“Spectacular.”
He slid me a tumbler. “ ’Tween you and me, I’m not sure I’ll ever see it again. I got this arthritis in one hip and both knees.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
“Aw, never mind. It’s a good excuse not to go frolicking in the woods. Nature’s always been more the boy’s thing than mine. He takes after his mama. She was a child of the land, and a child of the land she begat.”
He pinched Beau’s cheek. Hoisted his glass. “Slainte.”
We clinked and drank.
“So,” Emil said. “My son tells me you’re smitten with our tiny slice of paradise.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“How’d you find us?”
“Google.”
“I think I’ve heard of that.” He winked. “Can’t say I blame you. Stressful job, finance.”
“It can be.”
“What sort of finance?”
“Private equity.”
“Buy low, sell high, so forth.”
“That’s it in a nutshell.”
“Your interest is in an investment property.”
“Primarily.”
“Gotcha,” he said. “Hate to pry, but we’ve had some unfortunate instances where people fall behind on payments, or they can’t afford the upkeep. It can turn into a real hassle.”
“It won’t be an issue.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest it would. We do the same for everyone. Only fair. It’s a tight-knit community, y’know. We depend on each other.”
“Maggie Penrose said something along those lines.”
Emil smiled. “You met Maggie.”
“Yesterday evening, down by the beach.”
“You can set your watch by her,” Beau said.
“She’s a pearl,” Emil said. “We’re lucky to have her. Anyhoo. Ours is a delicate ecosystem. You understand.”
“I do.”
“Glad we’re on the same page. From our end, there’s a brief application process. We ask to see three years’ worth of tax returns. Would you be comfortable with that?”
“Can I ask who’s ‘we’?”
“The Board of Supervisors,” Beau said.
“I can get that for you,” I said. “I’d rather not go to the trouble before I know what it is I’m applying for.”
“Of course,” Emil said. “I’ll have Beau draft a proposal for you.”
“I’m here now.”
“Well, I admire the pep in your step, but you’re gonna have to get used to waiting.” Emil smiled. “We don’t move at city speed.”
Push?
Or dance?
ML.
There must be a piece of paper somewhere with his signature on it.
Dance.
I smiled. “You know what, Mr. Bergstrom? You’re right. And this is a pretty clear demonstration of why I really need to get away.”
He chuckled. “We’ll fix you yet.”
They departed with Clay Gardner’s email address. The proposal would be forthcoming.
Jenelle wasn’t around to lock up.
I doubted she ever bothered. If anyone in Swann’s Flat did.
Why would they?
It was that kind of town.
I bolted the front door and wedged a dining room chair under the handle.
In my room I locked the door, set the chain, and wedged a chair under the knob.
I laid out clothes for the following day and packed my bag.
I moved the mattress to the floor, out of line with the window.
I put the P320 on the floor nearby and got into bed.
It was another terrible night, about three hours of patchy sleep. This time it wasn’t gunfire I was hearing in my dreams, it was squealing brakes. I resisted the urge to get up and check. Didn’t want to stir the curtains and find him sighting up at me along the barrel of a rifle.
The phone shrilled me awake at four fifty-five.
I crawled over to it. “Yeah.”
“Are you in your room?” Jenelle Counts said. “I can’t get the front door to budge.”
“Shit. One second.”
I put on clothes, ran downstairs barefoot, and let her in.
“What the hell is all this about?” she said.
“I’m so sorry. I thought you lived here.”
“I do. My entrance is around the back. That’s where I called you from.” She frowned at the chair. “What possessed you to do that?”
“I just— Al Bock shot at me. He’s the one broke the mirror off my car.”
Jenelle goggled.
Then she whooped laughter.
“That old goat? What’d you do to get on his bad side? Not that it takes a whole lot.”
“Nothing. I went by his house. Yesterday I saw him poking around outside the hotel. I was concerned he’d show up and do something crazy.”
“Why’d you go there to begin with?”
“It’s for sale. I wanted to see it.”
“It’s been for sale for fifteen years,” she said. “He’s turned down every offer ever came his way. You seem like a nice enough guy, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
“Duly noted.”
“Well. I’ll need some time to get your breakfast ready.”
“Thank you, but I have to hit the road.”
“You don’t want anything?”
“Just coffee, please.”
“All right. I’m afraid I can’t refund that portion of your money.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
The mug was waiting when I came down with my bag.
“Come back soon,” Jenelle said.
“Thanks. Can I have a to-go cup, please?”
“You want that, go to Millburg.”
A white envelope flapped on my windshield, trapped beneath a wiper blade. Inside was a personal check, made out to Clay Gardner in the amount of two hundred dollars and signed by Albert Bock.
The memo line read
Driving away from the marina, I felt in the snack bag for the package of beef jerky, tearing it open with my teeth and shaking a piece into my mouth.
It tasted awful — funky and dry. I battled the first mouthful for ten minutes before giving up and spitting it out the window.
Chris Villareal had asked for a name. I’d gotten him two. Maybe he’d be content to stop.
I hoped not. I didn’t want to stop. My mind was churning, and I felt eager to get home and see what I could dig up on the Bergstroms.
I crossed the bridge at the town limits.
The paving ended.
The road began to rise.
Away we go.
The broken side mirror rattled at every bump and rut. I kept expecting it to fall off, but it was somehow still attached as I passed the Cathedral trailhead. Never underestimate duct tape.
I rubbed my eyes, gave my head a hard shake. I’d only had time to guzzle down half a cup of coffee, and I felt droopy and dull.
Cornering sharply, I reached a straightaway and fed the gas.
I heard it before I saw it.
Rubber scraping earth, metal on metal, the guttural wheeze escaping me as I was thrown against the door, my bag tumbling around in the cargo space.
I heard her shriek, heard the shriek end, suddenly, sickeningly, as I struggled to make sense of her face.
A manic swirl of colors and shapes, oval eyes swollen, mouth a black cavern.
Her body, a bright-blue blur, wiped away.
Chapter 13
I’d wrenched the wheel to my left, away from the cliffside and toward the forest, and when I came to rest and kicked open the door I saw that her reflex had been the same.
A single skinny tire track mirrored the fat pair left by me.
The lines almost kissed.
Then hers broke off.
I swooned, scanned the trees. Flies muddied the air. “Hello?”