Chapter 8
JUSTIN
“Your boy is quite the rabble rouser,” Liam said as Justin took a seat at the table in Bear Necessities Coffee and Café with two steaming cups of coffee.
“He’s not my ‘boy.’” Justin rolled his eyes even though he knew Liam was teasing.
“Close enough,” Liam replied. He reached for his cup and let out a nearly pornographic sigh of contentment as he took the first taste, closing his eyes and savoring.
“Do you need a room?” Justin joked.
“When it comes to coffee, I’m an exhibitionist,” Liam replied.
“Now, what’s this about rousing the rabble?” Justin sat back and took a sip of his drink, agreeing with Liam’s reaction. Bear Necessities made the best coffee in Fox Hollow.
“Have you read any of Scott’s articles?” Liam asked.
Justin shook his head. “No. Does that make me a bad boyfriend? He’s told me a little about them, but they’re on academic and industry websites, so pretty specialized and not exactly easy to access. Why?”
“Librarians get all kinds of special access.” Liam gave a conspiratorial smile.
“I was curious, so I did a little digging. He’s an extremely good writer, and his research is solid.
Very balanced, in my opinion. And I realize that he’s more likely to just be assigned a topic as to have suggested it. ”
“But…” Justin prompted.
“Although he writes about a lot of different topics, some of the articles I found focused on the environmental impact of heavy industry and looked at the downside of industries like mining and logging,” Liam said.
“He also mentioned corporate conflicts of interest. I thought he was spot on. But I can’t imagine the companies being pleased. ”
Justin frowned. “Do you think they’re going to cause trouble for him?”
Liam took a long sip of his coffee before he answered. “The websites are pretty independent, so I think they’ll do as they please. But when a pile of cash is on the table, and large investments stand to be impacted, sometimes companies take matters into their own hands.”
Justin felt a chill go down his spine as Liam’s meaning hit him, and he reframed his question. “Do you think someone would try to stop him from publishing?”
Liam shrugged. “I hope not, but people can make very bad decisions when there’s a lot of money at stake.”
“He knows, and he’s already promised to keep this one positive. Scott cares about his topics, but he’s not an extremist,” Justin defended.
Liam shook his head. “I don’t think he is.
But companies aren’t used to being told things they don’t want to hear, and they don’t like negative press getting to the people in local and state government who oversee regulations and permits.
Same with investors. He might get pushback, that’s all I’m saying.
And this one is through a university and will get more attention than some of the websites he writes for. ”
Scott had been writing for a while, long enough to build up a solid freelance business. Justin knew his boyfriend understood the risks and was being cautious, but he couldn’t help worrying.
“I can’t tell him not to write what he’s passionate about writing.” Justin thought of his most recent call with Scott.
“I wouldn’t dream of suggesting it,” Liam said. “But I figured you needed to know the risks so you could support him if things get…fraught. I expect he has developed somewhat of a reputation given the prior articles.”
Justin sighed and took a long swig of his coffee. “Thanks. That’s a whole different world than what I deal with. I’d never guess people could get so worked up about boring articles that aren’t going to be seen by a big audience. It’s not like the National Enquirer.”
Liam chuckled. “No, it definitely isn’t.
And the size of the readership matters less sometimes than its influence.
The people who read those articles have a say in funding and the laws that make the projects possible.
On one hand, new jobs can come out of it.
But if development isn’t done carefully, there can be a lot of damage.
Especially from things like mining projects. ”
“Does that include the Mafia? You said before that those organizations go underground, but they never go away,” Justin asked.
Liam hesitated before he answered. “I don’t know. They were certainly part of how the industry operated in the past. I’d like to believe things have improved since then, but so much depends on who the investors and developers are and how ethical they are.”
Justin would have preferred reassurance that such things were solidly in the past.
“After the last time I talked to Scott, I did some digging,” Liam admitted. “And I did find allegations about supposed ties to organized crime for the mine’s new owner, and a rather salacious social media post suggesting they have a dark witch named Samuel Wilmot who does their bidding.”
“Scott talked to Jeffries and shared what he’d found. It pretty well matched what you’re saying,” Justin said. “I got the feeling that there might be something to the rumors, not just about the Mob but magic, too.”
“That’s definitely not good,” Liam agreed. “If so, Jeffries knows who to contact around here to help keep the area safe. I’m afraid anything you and I might try to do could just make things more complicated.”
“Scott was heading up to do a photo shoot that included the Platt Mine today,” Justin said. “Do you think those black cars we saw are connected to the company that bought the property?”
Liam shrugged. “No idea. But they didn’t look like the average campers or tourists, so I’m guessing they were on business of some sort. The developers may completely ignore his articles, or not ever see them. But I wanted to let you know.”
“Thank you,” Justin said. “I hope nothing happens. But I’ll be right beside him if he needs it.”
“I don’t doubt that one bit.” Liam smiled as he finished his drink and set the cup aside.
“In the meantime, I’m going to see what I can find out about the companies involved and see if there’s anyone in the supernatural community who might be able to help nudge the interest in a different direction. ”
“I know that the mine could mean jobs,” Justin said, wrestling with his feelings on the subject. “But it also means more outsiders and traffic. That’s aside from any damage to the forest or the water. If new companies are going to come in, it would be nice if they didn’t make a mess.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” Liam replied. “I was going to look for good alternatives while I was digging around.”
“Thank you,” Justin said. “I can’t do much to help, but please let me know what you find out.”
“You’ll be one of the first to know,” Liam promised.
They got more coffee and chatted for a while about plans for the Halloween celebrations. Liam shared some of the events the library had coming up for the winter season. Justin filled him in on funny things that happened with his most recent tours and hunting customers.
“Have you heard anything more about poachers or missing hikers?” Liam asked. “I caught part of a conversation, but it wasn’t the kind of thing I could interrupt to ask for details.”
“Sheriff Armel knows,” Justin said. “I offered to do flyovers if it would help.”
“And it could be nothing,” Liam admitted. “Someone might have seen hunters somewhere they didn’t expect and blew it out of proportion. It’s happened before, but not for a long time.”
“I’ll keep my ears open,” Justin said.
Liam reminded him of an upcoming holiday committee meeting as they said goodbye outside the café.
Justin waved as Liam walked back toward the library, unable to shake his restlessness.
He checked the time and calculated where Scott would be.
By now, he figured they should have had time to fly up to the mine area but probably weren’t finished with the photo shoot yet.
He couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding and took a less direct route back to his plane as he tried to focus on what he needed to do before his afternoon tours.
His phone buzzed with a text just as he reached the dock.
Scott: We’re going to crash—near the mines. Look for us. I love you.
Justin froze, feeling suddenly faint. He re-read the message, and his heart pounded. Frantic, he tried to return the call, but it rolled to voicemail.
The airport’s emergency alarm sounded on his phone. Justin pulled up the alert app, and the message made him go cold. “Small craft down,” the newest notice began. “Request rescue response.”
Scott, please be safe. Please, please, please.
Justin called Sheriff Armel, muttering under his breath as the phone rang before someone picked up.
“Sheriff’s office,” a chipper voice answered
“Is Sheriff Armel in? This is Justin Miller, and it’s an emergency.”
“Just a moment,” the voice replied, putting Justin on hold. He swore quietly as he waited.
“Justin, what’s your emergency, and why are you calling me and not 911?” Armel responded.
“There’s a plane down near Platt Mountain. Scott flew up there to do aerial research and get photos for his articles. I’ll do whatever will help, do recon to find the crash, or join the ground team for search and rescue.” Justin’s words came out in a tumble.
“How do you know it’s Scott?” Armel demanded.
“I got a text from him saying ‘we’re going to crash—near the mines, look for us’ and then the airport emergency channel reported a plane down.” Justin was doing his best to stay calm and barely managed.
“Shit,” Armel muttered. “You go talk to the airport people about the flight recorder or locator beacon. I’ll alert the search and rescue phone tree and see if I can reach any of the other sheriffs in that area.”
“Okay.” Justin tried to take slow, deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
Justin closed his eyes and did his best to focus on his extra senses. He picked up a flicker of energy that he knew was Scott, but it felt weakened. Fear resonated through the fragile link, letting Justin know Scott was scared and hurt.