Danger in Deer Ridge (Blackthorne, Inc.)

by Terry Odell

  “It’s instant,” he said. “But yeah, I could use a cup. It’s been a long day.” He fetched one of the gallon jugs of water they’d brought. He set up the stove, found the rudimentary kitchen supplies, and put a pot of water on to boil.

  Elizabeth strolled to a metal basin and pitcher. “This is something out of an old cowboy movie. What is this place?”

  “A field research station. The ranger naturalists use it when they’re collecting data. Saves them having to go back and forth every day.”

  “They couldn’t have set up something with electricity? And plumbing?”

  “The sort of people who become naturalists actually enjoy this kind of life.”

  “Guess that’s one job I won’t be applying for.” Her lighthearted tone calmed him more than knowing Ryan and Dalton were out there.

  And the way her eyes sparkled when he pulled a box of her flowery teabags from his pack warmed him far more than coffee.

  Sipping their drinks, they sat on the tiny loveseat. Elizabeth yawned.

  “It’s been a long day,” Grinch said. “Why don’t you go get some sleep? I’ll crash out here with Chester.”

  “You’re going to sleep?”

  He got up, went to his pack, and pulled out his headset. “I’ll know what’s going on. Trust me, I’m a light sleeper.”

  “Shouldn’t we take turns? You know, like, you take the first watch. Isn’t that what they call it?”

  “Lizzie, don’t worry. You go into the back. There’s a sleeping bag set up for you. I can handle things out here.”

  She eyed the couch. “You can’t possible sleep on that. Maybe I should sleep out here.”

  He rested his forehead against hers. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Do you … did you … do stuff like Dalton and Ryan? With guns? Or were you just the pilot?”

  He controlled the immediate reaction to ‘just the pilot’. “We worked as a team. My specialty was flying, but yes, I’ve done my share of other kinds of work. We’ve all got areas of expertise, but we have to be able to fill in and do whatever’s necessary. So,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, “I’ve spent plenty of nights on the ground under the stars. I might even take my sleeping bag outside and bed down there tonight.” He thumbed her cheek. “You’ll do better tomorrow if you’re rested. For the boys.”

  She seemed to shut down. “Good night, then.”

  Flipping on his flashlight, he escorted her to the makeshift door and lifted one blanket aside. Chester stretched, yawned, and trotted out.

  She scratched the dog behind the ears. “Guess we’re changing places, fella.” Without another word, she ducked between the blankets.

  He stood there, watching her check on the boys before rolling her jacket into a pillow, waiting until she’d zipped herself in, before he doused the light. “Sleep well, Lizzie,” he whispered. He backed away. “All right, Chester. I’ll flip you for the couch.”

  The dog cocked his head.

  “Right,” Grinch said. “Dogs aren’t allowed on the furniture, even if it is more your size.” He unfurled his sleeping bag into the middle of the floor. But before crawling in, he let Chester outside. While the dog did his thing, Grinch stepped away from the cabin and checked his radio. Shaking off his guilt, he spoke into the mic.

  “Dalton. Ryan. Sitrep. The complete one.”

  Chapter 31

  Sleep came in fits and starts for Elizabeth. The thin foam pad wasn’t much of a barrier between her and the wooden platform pretending to be a bed. The sleeping bag was well-insulated—too well for a balmy night. And then, of course, there were the images running through her head. Helicopters. Guns. Grace in a coma. Victor’s ledger. More guns.

  Grinch had said he was primarily a pilot. He didn’t have one of those rifles like Dalton and Ryan. Or did he? Did he have one hidden away somewhere? Because what if the boys found it?

  Maybe keeping things from her wasn’t because he thought she was too stupid to understand. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to talk about things he’d done. Dalton did secret stuff, she knew that, and Miri dealt with it.

  And why should she even be thinking about dealing with it? No matter how good she felt when she was with Grinch, he wasn’t rest-of-your-life material.

  Okay, maybe she’d had a few fantasies about that—especially after the way he made love, and more especially because of the way he interacted with the boys—but that’s all they were. Fantasies.

  You’re married.

  Despite all the paperwork claiming Julie Ann was dead, and that she was Elizabeth Parker, she was still the person who’d married Victor. Changing paperwork didn’t mean she’d changed. Which meant technically, she was Victor’s wife.

  She blocked these thoughts, instead concentrating on the quiet, innocent breathing of Dylan and Will. How wonderful that they believed this was one big game.

  Exhaustion must have taken over, because the next thing she knew, sunlight filtered into the curtainless room through the small windows high above on the walls. Leaving the sleeping boys, she grabbed her jacket and shoes and tiptoed to the doorway. Easing a blanket aside, she checked the other room so she wouldn’t trip over Grinch.

  Who wasn’t there. Nor was Chester. Reminding herself that Grinch had said he might sleep outside, she shoved aside the momentary panic at being stranded.

  And speaking of outside, she’d better make use of the facilities. She found the roll of toilet paper Grinch had set near the door, along with a flashlight because not only was there no running water, there was no electricity, and being in a dark outhouse creeped her out. She opened the door and discovered two shadowy lumps not far away. The smaller lump morphed into Chester, who raised his head when she went outside.

  “Morning, Lizzie.” Grinch’s voice came from a sleeping bag, followed by his head and an easy grin. “Sleep all right?”

  “Nothing like a long night on a wooden bed to get you ready for the day,” she muttered under her breath. “Fine,” she added, loud enough for him to hear as she marched toward the small wooden outhouse.

  She wasn’t gone long, but when she got back, Grinch had already fired up the stove and a pot of water was on one of the two burners. A sleepy-eyed Dylan padded from the bedroom, clutching his teddy bear.

  “Is Will up?” she asked.

  “Here I am,” Will said.

  “If you’ll watch the stove,” Grinch said, “I’ll walk these two up the hill. Get your shoes, guys.”

  If they were going to be living here—if you could call it living—Elizabeth figured she’d best take stock of whatever Grinch had brought. As she went through the supplies, she marveled at how two men had carried all this, even for a short distance.

  Wait. Four men, not two. She’d bet that Dalton and Ryan had toted their share. Why couldn’t they have brought a real stove? And a refrigerator. Which, of course, wouldn’t be any good without a power source. So, as long as she was dreaming, why not a generator?

  Breakfast. She scoped out the food. Instant oatmeal. Bread. Peanut butter. And some packages of assorted freeze-dried who-knows-whats. Before she finished assessing the possibilities, the boys were back.

  “What’s for breakfast?” Will asked. “I’m starving.”

  “Oatmeal.” She laid an array of packets on the table. “After you wash your hands, you can pick your flavor.” She pointed to the basin and pitcher.

  “I hate oatmeal,” Dylan said to Grinch. “It’s yucky. I want pancakes.”

  Grinch telegraphed a silent “help me out” plea. She crouched to Dylan’s level. “I know. Oatmeal isn’t my favorite breakfast, but we don’t have a way to make pancakes. Remember, we’re supposed to be lost in the woods. We should be glad we have food with us.” She found some mini-boxes of raisins. “How about happy-face oatmeal? Will likes it. Don’t you, Will?”

  He obviously recognized her “play along or you’re toast” expression because he didn’t hesitate before responding. “It’s the best.”

  Dylan looked s
keptical, but seemed willing to give it a shot.

  “And another thing,” Grinch added. “Oatmeal is real stick-to-your-ribs food. Keeps you from getting hungry. And it makes you strong. I’ll bet you’ll be able to throw the longest football pass ever.” He walked to the table and selected two packets. “I’m having these, so you’d better grab yours before Will and Elizabeth get the best ones.”

  After breakfast, Grinch took the boys outside. Glad for a few moments alone, Elizabeth cleaned up the remnants of the meal and tried to decide if it would be smarter to give up. Send Victor the journal with whatever it was hiding. No. Not send it. Hand it to him. In person. Grovel. Beg for a divorce—uncontested, no alimony, no property, no nothing. Just her freedom. And Will’s.

  Or should she threaten him? Tell him she’d reveal what she’d learned about his father? Offer to keep Victor’s shadowy dealings quiet in return for being left alone?

  But would Victor believe her? Would he trust her to keep quiet? Or would he remain true to form and insist she come back and pretend to be his subservient wife?

  Let him try. If nothing else, she’d learned to stand up for herself, and there was no way she’d let Victor get away with his domineering behavior. And since she couldn’t see him changing on the home front, she absolutely wouldn’t stand for that.

  There had to be something she could do.

  At the sound of the door creaking open, she spun around. Grinch stood in the doorway wearing a headset like the ones she’d seen on all three men last night. Were they still out there?

  “On my way,” Grinch said. He covered the small microphone with his hand. “I’ve got to rendezvous. Won’t be long.”

  “Did something happen?” she asked. “The boys?” Her stomach flipped, but then she heard their laughter from outside. She moved toward Grinch.

  “The boys are fine,” he said. “And Chester is with them.”

  “Why can’t Dalton and Ryan come here?”

  “Easier not to have to explain them.”

  She thought of the weapons they carried. “You’re probably right.”

  “I’ll be back in a flash. If you want, you can take the boys to the stream. Hang a left at the outhouse. You can’t miss it.”

  “I think we’ll wait for you.”

  Grinch closed the short distance between them and kissed her forehead. Elizabeth stepped onto the wooden decking outside the door and watched Grinch disappear into the trees. Despite knowing he wasn’t going far, and seeing the boys and Chester playing some kind of chase game in a nearby clearing, she felt abandoned and alone.

  Shaking off the sensation, she called to the boys. “Why don’t you come inside for a bit?”

  “Do we have to?” Will said. “There’s nothing to do inside. We want to look for spoor. There might be some deer out here.”

  She debated the wisdom of letting them wander off on their own, dog or no dog. “Wait a few minutes. I’ll come with you. I’ve never hunted for spoor before.”

  Twenty minutes later, she decided she never would again. While the boys hunted for indications of deer, she was more concerned with larger beasts. A stiff breeze kicked up puffs of dust, making her eyes water. Every rustle of leaves, every creak of branches, every unfamiliar sound had her holding her breath. According to Will’s eager reports, which she had no reason to doubt, bears and mountain lions also inhabited the area.

  She almost laughed. Just her luck to run away from Victor and get eaten by a bear.

  * * * * *

  Grinch crouched between Dalton and Harper, who were engrossed in their Blackthorne-issue laptop. Last night’s updates had been uneventful, and again, he felt that twinge of guilt for trying to shelter Elizabeth when she’d made it clear she needed to be a part of it. But she didn’t know how these things worked—when to wait, when to act. All she’d do was worry.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Looks like you’re home free,” Dalton said. “Blackthorne scores again.” He held out a fisted hand.

  After the ritual knuckle tap, tension Grinch wasn’t aware he was carrying dissipated. He ignored his relief. “Details.”

  “Got the webcam coming through now,” Harper said.

  A moment later, Olivia and Cheese appeared on the monitor.

  “Good mornin’,” Dalton said. “Aren’t you two bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this fine morning.”

  “More than I can say for you,” Cheese said. “You look like you’ve been up all night. Wait—you have.”

  “Some of us don’t grab for the cushy assignments,” Dalton retorted.

  “Enough,” Grinch said. “Report.”

  Olivia straightened. “At oh seven-thirty, I answered the door to a man claiming to be Mr. John Henry, representing Lifelong Insurance.”

  “Wait,” Ryan said. “John Henry? You’re kidding, right?”

  Olivia smiled. “I didn’t say he was bright. But that’s what his business card said.”

  “You’re sure it wasn’t the husband? Victor Vaughn?” Dalton asked.

  “Definitely not,” Olivia said. “Doesn’t match the intel you gave me. This guy was about five-nine, stocky build. Maybe two hundred pounds. Brown hair, brown eyes. Clean-shaven. Cheap suit.”

  “Go on,” Grinch said. “What was his story?”

  “He said he had reason to think I might be Julie Ann Durbin, and that I had come into a large sum of money. My Great Uncle Alphonse Durbin had put money in trust for me, and the bank account was recently discovered. Or something to that effect.”

  “Durbin?” Harper asked.

  “Julie Ann—Elizabeth’s—maiden name,” Dalton said.

  “Pathetic,” Dalton said. “It hurts to know that scammers can be so stupid.”

  “Chill, Dalt,” Grinch said. “He was on a recon mission—not trying to do anything more than ID her. He could have said his car broke down—all he needed was a good look. An excuse to ask a few questions would be gravy.”

  “If you guys are finished debating the finer points of gathering intel, I’ll be happy to continue,” Olivia said.

  “Go on,” Grinch said, his gaze shooting daggers at Dalton.

  “I told him I wasn’t Julie Ann, didn’t have any Uncle Alphonse, great or otherwise. I even volunteered my ID. I made it as easy as possible for him to sneak a picture, which he did, I’m sure, because he made—or pretended to make—a phone call to his boss explaining that I was a dead end.”

  “And I,” Cheese cut in, “was collecting a few shots of my own. They should be in your inbox shortly.”

  “Send them to the techs, too,” Grinch said.

  A pained expression crossed Cheese’s face. “Chill, pilot. I’m not stupid, you know. I’m sure Debbie and her lab geeks will do their magic.”

  Grinch didn’t apologize. Crossing t’s and dotting i’s was what kept one’s ass out of the line of fire.

  “Anything else you can give me?” Grinch asked.

  “That’s it for now,” Olivia said. “Want me to stick around?”

  “If you don’t mind,” Grinch said. “I’d like you both around until we get the reports back on your ‘John Henry.’ “

  “What about you?” Cheese asked. “I can try to borrow the rescue helo again and extract the six of you if the fire department doesn’t need it for a genuine rescue.”

  Grinch thought of what it would take to get Elizabeth to agree to another helicopter ride. Once she knew she wasn’t in danger, she’d probably hike all the way back to town. “I don’t want to overuse that cover. What are you driving?”

  “A rental. Compact. Would take three trips to haul everyone and everything back.”

  “Swap it out for something more suitable,” Grinch said.

  “Roger that,” Cheese said. “I’ll feed you an ETA once I get squared away.”

  The computer signaled an incoming message. “That must be your mug shots,” Harper said. He opened a new window and downloaded the pictures.

  Grinch leaned over his shoulder
and watched “John Henry” appear.

  “Look familiar?” Dalton asked.

  Grinch leaned in closer. Olivia’s description had been accurate enough. The man on the screen wore a navy-blue suit, a white shirt, and a red, white and blue striped tie. Short brown hair, black-framed glasses. Grinch came up blank. “No. I can’t say I recognize him. Looks like a guy selling insurance.”

  “Too much like one,” Dalton said. “Suit’s out of date. His hair—a recent cut. The glasses—frames are probably off the discount rack. He’s a walking cliché. Tells me he’s definitely scamming.”

  “Takes one to know one,” Harper said.

  Dalton pretended to bristle. “First, I’m better than this guy. Second, my scamming’s saved your ass more than once.”

  “Can you two be serious for more than ten seconds at a stretch?” Grinch said, only half joking.

  Dalton and Harper exchanged a quick glance. “No,” they said in unison.

  Unless they were on an op, Grinch knew. The two had been partners for years, had been accused of sharing the same brain. Their banter was for down time, or to lighten the mood when things were about to hit the fan. In this case Grinch was grateful it was the former.

  “So, what’s next?” Dalton said. “You need us to watch your six?”

  “And what’s our cover with the kids?” Harper asked. “Stowing away on the helo for a quick hop was one thing. I’m not going the invisible route in some SUV or van. Not over these roads.”

  “Dalton,” Grinch said. “You’re the self-proclaimed expert scammer. What’s your cover story going to be?”

  Dalton didn’t hesitate. “Stash the weapons. Play lost campers—or lost fishermen. The kids are primed for people getting lost out here. We can be two more of them. Or, if you prefer, we can be another pair of training mission strandees.”

  “Either works for me,” Grinch said. “Do it. I’m going to find Elizabeth and the boys. You can ‘happen upon us’ in—let’s say an hour? I told the boys I’d take them fishing.”

  “Will there be more cookies?” Ryan said.

  “Depends on how hungry the boys get. Meanwhile, monitor communications.”