Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Dan
I have a hard time keeping a straight face when he walks into the kitchen.
“Where’s Lucy?” are the first words from his mouth.
“She said something about feeding the goats.”
Aside from missing a leg, which still startles me, he’s also lost a disturbing amount of weight. His face is gaunt, his eyes sunken in, and his expression is pure anger. He’s not happy about me showing up here.
“And you’re here because?”
Yeah, not happy at all.
I could try and beat around the bush for a bit, feed him some bullshit, but I have a feeling that’s not going to do much to improve his mood. I may as well jump in, both feet, and see where it lands.
“Because I need your help.”
“ My help,” he scoffs.
He hobbles on his crutches to the coffeepot, turning his back on me as he pours himself a mug.
“My mother put you up to this?” he asks over his shoulder.
“I haven’t seen your mother since you guys got back from Fort Harrison,” I answer truthfully. “No, I’m finally building my house.”
He turns to face me, leaning his butt against the counter as he drinks his coffee. At least I have his attention.
“The shell is up, and I started on the interior framing, but I think I may have bit off more than I can chew. The guys give me a hand when they can, and I have trades coming in for some of the stuff, but I can’t be there all the time. I already had to take this week off.”
He hasn’t said a word but he also hasn’t moved and appears to be listening, which is encouraging.
“Anyway, I was talking to my sister last night and she’s the one who suggested I hire someone. Like a construction manager or something. Someone who knows what needs to be done, can keep an eye on the trades, keep an eye on deliveries, maybe provide some security for the place.”
“Security? Here?”
I drain the coffee Lucy poured me and approach Jackson, reaching around him for the coffeepot for a refill.
“A couple of nights ago, someone decided to spray-paint the shit out of the house. Inside and out.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. JD, James, and I wasted a whole fucking day scrubbing it off all the logs.”
“Know who did it?”
“I have my suspicions, but I haven’t had a chance to look into it too closely. Wolff helped me put up some cameras in case they’re stupid enough to try again, but we’ve got most of the windows and doors in there now, so at least the inside is protected.”
“All it takes is a rock through the glass,” Jackson points out.
“True, but that’s where I’m hoping you’d come in.”
He raises a skeptical eyebrow, but I’m hoping the proposal I came up with in the shower last night, and solidified with a phone call this morning, will pique his interest.
“You know that old motorhome Pippa used to travel around in? It’s sitting idle behind their house and she’s okay with us moving it up the road to set up next to my place. It has solar, a large water tank, a kitchen, bathroom, propane. Fuck, I think it even has a TV. It’d be your own private bachelor pad, away from prying eyes. You’d provide security at night, and manage the build during the day.”
He hasn’t told me to fuck off yet, which I’ll take as a good sign.
“Why don’t you move into the motorhome yourself?”
It’s a fair question, which deserves an honest answer.
“I don’t know if you heard, but Sloane is back in town. She moved into the cabin two doors down. She has a five-month-old baby, and I want to be close by. I’m into her.”
Jackson snorts. “That’s nothing new, although I would’ve thought you got over that.”
“Turns out I didn’t,” I respond a little testily.
He sets down his coffee mug and raises his hands.
“Hey, man, if you wanna risk getting burned twice, be my guest.”
He’s pissing me off, but I have a feeling he’s well aware, and I’m not about to let him suck me in. Determined, I get us back on track.
“So, are you interested?”
“I’m not some kind of charity case.”
“I’m not fucking offering charity. I’m trying to hire someone to do the job, it can be you, or someone else.” I shrug my shoulders and dump the rest of my coffee in the sink. “No skin off my nose as long as the work gets done.”
Then I head for the door.
“I meant I’m not a charity. Not busting my ass for you for free.”
I’m glad I have my back turned, otherwise he’d see the smug smile on my face. I have my hand on the door when I quote him what I figured would be a fair wage.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a cheap bastard?” he fires back.
This time I laugh out loud as I pull open the door, leaving him with my parting shot.
“Take it or leave it. I need to know by tonight.”
I hear him yell, “ Asshole, ” as I head down the porch steps. But I’m grinning when I get in my truck. He’s gonna call, I know he is.
Next, I’m making a quick stop to the cabin to pack a cooler, and then I’m heading back to the house to get to work.
Wolff is just coming out of Sloane’s door when I pull up to my cabin. I never caught up with him last night after we got back from the hospital.
“Not at the house today?” he asks when I get out of the truck.
“I’m on my way, I’m just grabbing a few things here. What were you doing over at Sloane’s?” I can’t stop myself from asking.
The bastard grins, happy to try and get a rise out of me.
“She asked me to come.”
“Because?”
“You missed it last night, but Deputy Schmidt and I found a narrow access path to a cabin about half a mile from the lake up that trail. Sloane wanted me to show her exactly where on the map. She’s gonna check for permits.”
“Any sign of the ATV we heard?”
He shakes his head. “No. There were fresh tracks but I think he must’ve looped back down the trail while we were at the big clearing.”
“So Sloane’s already back to work,” I observe.
“Were you expecting anything else?” Wolff points out. “Although, it’s probably a challenge with her mom and the baby in the same space. Maybe I should’ve offered her the use of my cabin.”
“If she needs quiet, she can use my place,” I snap.
As he walks off, fucking Wolff laughs again, taunting me.
“You’re too fucking easy, man.”
Asshole .
Sloane
That was a frustrating forty-five minutes on the phone.
There’s a US Forestry Services office here in Libby, but the lady I spoke to was a stickler for following proper procedure, which apparently is a written request signed by the proper authorities, which has to include an official fax number for the information to be sent to. That resulted in a phone call to Betty back at the office, who suggested contacting the sheriff, who apparently was up at the dumpsite waiting for the feds to arrive.
Long story short, I finally got hold of Junior, and with a lot of back and forth, I just got word from Betty the official written request has been sent. Now all we have to do is wait. Hopefully, it won’t be too long. I’d love to be able to get some leads going on this case before the FBI takes over.
At least I’m without interruptions here. As much as I adore my baby girl, she’s a bit of a distraction, as is my mother. Yeah, that was pretty thoughtful of Dan. He popped in earlier for a quick visit and suggested I use his cabin to work, which I happily accepted. I have a sneaking suspicion Mom may have been a little relieved not to have me underfoot.
I pull up the Exxon video file I downloaded from the folder the sheriff sent me a link to. Wi-Fi can be sketchy here, and I’d rather have it on my hard drive so I can access it when I want. I know Ewing was going to get one of the guys to look at it, but I doubt anyone has had time in the last twenty-four hours.
It’s going to take a while since we have about three hours’ worth of video. Chelsea hadn’t been too clear on exactly what time she passed through the Exxon gas station, but we were able to get an approximate timeframe.
Who knew there were so many white delivery trucks on the road? I’ve seen about five and I’m only half an hour into this video. Only one of them pulled into the gas station though, but it had the logo of a produce supplier on the side. The one I’m looking for had no markings or decals visible.
Leaning back, I stretch my arms over my head. I’m getting stiff from sitting. I’m almost tempted to make another pot of coffee, but I’m afraid I’ll be up all night. I already need another pee break. Bracing myself on the table, I push myself up. Walking hurts, even with the boot, but the doctor said it’s important to keep moving without overdoing it.
Dan’s bathroom is pretty clean, I noticed as much the first time I was in here. I resisted nosing around, but this time the temptation is getting to me. After I do my business and wash my hands, I poke around the narrow glass shelf that serves as a medicine cabinet.
A container of Tylenol, some cold medication, a tube of cortisone cream, a bottle of aloe vera, and his Old Spice deodorant. No hair products, not even aftershave, just his Irish Spring soap and Old Spice deodorant, like my dad used to wear.
Jeff, Aspen’s father, was all about the fancy fragrances—Tom Ford, Yves Saint Laurent, Armani—and he always wore a tad too much. I’d rather smell Old Spice with a hint of good, healthy man sweat any day.
There is nothing artificial about Dan. He is who he is, what he is, and I love that about him. He has this quiet confidence that seems to come naturally. Maybe it’s the mountain air that breeds men like that up here.
The bottle of shampoo I’ve been sniffing slips from my hand, and clatters in the tub, when I hear my phone ringing from the living room. Wincing when I put weight on my bad ankle a little too enthusiastically, as I try to rush inside.
“Hello,” I answer it, a little out of breath.
“Did I catch you in the middle of something?”
Of course, it would be Dan calling.
I try to ignore the embarrassed blush burning on my face.
“I was in the bathroom,” I return casually. “What’s up?”
“Where’s your Jeep?”
“My Jeep? It’s still parked at the sheriff’s office. Why?”
“Uh, well, I was just thinking if we wanted to go somewhere, Aspen would need her car seat.”
He may sound a little sheepish, but wow, there’s a lot to unpack from what he says.
Not the least of which is the use of the word, we , casually identifying us as a unit, but more than that, a unit that includes my daughter. There doesn’t even seem to be a question for him that she comes as part of me.
Also, what guy worries about a car seat?
My insides turn warm and gooey.
“Yeah. I can see if—” I was going to suggest maybe Sully would take Mom into town and she could drive my Jeep back, but I don’t get a chance.
“I’ve got it,” Dan interrupts. “I’ll take care of it.”
I must be getting soft, because my stubborn independent streak stays silent. Let him handle it if he wants to.
“Oh, and something else I was thinking about,” he continues. “The ranch has a couple of ATVs but we rarely have more than one being used at a time. I could have one of the guys park one in front of your cabin. You don’t need your foot to drive one of those, and you could take the trail that runs back to the river to get to your uncle’s place. Or mine,” he adds, making me smile.
“That would be awesome, if you think I could borrow one.”
My mind is spinning with possibilities. If I wanted to, I could probably cross the river at the shallow part by the sandbar, or ride the shoulder of the highway to the other side of the bridge, and get up the mountain to check the progress at the site. Maybe even check out that cabin Wolff found.
“Yeah, for sure. By the way, use my place as long as you want. The guys brought over an extra generator and some floodlights, so I’ll probably be working late anyway. I want to get as much done as I can.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. I think I’ll join Mom for dinner and spend a little time with Aspen before her bedtime, but I may want to do some more work after she goes down.”
“The place is yours. I may catch you later.”
Then he ends the call.
He may not have meant that last comment to come across as a veiled promise, but the goosebumps on my skin certainly suggest I understood it as one.
Before the man completely scrambles my brain, I tap my trackpad to wake up my laptop, and try to redirect my focus on the video.