Chapter Fifteen
Local Man Confesses to Writing Harassing Letters
By Tammy Patterson, Examiner Staff
Anders was apprehended after a doorbell camera captured him tacking a letter to the front door of the home of Martin and Tina Robinson. Anders’s letter accused the Robinsons of putting trash in their recycling bins.
Anders, the father of high school coach Mitch Anders, defended his actions, telling sheriff’s deputies that he wanted to show people that everyone breaks the law, but most of them go unpunished. Anders has been released on his own recognizance, pending a sentencing hearing.
The following Friday morning Ed Anders’s arrest made front-page news in the weekly edition of the Eagle Mountain Examiner.
Mira, who was largely recovered from her concussion, sought out Shayla at school.
She was collating worksheets in her classroom.
“How is Mitch?” Mira asked. “Is he very upset about his dad?”
“He’s concerned, of course.” Shayla arranged the second sheets of the handout on top of the first sheets, face down.
“And feeling guilty that he didn’t realize what his dad was up to.
He’s made an appointment for Ed to see a specialist. We think there must be some dementia going on. Why else would he do such a thing?”
“I’m sorry he’s having to go through this,” Mira said. “I’m sure he’s glad to have you to lean on.”
“I hope I’m helping.”
“Have you met his dad?” Mira asked.
“A couple of times. He wasn’t very friendly, but Mitch said that’s just his dad’s personality. He’s very gruff, and I guess he’s in a lot of pain. He has terrible arthritis and can hardly walk. I worry about him driving his old Jeep around town, but Mitch says he never goes far.”
“I suppose the judge will take all of that into consideration when he sentences him,” Mira said.
“I hope so. Mitch did say his dad had some trouble with the law when he was younger. He didn’t elaborate and I didn’t want to pry.”
“The paper didn’t mention that.”
Shayla began stapling the stacks of worksheets together. “I get the impression it was a long time ago. Anyway, as horrible as this is, it’s brought Mitch and me closer together. We’re seeing a lot of each other.”
Mira handed her the next set of papers. “What do your parents think?”
“They’re not happy. But they’re trying to be subtle.
My mom is trying to fix me up with the nephew of a friend.
She keeps sending me pictures of him and talking about how successful and handsome he is and how interested he is in meeting me.
” She wrinkled her nose. “So what if he’s all those things?
Mitch is the man I’m attracted to. You can’t fight fate. ”
Mira didn’t know if she believed in fate.
She was attracted to Carter, but she blamed hormones more than destiny.
Nothing wrong with hormones. It was a relief, after all this time, to know that that part of her was still alive.
But she wasn’t going to pretend there was some supernatural force bringing the two of them together.
It was enough for her that he was a good man who treated her—and everyone around him—well.
He made her laugh and sigh and the fact that he had a gorgeous body didn’t hurt, either.
The ordeal with George had vanquished all the stars from her eyes. She hoped she saw more clearly now.
Joel Chessman agreed to meet with Carter and Danny at his home in a picturesque canyon above Eagle Mountain on Saturday afternoon.
As they wound up a paved drive to park near the front door, Carter stared at the house constructed of massive blocks of stone that seemed to emerge from the mountainside.
Joel—he said to call him Joel—greeted them at the front door.
A thin, graceful man with blond hair shot through with silver and a Vandyke goatee, he answered the door dressed in jeans and a loose linen shirt, barefoot, and led them into a home office with a wall of glass that offered a view of the snowcapped San Juan Mountains and colorful canyon walls.
“We wanted to thank you for your support of Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue for the past several years,” Danny began.
Joel settled onto a leather sofa across from the club chairs he had directed them to.
“A good friend of mine was saved by search and rescue when he fell while climbing in California,” he said.
“I realized how important the work was. I read an article in the paper about how the local organization was struggling to raise money for equipment and I wanted to help.”
“You’ve been a big help,” Danny said. “We received your letter that you had decided to contribute to other causes and wanted to find out if we had done something to offend you.”
“Not at all. I think you’re a fine organization. I’ve just decided to shift my focus to other causes. To spread the wealth, so to speak.”
“What kind of work do you do?” Carter asked.
“I’m a project management consultant. I mainly handle big infrastructure projects.”
Carter nodded, trying to look as if he had any idea what this man was talking about. “Maybe you can help us in another way,” he said. “With advice instead of money.”
Joel looked interested. “What kind of advice do you need?”
Carter leaned forward, carefully choosing his words.
“We offer our services to people for free,” he said.
“And everyone involved with Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue is a volunteer. But like any other business, our expenses increase every year—from the cost of electricity for our headquarters and gas for our vehicles to the price of medical supplies, climbing equipment and training. We receive a small amount from the county and a little from the state. We sell T-shirts and bumper stickers and hold various fundraisers but we don’t really have a way to generate money beyond asking for donations. ”
“You need an endowment that will generate funds every year,” Joel said.
“That would be ideal,” Danny said. “But where would we get the endowment?”
“You’re asking the wrong question,” Joel said. “The better question is what would you do with the endowment if you get it?”
“That’s why we need someone like you,” Carter said.
“You need more than one someone. You need investment advisers. Preferably a firm that specializes in nonprofits.”
“Do you know someone?” Danny asked.
“I might. And I probably know some people who would be interested in investing in your organization. I’d be willing to make another contribution, too.
Get enough big donors and you could set a challenge and ask for matching funds.
You raise half the money you need through smaller donors and the larger donors contribute the rest.”
“That sounds ideal,” Danny said. “But can we really get together the funds to make that happen?”
“It won’t happen overnight,” Joel said. “But eventually, you wouldn’t have to depend so heavily on donations. If you go about this in the right way, you can build a fund whose earning could support everyday operations for years to come.”
“That sounds like a great plan,” Carter said. “We’d appreciate your help—both your expertise and any funds you could contribute.”
“What changed your mind about contributing?” Danny asked.
“I was sure you were coming to see me today with your hand out, asking for more money,” he said.
“I wasn’t offended by that. I’m used to it.
But you surprised me. You didn’t ask for money, you asked for advice.
You valued my expertise as much as my cash.
That got my interest. If you’re willing to meet with me again, I think I can help you set up a plan to put you on a better financial footing and ensure a more stable future. ”
“Yes,” Danny said. “We’re really eager to learn what you and any advisers you can recommend have to say.”
Joel stood. “I’m excited about this, too. Thanks for coming today.”
“Thanks for seeing us.”
“You did great,” Danny said when he and Carter were back in his car.
“All I did was ask a question.”
Danny grinned. “You seem to have a knack for asking the right questions.”
Trisha Isbell kept a close eye on her children.
She made sure they wore bike helmets and never let them go to the park unless they were with her or another parent.
Since the local kidnapping attempts she had scarcely let them out of her sight.
No more riding their bicycles around their quiet cul-de-sac. They played inside or in the backyard.
But a break in the septic line had rendered the backyard off-limits while repairs were being made.
And the lure of a sunny Monday afternoon had seven-year-old Noah and his five-year-old sister, Riley, begging to go outside and play in the front yard.
Anna finally relented. She took her lawn chair out with her, parked it in the shade of a pine tree and watched as the children chased each other in a game of tag.
She smiled as Noah deliberately slowed his steps to allow Riley to catch up with him.
“Tag, you’re it!” she shouted gleefully.
From somewhere in the house she heard her phone ringing.
She must have left it on the counter again.
She should let it ring out, but she was expecting a call from their insurance company about a bill she had protested.
She glanced at the children. Noah was pursuing Riley now, making roaring noises and pretending to be some kind of animal. A lion? Or maybe a bear?
She had to get the phone. With a last glance at the children, she hurried inside. There was the phone, on the kitchen counter. “Hello?” she answered, hoping she didn’t sound too out of breath.
“Mrs. Isbell, I’m calling about the bill you questioned.”
“Yes, thank you for returning my call.” She hurried to her desk, and pulled the bill from a pile of papers there.