Danger in Deer Ridge (Blackthorne, Inc.)

by Terry Odell

  Elizabeth stood and offered her hand. “Hi. I’m Elizabeth Parker. I appreciate what you’re doing.”

  “No problem.” Olivia’s handshake was firm. She was about Elizabeth’s height. Same eye color, same general build and coloring. Her hair was closer to the strawberry blonde color Victor would remember. Longer than hers had been when she left, but shorter than Elizabeth’s was now.

  “I’ll get the keys,” Elizabeth said. “Help yourself to a cookie.”

  Elizabeth went upstairs to her bedroom for her purse, found her keys, and moved quietly downstairs. Olivia and Grinch sat at the kitchen table, speaking in low undertones. Elizabeth paused at the doorway, listening. It wasn’t really eavesdropping, was it? They knew she was here, and that she wouldn’t be gone long.

  “The old man’s got someone at the hospital twenty-four seven,” Olivia said around a mouthful of cookie. “In her room. At her bedside. Every doctor and nurse is checked before they get within six feet of her bed.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice even more. “Scuttlebutt says the boss is there in person.”

  Elizabeth noticed a flush spread over Grinch’s neck. He couldn’t seem to handle his boss having a personal life that included a woman.

  “He came to see me when I was in the hospital,” Grinch said.

  Olivia gave a quiet snort. “Every day? For hours?”

  Grinch’s flush spread higher up his neck.

  Elizabeth jangled her keys and moved into the room. “Why were you in the hospital?” Had it been one of those “something went wrong” things?

  He shrugged it off. “Couple of dings. Purely a precautionary measure.” He took her keys and handed them to Olivia.

  Olivia pointed to a key ring on the table. “Those are my car keys. And these cookies are great.”

  “You want a few for the road?” Elizabeth asked.

  Olivia shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I drove by the house before I came here. Power’s on. I’ll settle in.” She eyed the fried chicken on the counter.

  “Would you like some chicken? I made plenty.”

  Olivia shook her head. “I should get going. The less contact we have, the better. I’ve been briefed on everything.” She stood. “Nice meeting you. Or, I should say, nice meeting me.”

  Grinch escorted Olivia outside. Elizabeth picked up the key ring and followed. Grinch was helping Olivia move bags of groceries and a large suitcase from her car to Elizabeth’s.

  Within moments after switching the plates, Olivia had driven off in Elizabeth’s car. Elizabeth moved Olivia’s car to the garage. She closed the garage door and wandered toward the house, wondering if Olivia had a gun, and decided she probably did. The thought of two people with guns in the room with her made her shiver. She lingered on the porch, watching Chester chase imaginary rabbits. Or were they imaginary squirrels? Regardless, he was being a dog, and seemed to enjoy it.

  When she went inside, Grinch had exchanged his jeans for cargo pants and his sneakers for hiking boots. He was packing chicken into plastic containers. Acknowledging her entrance, he said, “You packed a bag, right?”

  Her stomach sank. So soon? “Yes. And one for Will.”

  “Put them in the truck.”

  * * * * *

  Grinch knew Elizabeth wanted details, but she barely nodded before racing upstairs. He snapped the last lid on the chicken, checked the fridge and pantry for other essentials, then went to the mudroom for the picnic cooler.

  He’d stacked everything inside and was putting the frozen gel-packs on top when the thunk-thunk on the stairs told him Elizabeth was coming down. The thunking stopped, followed by the sound of wheels clicking over the wooden floor. He latched the cooler and met her in the hallway.

  “What about Dylan?” was her first question. “Do you want me to pack his things? I noticed his bear was on his bed.”

  Damn, he’d packed clothing. A toothbrush. How had he forgotten Dylan’s bear? Maybe because it had stopped being his constant companion since Elizabeth and Will had arrived. “I have his things, but if you wouldn’t mind grabbing the bear—I should have thought of it. I’ll get these into the truck.”

  She repeated the mini-nod and twirled around toward the stairs. He grabbed her arm. “Lizzie.”

  “What?” Her face showed no nerves, no fear, no panic. Nothing but a calm determination.

  “It’s not a crisis. You don’t have to rush. Take your time. Make sure you haven’t forgotten anything.”

  She exhaled as if she hadn’t taken a breath in hours. Then spun and jogged toward the stairs. He should take his own advice. He went through each room, checking to see that he hadn’t left anything essential behind. It wasn’t like they’d be going far, but he’d rather not have to come back until he had the all clear. Until recently, it wasn’t unusual for him to be gone for days at a time, so his absence shouldn’t create questions.

  Elizabeth came downstairs, her arms wrapped around not only Dylan’s teddy bear, but an assortment of books and toys as well. “Let me find a bag or something to put these in.”

  “I’ll get it.” He went to the mudroom closet and grabbed a handful of the canvas totes his mother had used for groceries. Elizabeth stuffed everything into them.

  “I guess I’m ready,” she said, her tone bordering on frigid. “I assume you’ll tell me for what, eventually.”

  “We’re going to pick up the boys. We’re going to take them for a picnic dinner. And then we’re going to lie low for a few days.”

  She took the totes and opened the front door. “Just like that?”

  He grabbed the cooler. “I’ve got it covered.”

  “I don’t suppose it occurred to you that I might be able to help. If I knew what was going on.”

  If she knew what was going on, she’d be out of here in less than a heartbeat. “All you have to do is keep the boys happy.” He blocked her path to the door. “Seriously. I’m not good at kid stuff. If I know I don’t have to worry about them, you’ll be a huge help.”

  She seemed to buy it. They loaded everything into the back of the pickup. He slammed the lid, locked it, and handed Elizabeth a key ring. “Spare keys. House and truck.”

  “You think I’ll have to drive?”

  “I don’t know. It’s an automatic, so aside from handling like a truck, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  He whistled for Chester and opened the truck’s back door. The dog leaped in, quivering with excitement. “Tell him to sit, Lizzie.” Grinch backed around the truck, then crouched behind the bed, out of Chester’s sight.

  “Chester, sit.” Elizabeth’s voice was firm. Without hesitating, Chester lowered his rump to the seat.

  Grinch rounded the truck and climbed in. “Guess you two understand each other.”

  Elizabeth huffed. “At least someone listens to me.”

  Oh, he listened. But he didn’t answer very well. Grinch started the truck. They’d hit the main road to town before Elizabeth said another word.

  “So, when did you plan to tell me about the gun?”

  He kept his eyes fixed on the road. “When I figured out the best way to bring it up.”

  “How about now? How about, ‘Elizabeth, I think you should know I keep a gun and you should make sure Will doesn’t find it. Or touch it.’ Don’t you worry that Dylan might find it and hurt himself? Or you?” She twisted in her seat, facing him. He stared out the windshield, checked the rearview, gripped the wheel. Looked everywhere except at her.

  “Of course I worry. It’s been locked up until this morning. It was part of my job, part of what I did. I lived alone, so yes, I had it accessible until the day I brought Dylan home. Since then, it’s been in the gun safe. And the ammunition locked up somewhere else.”

  He was very much aware of the Glock in its holster at his hip and the Sig at his ankle. “I doubt things will come to the point where I’ll need the gun, but I’d rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it.” He smiled. “Someone I know told me that.”


  She was silent so long, he finally looked at her. Her rigid posture, crossed arms and compressed lips made it clear enough how she felt. He’d never mentioned the specifics of his work for Blackthorne, maybe because he’d picked up vibes that she might not approve. And clearly, he’d been right.

  “Lizzie—”

  “Please be quiet. I need to think.”

  He could do quiet.

  Shortly before they arrived at the rec center, she broke the silence. “Is it loaded?”

  “Wouldn’t do much good if it wasn’t.”

  More silence.

  He slid the truck into the line of vehicles waiting for the discharge of campers before she spoke again. “Do you have it on you? Now?”

  “Wouldn’t do much good if I couldn’t access it quickly. And, yes, I have a permit, and no, it’s not somewhere the boys can see it. I’ve been around guns since I was a kid. I’m all about safety.” He wondered if this might be the time to mention it wasn’t really “it,” but “them.” He supposed if she’d accept the fact that he carried a gun, she’d accept the fact that he had a backup.

  A stream of campers raced for the pickup line. As he watched for the surge of red shirts, Grinch considered his plan once more.

  Thad Henderson had reported in. Phil Yancy was dead, killed when his car had a terminal altercation with a concrete wall. Details were sketchy, but for now, the cops were calling it an alcohol-induced accident, given the open bottle of Jack in Yancy’s car, and his history of arrests for DUI. Blood work was pending.

  But nobody at Blackthorne liked coincidences. The boss had pulled a few strings, convinced the cops to share the contents of Yancy’s cell phone records. Seems that his last three conversations were with a private investigator, who in turn had a link to Victor Vaughn. No direct link to Elizabeth—yet. But Victor being in the mix was enough for Grinch. He had no doubt the shit was about to hit the fan, and there was no need to be in range when it did.

  Chapter 28

  Elizabeth laid out paper plates, napkins and cups on the picnic table while Grinch and the boys tossed a football. The boys’ reaction to the change in routine had been pure, unadulterated excitement. She even believed that Will accepted a mid-week picnic dinner as something that went along with his new life.

  She paused, watching as Grinch gathered the boys close, forming a kind of huddle. He pointed to some spot off in the distance. After a handclap and a shout, the boys raced off in opposite directions, and Grinch hurled the ball through the air. She smiled when Will stretched his hands skyward, jumped, and landed with the “old pigskin” trapped at his chest. He stopped, found Dylan, and sent the ball flying. Well, maybe not flying, but it didn’t wobble too badly, and Dylan only had to run a few feet to snatch it from the ground.

  “Good one,” Grinch shouted, waving his hands. “Over here, Dyl.”

  Dylan tossed the ball and Grinch scooped it up, motioning Will toward him. He positioned Will’s hands on the ball and had him throw it again. This time it flew arrow-straight.

  “Hey, Mom! Watch this one!” She stood and waved as Will, biting his tongue in concentration, carefully placed his hands the way Grinch showed him, and let loose another perfect, albeit short, pass. Grinch made a diving catch, and both Will and Dylan pounced on him. Seconds later, Chester joined in. Another moment she wished she could freeze in time.

  Her chest ached, a blend of sorrow that Victor hadn’t had the patience to spend time with Will, and warmth that Grinch did.

  Grinch hadn’t mentioned where they were spending the night yet, and she wondered how far he’d take them. From the way he’d spoken earlier, it sounded like he’d already made reservations somewhere. Down in the Springs? Or Denver? If so, they had a good two hours of driving ahead of them.

  Keep the boys happy, Grinch had said, because he wasn’t good at kid stuff. He seemed to be doing fine. She, on the other hand, wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend they were out for some fun. He’d made at least three phone calls, and received at least three others. From the way he lowered his voice and wandered off while he dealt with them, she doubted they were social calls, but he hadn’t bothered to share anything with her.

  And then there was the matter of the small pack Grinch had tucked beside the cooler, next to his jacket. Where he’d put his gun when she’d insisted that he not have it on his person while playing with the boys. What if one of them tried to tackle him and found it? She shuddered at the thought.

  Then again, the fact that he’d left it behind while he was off playing football hero must mean he thought they were safe enough. She gave it a wide berth while she went to the cooler to see what Grinch had packed for dinner.

  Grinch supervised hand-washing, attached a long lead to Chester’s collar, and tied it around a nearby tree. He filled a bowl with water and Dylan carried it to the dog.

  “Shouldn’t we feed him?” Elizabeth asked.

  “After we eat. Helps him remember we’re in charge.”

  The cooler had revealed more than chicken. Grinch obviously had everything planned, because there was potato salad, a compartmentalized plastic tray filled with cut-up vegetables and a container of dip in the center, as well as a bag of apples and a gallon jug of lemonade.

  Running around after a full day at camp had clearly kicked up the boys’ appetites. Maintaining the façade of someone fascinated by every detail of the boys’ day tightened her stomach, leaving little room for food.

  The clouds glowed a pale orange. The sky’s blue deepened. She stared into the distance for several minutes, watching the orange color intensify as the sun dipped below the mountaintops. With a sigh, she stood and began gathering the dirty plates to take to the trash can.

  Grinch sent the boys to feed Chester while he put the leftover food away. She dumped the trash and returned the picnic site to its original condition. The cooler sat on the picnic table, and Grinch’s pack was lying next to it. She was about to snap at him when she realized it was flat. Gingerly, she poked it with a finger.

  His back to her, Grinch said, “It’s not there, Lizzie. I told you, I’ll never leave it lying around.”

  Heat rose to her face. She almost apologized. Almost. It was her son she was worried about, and she had every right to make sure he was safe. Even if it meant checking on someone she trusted. People forgot things, right?

  When Chester finished eating—a process that took all of two minutes—Grinch exchanged the long lead for a shorter leash, saying. “I’ll deal with Chester’s business. Boys, help Elizabeth load up before it gets dark.”

  Once everything was strapped down in the truck’s bed, and the boys and Chester were secured in the backseat, they drove off. To where, she didn’t know.

  The boys’ chattering in the backseat droned into white noise. She closed her eyes.

  When she opened them, they were bumping along a side road. She blinked and checked her watch. They’d been driving for an hour? She blinked again and peered out the window, expecting to see the city lights from Colorado Springs. Instead, they were bumping across a poorly illuminated, dirt-covered parking area. Grinch parked next to an old, dusty panel van.

  “Wait here a minute,” Grinch said.

  Before she objected, he’d hopped out of the truck and trotted to a nearby small wooden building. She twisted around. She wasn’t the only one who’d dozed off. Smiling at the sleeping boys—and dog—she resigned herself to waiting for Grinch’s return.

  Cupping her hands against the window, she tried to see more. Was this where they were going to hide out? There were half a dozen vehicles spread throughout the parking area, all of them what she’d come to think of as mountain cars, which included the all-too-common pickup truck, as well as SUVs and vans. Filmed with dust and mud, they were a far cry from their sleek and shiny counterparts from her former life.

  Minutes later, Grinch trotted back toward his truck with another man, dressed in dark coveralls, about half a pace behind him.

  Grinch hopped into
the truck, the man into the van parked beside them. Almost in unison, the engines kicked on and they drove around to the back of the building.

  An expanse of brightly lit asphalt spread out before her. And on it sat half a dozen small—really, really small—airplanes.

  They drove through an open gate in a chain link fence. A yellow light illuminated a sign. She blinked twice this time, trying to believe she’d read it correctly.

  “Did that sign say airport?” she asked.

  “Yep. Private field.” Grinch said, as if they’d pulled into the parking lot at Walmart.

  “You … you don’t mean—no. No way am I getting into an airplane, especially not one of those toy ones.”

  Grinch stopped the van and flashed his cockeyed grin. “No problem. We’re not using a plane.”

  “Thank God,” she said.

  “We’re using that.”

  She followed his pointing finger. To a helicopter.

  * * * * *

  Grinch braced himself. He knew Elizabeth wouldn’t do anything that would upset or frighten the boys, and from the way she glared at him, he knew she knew it. But he’d done what he had to do.

  She leaped out of the truck and grabbed his arm, dragging him out of earshot. Okay, he hadn’t counted on the boys being asleep. So much for that part of his plan.

  “I am not getting into that machine,” she said in a stage whisper. “What’s wrong with a car? Or a bus, or a train, or a covered wagon?”

  “We need to move fast,” he said. “We’ve been found.”

  “What? When? How?”

  “No time. Everything’s set, but we have to get going. Now.” He took her hands and tipped her face to meet his gaze. “If there was another way, believe me, we’d take it. Nobody’s going to be looking for us in a helo.”

  “You go,” she said. “I’ll take my chances.”

  He shook his head. “Victor’s gone to the cops. Told them you kidnapped his son. The cops are already looking. If they find us, they’ll probably turn Will over to the authorities until it gets sorted out.” He cupped her chin. “You already said Victor gets what he wants. He’s got money and lawyers, and he could drag this out for a long time. Is that what you want?”