Shadows and Ash: Pulp Friction 2014 Finale

by Harner, Laura

  Jillian opened her eyes and looked around the dining room, remembering how unfinished it had been on her first day at the lodge. When Pauline and DJ had been here, this had been their home—and Jillian had a furnished cabin in exchange for a part-time job. She’d still been trapped in the hand-to-mouth existence, unable to protect herself when her father had found her and forced her to let him stay with her. She needed to make sure Siggy understood.

  “Everything changed once Scott bought the place and Robby moved in—without even knowing the story, they made my f-f-father leave. I should have told them he was still showing up around here this past year. But when Carl showed up here again tonight and demanded I let him have Maddie—”

  “What?” Siggy question came out a strangled whisper. “Honey, we’re coming home tonight—Jillian, I don’t want you to be alone. I don’t want you to think for one second I would abandon you over this.”

  Relief flooded through her at his declaration—it meant even more than his three little words the other night. This was a man who wouldn’t give up on her, wouldn’t judge her over a past she couldn’t change. She wanted to see him, to be swallowed up in his embrace, to allow herself to accept his love. But there was something she needed to do, first.

  “No, Siggy, please don’t come home early. Listen to me—Scott’s mom is bringing Robby’s kids back Wednesday, and if you can keep Maddie and Damon until then, it will give everyone here one more day to try to straighten this mess out before the hearing tomorrow afternoon. It’s only a fitness hearing, but Robby is worried they’ll charge Scott for shoving the cop or even bring in the arson as a reason to hold him. We’re trying to track down as many suspects as possible since the investigators seem determined to ignore any other possible solution. Just one more day.”

  There was a long pause, with nothing but the sound of Siggy’s breath to tell her he hadn’t ended the call. Finally, Siggy spoke, his voice a harsh whisper. “I’ll keep them here, but we’re leaving early enough that we’ll be back at Mountain Shadows early on Christmas Eve day. Now you listen to me, Jillian. I. Love. You. This doesn’t change anything. Nothing that bastard did to you was your fault. Goddammit.” She could hear the frustration in his voice.

  Jilly’s hands trembled slightly, and she breathed deeply before she finally gave voice to her feelings. “I love you too, Siggy. I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you.” She waited a beat to let her words sink in, then continued. “You know, it’s funny. I’ve kept that secret from everyone my whole life. Today, I finally stood up for myself, and it gave me the strength to tell others.” She swallowed hard. “You don’t have to worry about Carl. I told him if he ever came near me or Maddie again, I’d kill him.”

  Jillian sat at the table a long time after they’d finally hung up. There was a new intimacy to their relationship that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with shared stories and promises. When Siggy came home on Wednesday, their relationship would move forward in many ways—this would be their first Christmas as a family.

  Before she could be completely free of her past, there was something she needed to do. Pushing to her feet, Jilly returned to the kitchen, got what she needed from the drawer, then went to the mudroom. She stepped into her boots and pulled on a heavy parka before heading out into the cold high country night. After a quick glance around the yard, she slipped away from the lodge—thankful for the bright tumble of stars that spilled across the sky, lighting her way.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rowen knelt by Carl, staring down at his terrified face. The poor bastard’s unseeing eyes stared back, his unheard scream lost on his lips. His face frozen in a state of pure fear and—hopefully—pain.

  Rowe wondered what Carl’s last thoughts were, had he prayed to his god for forgiveness of his sins before the final breath left his body? Didn’t matter much either way.

  As deaths went, this one was merciful. One quick slice to the left carotid artery. In theory the pain would be minimal and quick, the bleed out time even quicker.

  This morning the world became a much better place.

  Rowen retreated from the body, careful to step in the same snow prints he’d approached in. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved one of his numerous disposable phones. He dialed Mick’s number from memory, knowing that his love had an addiction to Jilly’s pancakes.

  “Sugartree! You weren’t there when I woke up. You always come home before I wake up.” Mick’s voice held a tint of disappointment, until a muted groan came through the line and Rowen knew he’d taken a bite of pancakes too big for his mouth.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Are you telling a knock-knock joke?”

  Rowen rolled his eyes, even if over the phone Mick couldn’t take satisfaction for causing the movement. “Grab Robby and meet me behind cabin three,” he paused before deciding to add for urgency purposes only, “Carl is dead.”

  Mick coughed heavily in his ear before squeaking loudly, “Carl’s dead!” That probably was a question, but Mick made it sound much more like an exclamation.

  The background noise around Mick suddenly turned to people yelling and chairs scraping across the wood floors. Rowen thought he even heard one or two chairs toppling over.

  A few minutes later, feet crunched in the snow headed toward Rowen. Charlie and Finn rounded the corner, followed by Robby, Mick, Cannon, Amos, and finally Jilly trailed behind them all. She took her time wearily walking around the cabin, not in the hurry the men were. Looked like everyone convened at the lodge this morning. Good, that made this more convenient.

  “No, Jilly, you don’t need to be here.” Robby moved to her side and attempted to turn her away from her father’s body.

  “Stop, Robby.” She shrugged out of his grip and joined the group of people circled around Carl. Evidently admitting defeat, Robby came up beside her and held her hand.

  “How long?” she questioned softly.

  “Rigor has already begun, though combine that with the frigid temperatures and you need an autopsy to be certain…but I’d estimate around midnight.”

  Rowen could practically see the thoughts being processed in each of their heads.

  They all stood there around the corpse, taking in the sight, and Rowen could almost hear their thoughts. Eyes slowly closing and reopening, registering the horror of a dead body at their feet but the gratitude that this evil man could never destroy another human’s life. Disgust in themselves that they didn’t feel the sorrow a murder victim deserved. Relief that an innocent child who grew into an unsure and scared woman now had a closure that no court could have provided.

  “Well, I did give you permission to kill this one,” Mick muttered.

  Rowen rolled his eyes at Mick’s attempt to break through the morbidness of the situation.

  “Someone had to have great blade skills to do this.” Amos followed Mick’s lead and shared his thoughts out loud, and it acted as opening the proverbial floodgates for discussion.

  “Cutting someone open is easy, it’s the closing him back up that’s hard,” Charlie quietly noted, moving closer to Amos.

  Cannon humorlessly snorted. “Don’t look at me. I’m completely booked, couldn’t fit him in if I tried.”

  “You’ve got to appreciate the precise placement of the wound…”

  “Yeah. Vital artery severed…check,” Robby finished Finn’s observation.

  “Saw an interesting episode of CSI one time,” Mick nonchalantly mentioned, “one of the older ones—you know the one in Vegas with Grissom—and it’s amazing what those forensics people can find on a knife that’s supposedly been cleaned…”

  “With kids in the lodge now we keep the sharp utensils locked up,” Jilly noted, “and any cutlery in the cabins is mix and match, after years of replenishing missing ones. It’s impossible to claim how many of what kind are where.” She kept her eyes on the center attraction along with everyone else.

  “Grissom’s hot.”

  Robby nodded in agreement
with Charlie’s statement.

  “He does age gracefully,” Finn added. “A true silver fox.”

  “I know one person that isn’t gonna age gracefully anymore.”

  “That’s true. Shit…” Robby swore under his breath. “Jilly, I’m sorry. That’s your dad, are you okay?”

  Jilly didn’t blink before answering. “I think he looks better than I’ve ever seen him. That parka is a lovely shade of red on him.”

  Rowen nodded in approval. This man hadn’t been Jilly’s father for a long time and didn’t deserve to be mourned in such fashion. He’d taken all he ever would from her, but their Jilly was a survivor.

  “The authorities will have questions.” Rowe hesitated, knowing the thoughts his next statement would provoke but unable to not be honest with these people he trusted. “I was—”

  “Showing me the difference between corporal punishment and foreplay. Trust me, sitting down is a chore right now.”

  Charlie forced a laugh. “I can relate to that feeling. All they have to do is examine my ass if they want to know where Amos was all night. Stamina is his middle name.”

  “Finn had me…securely enjoying his furniture. We spent all night appreciating his decorating prowess,” added Cannon, a warm blush heating his cheeks.

  All eyes turned to Jilly.

  Robby stepped forward and draped an arm over her shoulders. “Jillian fed me cookies until I was ready to burst. I don’t even know how long it we sat up talking, but it was late enough I dozed on the couch. I didn’t want her to be alone in the lodge.”

  Mick’s face perked up. “Wait! There are cookies?”

  ****

  “I can hear that, you know,” Scott said. “The gears whirling in your brain. Whatever it is you’re thinking…it’s okay to tell me. I promise not to flip out or go crazy on you.”

  “Shit, Scott, I’m not worried about that. I was just thinking over the hearing. I know you were probably hoping the doctor would just let you go, no strings attached—but it really sounded like he had a lot of experience with PTSD. The counseling group sounds good, too.”

  Scott blew out a long breath. “Yeah…you don’t have to worry. I’ll go. I’m sorry I’m so fucked up,” Scott said. It was his third apology since they’d gotten in the truck. This whole thing really sucked. Poor Robby hadn’t signed on for anything like the security guard-nursemaid role he lived daily now that he and Scott were together. How long before he started to resent the sacrifice he’d made?

  Rob flashed a sideways look at him, then shifted his focus back to the road. The flurries had morphed into large white flakes that clung to the trees and turned the roads into a slushy mess.

  “Look outside,” Rob said, his voice a quiet command.

  Filled with worry over what Rob might tell him, Scott obediently stared through the windshield. Blinking to clear his suddenly blurry vision. At first all he could see was the steady flash of green and brown and white. Typical forest on a winter day. Rob’s silence continued, and Scott’s already taut nerves tightened like bow strings. First one mile rolled by, then two, before the quiet splendor of the snow-covered pines amidst the swirl of flakes started to unwind some of the knots in Scott’s stomach. Scott cracked his window and icy cold wind rushed in on a howl. He breathed deeply, drawing the scent of pines and snow into his soul like a balm. Finally, he closed the window and turned to face his lover, his world back on its axis. Rob’s lips curved, and Scott had a sudden urge to taste his kiss.

  “Do you remember when we first came down this road together? Almost a year ago now,” Rob said softly, his hands at the ten and two position as he maneuvered them off the interstate and onto the stretch of US Forest Service road that led to Mountain Shadows.

  Scott smiled. “I remember. You tried to impress me by doing a three-sixty coming down the ramp.”

  Robby laughed. “Is that how you remember things? And here I was thinking how far we’ve come.” In profile, Rob’s handsome face turned serious. “Scotty, a year ago we were practically strangers—searching for things to say to each other to try to roll back a dozen years apart. Now we can read each other’s moods. When I create some sort of mess in my head, worrying about shit—real or imagined—you seem to know exactly the right thing to do to pull me out of my funk.”

  “Like you just did for me…”

  Rob shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “We’re facing a tough situation right now, but we’re in this together—you have nothing to apologize for. And it’s not just you and me, but everyone at Mountain Shadows…our family. While you were…lounging away the last three days”—Robby reached over and grabbed Scott’s hand—“everyone has been digging around. We were trying to find anything that would force the investigators to look beyond you.

  “You were? As in past tense? What happened?”

  Robby slowed and turned into the campground. Scott experienced a moment of déjà vu as he saw a number of official vehicles parked in a semicircle in front of cabin three.

  “Robby? What the hell is going on? Is someone hurt?”

  “You might say that. Carl Rademacher was found dead behind cabin three this morning.”

  “Carl? What the hell was he doing here—I thought he left a long time ago.”

  “Oh shit, I forgot—you don’t know. Yesterday, Jillian told everyone that Carl was her father and that he sexually abused her as a child. Uhm…it’s a long story, and I’m sorry to tell you like that, but given that I see Driscoll and Dennis Drummond over there”—Rob jerked his head to indicate the two men standing next to a silver late-model Tahoe—“I need to catch you up in a hurry. Turns out Driscoll comes from a fire background—his grandfather, father, brother—”

  “That’s not unusual. It’s like a son following his dad into the military. Driscoll had to be a firefighter himself at some point if he investigates arson,” Scott said. As Robby slowed the truck and pulled to a stop near the ring of vehicles, Driscoll started talking, his finger stabbing at Dennis’s chest.

  “Come on, hop out. I’ll tell you the rest in a second.” Before Scott could object to being left hanging, Rob was out of the truck and halfway to the other two men. He turned and waited for Scott. With no choice except to follow and feeling as if he was on a never-ending merry-go-round, Scott clambered from the truck and walked with Rob to join the men who were determined to ruin his life.

  “Scott—you remember Kevin Driscoll and Dennis Drummond.” Rob’s voice was as flat as his eyes.

  He looked at Rob for a long moment, wondering which of them had lost their mind. His lover wore his cop face, dark eyes narrowed into hard slits, lips pressed together, his face an expressionless mask. Underneath the cool exterior, Scott sensed a thrum of excitement, an energy that practically vibrated as Robby leaned forward slightly, his arms hanging loose by his sides. He looked ready for a fight. What the fuck?

  “I’m not exactly likely to forget the men who want me to confess to something I didn’t do. What the fuck is going on, Robby? I thought you said Carl was dead…why are these assholes here?”

  No one answered as two of the Coconino County deputies broke off from the cluster of official personnel. They trekked through the thin layer of fresh snow and clambered into their respective SUVs. Once they’d driven past, Scott turned back to face the other three. “Rob?”

  “I’m guessing you haven’t told him yet?” Dennis said.

  “The honors are all yours, District Fire Management Officer Drummond.” Sarcasm and bitterness laced Rob’s words. Driscoll sucked in a whistling breath between clenched teeth, but otherwise he remained silent.

  Dennis merely nodded, as if he expected the rebuke. “That’s fair. Although the title is short-lived. I’m resigning on Monday.”

  “Shit,” Kevin said and turned away.

  Scott watched the exchange, his impatience nearly spilling over. Before he could explode, Dennis cleared his throat. “I owe you an apology, Scott.”

  “Yes, you do. Does this mean I’m cle
ared and you have the real arsonist in custody? Or…shit. Was it Carl?” He flicked a glance at Rob, whose expression didn’t change, his focus locked on Dennis.

  “Fucking bullshit,” Driscoll whispered and Dennis shifted uneasily.

  “Not exactly. But we may have narrowed the suspect pool prematurely.”

  Robby growled and rolled his shoulders. He looked like a bear ready to attack.

  Dennis hurried to clarify. “I can’t say what the new investigator will uncover. I’m doing what I should have done from the first—recusing myself from the case.”

  “Recuse—what the hell? Would you quit playing games and explain?” Scott wanted to throttle someone. Maybe a couple of someones. Why did Drummond need to recuse himself? And why hadn’t Rob warned him before they arrived?

  “Kevin Driscoll works for American Farms and Ranches and it was inappropriate for me to share some of the details of this case with the insurance investigator prior to the final report—”

  “And…” Rob prompted.

  “And he is my brother-in-law…” Dennis moistened his lips. “My wife and him…their younger brother Clay…”

  Pieces slammed into place. “Clay as in Clayton Harmon? From my Hot Shot crew? Shit.” The edges of the world turned dark, and for a moment, the sound of the wind through the pines was replaced by the roar of fire and the past. Then Rob’s hand gripped his and dragged him into the present. Back to where the two men facing him had let their grief turn to bitterness and misplaced…what? Revenge?

  “My half brother,” Driscoll confirmed. Then as if in answer to Scott’s unspoken question, he added, “I read the reports, I can smell a cover-up. There was something about the two of you surviving when everyone else died. How is that, McGregor? Did you and Daniel set that fire? Did you deliberately provide inaccurate information from the rear?”

  “For fuck’s sake, Kevin,” Dennis said, grabbing his brother-in-law’s arm. “Do you even hear yourself anymore? Who in their right goddamned mind would set up a situation so he could take a chance on surviving in a shake-n-bake? Leave it alone. It’s time to turn your evidence back over to the previous claims adjuster and you and I need to step back.”