Chapter Thirteen #2
“How are the ribs?” the sergeant asked.
Ian shifted. “They’re okay.” He had dealt with worse. “Did this kid see anyone else lurking around that day?”
“He says he didn’t.” Gage sat back, studying him for so long Ian began to feel uncomfortable.
“What is it?” he asked.
“We talked to your father,” Gage said. “He said he was in Paris the night you were injured…and for four days prior to that.”
“He called me.”
“Did he say anything you want to share with me?”
“He told me to quit while I was ahead and offered to buy me out. About what I expected from him.”
“Is it possible your father hired someone to harass you into giving up on the via ferrata project?” Gage asked.
Ian had spent too many hours asking himself this same question. “Anything is possible with my dad. He’s known for being ruthless when it comes to his business dealings. And he and I don’t see eye to eye on most things. But I’m still his son. He doesn’t want me dead.”
“Do you think someone else wants you to quit and they’re behind these attacks?”
“Maybe. But I don’t know who.” Another question he had wasted too much time trying to answer. “What about Walt Spies? Did you talk to him?”
“Walt was at a planning commission work session that afternoon into evening.”
“So we have no idea who’s doing these things.”
“You could set up cameras,” Gage said. “That might help you see if anyone is messing around.”
Ian groaned. “I feel like an idiot for not thinking of that before.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled to his notes app. “I’ll see about getting some installed.”
“Let us know if you see anything of interest,” Gage said. “Have you had any more problems at the job site or at your trailer?”
“No. The catwalk is repaired. The construction foreman says it’s stronger than ever.
We should have most of the structures complete by the end of next week.
Then it’s a matter of installing pit toilets, a building for a welcome center and gift shop, and delineating a parking area.
As soon as the county approves my operating permit, I’ll advertise for employees. ”
“You seem pretty sure the county is going to grant the operating permit.”
“They don’t have any real reason not to.”
“Reason and politics don’t always mix. Even locally.” Gage stood. “Thanks for stopping in. We’ll keep looking into this, but so far we don’t have much to go on.”
Ian left the sheriff’s department. The conversation hadn’t reassured him that he and the via ferrata were safe from further damage. He would only brood on the possibilities if he returned to the canyon. He needed something to take his mind off himself—he needed to see Bethany.
Bethany and her mother were reviewing something on the computer when Ian entered the tour company office later that afternoon.
“Hello, Mr. Seabrook,” Mrs. Ames said. “Can I help you with something?”
“Hi, Ian,” Bethany said. “I was going to call you when I got off work. I’ll be done here in a few minutes.” She focused on the computer, typing rapidly.
“You’re going out?” Mrs. Ames asked her.
“We are.” She glanced at Ian. “Right?”
“Right.”
Yesterday she had called and suggested they get together. She had hinted at news to share but refused to reveal more, saying, “I want to tell you in person.”
Bethany hit a few more keys, then stood. “Let me grab my purse.”
She exited the room, leaving Ian alone with her mother, who folded her arms across her chest and scrutinized him.
Ian tried to think of something to say but drew a blank.
He wasn’t used to trying to impress others.
His family name or his fortune, his car and even his climbing prowess were usually enough to make a good impression.
What could he say that would reassure Mrs. Ames that he was a good person?
“I know some people think we’re overprotective,” she said. “But Bethany is our only daughter. She almost died when she was born, and that made her even more precious to us. If you have children one day, you’ll understand.”
“I think a lot of Bethany,” he said. “I would never do anything to hurt her.”
Mrs. Ames’s expression didn’t soften, though she did uncross her arms. “You’d better not,” she said.
“I’m ready.” Bethany hurried into the room, headed for the door. “Bye, Mom. See you tomorrow.”
Ian might have been imagining things, but he would have sworn he felt Mrs. Ames’s gaze drilling holes in his back as he followed her daughter to his Jeep.
“I overheard what Mom told you,” Bethany said as she buckled her seat belt. “I can’t believe she dragged out that story about me almost dying.”
“I’m sure that was very traumatic for your parents,” he said.
“I’m twenty-three. You’d think they’d be over it by now.”
“I can’t blame them for loving you. I’d have given anything when I was growing up if my parents paid that much attention to me.”
“But you’re an only child, right? Weren’t you spoiled rotten?”
He shook his head. “My parents were too involved in their own lives to waste much effort on me. I had nannies, then went to boarding school and summer camps. My grandmother was the only person who was close to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
The pity in her voice tore at the long-buried hurt he didn’t like to examine too often. “Don’t feel sorry for me,” he said. “I learned to be independent from a young age. But watching my parents also made me think how I’d treat my own children differently.”
“I’m sure you’ll be a good father,” she said.
He didn’t answer. It unsettled him even more, talking about children with her.
As if they were discussing their own children.
The idea wasn’t an awful one. She would make a good mother.
One day. In the future. After he had established the via ferrata and returned to traveling around the world to climb.
That had always been the plan—to spend a few months in Eagle Mountain, getting the project off the ground, then move on to another location, even another country. He wasn’t ready to settle down in one small town.
But the thought of leaving Bethany set his heart racing. He couldn’t decide which upset him more—the thought of never leaving or the thought of never seeing her again.
Ian cleared his throat. “What would you like to do?”
“Let’s go to the cemetery.”
He thought he was getting used to Bethany’s quirks—her impulsivity and outspokenness, and her sometimes imaginative view of a situation. But this caught him off guard. “Is there something at the cemetery you want me to see?”
“We can walk around and talk there and not be disturbed. It’s a beautiful place.”
“So is the park.”
She grinned. “And I want to look for Katherine Boston’s grave.”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there.”
“Okay.” He shifted the Jeep into gear. “To the cemetery.”