Danger in Deer Ridge (Blackthorne, Inc.)

by Terry Odell

  “The thought did occur to me.” Ice filled Jinx’s tone.

  “Thinking out loud,” Grinch said quickly. Not smart to insult Jinx’s skills, or you’d be at the bottom of his to-do list. “What about the husband?”

  “Grace has someone on him. He hasn’t deviated from his normal behavior. And before you try to tell me how to do my job, let me repeat: We have no authority to go in with wiretaps or computer bugs, or hack into his financials.”

  Grinch flopped into his chair. “So, where are we?”

  “We? You don’t worry about the husband. You’re right where you belong. Teaching the woman how to make sure her new identity holds up.”

  Jinx was right. Only Grinch wasn’t where he belonged, because Elizabeth was out on her own, and after her performance during their first lesson last night, far from ready. “Gotcha. Gotta go.”

  Grinch whistled for Chester. “Want to take a ride?”

  He pulled into Elizabeth’s driveway, beside an electric company van. No sign of her car, but she’d likely parked in the garage. He swung out of the pickup and circled the van. He recognized the logo, and Mountain Electric was the logical company to call for the work that needed to be done.

  Ordinary as things seemed, worst-case scenarios ran through his head. The van might be legit, but that didn’t mean the driver worked for the company. Someone could have scammed it. A smile played at his lips as he envisioned Dalton doing just that. Chester trotted at his heels, sniffing, panting, tail wagging.

  “So, you think it’s okay, boy? You think I’m being paranoid?”

  Chester’s tail wagged faster.

  “Let’s check it out.” Chester cocked his head. Grinch paused. Just because you were paranoid didn’t mean people weren’t after you. Feeling underdressed without a weapon, he made use of what was at hand. “Chester, heel.”

  Grinch checked the front door. Unlocked. He stood to one side, then eased the door open. Country music drifted up from the basement. Feeling more at ease, Grinch grabbed Chester’s collar and shouted out his presence. The music stopped.

  A voice came from below. “Downstairs. Mountain Electric. Working on the wiring.” The male voice was friendly. A tall, shadowy figure holding a small but powerful flashlight approached. The light moved across Grinch’s body, stopping at his face. Grinch squinted and turned his head to avoid the intense beam. At his side, Chester growled.

  “Grinch?” he said. “Man, is that you? When did you get back?”

  Arm raised across his eyes, Grinch turned toward the man. “Hey, watch the light.”

  The beam brightened the floor. “It’s me, man. Al. Rondell. From school? You remember me.”

  The voice sounded vaguely familiar. Grinch studied the long, lean man in front of him. Realization dawned. “Al? Big Round Al?”

  Al shrugged. “Dropped a few pounds.”

  More like an entire person. Or two. And some hair. Grinch gave Chester the all-clear signal, stepped forward and clapped the man on the shoulder. “Good to see you. Yeah, I got back about a month or so ago.”

  After a few routine catch-up pleasantries, Grinch cut things short. “I’m looking for the woman who lives here. Elizabeth Parker. You seen her?”

  “Yeah, she left about fifteen, twenty minutes ago. Said she’d be about an hour.” He nodded, then headed toward the breaker box.

  “Say where she was going?” Grinch asked.

  Al stopped, turned. Shook his head. “Nope. Said if the movers showed up while she was gone, to let them in. She … um …?” His expression said he wanted to know more about her.

  “Our kids are in the same rec center program,” Grinch said. That was enough. He debated going into town and finding her. Her car would be easy enough to spot. And what would he do when he found her? According to Jinx’s latest intel, she wasn’t in immediate physical danger. Better to stay here. “Mind if I wait upstairs? I can keep an ear out for the movers.”

  Al lifted his eyebrows. “Don’t matter to me.” A pause, then he winked and grinned. “No sweat, man. I’m taking inventory for the job. Big hits were on the outskirts of the Park. Not much I can do here today. I’ll be gone soon enough.” Another pause. “She’s not the type you used to go for. Guess getting burned by what’s-her-name changed your outlook.”

  Christ, had the man followed his life? They hadn’t run in the same circles, had barely been casual acquaintances in school. “I told you, our kids are in the rec center program. She’s a … nice woman.”

  Al punched him on the shoulder. “Nothin’ wrong with nice women. I married one. Eight years, three kids.”

  Al returned to work, and Grinch went upstairs. He opened the front door. “Chester, patrol.” The dog gave a quiet woof and bolted into the front yard.

  Grinch sprawled on the couch. He hadn’t slept a lot last night. The boys had stayed up giggling until well past midnight, and Grinch had tossed and turned for at least another hour trying not to think of Elizabeth sleeping a few doors down. Then he’d been up before six, trying to get some uninterrupted computer time before they had to leave to get the boys registered for the summer programs. A twenty-minute combat nap, that’s what he needed.

  Actually, what he needed was a good bout of PT. He hadn’t done much physical training lately, other than some half-ass hospital rehab. And the breakfast Elizabeth had fixed this morning? Eggs, bacon, and waffles. Fresh-squeezed orange juice. Her obvious delight as he packed it in—all three helpings—satisfied him as much as the food. He patted his belly. He should do something to burn it off. He sighed, tucked a throw pillow under his head and closed his eyes.

  He was awakened by Chester’s barking and someone calling his name. He snapped alert.

  Al stood inside the front door, toolbox in hand. “Geez, man, call off your hound. I wanna get to my van and get out of here.”

  Grinch plowed his hand through his hair. “Chester. All clear.” The dog gave one last bark, then trotted to Grinch’s side. Grinch rubbed the dog’s ears. “Good boy.”

  “Good boy? He could have killed me.”

  “He wouldn’t hurt you. He’s mostly bark.”

  “It’s the not-mostly part that scares me.”

  Grinch grinned. “Then he’s done his job.” Al shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he walked to his van. “Wait up,” Grinch called after him.

  Al swung his toolbox into the van and turned.

  “You know a guy named Butch Logan?” Grinch asked. “Runs a landscape business? He’s new in town.”

  Al slammed the van’s door and scratched his head. “Can’t say that I do. But I live down in the Park now. Don’t get up here much, except for the occasional subcontract job, or an emergency like today. Why?”

  “Just wondering. Thought about sprucing up the yard some, and his name came up.”

  “I can ask around.”

  “No, don’t bother. It’s no big deal.” If Logan was searching for Elizabeth, odds were he’d pick up on someone asking about him—especially someone as guileless as Al.

  Grinch stood on the porch and watched the van drive away.

  Moments later, a crunch of gravel announced another arrival. A gray SUV pulled into the drive. Chester whined. “Sit,” Grinch said. “Let’s see who this is.”

  The car door opened and the driver got out. Grinch groaned. “Don’t suppose she’d like it if I sent you to greet her,” he mumbled to the dog. He forced a smile.

  “Mrs. Fitzsimmons. How are you?”

  Chapter 14

  Elizabeth tucked her shoebox under her arm and signed the bank’s special services log, pleased that her new signature had become almost automatic. She took a seat in one of the blue padded chairs and perused the collection of photographs depicting the gold rush days on the lobby walls, avoiding eye contact with any of the bank staff or other patrons.

  Which was not what she was supposed to be doing.

  Heat rose to her face as she remembered what she’d thought when Grinch had said, “
Close your eyes.” For half a moment, she’d thought he was going to kiss her. At the time, she wasn’t sure how she’d react. But all he’d done was ask her to describe him, which had flustered her enough. Her images of him weren’t exactly cut and dried. If he mugged her, would she be able to describe him to the cops? What kind of description would mention a crooked grin that made your stomach tingle? Or dark-rimmed, gold-green eyes that reminded you of the topaz in your grandfather’s pinky ring?

  Considering how much time she’d spent with him over the last few days, her attempts at a reasonable description were painfully inadequate. And when he’d switched to Butch Logan, it got worse. Grinch had been patient, telling her what to zero in on, how to relate a person’s build to someone she knew, to make it easier to give specifics. She shifted her attention from the photographs to the people standing in line, trying to apply what he’d taught her.

  A male voice called her name, breaking through her concentration. She looked into the face of a man wearing a pale blue button-down shirt and navy trousers that appeared to be the requisite attire of all bank employees. He extended his hand. “I’m Rick.”

  She stood and accepted his handshake. His eyes were a soft gray behind wire-rimmed spectacles, and his brown hair was cropped short—almost a military cut. Early forties, she estimated. She compared his height to hers. Five-nine?

  He spoke, interrupting her attempts to memorize his appearance. “What can I do for you?”

  “Rick.” She repeated his name, helping commit it to memory. “I’m Elizabeth Parker. I need to open an account and rent a safe deposit box.”

  He led her to a cubicle office, where they spent half an hour dealing with the requisite paperwork. Although she knew his questions about her reasons for moving, her family, her background were meant as friendly conversation, it took all her self-control to maintain eye contact and sit without fidgeting. Her responses were rote—Grace had rehearsed her in almost identical situations, but this was for real, and she hoped she didn’t sound too mechanical. When she signed the forms for the safe deposit box, she prayed he wouldn’t see her hand trembling, or ask what was in her shoebox.

  Finally, she was alone in a small room with an empty metal bank box. She’d asked for the largest one they had, but Rick had told her the large ones were already rented, and because the boxes were in high demand, the bank had a “one to a customer” policy until more opened up. So much for multiple boxes. She’d hoped everything she had would fit into the box he’d assigned to her.

  Wiping her hands on her jeans, she took a slow, steadying breath. She opened her purse and extracted the envelope containing the ledger she’d taken from Victor. A sense of relief filled her as she laid it to rest in the metal box. If Victor found her, she’d threaten to turn it over to—to who? Since she didn’t know what it meant, she didn’t know where it would do any damage.

  Never mind. She’d figure something out if it ever came to that. For now, it was an insurance policy.

  She squeezed the rest of her treasures—what she’d come to think of as Will’s college fund—into the box and locked it.

  With her valuables safe and her temporary checks in her purse, Elizabeth felt one step closer to normal. She thanked Rick for his help as he walked her to the door. The movers had estimated a one o’clock arrival. That should give her plenty of time to hit the grocery store to augment Grinch’s meager pantry—the least she could do for putting him out. He seemed to enjoy the breakfast she’d prepared. He’d laughed when Dylan had asked if she’d cook all the time. And she’d definitely enjoyed being able to cook again.

  As she wheeled her cart up and down the aisles, she noted the other shoppers, thinking about how she would describe them to Grinch. Heck, he probably knew a lot of them. Would he be able to identify them from her descriptions?

  Elizabeth sighed and put a sack of onions in her cart, then headed toward the tomatoes. After all the choruses of “On Top of Spaghetti,” she knew exactly what she’d fix for dinner tonight.

  An old man, bald on top, with a full gray beard stretching to the bib of his overalls, hefted a bag of birdseed into his cart. Elizabeth tried being unobtrusive while taking in his eye color, body type, height. The man had a gravelly voice, which she thought she might recognize if she heard again.

  In the bread aisle, Elizabeth tried to erase the purple eye shadow and maroon lipstick from a stout woman squeezing the hamburger buns. As she knew, changing makeup—or eliminating it altogether—altered one’s appearance.

  Down the next aisle, a redhead stood on tiptoe to pluck something from the top shelf. Elizabeth let her gaze run over the woman, then moved past, painting the image in her brain. At five-three, Elizabeth barely reached items on the top shelf. The woman hadn’t had a lot of trouble, so she was a few inches taller. The hair was a dye job.

  The checker at the register gave her a friendly greeting as he rang up her purchases. Tall, taller than Grinch. A salt-and-pepper ponytail. And, duh. A nametag that said, “Karl.” She returned his greeting. After all, she’d be shopping here regularly.

  When her cell rang on the drive home, she ignored it. It wasn’t Grace’s ringtone, and she wasn’t comfortable driving and talking on these mountain roads. Living here, a hands-free system would probably be a wise investment. One more thing for her “To Do” list.

  “If it’s important, they’ll call back.” Her father’s words, uttered long before cell phones or answering machines, echoed in her head. Curiosity about who had called was an almost tangible presence the rest of the way home.

  * * * * *

  Grinch held the door for Mrs. Fitzsimmons as she bustled past him into Elizabeth’s living room. Chester trotted over to her, giving her a friendly sniff and a tail thump. She leaned down and patted the dog. “Good boy.” She reached into her vest pocket and held out her hand. Chester nuzzled it, then crunched on something. “A dog biscuit,” she said. “I hope it’s all right.”

  “Fine,” Grinch said. As if she cared—otherwise she’d have asked first.

  She straightened and adjusted the strap of her shoulder bag. “I heard about the lightning hit. I wanted to make sure Mrs. Parker and her son were all right.” She craned her neck. “Are they here?”

  Grinch squeezed the bridge of his nose. “No, ma’am. She had to run some errands, and I’m holding down the fort. She’s expecting the movers with her furniture.”

  “That’s quite neighborly.”

  He shrugged off her inquiring glance. “I was here when it happened.”

  Her eyes sparkled, as if she’d already decided why he’d been at Elizabeth’s house when the storm hit. “I’m sure she was grateful to have a nice, strong man around.”

  “Wouldn’t know about that. We’d gone to the Bear’s Lair—for the kids. The power went out right after we got back. Made sense to offer her a place to stay—there are a lot of empty bedrooms at my place.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, I’m sure there are.”

  As if she thought he wouldn’t be using a spare bedroom for Elizabeth.

  Let Norma Fitzsimmons think what she wanted—squeeze out some gossip and she was happy. Truth was never high on her priority list. The woman did a slow turn, letting her gaze take in the room. When she faced him again, her expression had gone somber. “I don’t think I ever properly expressed my condolences. It must be hard on your little one, losing his family so suddenly, then being uprooted to live with a stranger.”

  Grinch clenched his teeth. Took a breath. “I’m his family, and we’re doing fine.”

  “And where is—Doug? Danny?”

  He managed to keep his tone friendly. “Dylan. He’s at the summer program at the rec center. Along with Elizabeth’s son.”

  “I’m sorry. Of course. Dylan.” Her lips formed what might pass for a smile.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mrs. Fitzsimmons? I’ll be sure to tell Elizabeth you stopped by.”

  She reached into her purse and fumbled around for
a moment. After scribbling something on a note card, she handed it to him. “Here. I’m sure you can use a decent meal.”

  He glanced at the Fitzsimmons Fine Foods card, where she’d written “Complimentary dinner for four. Courtesy of Norma.”

  He bit back his retort that Elizabeth’s cooking easily matched anything Fitzsimmons Fine Foods had to offer, putting the card in his pocket. “That’s kind of you. Thanks.”

  “We neighbors have to stick together.”

  “That we do.” He inched toward the door, hoping she’d take the hint.

  She stayed where she was for an endless moment, then gave him a brisk nod. “Please tell Elizabeth to call if she needs anything.”

  He held the door, giving her a smile no more sincere than hers had been. “I’ll do that.”

  Chester joined him on the porch as she drove away. He scratched the dog’s ears. “Don’t know why she gets under my skin. You seem to like her well enough.”

  Chester’s ears perked up, and he bounded down the porch steps, racing up the lane toward the road. “Chester. Halt,” Grinch called. The dog stopped. He turned toward Grinch and sat, whining.

  Grinch gripped the wooden porch rail, ignoring the way the rough wood dug into his palms. He leaned forward, listening, watching. Dust clouds and engine sounds signaled the approach of a vehicle. Seconds later, Elizabeth’s car turned down the drive. So, Chester had already added Elizabeth and her car to his “friends” list. Grinch smiled. A real one this time. He forced himself to wait on the porch, reminding himself that he was supposed to be irritated that she hadn’t answered her phone.

  But the smile wouldn’t wash away.

  Once she’d parked, he trotted down the steps. She got out of the car, and didn’t seem particularly glad to see him. Then again, she hadn’t been wondering if he was all right.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone somewhere between serious concern and genuine panic. “Why are you here? Is there a problem?”