Too bad the trick wouldn’t work with Elise. She saw right past his evasive answers. When he’d first gotten to know her eight years ago, her insight into his true motives had impressed him until she’d started getting too close. He’d learned to hide his secrets more carefully around her. But as his father had learned when death had crept close, some secrets didn’t need to be kept from everyone. Could he trust Elise with his whole messy past? She might hate him if she really knew.
But she already hated him.
So maybe he had nothing to lose.
“My grandfather,” he began slowly, “was a meth addict.”
It took a moment for Elise to respond. “When? I thought he died a long time ago. And meth is a newer drug.”
Cutch almost felt glad she knew so little about the drug. She was still innocent as far as that was concerned. His knowledge weighed on him. “Its popularity is newer, but it’s been around since World War II. According to what I was able to learn about it, the Nazis gave out the stuff to help their soldiers fight beyond the natural boundaries of exhaustion. It gave them a temporary advantage over the enemy. And if it eventually destroyed the person, well, they didn’t care.”
“Oh my.”
“I don’t know how my grandfather stumbled into using it. He was a fighter pilot in the war. Somewhere along the line, either he decided or someone decided for him that he ought to have every advantage the Nazis had.”
“Even if it destroyed him,” Elise concluded.
“Yes.” Cutch sighed. “Grandpa came back from war a drug addict. His boyhood dream was to transform these useless hills into the world’s foremost pecan-growing region. The idea itself is a good one. He just didn’t have his head on straight and planted the trees too close together. The trees only produce nuts on their outermost branches, but if the trees are too close to other trees, those branches don’t get enough sunlight.”
“And the trees don’t produce any nuts,” Elise finished for him.
Cutch nodded, the movement rocking her head gently where she’d placed it against his shoulder in the darkness. “I’ve tried clearing out trees, with some success, but the mature trees already have their growth ends developed, so I’ll never get full production out of them. There are some pruning tricks I’ve tried that have helped some, but I doubt they’ll ever have the kind of yield they could have if they’d been planted correctly to begin with.”
“Then how will you ever make it work?”
“I’ve cleared forty acres and planted it with new stock—spaced correctly. The trees take at least six years to reach productive age, though, so this fall’s harvest will be the first indication I’ll have as to whether the plan will work. Eventually, I’d like to come back through here, sell all the old trees for wood and replant the whole section.”
“That’s a lot of work.”
“I know. But I want my grandfather’s dream to come true. He lived out the end of his life as a bum and died thinking he’d been a failure. My father became a workaholic to overcome that stigma.”
“I guess I didn’t realize.” Elise’s words were soft. She paused. “So, that explains the connection to the drug, but I guess I still don’t see why you know how it’s made.”
Cutch shrugged. “When I found out what my grandfather had been addicted to, I wanted to know more. I did some research, but there’s not a lot of information out there. The antidrug laws have really cracked down because they don’t want people to know how to make the stuff.”
“Makes sense.”
“I did some Internet searches on the subject, little knowing the authorities can and do monitor such activity. The FBI red flags searches for things like methamphetamine production, and when they get repeated hits from the same user, they contact the local authorities to investigate. It didn’t take long for the sheriff to show up—”
“They arrested you because of an Internet search?” Elise interrupted.
“I was never arrested,” Cutch corrected her. “But I was a person of interest, and you can believe they investigated me thoroughly. Because of that history, I’d guess if they come up with anything new to link me to the drug, they’re not going to care if I was considered innocent—” Cutch broke off, listening.
Elise tensed in his arms as the sound of distant men’s voices echoed through the woods once again. “They’re coming back,” she whispered.
“Let’s pray they don’t find us.” Cutch said, scooping her smaller hands into his large ones before beginning a whispered prayer.
“Please God,” Elise chimed in, “please keep us safe. And help us to bring whoever’s after us to justice. Amen.”
Cutch kept his eyes pinched tightly closed as he waited, tense arms wrapped around Elise, until the voices drifted off in the direction they’d come. From what he could tell, Donnie and his pals were probably headed back toward his truck. As vengeful laughter faded away, Cutch recognized its source.
“Did you hear that guy who keeps laughing?” he asked Elise.
“Yes, it gives me the creeps—like he’s taking pleasure in hunting us down.”
“It sounds like Darrel Stillwater.”
“That’s right. He and Donnie are always getting in trouble together. I suppose he uses meth, too,” Elise said.
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I wish I knew who they were working for, though.” Cutch couldn’t recall hearing anything about where either of the men were working in recent months.
Once the woods had been silent for long enough that the birds had started chirping again, Elise suggested, “We should get out of here.”
“I don’t know. I’m not convinced they’re gone. Like you said before, I don’t want to stick my head up only to have it blown off. Besides, the way they talked about my truck and flat tires, I’d guess I’m going to have to give Gary’s Garage another call.”
“You might be right,” Elise acknowledged, slumping against him defeatedly. “How do they keep finding us out here?”
Cutch fought back the urge to stroke her hair back from her face. He wanted so much to comfort her. Instead, he felt certain his words would only disturb her that much more. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
“I was afraid of that. Their timing has been too good. So who do you think is really behind all this?”
“I don’t know who Darrel and Donnie are working for these days,” Cutch admitted, “but it’s got to be someone with connections, someone with inside information. With the timing on all this…think about who knew we were out here. Think about who knew we were going after those pictures last night.”
Elise shuddered. “The sheriff?”
Cutch hated to agree with her. “He’s the most obvious choice. And remember when you first called him to say your glider had been shot down out of the sky—he didn’t offer to come right out then. That just doesn’t seem right.”
“I don’t want to believe he’d be in on this. We need his help. I always thought he seemed like a trustworthy man.”
“But if he’s not the one behind all this, who else could be?”
Fear churned inside Elise. An hour before, she’d have considered Cutch a suspect, too. But after the way the men had shot at both of them, she didn’t really see how he could be—not unless his own men had turned on him.
Which left one last option—one she liked even less than the others. Her voice sounded hollow when she offered her suggestion in the darkness of the latrine pit. “Uncle Leroy.”
Cutch stiffened beside her. “Your uncle? I know he pulled a gun on me yesterday, but he wouldn’t try to shoot you down, would he? You’re his niece. And you work for him.”
“I know.” The sigh that escaped her mouth sounded shaky. “I always thought we got along just fine, even though he’s not what you’d call an affectionate person. But he hates you, Cutch. He hates all the McCutcheons. I saw that when I looked down that gun barrel yesterday. He hates you enough he didn’t even lower the gun when I stepped in front of it.” Her voice cracked.
Cutch pulled her closer against him.
As much as she wanted to push him away, she’d been through too much over the last two days. His strength was the one comfort she had left. She leaned her head against his shoulder as she continued. “Uncle Leroy drives a red truck, and Donnie Clark has worked for him before. Leroy knew where we were headed when we left with the ladder yesterday, so he could have slashed your tires and deleted the pictures. Maybe he even broke the window to make it look like an outside job.”
“But he didn’t know you’d be out here today,” Cutch noted.
“No,” Elise admitted, “but he could guess you would be. He might have sent those guys out here after you, not realizing I’d be with you.” Her voice dropped to an empty whisper. “Or not caring if I was.”
Elise’s heart clenched, surprising her with how much her uncle’s possible betrayal hurt. Hadn’t she learned when she was six years old that she couldn’t trust anyone—not even her own mother? How had she let herself become so secure around her uncle? She knew better. And she knew better than to cozy up to Cutch, too.
Slowly, she pushed away from him and raised herself on trembling legs. “We’ve given them enough time. We should get out of here before those guys come back and decide to check this outhouse again.”
Cutch stood beside her, stretching up his long arms to raise the hinged bench above their heads. “Want me to go up first? That way, if anybody gets their head shot off—”
“Don’t talk like that!” Elise chided him in a whisper.
“You’re the one who said it the first time.”
“But that was my head I was talking about then,” she corrected him.
Cutch turned to face her in the dim light. “I’d have thought you’d be glad to have the world rid of another McCutcheon.”
Elise looked up into his eyes and saw him gauging her reaction. She tucked her hair absently back behind her ears and fought back the affection she felt for him. Affection like that would get her nowhere. She couldn’t trust her mother; she couldn’t trust her uncle. Why would she even consider trusting a man who’d already betrayed her?
Love your enemies. The words from the morning church service surfaced in her mind. But it was that kind of love that got Jesus killed. Elise set her lips in a firm scowl. “I don’t want you getting shot when I’m with you. Then they’d find me for sure,” she stated boldly, hating herself when she saw disappointment flash across Cutch’s eyes.
“Fine,” he said flatly. “You want to go first?”
“I’d love to.”
Elise stepped up on Cutch’s bent knee, grabbed the edge of the enclosure above her and then stepped onto his bowed shoulders. A moment later she stood inside the shot-up outhouse.
“How are you going to get up?” she asked, looking down at him.
“Stand back.”
Elise did as she was told, cracking the door open and standing in the doorway. She watched in wonder as Cutch grasped the aging wood and muscled himself up from the hole. He was a strong man—strong and independent.
“Now what?” she asked quietly when he stood beside her. “To your truck or to the road?”
“Those guys came in near my truck. If we head that way, we might find them waiting for us. And besides, if they slashed my tires again, the truck won’t do us any good.”
“So, the road then?”
“I guess so.”
They made their way quietly northward.
After some trudging, Elise asked quietly, “Do you think they slashed my tires, too?”
“I hope not. We’ll need your car to get us out of here. If those guys drove in on the south road, which seems likely, then there’s a good chance they don’t realize where your car is parked. The sheriff saw you arrive in my truck. If he’s the one behind all this, he would have passed that information along to them when he told them to come after us out here.” They reached the fence line and clambered through the thick brambles.
Cutch held down the barbed wire for her to climb over. He stepped over after her and met her at the side of the road, his eyes scanning the trees and hilltops. From where they stood, autumn-red sumac camouflaged their position while allowing them to see a wide swath of the surrounding area.
Elise watched Cutch’s eyes as he scrutinized their surroundings, presumably for any sign of the gunmen. She took in the determined set of his jaw and the weathered care lines that had begun to form around his eyes since she’d last known him. He’d aged well. She wondered how such an attractive, godly man had made it almost to his thirties without marrying, but she couldn’t possibly ask him without feeling as though she was expressing some sort of interest in him.
And she wasn’t interested. Not in Henry McCutcheon IV.
When Cutch glanced over at her a moment later, she realized with embarrassment that he’d caught her staring. She felt even more mortified as her cheeks burned a bright red, essentially giving away the fact that she knew she’d been caught looking at him. Hurrying toward where her car sat parked in the distance, she quickly circled around and verified that her tires had not been tampered with.
“Thank goodness.” She sighed as she climbed behind the wheel.
“Amen to that. I’m done playing in the woods.”
“Do you want me to try to drive you to your truck?”
Cutch folded his body into the small space of her passenger seat. “Please, no. This car will get stuck before we get halfway there, and then we’ll really be sitting ducks. Can you take me to Gary’s Garage? He can help me.”
Though she pointed the car toward town, Elise protested, “But it’s Sunday. Gary’s Garage is closed. Maybe I can help you change your tires.”
“I don’t want to take up any more of your time or put you in any more danger. If I can find Gary, he won’t be shy about billing me extra for making him work on a Sunday.”
Elise smiled. To be honest, she didn’t feel comfortable spending any more time around Cutch than she already had—especially after the close quarters they’d shared while hiding from the gunmen and the way he’d caught her staring at him. “Thank you.”
“It’s not a problem.”
Fortunately, Gary’s Garage was on the edge of town, so Elise didn’t have to endure the embarrassment of being seen with Cutch by the entire town of Holyoake. Gary’s house sat next door to his business. Elise waited patiently while Cutch went up to the porch and rang the bell. When Gary answered the door, Cutch spoke with the man a moment before turning and waving her off.
Elise was glad to go. If nothing else, she needed to rinse off the feel of the dirt and the bugs she’d spent the afternoon keeping company with. And maybe, if she was really lucky, she’d be able to wash away the feeling of being close to Cutch.
When she arrived home, she was glad to see that her father wasn’t around. She knew he worried about her, and if he saw how bedraggled she looked after her run through the woods, he’d no doubt worry that much more. After a quick shower and change of clothes, she felt significantly better, though her heart still hammered uncomfortably and she found herself jumping at her own shadow. Being shot at so many times would do that, she figured.
There wasn’t much to eat in the fridge, and Elise recalled with disappointment that she’d left the lasagna at the airfield office. She needed to finish it up in the next couple of days.
Recalling that the sheriff had promised to have the airfield computer returned as soon as their expert had finished trying to retrieve the picture files, she decided to head over there and see if she couldn’t make some headway on the pictures she’d taken of the Mitchum’s corn maze so she could deliver their final product to them. After all, she still had a business to run. No way would she allow the gunmen to destroy her livelihood, too.
As she pulled into the airfield parking lot, Elise noticed a familiar red truck parked in front of the office. It was not Uncle Leroy’s but Rodney Miller’s. Glad she didn’t have to face her uncle, Elise let herself in to find Rodney
seated in front of the returned computer. The small-framed older man enjoyed the same kinds of computer games as the teenagers she knew, but he quickly closed his program when she entered the office.
“Hi, Elise,” he greeted her. “The sheriff brought the computer back. I thought they might have messed stuff up, but it all still seems to work.” He finished with a characteristic nervous laugh.
Elise smiled patiently. “Glad to hear it. Do you mind if I retrieve the pictures I took of the Mitchum’s corn maze? They were erased from my camera, so the only copies I have are on that computer.”
“Help yourself. I should probably head out.” Rodney hopped up and shuffled past her to the door.
After locking the door after him, Elise sat down at the computer and tried to convince herself she had no reason to feel uneasy. Whoever was after her had destroyed whatever evidence she might have had against them. They didn’t need to come after her, even though she was in a place where they’d broken in before. And she was alone. And it would soon be dark.
Shaking off the nervous chill she felt, Elise switched on the radio, which was tuned to the nearest Christian radio station, and cranked the volume high enough to drown out her fears. The praise music that filled the room made her feel a little better.
To her relief, the corn maze pictures were all still saved on the hard drive, and she started to load them onto a portable drive, though the large files and aging computer made the process a slow one. While she waited for the first files to load, she checked her e-mail and was cheered to find messages from several of her friends expressing disappointment that she wouldn’t be joining them at the Labor Day Powered Glider Festival.
Distracted by the messages, she’d almost forgotten about how vulnerable she was, alone in the little building that had been broken into before, when she heard a noise above the sound of the radio. She switched off the music just in time to hear the locked doorknob rattling as someone tried to open it. Then she heard a solid thump as though the person on the other side had thrown the weight of their body against the door.
Out on a Limb Page 9
