“We can discuss it with him, but bear in mind Miller’s got some influence, too. Sizeable campaign contributions, you know.”
“Crap. Well, I’ll see you Monday afternoon.”
“Right. See you then."
As Alex hung up, her thoughts collided, trying to sort the news she had just heard and its consequences. She flipped through her phone index, landing on M. Kenny’s phone number glared up at her from the middle of the page. She wanted to punch in his number and rail at him, call him names and threaten him with doom, but she controlled herself. She had already made one colossal error. She would play her cards close to her vest until she could see everything on paper with her own eyes. She knew from experience that lawyers sometimes made mistakes.
****
Three days had passed since Alex’s kiss had left an imprint on Doug’s psyche as distinct and permanent as the scars on his chest. Even a weekend of non-stop sports on TV hadn’t distracted him. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He stayed busy during daylight on various construction projects, but kept his nightly vigil checking her mountainside for lights.
Every part of him had wanted to follow her away from his house last Thursday. At the same time, he knew better than to do it. She needed time to come to terms with what was happening between them. He hoped she would come back or call him, but it hadn’t happened yet.
He hadn’t seen or heard from Ted since the exchange between them in the Forest Service office on Wednesday. He was heartsick at possibly losing his relationship with Ted who was more like his family his older brother. At erratic intervals between texturing Sheetrock and watching sports on TV, he debated what to do about their suddenly uncertain friendship. He had turned the problem over in his mind so many times, he could no longer remember who owed whom an apology.
He was on his knees repairing his front fence in the morning sunshine when a green Forest Service pickup drove into his driveway. Ted. Doug stood up, waiting for his old pal to alight and walk over to the fence. Ted's usual light-hearted mien was absent. He put out his right hand in stony silence. Their eyes connected and Doug gripped his hand firmly. Patches of color appeared on Ted’s cheeks.
Doug felt embarrassed himself, but what the hell? He and Ted had shared too much to let things they never should have said come between them now. “Want a cup of coffee?”
“You bet,” Ted answered.
Inside the kitchen, Ted looked around. “Boy, this place is looking great.”
“It’s getting there.” Doug poured steaming coffee into a heavy mug and handed it to Ted. He gestured toward his kitchen table. “Have a chair.”
Ted took the cup and sank to the chair seat. “Can’t stay long.”
“I’m glad to see you. I appreciate your coming out.”
“Got any sugar?”
Doug turned to his makeshift cupboard, lifted out a sugar bowl and set it on the table.
Ted scooped out a spoonful and dumped it into his mug. “We’ve known each other a long time, Doug. So I figured I’d come out and tell you a story. A friendly story.”
“Shoot.” Doug poured coffee for himself, then walked over and took a seat in the chair adjacent to Ted’s.
“When I went to work for the Forest Service”—Ted paused and sipped from his mug—“my first assignment was over in Oregon in the high desert. One time, I found a coyote pup. It was pitiful, all starved and beat-up. I don’t know what happened to its mama, but it would’ve died if I’d left it. It was a little female. I wanted to make her a pet. I thought, hell, why not? They’re just like dogs, right?”
Doug leaned on his elbows on the table top and sipped at his coffee. “I guess so.”
“I named her Misty. Built a pen and took care of her. Doctored her, fed her every day. Lord, I even had the vet give her shots. She gentled down, let me pet her, got to where she would play with me a little bit. I damn near forgot she was a wild animal.”
“What are you getting at, Ted?”
“Let me finish.” He took another sip from his mug and placed it back on the table and stared into it. “The longer I had her around, the more fascinated I got with her wildness. She was always on the defensive. I never knew when she was gonna bite a chunk out of me. No matter how well I took care of her, there was always that glassy fear in her eyes like she was waiting for me to hurt her. It’s that thing Nature gives ’em, that instinct to survive.”
A shiver passed over Doug as he recognized the analogy in Ted’s story. The parallel to Alex was right on the money. He stared at Ted’s profile.
“I knew I oughtta turn her loose,” Ted said, shaking his head. “But it was a long time before I did.”
“And your point?”
Ted’s eyes raised to his. “Alex has got that coyotey instinct about her, Doug. I’m saying she’s a damaged soul and she’s a survivor. It’s a combination that’s awful hard on the people who live around her and try to care about her.”
Doug snickered, though he wasn’t amused. He closed his eyes and massaged them with his thumb and forefinger. “Who the hell needs a coyotey woman?”
Ted snorted and stood up, went to the coffee pot and refilled his cup, then turned around and leaned his backside against the counter. “Hell, Doug, none of us needs one, but when were you ever hot for any other kind? Even when we were kids, you always took up with the one who had parents that beat hell out of her or more problems than any teenage kid oughtta have. Those poor little girls you rejected? The ones who didn't have anything going for them except good looks, normal personalities and cute asses? I used to feel sorry for them. They didn't have a clue what it took to capture your interest.”
It was true. Though the few women Doug had called friends over the years—mostly cops—were strong, tough people, the one he had married and the ones with whom he’d had affairs over the years were just the opposite. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, then rose and went to the coffee pot. “I’m different now,” he said, keeping his tone even as he poured coffee into his mug. “I’d like to be with somebody who’s ordinary, just plain ordinary.”
“Well, Alex McGregor ain’t it. Of all the labels I might hang on her, plain or ordinary ain’t one of ’em.”
Doug gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I don’t know if I’ve ever known a woman who’s tougher than I am.”
“That’s what keeps your head screwed up. She is and she isn’t. You look at her and you think any woman who’s that soft and girl-like is bound to be so helpless she needs you to slay dragons for her. Then she’ll come up with something that shows you helpless is the last thing she is and you’ll never have any real influence over anything she does.”
Doug sighed mentally. “I can the truth in that.”
“But knowing it doesn’t keep her from worming right into your guts. Those bedroom eyes, that centerfold body haunting you at night. She’s pushing you away the whole time, but sometimes she’ll do or say something that makes you think she’d be lost without you. So you can’t leave her alone. She’s like a damn narcotic.”
“So? What, are you warning me to keep my hands off Alex McGregor?”
“Just trying to pass on something I know that maybe you don’t. Friend to friend. Take it for what it’s worth.”
Ted turned. poured the remainder of his coffee down the drain and set his empty mug in the sink. He started for the door, speaking as he went. “I gotta go to Boise tomorrow on Forest Service business. Want to ride down with me?”
“Maybe I will. I can personally deliver my bill to Bob Culpepper.”
Ted stopped. “Culpepper? Alex’s lawyer? What’re you doing for him?”
“Jury consulting.”
“I’ll be damned. Small world. Well . . . meet me at seven at the office.”
“Right.”
As Doug watched Ted drive away, he felt a renewed and profound respect for his old friend who was a wiser man than Doug had given him credit for.
Chapter 23
Alex arrived in Bob Cul
pepper's offices at one o’clock, an hour earlier than scheduled. She’d had all weekend to stew over the land trade. She paced in his assistant’s office until being admitted to an oak-furnished conference room. She met Bob in the middle of the room.
They brushed cheeks and she kissed air beside his cheek. “Good to see you, Bob. Let's get right to it.”
“Absolutely.” He stepped back and gestured toward the long conference table where maps and documents lay in a neat line. “These are survey maps and the accompanying field notes.”
Going from map to map, document to document, she perused them. I’m not going to take the time to study them closely. I assume the notes support the maps and vice-versa.”
“They do,” Bob said.
She took the end seat at the conference table as if it were her own and folded her arms on the table top. “What’s our strategy?”
The lawyer took a chair to her right and laid his legal pad and pen on the table. “I see the damage to the creek and pond as our only strong point, really, though even that’s a long shot. Like I told you on the phone, I doubt Judge Cobb bill be sympathetic.”
Alex chewed on the inside of her lip. “When is the trade scheduled to be final?”
“Could be any time. Needless to say, Miller’s pushing to start logging ASAP. The paperwork is pretty far along. If everything fell into place, he could start in the next week or two. We might cause a delay by calling for an environmental study.”
“I’ve had that done before. The result was a storm of confusion and no conclusion, but let’s do it anyway. I feel better knowing we’re doing something. You know me. I can't stand to sit on my thumbs.” She rose and walked the length of the table, examining the maps and documents again.
Bob removed his heavy-framed glasses and leaned back in his chair. “If you and your husband had known this might occur, you probably wouldn't have sold off the five sections and put yourself in this position.”
She huffed a humorless laugh. “Guess again. Charlie knew Kenny intended to log. Deep down, so did I. What other reason could he, or anyone, have for buying the property? But at the time of the sale, it was too much trouble to fight with Charlie over it.”
“There’s something else you should know, Alex.” The lawyer looked up at her with a grim expression. Ominous music began to play in Alex’s mind. “Miller has sued for the right to use your driveway to get to Old Ridge Road and ultimately to the old army road that will take him to his own property.”
Alex felt her brow crunch into a painful frown. “What? That’s on my private property. He can’t do that.”
Bob left his chair and came to her side in front of a large map of Wolf Mountain. He re-placed his glasses and traced a curved line with his finger, beginning at the county road with which her driveway intersected and going uphill to Old Ridge Road. Just as she had feared all along, the route ran roughly three hundred feet from her front door, then along Old Ridge Road a mile behind her house. She wanted to scream, pound the tabletop with her fists.
“Your driveway’s the only road that’s ever been carved out of Wolf Mountain. Believe it or not, Miller’s using the environmental impact argument as a reason he should be granted the right to use it as opposed to building an additional road.”
Alex’s stomach began to shake as a picture of logging trucks driving past her front door, then circling behind her house rumbled through her head. “Bullshit. He couldn’t care less about environmental issues.” She battled tears. “With this survey error surfacing and his suit, I suppose the injunction we filed is worthless?”
“Not entirely. It addresses our own environmental concerns.”
“I guess I need to tell you something I did, in case it comes up before this is over. You know when Kenny hit me? I threatened him with a gun.” Alex kept her eyes lowered and drew a circle on the tabletop with her fingernail. “I lost my head for a minute. One of Ted’s friends, Doug Hawkins, might have kept me from pulling the trigger.”
Bob opened his mouth to speak, but she raised her palm and shook her head, not letting him have the chance. “Don’t give me the lecture about carrying the gun and all that. What am I supposed to do? If I hadn’t had the pistol that night in the bar, he might have really hurt me.”
Bob sat in silence for a few beats, then shook his head. She couldn’t read his thoughts or his body language, but for some reason, he didn’t make his usual speech about going to the attorney general. Puzzling.
“Higgins is up for re-election,” she added, “and I believe he’ll be defeated. I’m planning on donating quite a lot to helping his opposition, even though he’s just as much a Callister old-timer as Higgins.”
“But Alex, the problem goes further than the sheriff. If Higgins is under Miller’s thumb, do you think a new sheriff won’t soon be, too? The population of Callister County is under three thousand people. Do you really believe there’s a citizen up there who isn’t influenced or affected in some way by Miller? Money and brutality make a heavy hammer. And what about Charlie? I still think we should—”
“No, Bob. Charlie was a tortured soul who had been in a death spiral for a long time. I saw and accepted that fact long before fatal catastrophe happened. The only thing surprising was the time and place. He’s buried now and this is probably the first time he’s ever been at peace. I want to let him stay that way. I’d rather concentrate on trying to save my home and the creek and pond.”
The lawyer sighed and raised his palms, surrendering the debate. “And what if his death, the sheriff, the logging—what if all of it turns out to be one and same problem?”
She dredged up an insincere smile. “Offhand, I’d say that’s one of those bridges we cross when we get to it.” On a sigh, she picked up her purse. “Guess we’ve covered it.”
The lawyer began gathering the documents and maps into stacks and rolls. “You mentioned Doug Hawkins. He’s doing some work for us on a case we’ve got coming to trial.”
“Oh?”
“He’s a hell of a good man. It’s too bad what happened to him in California.”
“You mean his getting shot?”
“The whole thing. When you were down there, didn’t you hear about it? It was on the news for months, all over the country.”
“Oh, you must mean John Bascomb’s kid. I heard the talk, but who has time to pay attention?” She huffed a humorless laugh. “I work for a living, remember?”
“There was more than the teenager’s death. Three cops were killed—two ATF agents and another LAPD detective. Doug was fired, driven out of town, you might say. You didn't know that?”
“It was quite a while back, as I recall. I remember the boy only because I have a passing acquaintance with John Bascomb. I butted heads with him once at a city council meeting. I must have forgotten about the cops.”
“We feel fortunate to have Doug working with us. It’s not easy to find somebody with his qualifications....So Alex, after Miller hit you, you didn’t have any pictures made, did you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t keep a photo album, Bob.”
She was too mired in mulling over the mess with her home and property to think about snapshots. “Dammit, I can’t win this, can I?”
The lawyer looked down at the table. “We won’t give up, but I don’t know.”
“You mean no.” She heaved a sigh. “Of course, I do have an ace in the hole. I could always marry the bastard. Then I could poison his food.”
“Who? What do you mean?”
Alex mustered a smile and kissed her friend and lawyer’s cheek. “See you tomorrow at cocktails, Bob. I’m ready for Hayes Winfield. That dirty old man won’t know what hit him and the Andersons will think I’m Wonder Woman.”
She left Bob Culpepper's office with weight in her chest and time on her hands. Her emotions hovered in a chasm of depression that threatened to drag her to the bottom if she didn't find something positive to think about.
As if on automatic, the positive thought her mind d
rifted to was Doug Hawkins. She couldn’t forget the strength and comfort of his arms around her. If he were in front of her right now, she would fall into his embrace and let him soothe her as he had done before.
Then there was the fact that he wanted to sleep with her. And maybe, as far-fetched as the notion seemed, she wanted to sleep with him. Nothing had expunged the memory of his hungry mouth and the fire his kisses built inside her. A thought of him sneaked in every day from some remote place and caused her to lose her train of thought, sometimes in mid-sentence.
Bob’s remarks about him had aroused her curiosity. Though she hadn’t had the time or the inclination to research Doug’s past while in Southern California, she had both now. And the library was within walking distance. She set out in that direction.
****
“So that’s where I am,” Doug said to Bob Culpepper after updating him on the meeting with Cindy. He had just pocketed a hefty check from Henderson, Crowe & Culpepper for services rendered. “I’m hoping she’ll feel pressured and call me. If I don’t hear from her soon, I’ll try something else.”
The lawyer nodded. “I’ve already talked to Jack Dunlap about the situation. He wants to turn it over to the state police in Meridian.
“Meridian?”
“That’s where the headquarters for Callister’s region is located.”
“State cops, huh?”
“Yes. They have detectives.” Bob laughed. Idaho isn’t like Los Angeles. We have a small population and not much capital crime, comparatively speaking, although it’s on the rise. The state cops handle most of it.”
“Cool,” Doug said, liking the idea of a dearth of murder and mayhem. “Give me another few days to see what happens with Cindy. By the way, I heard the Forest Service might be making some kind of swap with Miller. It involves an old military road on Alex’s property. Is that possible?”
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