by Diane Hester
‘You wouldn’t happen to know where she lives, would you?’ Chase called over.
‘Sorry, Doc, couldn’t tell ya.’
He picked up a log cabin made of birch twigs. Its cedar roof shingles appeared to have been cut and attached individually. ‘Do you know her well? Know much about her?’
‘I know her stuff’s real popular with tourists.’
‘Does she live with anyone that you know of?’
‘Never said. Lady keeps pretty much to herself.’
‘Well, has she ever come in the store with anyone?’
‘Not that I’ve seen.’ Bill stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom. ‘Now you mention it, I’ve never seen her anywhere else.’
‘So she just comes in here every other month, you pay for her delivery and she leaves.’
‘Oh, no, we barter. I keep a tally of how much she’s sold and she picks out groceries for that amount.’
Chase put the cabin back on the table. Bartering again. No cheque – no bank account or ID required.
‘’Course, this time o’ year she falls behind some.’ Bill stood before him, having swept his way closer.
‘Falls behind?’
‘Not as many vacationers coming through town to buy her stuff.’ The old man shrugged. ‘Pretty lady. I let her run up a bit of a tab.’
The old man’s gaze lingered this time – the scrutiny of the local for the town newcomer.
‘Guess it seems odd, me asking all these questions about her.’
‘Don’t seem funny at all, Doc. Figure a respectable fella like you must have their reasons.’
Chase sighed as the man walked away. All right, so maybe he was worrying over nothing. Elaine could be wrong about Shyler deliberately withholding her details and the other issues surrounding the woman could be perfectly innocent.
He picked up a crow from the table of carvings and smiled at a sudden realisation – he’d probably have asked the same questions anyway. The simple truth was he was interested. And not in an entirely professional sense. Chase Raymond Hadley, who’d never done an irrational thing in his life, who never took chances or acted impulsively or followed hunches, that Chase Hadley was smitten by a woman he’d met only once and about whom he knew absolutely nothing at all.
Shaking his head he put the crow down. ‘This’ll be all, Bill.’ He carried his basket of goods to the counter.
As he opened his wallet he noted the barred owl next to the register, its feathers rendered with the same exacting detail as the moose’s fur. These pieces would have taken hours to make. And their prices didn’t come close to doing them justice.
‘Hang on a second.’ He ran back, grabbed up an armful of items from the display table and returned to the register. Bill watched, impassive, as he set them one by one on the counter.
Chase shrugged. ‘I like to support struggling artists.’
Bill began ringing up his purchase. ‘Like I said – pretty lady.’
Chase carried the boxes up the ramp, noting with pleasure the solid feel of the plywood construction beneath his feet. He’d built the ramp the week they’d moved in and still felt pride in his bit of handiwork. Bracing the boxes against the back door, he twisted the knob and entered the kitchen.
The house, a classic colonial design, had needed only minor modifications to accommodate his father’s wheelchair. The dining room was now his father’s office and the original den had become his bedroom. Chase had the entire second floor but only made use of two of its four rooms – one for a study, the other his bedroom.
But the best feature of the house, the reason Chase had chosen to rent it, was the glass conservatory off the living room. With its natural light and commanding view of the lawn and woods it was the perfect place for his father to paint.
As he set the boxes on the kitchen table he heard the buzz of his father’s wheelchair approaching from the living room. A moment later the robust figure of Allen Hadley swept into the room.
‘Hey,’ he said in his usual greeting.
‘Hey, yourself.’ Chase hung his jacket on the hook by the door and surveyed the kitchen. The breakfast dishes were right where they’d been when he’d left that morning. Rolling up his sleeves, he stepped to the sink. ‘How was your day?’
‘I finished the Lynxes.’
‘Great. That puts you ahead of schedule, doesn’t it?’
‘If “ahead” means being two weeks behind.’ The man’s gaze grew distant. ‘I was thinking I’d do the bobcats next. I had a terrific idea for the scene – a male in deep snow, leaping after a snowshoe hare. Lots of action. Winter shadows to offset the white. What do you think?’
Chase nodded. But the lengthy description had the ring of diversion. ‘Can’t wait to see it. Did you do your exercises?’
Allen shifted in his chair. ‘Well, you’ll be pleased to know I sat down this morning and actually worked out –’
‘Did you do your exercises?’
He sighed. ‘No.’
Chase aimed a soapy finger at him. ‘After dinner. Or no TV.’
The man let out a good-natured huff. ‘You’d think I was five the way I get treated around here.’
‘And we both know the response to that one, don’t we?’
‘Probably wouldn’t have finished the Lynxes if I’d stopped to bother with all that nonsense.’ Allen buzzed his chair to the fridge and opened it.
‘Exercises here instead of three months in a rehab centre. Wasn’t that the deal, or am I mistaken?’
‘Did I ever tell you you’ve got a lot of your mother in you?’ Allen’s muffled words issued from the fridge.
‘In fact I seem to remember the word “religiously” used a few times,’ Chase added, unfazed by his comment.
Clutching an armful of salad ingredients, Allen reversed and closed the fridge. ‘All right, let’s not argue. Especially when you’re winning. I’ll do them right after dinner, okay? You can even count.’
‘Don’t think I won’t.’
‘Yeah, I know how you doctors like to watch folks suffer. Bunch of sadists.’ Allen plunked the groceries on the counter and pulled a cutting board out from beneath it. ‘You shouldn’t have done it.’
The man’s voice had gone suddenly serious. Chase turned back to the sink. ‘Done what?’
‘Taken the practice. You had no business moving way up here in the middle of nowhere. You were happy in Boston.’
‘I was, was I?’
‘You had friends, contacts, a social life. That’s where you should be. Not holed up in some wilderness babysitting a crippled old fart.’
Chase cocked his head. ‘You know, now that I think about it, you’ve got quite a bit of Mom in you too.’
‘Well, I know what she would’ve thought of all this.’
‘It’s not a life sentence for either of us, Dad. Once you’re out of that chair for good I can find a different practice if I want.’
‘I know. And don’t think I don’t appreciate it. It’s just . . . Well, it kills me to think I’ve become such a burden.’
Chase regarded him over his shoulder. ‘Nice try, Dad, but you still have to do your exercises.’
‘Smart alec kid.’
With the salad completed, Allen buzzed his chair to the kitchen table and began unpacking the first of the boxes. ‘Any chance we can get to Presque Isle this weekend? I’m nearly out of Sienna acrylic and I could use some more canvases.’
‘I suppose my hike around the lake can wait.’
Allen had finished emptying the first box and now sat staring into the second. ‘What’s all this?’
Wiping his hands, Chase came over. ‘Those are bird houses and that’s a feeder. Thought we might put them up in the yard.’
Allen reached in and held up the moose. ‘And this?’
Chase took a moment, gazing down at it with the same sense of wonder he’d felt at first seeing it. ‘A patient gave me that today as payment for a consultation.’
His father turned the carving
this way and that, scrutinising it with an artist’s eye. ‘He’s good.’
‘She.’
‘Oh?’ His bushy brows rose. ‘Unusual hobby for a woman. We should hire her to fix that ramp you built.’
Chase frowned. ‘What’s wrong with my ramp?’
‘So, this woman carver . . . Anyone I know?’
‘No one you or anyone else knows, apparently.’
‘A lady of mystery, eh? Good looking?’
A red flag suddenly appeared on the field. ‘Didn’t really notice.’
‘Eligible age?’
Chase turned away. ‘Start the spaghetti, Dad, I’m hungry.’
Allen went back to studying the moose. ‘A mysterious stranger giving my son gifts. And here I was worried you wouldn’t meet anyone.’
Chapter 11
‘It’s me.’ Nolan stepped away from the hospital room door and moved to the opposite side of the hall. He could still see Tragg but had eliminated the chance of the man’s waking up and overhearing his conversation.
‘Where are you?’ Vanessa’s voice issued from his mobile phone.
‘A hospital in Conway. We had a slight accident.’
‘What! How bad?’
‘Bad enough. I’m fine and the van’s okay but Tragg’s laid up. At least for a day or two. Concussion or something.’
‘What about the boys?’
‘That’s why I’m calling. They . . . got away.’
A heartbeat of silence. ‘I don’t believe it. How could –’
Nolan quickly gave her the details.
‘How’s Tragg taking it?’ she asked when he’d finished.
Nolan glanced back into the room and felt his throat tighten. Even bruised and unconscious the man had a look that could turn his blood cold. ‘He doesn’t know yet. Hasn’t woken up since the kids took off.’
Vanessa blew out a breath through her teeth. ‘Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes right now.’
‘It’ll be okay. I got the licence plate number and company name off the truck they got on.’
‘So?’
‘It’s been less than an hour. If your uncle’s people can find out where it’s headed there’s a good chance I can catch up to it.’
This time she laughed. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
Nolan clamped down to keep from swearing. ‘Will you just call Lazaro and see what you can find out? And do it fast. I’d like to get them back before Tragg wakes up.’
She sighed. ‘All right, give me the details.’
The truck’s gentle rocking soothed Zack’s initial adrenaline shakes. That, plus the knowledge he’d outsmarted Nolan, boosted his mood from what it had been that morning.
But he could tell the others were far from happy. They huddled together in the small space near the door as cold air and dust swirled around them.
‘You’re bleeding,’ Reece said, pointing to his leg.
Zack looked down, saw that one leg of his jeans was torn and rolled it up. There on his calf, half concealed by a layer of dirt, was a dark red blotch. He spat on the cuff of his sweatshirt sleeve and used it to wipe away some of the grime.
The cut was only an inch or so long but it was almost as deep. If he pushed the skin a certain way the edges gaped like the mouth of a fish. He stared in wonder at how little it hurt and that he hadn’t even felt it when it happened.
‘Must’ve cut myself climbing out of that ditch. Or into the truck.’ He rolled the pants leg down and dismissed it.
‘My stomach hurts.’
Zack sighed. Corey always had to be the centre of attention. Any time someone else got hurt, somehow he always felt sick as well. ‘You’re just hungry, that’s all.’ As Zack was himself, he suddenly realised.
He inspected the boxes stacked around them. They were all sealed with tight plastic bands, impossible to break. If he only had a knife or something sharp . . .
On the floor beside him he spotted a two-inch metal staple. He snatched it up, jabbed it into the nearest carton and ripped a small hole in its side.
Toilet paper.
He tried the next box. Laundry detergent. And the ones after that. Dish liquid, toothpaste, motor oil.
He dropped the staple and sat back down. ‘I’ll find us something to eat when we get there.’
‘When we get where?’ Reece said softly. ‘Where are we going?’
‘How the hell should I know?’
‘How long will it be?’
‘If I don’t know where we’re going how can I –’
‘Who’ll take care of us?’
Corey’s frightened little-boy voice just made things worse. Why were they always asking him questions he couldn’t answer? ‘Who took care of us up till now? You think Frank and Julie ever gave a crap about us?’
Corey bowed his head. A minute later there were tears on his face.
Zack paused to get a grip on himself. One thing he had always sworn – he would never let the Bad Boy out around them. That part of him that felt like a whole other person, the side he sometimes couldn’t control, the one that mouthed off to men like Tragg no matter the risk. Sometimes that part of him scared even him.
‘What’s wrong now?’ he said at last.
‘I left Ali on the van.’
Crying. Over a skanky stuffed animal. Corey was just too dumb to realise his dad had only given it to him because he felt guilty for walking out on him. But just at that moment Zack didn’t have the heart to explain.
He pushed off the box, dropped to the floor and slung his arm around Corey’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find another one.’
Reece scooted closer to the boy’s other side. ‘I know how you feel – I lost all my baseball cards, too.’ He held up a single dogeared specimen. ‘All I got left is this dumb Eric Gagne.’
The man clipped the chain to his collar and dragged him down the darkened corridor. At the end, a garage with only one vehicle – the idling truck.
He fought and kicked but the man was stronger, lifting him towards the open compartment, pushing him in, slamming the door.
The air inside burned his lungs like fire. Absolute blackness swallowed his pleas. But a terror far deeper evoked his screams – this is what happens to unwanted boys . . .
Zack jerked awake, somehow managing to stifle his cry. He sat up, blinking around in confusion.
He was in a truck all right, but not the one of his recurring nightmare. This one was bigger and loaded with boxes, and Corey and Reece were in it with him.
Yes, he remembered now – the men, the accident, their lucky escape. But something had changed.
They were no longer moving.
He scrambled to his feet and rushed to the door, his sudden movements waking the others. Before they could speak he held up his hand, then bent to listen. No engine noises. No sound of voices. They’d definitely stopped. But where and for how long?
One thing for sure, they couldn’t just go marching out in the open. Three young boys, alone, climbing off the back of a truck . . . If anyone saw them they’d turn them over to the police. And grown-ups never believed what kids said, they only listened to other grown-ups. Which meant the cops would just hand them back to Nolan and Tragg.
Zack shuddered, recalling the gun, the yawning black hole just inches from his face.
Something touched his hand and he jumped. Reece and Corey had come up behind him, their expressions anxious. He placed a finger to his lips then pressed his ear to the door again. Nothing.
Slowly he raised his hand to the lever. The light seeping through the seams of the hold didn’t seem as strong as it had been earlier. He sensed it was dusk, perhaps even later. With any luck the shadows would cloak them. He pushed on the handle and eased it down.
With the door open only a finger’s width, Zack peered out. Some kind of depot. Lots of trucks, some with huge logs chained to their beds. No one in sight. He pushed the door wider and the scent of pine flooded the hold. Reece and Corey squeezed up beside him.
&nb
sp; The twilight was deepened by surrounding trees – forest so thick and dense with shadow he couldn’t see more than a few yards into it. A strange kind of forest. Bare straight trunks in staggered rows, their greenery forming an impenetrable canopy high above.
Perhaps it wasn’t so late after all, Zack thought, climbing down from the truck. The forest just blocked out most of the sun, its damp, cold, pine-scented breath raising goosebumps along his flesh. He reached up and helped the other boys down.
‘Where are we?’ Reece said, clutching his arm.
‘Don’t start that again,’ Zack hissed. ‘Just shut up and follow me.’
The trucks were parked in two long rows that stretched either side of a gravel track. Zack led them towards the road at the end, using each vehicle in turn for cover.
He needn’t have bothered. There was no one around. Even the little office building they came to stood dark and deserted. In the end they ran the final stretch.
Once on the road, Zack breathed a sigh of relief. If anyone came by and saw them now they’d just think they were some local kids out for a walk.
But with one problem solved, the next arose. It was getting dark. They’d soon be unable to see where they were going, and there wasn’t a house or shop in sight. Just an endless corridor of massive trees.
They’d been walking about fifteen minutes when pinpoints of light appeared up ahead. A car approaching. Zack heard the gurgle of water nearby – a stream flowing beneath the road.
‘This way!’ The two boys followed him down the embankment.
When the car finally passed, its headlights lit up the culvert enough to show three large concrete pipes passing beneath the road’s surface. Water flowed through only two of them.
The third, blocked at one end by a tangle of branches, would be their shelter for the night.
Chapter 12
Nolan pulled the rental car into the depot and began slowly driving up and down the rows of parked trucks. He rounded a corner and let out a curse. Too late – the boys were already here.
He rolled to a stop with his headlights fixed on the truck’s rear door. If he hadn’t had to wait over an hour for Vanessa to get back to him with its destination he might’ve made it here in time. Shaking his head, he climbed from the car.