The Forgotten Daughter

by Lauri Robinson

  Roger stood and planted both hands on his desk. “What the hell is going on? And why do I have the feeling I should have known about it long before now?”

  “Because you should have,” Scooter said. “You’re going to want to sit down for this.”

  Roger slapped his desk. “Start talking, boy. I get home tonight and Bronco tells me you called and said someone’s after Josie. Who and why?”

  “Did you tell her that?” Scooter asked.

  “Not a chance. I sent her up to bed.”

  “And you checked?” Scooter asked, “Made sure she’s there?”

  “Of course I checked.”

  Scooter let out a sigh of relief, and then dug in his pocket. “This is just one, and because there were a dozen others, I was allowed to take it.”

  “What is it?” Roger asked, reaching across the desk.

  Scooter had envisioned starting this conversation at several points in the long stream of events, and finally settled on beginning with the highlights. “It’s a ransom note,” he said, giving it to Roger. “Francine Wilks wrote it. Mind you, she’s in the Duluth jail right now, but she penned several versions of that note, all similar. All asking for money in exchange for Josie.”

  “Josie?” Roger paled and lowered himself onto his chair, reading the note. When he looked up he asked, “This woman’s in jail right now?”

  “Yes,” Scooter said. “She’d discovered Josie was your daughter when she was pulled over for speeding in Duluth. Francine Wilks is from—”

  “I know who she is and where she’s from,” Roger said. “Ty’s told me everything he’s discovered, but said you’d tell me more.”

  “She’s in jail. However, she was here for the Fourth of July party and took pictures of your family,” Scooter said. “And yesterday, she tried to kidnap Josie.”

  “To hell you say,” Roger bellowed. “Josie was at her Ladies Aid meeting all day yesterday. Ask Gloria.”

  Scooter wasn’t here to hash all that out. There were more important matters to address. “J. P. Morgan, the owner of US Steel, wasn’t impressed with the number of deckhands he was losing in Duluth and sent Clyde Odell to see what was happening. I met Clyde yesterday in Duluth. He’d discovered Francine’s prostitutes would entice the deckhands to their rooms and then fill them full of hooch. Some they dumped into Lake Superior were too drunk to wake up before they drowned. Clyde told the Duluth chief of police that J. P. Morgan wanted that to stop, and Francine’s place was raided.”

  “Just like that?” Roger asked, skeptical.

  “Money talks,” Scooter said. “You know that.”

  “Who’s this Odell fellow and why haven’t I ever heard of him?” Roger asked.

  “Because he just moved here last week,” Scooter said. “But you’ll meet him. Turns out he’s Forrest’s real father.”

  Roger grabbed something off his desk. “He’s the man in this picture?”

  Scooter took the photo and examined it. “Yes, he’s older now, but that’s him.” Later he would ask how Roger obtained that picture, but right now, there were other things Roger needed to know. “Clyde called and asked me to drive up to Duluth tonight because they’d found these ransom notes. The chief believes he has enough other evidence against Francine, but is holding the notes just in case.”

  “In case of what?” Roger asked.

  “In case she’s told her family in New York her plan.” The matter couldn’t be more serious to Scooter, and he let his gaze display that to Roger. “They could already be on their way here.”

  Ty stood. “I’ll go and make some calls.”

  “No,” Roger said. “You’re retired. This is something that’s best handled on the inside. I’ve been securing my interests for a long time, and have provisions in place for a takeover.”

  The hair on Scooter’s arms stood on end as he glanced from one man to the other. The tension was heavy with what Ty and Roger weren’t saying. Scooter had a distinct sense of being trapped in the middle. Not just between Ty and Roger, but in a much deeper sense, too. He was about to find himself more imbedded in Roger Nightingale’s business than Dac and his stuffed bull.

  Then again, he already was in deep. He’d been trapped for some time now. In Josie’s trap.

  If he’d seen Ginger in the back of Brock’s truck while throwing the tarp over it, he’d have marched her straight in to her father. When he saw Twyla heading to town in Dave’s Chevy, he’d instantly called Forrest. Because he wouldn’t want to see any of the girls in danger, but he hadn’t proclaimed himself as their guardian. Not like the way he had Josie. He hadn’t gone to her father because he’d been worried about his own hide. Sure, one word from Roger could destroy all he’d built, but he’d been there before and could start over. Hard work never scared him. He hadn’t said anything, because he was protecting her. Josie being hurt scared him stupid, because he loved her more than anything else on this earth.

  An eerie feeling gnawed at him once more, so he asked, “You’re sure Josie’s in her bed?”

  “Yes,” Roger said. “I’m sure.”

  She was going to hate him more than she already did, but so be it. He wasn’t a quitter and wasn’t about to start being one now. Her life meant far more than his heart.

  Scooter placed both hands on Roger’s desk. “There are two more things you need to know. One of Francine’s men is still on the lam, and Josie hasn’t been going to society meetings every Tuesday.”

  * * *

  Josie had never imagined she’d find herself trapped up a tree, but here she was, high up and hidden among the long and tangling veins of the weeping willow tree next to Gloria’s cabin and she couldn’t figure out a thing to do about it. She was too far away from the resort to scream for help; no one would hear her, other than the man she’d climbed the tree to get away from. He was as well hidden as she was; the only difference was he didn’t know she could see him.

  She’d panicked when she’d seen the stranger and had shot up the tree. This time she should have listened when she’d been told to stay put. She might have done so if she’d been told why.

  Back at Twyla’s apartment, her father had gone downstairs to call Scooter about Forrest’s real father, and when he’d come back upstairs, he’d ushered Ty into the hallway. Shortly afterward they were all rushed home, where Bronco met them.

  The tension in the air had been so heavy her heart had dropped clear to her heels. The fact Norma Rose had accompanied her upstairs and gone to bed in her own room rather than going for a walk with Ty had told her something was happening. Something bad.

  When her father had checked on her three times within a short time period, she’d feared that something involved Scooter. Unable to withstand that thought, she’d plumped her bed with pillows to look as if she was still sleeping and had crept down the back stairway, all the way to the basement.

  Built to look like little more than a storage space for all the things the resort needed, the underground portion of the building had more hidden rooms than a fly had eyes. The Minnesota 13 her father distributed from producer to seller was delivered to the barn in crates and barrels earmarked as furniture or building supplies. A portion of it was transported via a tunnel and stored in the basement, to be served to customers upstairs. The majority, however, was repackaged in the back rooms and then sent down another tunnel that led to the one cabin that was never rented out. It appeared to be like all the others, just farther away and hidden by the woods surrounding it. Bronco lived there and guarded the trapdoor under the back steps like a soldier. That tunnel was the one Twyla had used when she’d snuck out to meet her friend Mitsy.

  There was another tunnel that very few people knew about. It was the one Josie and Gloria had used on the Fourth of July to reach The Willow cabin without being seen. That was the tunnel she’d used tonight.

  She’d quickly found the false wall that gave way to the door, and had hurried down the long earth corridor. The tunnel ended with a ladder that led to the in
side of the outhouse behind Gloria’s cabin. The tiny hut was concealed by the cascading limbs of the willow tree, and also had a large Do Not Use sign affixed to the door, which appeared to be locked tight with a huge padlock.

  She’d just exited the outhouse and had been about to cross the yard to Gloria’s cabin when she saw the man sneaking around the other side. He wasn’t one of her father’s men, she was certain of that, so she’d scrambled to the base of the tree and quickly climbed up, staying close to the trunk so the leaves wouldn’t rustle.

  To her utter dismay, he’d shot under the tree, too, where he now sat on the ground, Tommy gun in hand.

  Critters could be heard scampering in the woods and an owl hooted every now and again, but the man didn’t so much as twitch. Therefore, neither did she. She didn’t move a muscle, other than her heart, which she thought could burst from fear with the way it continued to pound. The familiar sound she’d heard a short time ago had increased her fears. Hearing Scooter arrive on his motorcycle had brought tears to her eyes. She was glad to know he was okay, but more afraid than ever that he’d once again come to her rescue. The ability he had to do that was uncanny, but this time it was sure to get him killed.

  This was definitely one of her more stupid plans, but in her bedroom, full of worry about Scooter, going to Gloria had been the only thing she could think of doing. Now all she could hope for was sunrise, which would be in a couple of hours.

  When the thud of running feet sounded, she knew her luck had run out, and the sound of Scooter’s voice shouting her name confirmed her worst fears had come to light.

  Josie opened her mouth to shout his name, to warn him to stay back, but the man beneath her beat her to it.

  “Scooter, is that you?” the man asked, stepping out from under the dangling willow branches.

  “Yes, it’s me, Owen,” Scooter shouted in return. “Put that gun down.”

  Owen? Owen Lester? She’d been sitting in the tree above Dac’s little brother? What was he doing here? She could no longer see him, but recognized his voice.

  “Sorry,” Owen said.

  “Have you seen Josie?”

  “Nope, I’ve been here, guarding this cabin just like Bronco said,” Owen told him. “Dac wasn’t home so Bronco hired me as an extra gun.”

  A thud and clatter sounded. Josie couldn’t see, but it sounded as if someone had just kicked in Gloria’s door.

  “Where’s Josie?”

  That was Scooter shouting again.

  “I don’t know,” Gloria said. “What’s happened?”

  “If you’re hiding her, so help me, woman!”

  Josie’s stomach fell. That was her father’s voice.

  “I’m not, Roger, I swear,” Gloria said. “I haven’t seen her since she left for Twyla’s with the rest of you.”

  “She’s not hiding me,” Josie shouted, trying to push out of the branches of the tree she’d planted herself into. The tree seemed to have swelled up around her and wouldn’t release its hold.

  “What on earth are you doing up there?”

  Of course Scooter would find her. Even in the dark, she could tell it was him standing at the tree’s base, looking up.

  “How did you get up there?” he asked.

  “Well, I certainly didn’t fly,” she answered, still trying to move. Her bottom was wedged solidly on three sides.

  “Climb down,” he said.

  “I’m trying.”

  “You all right, Josie-girl?”

  She closed her eyes against the frustration welling inside her. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “I’ll get her,” Scooter said.

  “Bring her to my office when you’re done,” her father said. “Right now Gloria and I are going to have a conversation.”

  Josie squirmed harder, determined to get free before Scooter reached her. He was scaling the tree faster than she had managed, and she’d been quick.

  The crack of the branch beneath her was completely unexpected. The sense of falling had her screeching and grabbing for something solid, which turned out to be Scooter’s shoulders as one of his arms caught her around the waist.

  “I’ve got you,” he said.

  With her mind and body completely enthralled with him, Josie wasn’t aware of much until her feet touched solid ground. Even then it was a moment before she realized they were out of the tree and Scooter was kissing her. It was so pleasurable, so fascinating, that it was close to consuming every part of her. Not wanting to, but knowing she had to, she twisted out of his arms. The need still pulsing on her lips had her pressing a hand against them. Her heart was pounding, too, and air didn’t want to stay in her lungs. Feeling suffocated, she parted the willow branches and stepped out into the moonlight.

  “You aren’t even dressed,” Scooter pointed out.

  She had forgotten that. In her hurry to leave her room, she’d only taken the time to throw a housecoat over her short nightdress. “I have extra clothes at Gloria’s,” she explained. “I figured I would change there.”

  “Before you went where?” he asked.

  Not about to admit she’d been set on going to look for him, she said, “Someone still has to rescue those girls.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  “Yes, they do. Of all people you should realize how much danger they are in.”

  “Were in,” he said. “The police raided Francine’s warehouse tonight. The girls will all be returned to their families as soon as possible.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I was there earlier,” he said. “Clyde, the man from US Steel that delivered Dave’s car to us, called me and asked me to drive up.”

  “Why?”

  Scooter took a hold of her elbow. “Come on, you need to go back to the resort.”

  Wrenching her arm away, Josie held her ground. “No, I don’t. I don’t need to go anywhere, what I need are answers. Why did he ask you to go to Duluth?”

  “It doesn’t matter why he called me,” Scooter said, grabbing her arm again. “All that matters is that those girls are safe.” He pulled her forward, forcing her to walk. “And you will be, too, once you get inside the resort.”

  “What?”

  His growl said he didn’t want to have to say more, yet he said, “One of Francine’s men is still on the lam. He could be anywhere.”

  That explained why Bronco had hired extra men tonight. Another realization hit as Scooter pulled her past Gloria’s cabin. “You told him. You told my father everything, didn’t you?”

  * * *

  Scooter figured he’d lost several years off his life tonight. Roger had assured him Josie was in her room, but his gut had kept telling him she wasn’t. With the other man’s permission, he’d gone to her room, just to check. Finding her bed empty except for a line of pillows had stopped his heart. When it had kicked in again, so had his feet. The only place he could think to look had been Gloria’s cabin.

  Drawing a deep breath, he slid his hand down Josie’s arm to hold her hand as they walked.

  Before finding her bed empty, he’d told Roger everything. About Josie’s activities in Duluth. About Gloria and the other ladies in the society, including his mother. About Dave’s car and how he’d gone to Duluth to find her.

  Then he’d asked one thing of Roger.

  Permission to marry Josie.

  Roger had said that was up to her.

  Scooter stopped and turned to face her. “Yes, I told him everything,” he said. “Your father knows all about your Duluth runs and why you did it.”

  She frowned. “Why I did it?”

  “Yes, why.” He reached up to cup her cheek with his other hand. “The young girls have been rescued, Josie, and Francine is in jail. Once her last gunman is captured, it will all be over. You’ll never have to worry about any of it again. Not even Gloria. Your father is talking to her right now.”

  She lifted her chin while looking at him deeply, thoughtfully. “And he said you are to deliver me to him when y
ou’re done.” Her brows knitted together as she asked, “Done with what?”

  He may never before have experienced the bout of nervousness that raced across him at that moment. He knew there might be a better time, but he was too impatient to wait. “Asking you to marry me.”

  She took a step backward. Except it was more of a stumble, and he dropped the hand from her cheek to catch her shoulder so she wouldn’t fall.

  “Marry you?”

  The astonishment in her voice wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped for. Still, he nodded.

  “Oh, that’s ducky, Scooter,” she said. “Just ducky.”

  Annoyed at her insolence, he dropped his hands to his sides. “What kind of answer is that?”

  “A no,” she snapped. “I won’t marry you. Not now, not ever.” She shoved at his shoulders with both hands. “Have fun telling my father that.” Spinning around she started marching toward the resort.

  “Josie—”

  “You don’t know why I did anything. Neither does my father.” She spun around to face him. “Just stay away from me, Scooter. Just stay away from me.” Turning toward the resort again, this time she ran.

  He took a step to follow, but stopped. It wouldn’t do any good. Not to him or her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  For someone who’d claimed sulking never did anyone any good, Josie now acknowledged that was yet one more thing she’d been wrong about. She’d made a list. Might as well add sulking to it. While sulking, one could come up with a hundred and one reasons why they were right and the rest of the world was wrong. People also tended to ignore sulkers, and that was not a bad thing.

  Everyone thought she was sulking because of the extra cleaning chores her father had given her, along with forbidding her from attending society meetings for the next two weeks. That was her punishment for her Duluth runs. Everyone knew about them, right down to Moe, who looked upon her sadly and shook his head.

  In truth, Josie had expected more penalties for being a part of Gloria’s cause, and accepted everything with her head held high. Even while her father had her closet cleaned out.

  She felt no regret or shame for what she’d done. If not for her trips to Duluth, those girls would still be locked in that warehouse. True, she owed their rescue to Scooter and Forrest’s real father, Clyde, but it wouldn’t have happened if not for her.