“We’ll see, then,” Kiersten says. There are others waiting to be seated so she says, “I’ll show you to your table now.”
Once at their table, Kathy watches Kiersten scurry away, her long skirt swishing as she goes, then leans toward Astrid and asks, “did she say why she left the Riverview to work here? This is only once every couple of months or something, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but the members are booking in now, too, and she looks after checking them in,” Astrid replies.
“Well, it is quite a step up from the Riverview,” Kathy observes. “Riverview’s nice enough but this place is something else! All the antiques, and giant flower arrangements everywhere! Just the flowers must’ve cost thousands. But I sure wouldn’t want to commute on that road!”
“Me neither,” Astrid agrees, and looks around. “I think there’s more people here than last time, don’t you, Den? There’s Gary from the bank. I think I recognize a few others, too.”
Denver nods and says, “I guess word gets around. If I was an investor looking at this as a business model, I never would’ve believed it would work, hey Rick? All these folks are paying two hundred bucks a head.”
Rick lets out a low whistle. “Two hundred bucks! We owe you quite a chunk of change, then.”
“Naw, like I said, we’re all here as guests of the Lodge. Wouldn’t’ve thought they’d be so grateful.”
“Guess we didn’t charge them enough for the logs,” Astrid says. “I don’t see Annie. Wonder if we’re in her section again.”
♦ ♦ ♦
BEARON WATCHES THE monitors as vehicles arrive in the parking lot. When the shuttle bus pulls up and blocks the camera, he hisses, “Fuck!”
He tries some of the other camera views. There’s a truck like the one he’s looking for. Although he can see people on the far side of it, with no near cameras, he can’t make out who they are.
He switches back to the main view and when the van finally pulls away, he gets a clear view of Kathy and Astrid, on their way into the building. Danielson and Schoenfeld are at the truck, talking to three other men. Probably truck talk. He experiences a jolt of sorrow, remembering how he did that in a previous life, too.
Then he sits up and takes a better look. Is that Brent and Wally? Panic washes over him when he sees Clint. He isn’t yakking with the others, though. He’s on his way in. Good thing Kathy didn’t see him!
He pulls out his cellphone and sends Clint a text, warning him to come straight into the office. He’s made a decision about Kiersten and he’ll talk to him about that while he’s at it.
He didn’t know the two Illustrious Leaders were coming, either, and without their wives? Are they planning on staying over? Are they going to want to go downstairs? They should have given him a head’s up. Another example of their puffed-up opinions of their own importance.
As for Clint, this might work out well. He was surprisingly pissed over the Kiersten thing. It’ll give Bearon a chance to smooth his feathers. Give him a room with Kiersten in it for the night. They can have dinner sent up, and the Grotto to themselves once everyone else has cleared out.
Goddamn those three, showing up without letting him know! Why? And why stop to talk to those people? They know his feelings on them very well. He’s the Imperial Leader and yet, Hayward stops to chit chat with Danielson anyway. Is it possible Hayward knows something? Is he warning him? Did Briggs yap? Would Briggs do that? No. Hayward doesn’t know anything, and he and Danielson are friendly. Nothing to be suspicious about.
He sends another text.
There’s a tap on the door. “Who is it?” he calls out.
“Me. Clint.”
Bearon pushes the unlock button mounted on the side of his desk; the lock buzzes, and Clint pushes the door open. He comes in and lets the door close and lock behind him.
Bearon motions to a chair and gets a couple of glasses and the bottle of Crown Royal off the credenza. As he pours, he asks, “You know the Klein woman’s here?”
“No.”
“Well, you would have, if you three assholes had bothered to tell me you were coming.”
“It was a last minute thing.”
“Oh, yeah? Whose bright idea was it?”
“Er…I dunno. I was at the Fisherman’s. Me and Brent just got talking. Figured we’d have a boys night out. What’s the big deal?”
“Are you kidding? Don’t you think Kathy might recognize you from the little chat you had behind Dot’s that day you were supposed to grab her?” Bearon frowns and slams his glass down harder than he meant to.
“Back then I wore glasses and had shoulder length hair and no beard, remember? My own mother wouldn’t recognize me now. Besides, how was I supposed to know she’d be here? Long fuckin’ way to go for dinner.”
“Well, she’s here, thanks to your idiot son.”
“What’s it got to do with him?”
“They’re going to deliver a victim’s impact statement at his sentencing hearing on Monday.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Make fuckin’ sure she doesn’t see you. Get your ass up to my suite and fuckin’ stay there. Kiersten can keep you company. Order a meal sent up. Don’t go down to the Grotto until everyone’s gone.” He tosses the key card across the desk.
“How will I get home? I’m riding with those guys.”
“They’re not staying?”
“No. They both got stuff goin’ on early tomorrow. Preach has an early service and Hayward has to take his grandson to a bike race in Prince George or something. I could barely talk them into coming.”
“You need them for company?”
“Who else have I got? My girlfriend moved in with you, remember? Not by choice neither.”
“Your girlfriend? Your girlfriend?”
“You know what I mean.”
Bearon draws a deep breath and bites back a rebuke. Clint has been forgetting his place more and more often these past few months. If he didn’t need him, he’d deal with it, but he has to keep him close. Clint is not someone who can easily be replaced. Right now, he has to throw him a bone.
As for the other two, he’s mollified. At least they didn’t expect their rooms to be made up and to have company, or maybe go to the Basement. Theoretically, they don’t have to check in with him just to come for a meal. But they should have told him. He’ll remind them the next time he sees them.
He says, “okay, then. Text them you’re staying. I’ll be back in the morning and I’ll see you and Kiersten then. She can take you back to your place. She should take her things with her while she’s at it. I’ll send someone to collect the Volvo from your place next week sometime.”
♦ ♦ ♦
CLINT HEAVES A SIGH of relief as he leaves the office and heads up the back stairs, whistling quietly as he takes them two at a time. This is working out better than expected. Now he doesn’t have to make up an excuse for staying in Kevin’s room at the Lodge instead of going back to town with the other two. There won’t be any awkward questions either from Bearon or the cops about why. And on top of that, he gets Kiersten back.
That part’s puzzling. Why now? He would rather have taken her back instead of Bearon voluntarily returning her. Maybe he tosses her into the Basement. That would give Bearon the message: thanks for nothing, I didn’t want her anyway. But not until tomorrow or maybe sometime next week. Or maybe not at all. She could be a good cruising partner.
Once in Bearon’s suite, he texts Hayward and Preacher, then calls Kevin. “You can tell our guy it’s a go,” he says. “I’m stayin’ over like we planned. Start the ball rolling on Phase Two…yeah, he’s comin’ here to pick me up tomorrow…no, I don’t know what time. I’ll text you when he gets here…have them take their positions.” He ends the call.
Getting rid of Bearon will be easy. With Wally and Blake gone, no one will miss him. And Pillerton wanted him gone, so no questions from that quarter. As long as there’s no staff, he can be taken out right here. No need to worry about an
electric fence. This week-end, after tonight there are no customers, and no staff.
A window of opportunity like this won’t come again until the next public dinner. All he has to do is think of a reason to make sure Bearon comes inside when he picks them up, instead of waiting in the car.
Maybe a problem with—? What? One of the girls in the Basement? Or maybe he’ll accuse Kiersten of something so Bearon has to come in to discuss what to do with her. That would throw his big gift back in his face at the same time! Perfect!
At the bar cabinet, he pours a tall rye and ginger ale, then goes to the recliner and sinks in. He picks the remotes off the side table, turns on the propane fireplace and the TV, and scrolls through the guide, settling on a rerun of NCIS. His drink is nearly finished when there’s a tap on the door. He opens it on Kiersten.
“Hey, baby,” he says, pulling her into the room and taking her in his arms.
“Oh, Clint,” she cries, melting into his embrace. Their kisses are passionate, fierce, then tender. At last she says, “you look so different!”
“Yeah. You like it?”
“I do! You look so, er, so modern!”
“Re-invented myself,” he says. “How have you been? How’s things in the Bear Cave?”
“I hate it! It’s like I’m in jail.”
“Well, that’s about to change.”
“What? How?”
He kisses her temple and smooths her hair, tucking a lock behind her ear. “I got the boss to give us his suite for the night. We’ll have dinner here, same as what they’re serving downstairs. Nice quiet two-hundred-bucks-a-plate dinner. Then later, a swim? Or just a hot tub. Nice, eh?”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slump; she breathes deep and bites her lip. “But my things. I have nothing with me. I don’t have a swim suit.”
“Neither do I. There’s extra toothbrushes. And once the caterers leave, we’ve got the whole place to ourselves. We sure as hell don’t need swimsuits!”
“I guess not,” she says.
He expected a more enthusiastic reaction, then realizes she was hoping for more of a change than just one night away from the cabin. He’ll tell her she’s moving in the morning. For now, it’s time she learned not to hope for anything.
He kisses her again then starts opening the tiny buttons in the lacy top of her dress and says, “you look so beautiful in your pretty dress. Wouldn’t think covering up right to your chin could be so sexy! But you’re even more beautiful naked. Come on, baby, let’s get this off. Make your man happy.”
She pulls away from him and says, “There’s a zipper in the back. But I can’t right now. I have to do a few things...”
“Oh? What?”
“Just some computer stuff. And maybe I could have a drink with my friends?”
“Friends? I’m your most important friend.”
“Just for a few minutes?”
“No,” he says sharply. She has friends? Better if she has no friends, outside of the church, anyway. Time to remind her who’s boss. “Come straight back here as soon as you’re done your computer stuff.”
“But—"
“No buts, baby. You never know who’s out there, watching.”
“Oh.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
♦ ♦ ♦
ASTRID SEES KIERSTEN coming through the dining area, and remarks, “Kiersten looks like she’s on a mission.”
She stops next to Astrid. “Hi guys,” she says, “I’m booked off now but I can’t stay. Maybe we could get together later in the week?”
“Unless the court thing changes, we’re driving to Prince George Tuesday to get a flight home from there,” Kathy tells her. “Could it be later Monday afternoon? Maybe dinner?”
“Maybe,” Kiersten agrees, “I’ll see if I can work something out.”
“Before you go, could you introduce me to the manager?”
“He left already. Sorry.” Then she leans in close and says quietly, “tomorrow morning? I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning. He always comes in in the morning. Just don’t tell anyone.”
“Awesome! Any particular time?”
“Um, would ten be too early? Text me when you’re on your way so I can open the gate.”
“Okay!” Kathy agrees. Kiersten turns and hurries away.
Astrid says, “she hasn’t returned any of my calls for weeks. Now she’s going to be here and we should meet her here?”
“Don’t spend too much time wondering about Kiersten,” Denver recommends, “and again with the don’t tell anyone? She’s an odd little duck.”
Thirty-two
Off Roading
BEARON KNEW HE wouldn’t be able to sleep, so he didn’t bother going to bed. He spent an hour in the hot tub and now he’s sitting in his office next to the police scanner, drinking Courvoisier. The constant garbled, staticky messages on the scanner combined with the cognac has almost lulled him to sleep when at last he hears what he’s waiting for.
He looks up a number, picks up the phone and dials it.
“Yeah?” the man answers.
“Sounds like it’s done,” Bearon says. “If you come to the Lodge later this morning I’ll have your money.”
“What?”
“The rest of your money.”
“Whaddaya mean? Money for what? We didn’t do nuthin’.”
“I know. Nuthin’ for nuthin’.”
“No, really. We went all the fuckin’ way up there on your say so but no truck. Thanks a lot.”
“Whaddaya mean, no truck? I saw it, parked on the far side up near the garage.”
“Yeah, we saw that one. Wrong year. Wrong plate number too. Tried callin’ you but no answer on this line and not on your cell, neither. So we just buggered off.”
Bearon is stunned into silence.
“Okay?” the man on the other end of the line asks. Then he chuckles and says, “but we ain’t returning no money if that’s what yer thinkin’. Call it what you owe us for our time and gas. And if you wanna pay us for finishin’ the job, I guess we wouldn’t say no.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Bearon says. “Meantime, stay outta sight, would ya? I hear any more reports of you guys startin’ trouble at the Fisherman’s…”
“We ain’t been at the Fisherman’s.”
“Well, someone was. Owner says it was bikers. Got into it with the guys from the base.”
“I’m tellin’ ya, it wasn’t us.”
“Fine. Wasn’t Raptors who did the truck. Wasn’t Raptors in the bar fight. I get it. I’ll be in touch.” He clicks the off button, drops the handset on the desk and collapses deep into the chair. His brain feels muddled, the effects of a combination of cognac and Oxy.
If the truck that went off the road and burst into flames was Danielson’s, what caused it? And if it wasn’t Danielson’s, then whose was it?
It had to be Danielson’s. It was the right make and colour, the only one in the parking lot, and he was standing there… It had to be his.
Definitely no point in going to bed now. He takes his bottle and glass and goes out onto the back deck. It has cooled off since the storm took hold and the wind, gusty and strong at times, has an edge to it. The feel of winter coming on. He stays in the screened-in area, puts his glass and bottle down on the table, and drops into a chair.
The trees sway as the wind whistles through them. There’s lightning off in the distance, and then loud, booming thunder. The rain that let up earlier seems to be coming on again. Good. With everything so dry, a good, steady rain is desperately needed.
He goes inside to get a quilt and when he comes out again, wraps it around himself and settles back in the chair. The forest is always calming and soothing, even during storms. Especially during storms. If it wasn’t raining, he’d be out on the uncovered part of the deck, but when it storms, he loves being here, with the rain thrumming down on the tin roof and the storm-scented wind whistling through the screens. There’s something mesmerizing about thunder and l
ightning.
He pushes on the chair back to recline slightly, watches the lightning over the treetops, and breathes deep of the rain-cleansed, ozone-scented night air as he ponders what could have happened. The wrong truck? Just a coincidence? Maybe. It was dark. Windy. Raining. It could have been just an accident.
When his phone rings, he’s surprised to realize he’d been sleeping and it’s early dawn. The handset stops ringing by the time he unwinds from the quilt and pulls it out of the pocket of his robe, but it soon starts up again. He clicks the on button and says, “Yeah?”
“It’s me,” Kevin responds. “You hear about the crash on Lodge Road last night?”
“No,” Bearon lies. “What happened?”
“A truck went off. Sounds like it was just past the second hairpin turn.”
“Gawddamighty! Anyone hurt?”
“Yeah. Whoever was in the truck couldn’t survive. It caught fire right away and started a forest fire, too. They’re fighting the fire now. Thank god for the rain! It is raining up there, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. It’s raining hard. Oh my god!” Bearon exclaims. “Do they know whose truck it is, then?”
“Well, they aren’t saying, and it’s not safe to go to the wreck yet. But educated guess? Brent’s. And it seems Wally was with him.”
“What?” Bearon’s heart races. Now he doesn’t have to fake surprise. He takes several deep breaths before asking, “Brent and Wally? What makes you think it was them?”
“Both their wives have called me to ask if I’ve seen them. They’ve heard about the crash, too, so they’re worried. No preacher this morning and I guess Hayward had something going on with his grandson and hasn’t showed. I said I hadn’t seen them but I didn’t think they were planning on going to the Lodge last night.”
“I didn’t expect them either,” Bearon says. After a quiet moment, he adds, “I know they were there, though. Clint rode up with them.”
“Jesus! Was he in the truck, too?”
“No. I gave him my suite for the night.”
The Bear Mountain Secret Page 31