6. Jude
Jude
The crisp air, the changing leaves, and the knowledge that we’d be back in the woods soon, ready for winter cutting, made fall my favorite time of year.
Since Chloe had promoted me, I’d been spending far too much time in an office, so I was beyond ready for the season.
Weeks out at camp, no cell service, just me and the guys, cooking together and playing endless games of darts after long days in the forest. I brought my guitar and usually played while Ripley stole leftovers off the long wooden tables in the main bunkhouse.
I ran my hands through my hair, taking a deep breath, then took a slow sip of coffee. My neck was sore from sleeping on the couch, and I wanted nothing more than to hit the trails, but I had a lot to get done today.
As I lifted my steaming coffee cup to my mouth again, a “damn you, Jude” echoed down the hall.
I smirked into my mug. Ripley picked her head up off the floor and stared at me. I gave her a shrug, then stood and slowly made my way to the master bedroom.
When I stepped through the open door, I grinned. “You rang, Trouble?”
Mila was sitting upright, my dark green blanket pulled up to her waist and her hair plastered to one side of her face. She looked pretty cute, save for the snarl she had aimed at me.
“I said I was sleeping on the couch.”
I took a sip and nodded.
“And you moved me?”
I nodded again.
Her huff caused the hair framing her face to float. “Don’t do that.”
“I told you to take the bed. If you’d listened, I wouldn’t have had to move you.”
Eyes narrowed, she tried to cross her good arm over the one in the sling. She stopped abruptly, though, her face pinching in pain, and rested it at her side again. “How do you even do it? The painkillers aren’t strong enough to keep me from waking up if I’m jostled.”
I shrug. “I’m careful. And you’re welcome, by the way. I hope you had a good night’s sleep.”
She scrunched up her nose, her eyes darting around like she was trying to formulate a denial. In the end, she slumped. “I can sleep on the couch if I want to.”
“No guest of mine, especially one who is seriously injured, is sleeping on the couch when there is a perfectly good bed. I don’t know who raised you, but Debbie Hebert would beat me with a wooden spoon if she knew I let a lady sleep on the couch.
While you’re here, you sleep in the bed and I take the couch. ”
Her eyes flared. “You are impossible. What kind of macho bullshit is that? Don’t manhandle me.”
“If you weren’t so damn stubborn, I wouldn’t have to.”
She didn’t have a retort ready, but her mouth worked like she was trying to come up with one. For the space of several breaths, we stared at one another, neither of us willing to back down.
“Parker is gonna be here in thirty minutes,” I said when she didn’t snap back. “Do you need help getting dressed?”
She glared at me. “No thank you. But I’d love a cup of coffee.”
I gave her a salute and closed the door behind me. As I padded down the hall, I shook my head. Why did she have to fight everything? She should be taking it easy. Instead, she was duking it out with me at every turn.
I looked down at Ripley, who cocked her head in response, as if confused. I owed her a really long game of fetch for all the disruption to her routine.
With a sigh, I scratched her ears. “I don’t know either, girl.”
Parker Gagnon was a woman worthy of both respect and fear. We’d hired her to help us untangle some of the secrets and unknowns around my dad and the family business. When it sold, inconsistencies had been discovered, and pulling those threads had led to even more questions.
Since she began working on our situation, I’d spoken to her a few times, but since my job was to run the machines and keep the crews moving, I wasn’t a lot of help when it came to the questions she had regarding the company’s financial records.
Chloe loved her, which meant she was probably excellent at her job. And I had no reason to think otherwise.
But we’d been stuck for quite some time, and with each day that passed, frustration grew.
Now that Mila was here, I prayed she was the missing piece we needed to finally put all this mess behind us.
Parker was tall and sporty and wore her dark hair in a ponytail. She didn’t mince words and was always taking notes.
Unsurprisingly, Mila did not share my fear of the woman. I couldn’t imagine Mila being scared of anyone. Even while she was dressed in baggy sweats and still recovering from her injuries, she was sharp, intense, and confident.
Parker lobbed a few softballs, testing Mila’s responses, probably ensuring she actually knew what she was talking about. But before long, she really dug in.
I poured coffee as they went back and forth, Parker asking questions, using a tone she’d clearly perfected in her law enforcement training and Mila keeping her answers clipped and full of sass.
Despite never wanting any part of it, this mess had somehow landed in my living room.
Most days I focused on the things I could control. I worked and took care of myself and my house. Played my guitar and hiked with my dog.
The fallout from my dad’s crimes honestly felt too big. If I focused on it, I’d lose myself.
A couple of my brothers had been shocked, even upset, when our dad was arrested. And even more so when we learned the extent of his crimes, his responsibility for the death of Frank Gagnon.
Me? I was sad.
My brain couldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t accept it.
Even when all the evidence had been laid out, even after he’d confessed, I struggled to understand.
He’d never been a good father to any of us, even to Gus, who he’d molded to follow in his footsteps. But the man had a great life. He ran the company his grandfather had founded with his brother. He had six sons and the respect of the entire community.
It was hard to believe that wasn’t enough for him.
My brothers all had their theories about why he’d done it. Gus thought it came down to greed, but Owen was convinced he was a sociopath. I wasn’t sure where I fell. I couldn’t put that much energy into trying to decipher his motivations. What I did know was that I wanted this over.
His arrest hadn’t been the end. Not by a long shot. In fact, it was only the beginning of a long nightmare for my family. One that was getting more dangerous by the day.
Mila described the Ape Hanger, a biker bar she’d worked at, and some of the people she’d met—as well as the things she’d seen—to Parker, who furiously scribbled notes.
“So you showed up there like a vigilante Nancy Drew?” Parker asked.
“Yes,” Mila replied.
The comment was likely intended as an insult, but Mila seemed to bask in it.
“One thing I’ve learned as a journalist is that the story is in the people. Always. So getting close to the people was essential. It’s a shady place. No one asks questions. So I kept my head down and observed.”
Parker made a noncommittal hum and scribbled in her notepad.
“Otter, he’s the owner,” Mila explained. “He’s clean, but he turns a blind eye to his patrons who aren’t. And most of them aren’t. His son Razor gets himself mixed up from time to time but isn’t a major player.”
“And who are the major players?”
“They call themselves the syndicate. Some are bikers, some are loggers, and some are business types. They’re the ones responsible for the stream of opioids coming in from Canada. Some of them have matching tattoos.”
Parker’s eyes widened. “Can you describe it?”
“Haven’t seen them up close. A tree or something.
Razor doesn’t have one. Probably because he isn’t fully in on the trafficking.
I don’t think they trust him not to fuck it up.
But some of the guys who run back and forth to Quebec have them.
Usually on the hand or forearm. When I went up there for Winter Carnival with Razor, we stayed for a few weeks and met some of the guys on that side of the border. ”
“You met with the Canadians?” Parker asked, scratching notes at a ridiculous speed.
“I think so. Eagle seemed to be the one doing business, but he was speaking French, so I couldn’t decode any of what he was saying. Razor was more of a hanger-on.”
Parker pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “Do you have any idea how much danger you were in palling around with an international drug trafficking organization like that?”
Mila glared at her. “I’m acutely aware, thank you. And I got a pretty good reminder the day before yesterday, when they shot at me and chased me through the woods on ATVs. But I’ve been in war zones before. I know how to take care of myself.”
Parker frowned, her expression dubious. “Okay, then. So where is this evidence?”
“I have to go back for it,” Mila said, her gaze drifting down to the table. “But I have so much. Recordings, notes, photos, paper files.”
I was still trying to wrap my head around this. Mila—or Amy, as I knew her before—had infiltrated this criminal organization and was working to single-handedly take them down from the inside?
As impressive as her bravery was, I was mostly terrified for her.
Parker looked up from her notes. “You didn’t take it with you?”
“Long story. But I can get it,” Mila said.
“How do you know they didn’t get to it first?”
Mila chuckled. “I don’t. But I’d be impressed if they found everything. Razor and his crew are not exactly masterminds.”
Parker pinched the bridge of her nose. “I appreciate the work you’ve done as a civilian—”
Mila huffed.
“But we need to get law enforcement involved.”
“I thought you were law enforcement.”
“I’m going through the background check process. Becoming chief of police in a small town comes with a shocking amount of red tape. But I have great contacts at the FBI.”
“As I explained already, the FBI is compromised.” Mila seemed annoyed.
“How do you know that?”
“They used to joke around about a fed on their payroll. They’d laugh about this investigation being the longest in Bureau history because their guy kept delaying things.”
Parker’s face paled.