffee.”

  “Forget the coffee for now. We have some important matters to discuss.”

  “By discuss do you mean under conditions of intense interrogation and mental torture?”

  He pointed to the chair. “Please, sit.”

  She did.

  He sat across from her. He checked his watch. She recalled that his son was due back soon. Maybe he would ask her to be gone by the time the boy was supposed to be home.

  “Let’s start with the easy questions,” he said. “How old is your brother?”

  “He’s sixteen.”

  “Let me guess. He’s a good kid, just had some bad breaks, tough life, no one to love him...” He stared at her. “Have I got that about right?”

  She met his gaze and didn’t blink. “Yes, minus the sarcasm. Although he’s always had me to love him.”

  “Why don’t you tell me his story—the one from the night he shot a store clerk.”

  “Jack didn’t shoot anybody.”

  “Fine. Tell about the night a store clerk got shot and Jack just happened to be there.”

  She tamped down her anger and proceeded to relate the details of the store robbery, all the while keeping a close watch for changes
in Bret’s expression, signs that he was believing her. The facts were simple, and she told them in fewer than five minutes. He remained stone-faced, like any cop she’d ever met. They were all experts at making the interrogation victim squirm.

  “So, Jack thought he and his buddies were just going in the store to buy beer with a false ID?” Bret said when she’d finished.

  “Yes, that was the plan. Nothing criminal was planned as far as Jack knew.”

  “Buying beer with false identification is illegal. I’m sure Jack knew that.”

  She didn’t respond. He was just baiting her now.

  “And according to my source, Jack had been guilty of several crimes in the past.”

  Not being able to deny that, she remained silent.

  Bret continued. “Things got out of hand, as you say, and one of the boys, the hot-headed one, as you describe him, shot the store clerk.”

  “That’s right. The clerk became confrontational, pulled a baseball bat from behind the counter and threatened them. Vince, that’s the boy’s name, took a gun from his belt at his back where he’d hidden it and shot him.” She considered what else she might say and opted for the truth. “I’ve never cared for Vince. Anytime Jack has gotten in trouble, Vince has always been the ringleader. He probably mouthed off to the clerk when the man didn’t automatically ring up their beer.”

  “The gun was behind Vince’s back?”

  “That’s right.”

  “It was concealed from the clerk.”

  That sounded like an incriminating statement, and Dorie evaded the answer. “I can’t say for sure.”

  “But you can say for sure that Jack was an innocent bystander? He didn’t know Vince had a weapon?”

  “That’s right. As for Jack being innocent, he wasn’t innocent in providing a false ID. Just the shooting.”

  “But you said he drove the getaway car?”

  “Vince threatened him. Anyway, the car was Jack’s, and yes, he drove it.”

  “Did Vince corroborate this story?”

  For the first time, Dorie looked down. This was the part of the story that could lead to Jack’s conviction for a crime he didn’t commit. “No.”

  “How about the other boy?”

  “No.”

  “That must have been a tough break for Jack.”

  This was ridiculous. Bret didn’t believe her, and Dorie saw no point in continuing his line of questioning. “Look,” she said, “it’s obvious you don’t buy this story....”

  “I haven’t said that.”

  “No, but I can tell. And it’s okay. This isn’t your problem. Jack is my problem.”

  “True, but our problems have become intertwined. You can’t deny that you’ve become a problem in my life.”

  “Your problem is with your father, not me.”

  “Look, Dorie—” his voice mellowed “—I can’t explain this, but when you drove halfway up a mountain to a place you didn’t know in that old truck with nothing but a can of mace to fend off who-knows-what, you became of concern of mine.”

  That stopped her. She wasn’t just a problem? He was concerned? Yeah, about giving up five grand.

  “Just send the money, Bret. I wish I could get out of here today. I would if there was a decent place to stay around here.”

  “Nobody’s asking you to do that.”

  “Okay, but I promise, I’ll be gone by Monday afternoon as soon as I’m convinced that money is on its way. And besides hounding Clancy to pay you back, you can forget me and go on with your nice little life of peeling paint and gouging executives.”

  “Now that’s harsh, but the circumstances at this point involve a murder charge. You certainly can’t blame me for wondering about the money.” His gaze was intense. “Who gets this five thousand? A guard at Broad Creek? Vince? Is this money being used to extort a confession or an alibi?”

  She stood so she could face his stupid allegations on her own two feet. “A lawyer gets it, okay?” she practically shouted. Bret had gone from concerned citizen to cop again. The man was a chameleon. But now that the story was out, her reservation about revealing everything related to Jack’s case no longer seemed important. “It’s for Jack’s defense.”

  At least he had the decency to remain quiet for a few seconds which was a good thing because Dorie was caught between rage and tears. She’d had enough. The five thousand was honestly owed to her. She wasn’t asking for more than she was due. And she was done jumping through hoops to get it.

  “Oh. A lawyer. Okay, that certainly is another possibility.”

  She was mollified to an extent, but still angry. “That’s right it is. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the only way out for a sixteen-year-old kid whose guilt was prejudged by—” No, Dorie, don’t blame the cops. You’ve come this far. She swallowed and ended with, “For a kid who is currently residing with hardened criminals.”

  He nodded once. “Go get the address.”

  “Fine.”

  “And Dorie, I really am sorry I came down so hard on you.”

  “You did, you know?”

  “When you said Jack was being held on murder charges I forgot for a minute that I’m just a civilian these days.”

  “Look, Bret, I’m not doing anything wrong. I have a brother in trouble. I need a lawyer to help him. And I need money that is owed me to pay that lawyer. You can stop imagining undercurrents of criminal activity.”

  “Fair enough.”

  She was in the hallway when he called her name. She came back to the kitchen. “What now?”

  “While you get the address I’ll start fixing some eggs. You like eggs, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “How do you like them?”

  “Scrambled. With cheese.”

  “I can do cheese.”

  In the hall on the way to her room, she ran into Clancy. “I suppose you have something to say, too,” she snapped at him.

  “I was going to say good morning, but now I think I’ll mind my own business.” He scooted by her and went to start the coffeemaker while mumbling, “Did I miss something?”

  “No,” Bret said.

  Clancy muttered about the early hour and then added a comment in the same complaining tone. Dorie figured he was talking about her. Well, so what? She’d said a few choice things about him in the past week.

  She returned with the address of Jack’s lawyer, quickly ate cheesy eggs with ketchup and even admitted to the chef they were pretty good. Actually they were the best she’d ever had. After promising to do clean-up duty, she went out the back entrance of the lodge to make a phone call. She climbed about a hundred yards up the slope of the mountain before she got a clear signal on her cell.

  “Hello. Broad Creek Correctional.”

  Dorie recognized the gravelly voice of Brad Cantor, the prison employee who answered the phone and usually greeted her when she came in the visitors’ entrance of the facility. He was a nice guy, but he always made certain she walked through the screening machine and regularly checked her purse for contraband. Still, she liked him well enough. He reminded her of a country grandfather. He always asked how she was and listened to her answer.

  “Hi, Brad. It’s Dorie Howe. I was hoping I could talk to Jack.”

  “His block just finished breakfast, Dorie. He should be back in his cell by now. Hold on and I’ll try to put you through to the phone there.” There was a pause before he said, “How you doing, by the way?”

  “Well enough. Thanks for asking.” She made a point of being polite to all the staff at Broad Creek. She only hoped Jack was doing the same.

  Brad put her on hold. She was used to the wait. Inmates couldn’t have cell phones. Nor were they allowed to have internet privileges unless they were doing research or school work. D
orie had never been denied phone access to her brother, but she hated that the District Attorney had decided to try him as an adult and therefore assigned him to Broad Creek. Connecting to him generally took several minutes.

  “Dorie, is that you?”

  “It’s me, Jack.” She pictured him leaning against the cement block wall that held the old-fashioned black phones, the kind that used to be in booths by every gas station. “How’s it going, kiddo?”

  “I heard from that lawyer who looked at my case when we fired the public defender.”

  That was good news. At least Grant Schreiber had kept his word to contact Jack. “He told me he’s appointing an associate to review everything, a guy named Eric Henderson.”

  “That’s probably the guy he said was coming out to see me in a few days. Have we got any money to pay him?”

  “We will have,” she said. “The law firm should still have about five hundred left from the sale of my business. Even without the five thousand, that should be enough for the associate to drive out to Broad Creek and interview you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Just be honest with him about everything, Jack. Tell the truth. You don’t have anything to hide.”

  “I know that, but what if he won’t take my case? What if he says we don’t have a chance?”

  Dorie could sense his frustration. “Don’t borrow trouble, Jack. We’re paying this guy to find a way to acquit you.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. So, did you find Clancy?”

  “I did.”

  “And he gave you the money he owes you?”

  She thought of Clancy sitting in the kitchen right now, waiting for his coffee to brew. Had she not shown up yesterday, he would have started his day believing he didn’t have a worry in the world. Now at least he knew he couldn’t hide from his responsibility.

  “Not exactly,” she said. “I’ve got some bad news. Clancy spent the money.”

  “All of it?”

  Dorie told him about Clancy’s wayward trek to the casino.

  “That stupid jerk! I told you not to trust him.”

  She did a mental ten count. “Jack, be fair. It seems you and I both have issues trusting the wrong people.”