Chapter 29
Bear Paw Tavern
Ray Hutchins sat in the corner booth of the Bear Paw Tavern, nursing a beer he didn't want and listening to Jake and Jeffrey complain about the cold.
The storm had kept them holed up in this shithole town for two days, and everyone seemed to be fine with the break except him.
Being snowbound made him antsy. They should have been working at the mine site, but Mr. Penson had decided the risk was too high given the roads as they were.
Ray knew he shouldn’t complain. After all, the hotel bed was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the makeshift bunkhouse at the camp, and Donna's burgers were better than anything they had up there. Plus, he got paid the same whether he was working the mine or killing time in a hotel.
At least now, he and his crew returned to the mine this morning, while he’d sent two of his more discreet crew members to look for the veterinarian who’d stumbled on something she shouldn’t have.
"I'm telling you, the boss was fucking glad when we told him the cabin had been cleaned out," Jake said, leaning across the table with the intensity of a man who'd had one beer too many. "Good riddance to some tree-hugger, animal-loving busybody poking around where she doesn't belong."
"Cheryl was there this morning," Jeffrey said with a grin, waggling his eyebrows. "Sitting in his big house, drinking coffee. Guess we know where she spent her snowbound days." He made a rude gesture with his hands before guffawing loudly.
Ray took a long pull of his beer, letting the conversation wash over him. He'd learned early in this job that asking too many questions was a bad idea. You showed up, you did the work, you took your paycheck and kept your mouth shut. That was the deal.
He didn't give a fuck what they dumped in that creek. The pay was too good to walk away from. Besides, what was he supposed to do? Even if he grew a conscience, he'd be out of a job, or worse, if Penson found out he'd talked.
So Ray kept his head down, did his work, and turned a blind eye to the dead animals he'd seen near the water.
Donna appeared at their table, her tired smile not quite reaching her eyes. "You boys need anything else?"
"I’d like another beer," Jeffrey said.
“No,” Ray barked, glaring at the man who’d had too much to drink on a workday lunch. “We’ve got to head back to work this afternoon.”
Donna nodded, then turned to one of the other servers. “Can you check these men out? I have to get a take-out order that’s going to the hotel. Said I’d deliver it myself.”
“I didn’t think we had anyone delivering today since Bobby’s out sick,” the server said.
“It’s for someone who came in from her place during the storm. She’s unable to get out, so I told her that I’d run it over to her.”
Donna moved toward the kitchen, calling out to the cook. Ray was pulling out his wallet to pay for his lunch when his attention snagged on something she said. "Sandwich order for the hotel. Room 7. The sweet veterinarian who was in the area is there. I’m taking it to her."
Ray's head snapped up. Jake and Jeffrey heard it too, their conversation dying mid-sentence.
"Did she say, veterinarian?" Jeffrey asked quietly.
"The one who was in the area," Jake confirmed, his expression sharpening. "How many veterinarians do you think are working out here in the middle of nowhere?"
Ray felt his stomach clench. This was bad. This was the kind of thing Penson would want to know about immediately. The kind of thing that could get complicated fast.
"She's at the hotel," Jake said. “We’d better tell the boss.”
"No, wait. Maybe it's not her," Ray ordered. "Could be someone else, and then we’d piss off the boss for giving him false information.”
“What do we do?” Jake asked, blinking away the sluggishness from too many beers.
“We go and see for ourselves.” Ray finished paying and nodded for the others to follow. Once outside, they sat in the truck for a few minutes waiting for Donna to come out with the take-out order.
“Turn the heat up,” Jake grumbled. “Freezing my balls off back here.”
Jeffrey turned in his seat, making a vulgar comment to Jake, but Ray kept his eyes pinned on the windshield. “There she is,” he muttered as a bundled Donna came out with several large bags in her hands.
Ray followed slowly, then said, "Text the boss. See what he wants us to do.”
Jeffrey became more focused as he followed Ray’s directions. After a moment, he said, “Boss wants us to verify it's her. If it is, we bring her to him."
"Bring her?" Ray's voice came out sharper than he'd intended. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It means exactly what he said." Jeffrey's shoulders reached his ears as he shrugged. "I guess we knock on the door and grab her.”
"And if she doesn't want to come?"
"Then we make her want to," Jake said, chuckling. "This isn't complicated, Ray. She's been snooping around our operation, probably gathering evidence and definitely causing problems for the boss. We gotta take care of the problem."
Ray’s mouth thinned into a straight line. This wasn't what he'd signed up for. Mining wherever they wanted. Dumping chemicals wherever. Sure. Those things were on Penson’s back. But kidnapping? Hell, that could put the three of us in prison.
"Maybe we should wait," he tried. "Talk to Penson first, make sure—"
"We did talk to Penson." Jeffrey interrupted. "And he said to handle it. So that's what we're doing."
They pulled into the parking lot, near the stairs leading to the breezeway closest to room 7. Donna knocked and left the bag on the stoop. She called out and then laughed, probably hearing something from the woman inside. Donna hastened away, crossing the street to go back to the tavern.
"Come on," Jeffrey said, already out the door. "She'll open the door soon to get the food delivery. When she opens that door, we move fast and quiet."
Ray snorted. “As much as you drank at lunch, I’m surprised you can walk straight, much less try to grab someone without giving them a chance to scream their head off.”
“Fine,” Jake growled, climbing out and standing next to Jeffrey. “You get her. And if not… we’ll just tell the boss you chickened out.”
Ray narrowed his eyes, but climbed out as well. He jogged up the stairs, positioning himself outside the door where she couldn’t see him. He hated everything about this, but what was he supposed to do? Fight his own crew? Get himself fired or killed for not following the boss’s orders?
They didn't have to wait long. The door to room 7 opened, and a blond woman appeared, reaching for the food bag Donna had left on the doorstep. She was younger than Ray had expected, pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way, wearing jeans and what looked like a man's flannel shirt.
She looked tired. Worried. For a second, all Ray could see was that she wasn’t much older than his sister, and he hesitated.
Jake moved first, crossing the distance in three quick strides. The woman's eyes went wide with surprise, then with fear, as she tried to slam the door shut. But Jake was already there, his boot blocking it, his hand shooting out to grab her arm.
"Don't scream," he said quietly. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."
She struggled anyway, trying to wrench free, her mouth opening to call for help. Jeffrey was there in an instant, his hand clamping over her mouth, muffling the sound.
Ray watched, frozen, as they pulled her out of the room and into the hallway. She fought them, kicking and twisting, but she was small, and they were stronger.
"Get the vehicle," Jeffrey grunted, wrestling her down the stairs with his hand still over her mouth.
Ray forced himself to move, jogging to where they'd parked the company truck. His hands shook as he started the engine, his mind screaming at him that this was kidnapping.
But he pulled the truck closer anyway.
They shoved her into the back seat, Jeffrey climbing in beside her while Jake took the passenger seat. Ray gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, refusing to meet her terrified eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Drive," Jake ordered. "Penson's house. Now."
Ray drove.
Behind him, he heard the woman's muffled protests, heard Jeffrey threatening her to stay quiet, heard the desperation in her breathing.
And he knew, with absolute certainty, that they'd just crossed a line there was no coming back from.