Did I bring him into the fold too fast?
“What’s going through your head, Owen?”
“A lot of officials have shown up here,” said Owen as he continued his pacing. “First the FBI, then the state police looking for dynamite, and now the local police chief. It’s getting hot.”
Tom wished he hadn’t told Deke, Al, and Owen about the state cop looking for dynamite. All three men had started to sweat and then had grown angry at the thought that there might be a traitor in their midst. Their reactions had felt genuine to Tom, and he was nearly certain none of them had reported the dynamite. But that left forty other men and women who might have made the call.
“Are you worried?” Tom asked. “None of the cops had any facts. They were all just following rumors.”
“Who’s spreading these rumors?” asked Owen.
Al came through the farmhouse door, his face full of annoyance. “Don’t know why the chief waited so long to leave.”
“He was trying to intimidate us more,” said Tom. “More proof that he’s got nothing on us. He was just blowing hot air.”
“We should have cleaned out the garbage,” muttered Al.
Owen froze midstep. “What garbage?”
“Nothing.”
Owen stared at Al for a long second, and disappointment flashed across his face. Tom knew he’d suspected that his two men had run his FBI-agent sister off the road, but now he was positive.
What will he do about that?
“Do you have a problem with my plans for the dynamite?” Tom asked Owen.
The tension in the room tripled. Al and Deke slowly turned toward Owen, waiting for his response.
His hands clasped behind his back, Owen looked at Tom and then the other two men. “I don’t. You can do whatever you want on your own property.”
“But it’s not my property yet.”
“It will be soon,” said Deke. “She’ll come around.” He nodded emphatically, as if he could will it to happen.
Tom studied the large man. Deke was a few peas short of a casserole, but he had heart and was one of the best shots Tom had ever seen. That was the primary reason Tom had picked him to watch his back. Another reason was that he was usually silent.
“I didn’t ask your opinion,” Tom told Deke.
Deke clamped his mouth shut and straightened his spine, focusing his gaze on a spot past Tom’s shoulder. “No, sir.”
Tom turned his attention back to Owen. “Your sister could have been hurt the other day. That was the fault of these two boneheads. It wasn’t my intention.” He held Owen’s gaze. “But I won’t stand for federal agents trying to walk all over me. I’ll strike back when warranted. Do you have a problem with that?”
Owen hesitated a split second too long. “No, sir.”
Disappointment washed over Tom. I had such high hopes for him.
Owen was different from the other men who’d come to him. He was successful, smart, and motivated. Anger had driven Owen to Tom. His brother’s death as a result of shoddy police work had opened Owen’s eyes. He wanted what all the other men wanted: change. They wanted change that returned their dignity and pride.
Not this constant stealing of their taxes to support greedy politicians, or to have to look over their shoulder every time they stepped outside their own front door. They wanted to simply live their lives. Instead they were being nickel-and-dimed while the government created new laws to give itself power to sweep in and take whatever it wanted.
A forest your family has owned for fifty years? Hand it over. We need to protect an owl.
Pastures your cattle have grazed for the last decade? Keep off. We need to protect the river your cows drink from.
Then the federal officials would show up with their guns and all the power.
Unfair.
“Maybe this isn’t the place for you,” Tom said to Owen.
Owen took two steps toward him, passion flaring in his eyes. “You know we want the same things. You’ve got the strength to sway men to support you. I believe in what you’re doing.” He held Tom’s gaze, sincerity ringing in his tone.
I believe him.
Tom had strong faith in his gut instincts. His temporary doubts about Owen vanished. Owen might have a soft spot for his sister, but he wouldn’t let it get in his way. Tom held out his hand to Owen, who grabbed it and shook it firmly.
“I’m with you,” Owen stated.
“Good,” said Tom. “Now how are we going to figure out who the leak is around here?”
Owen blew out a breath. “I have my suspicions about that young kid working on the bunkhouses.”
“Cade?” Tom was shocked. The kid was polite and worked hard.
“Maybe he didn’t do anything intentionally, but it’s possible he mentioned the dynamite to his girlfriend.”
“And she reported it? Why would some teenage girl care about dynamite out here?”
“She’s my niece . . . Her dad died, and she lives with Mercy.”
Understanding struck Tom. “You think she told her aunt? And that’s why things have heated up around here? Why didn’t you mention this sooner?” He was horrified. One of his workers was dating the live-in niece of an FBI agent?
Owen pressed his mouth into a hard line before answering. “I only put it together recently. I didn’t realize he was the guy I’d seen with my niece until I bumped into him here the other day. Even then I wasn’t sure.”
“So you could be wrong.”
“Could be. But I’m thinking it’s the same one.”
“I think I need to have a talk with Cade.” Tom turned to Deke and Al. “Go find the kid.”
“He’s off today.”
“Dammit.” Frustration heated his face. “I want to see him first thing tomorrow.”
TWENTY-THREE
Truman’s desk phone rang and he snatched it up, crossing his fingers that it was the call he’d been waiting for.
It was. Bonner County Deputy Chad Wheeler’s voice came booming through the line. “Truman? Chad here, returning your call. Did you want to beg for another fishing trip?”
“You’ve got the best fishing in the Pacific Northwest.”
“We do. But it’s too damn cold now. Where were you three months ago? I told you the guys were getting together.”
Chad had attended high school with Truman. Truman had always assumed Chad would end up behind bars instead of on the law-abiding side. No one had been more surprised than Truman when he joined the police force. It’d been good for Chad, calming his wild ways and focusing his energy for good. Every few years they pulled together a few old classmates and fished in Chad’s backyard of northern Idaho.
The same area Tom McDonald had left a year ago.
“I wish I’d reached out to you about fishing, but I’ve got business I need to discuss.”
“What do you need?” Chad’s tone shifted to full-on cop mode.
“Information on a Tom McDonald. He moved here from your area a year ago. As far as I can tell, he lived in northern Idaho all his life.” He gave Chad the Idaho driver’s license number he’d found for Tom.
He heard Chad’s keyboard clatter in the background. “Yep, I see him. I’ve got previous addresses for him in Sandpoint, Coeur d’Alene, and Bonners Ferry. I don’t see any record. The guy never even got a traffic ticket.”