Revenge
by
M. Glenn Graves
A Clancy Evans Novel
© Copyright 2014 Chet Cunningham (as revised)
Wolfpack Publishing
48 Rock Creek Road
Clinton, Montana 59825
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, other than brief quotes for reviews.
Table of Contents:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
About the Author
Free Book
Chapter 1
I was resting in my apartment in Norfolk. A cold November rain was falling. I was watching it land and bounce from my nearby window view. I did my best to stay warm by nursing my third cup of coffee while wrapped in my grizzly-bear colored comforter. The coffee and comforter were doing a grand job of keeping my temperature stable. I was multi-tasking – reading the latest Baldacci escapade, listening to Sam snore at the other end of our shared couch, and playing a type of verbal volleyball with my computer, Rogers.
I finished the coffee, turned the page to the next chapter, and then received a tempting reprimand from Rogers.
“How long are you going to go without calling him?”
“Who?”
“Roosevelt Washington, that so-called friend of yours.”
“He’s a friend, nothing so-called about it. Why are you dissing me?”
“It’s been two weeks since you’ve had any communication with him.”
“He has his own life and I have mine. We’re not the kind of friends who have to see each other every day. If I need him, I call him.”
“Some friend you are. The least you could do is to invite him over for a meal to say thank you for saving your bacon to say nothing of your investigative reputation.”
“Still studying those colloquialisms, are we? And I don’t cook.”
“I collect. I absorb. I utilize. And I know quite well your dubious kitchen skills.”
“So why would I invite him over to a meal?”
“I can teach you how to cook,” Rogers said.
“No, you could provide me with some great recipes, and you could even give me a list of how-to’s; but, you could not teach me how to cook.”
“I beg to differ, but to avoid unnecessary conflict here, take him out to a nice restaurant, for mercy’s sake. Show the man some type of gratitude for helping you and keeping you alive.”
“I didn’t think you liked him. Why are you suddenly involved in match-making?”
“I’ve changed my mind about him. He showed great courage, fortitude, and a willingness to give you some significant assistance. Besides, I did some checking on him. I think he’s a hunk.”
“A hunk?”
“You know, a stud-muffin. Cool. Sexy.”
“You’ve lost your CPU. I’ve known Rosey since we were teenagers. He’s a friend. He is handsome and strong and very good at what he does, but stud muffin and hunk? Do I need to clean your motherboard?”
“There is nothing wrong with me, thank you. You are simply blind and have no idea what a catch that man is.”
“I’d rather have him as a friend than a lover.”
“Your loss. I’m calling him anyway.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“I’m checking in to see how he’s doing. You should do as much.”
“Don’t use my voice,” I said.
“No problem. I’ll just tell him who I am and that I am calling on your behalf.”
“Bad idea. On second thought, use my voice. Just be careful what you say.”
“Hmmm, this gives me an idea.”
“You’re scaring me.”
I put the book down and listened closely as Rogers dialed the number. My phone system ran through the computer providing Rogers the ability to answer all calls when I’m out, but also initiating calls at her every whim. She had the option to converse with any and all callers, or simply record any message. Or both. My Uncle Walters and I wired her with the capability of using my voice instead of her voice in case I ever needed an alibi. The downside of artificial intelligence, in my limited experience thus far, is that there is a severe lack of control which the builder ultimately has. Or loses. My rather shaky plan was to develop a positive relationship with the computer. Jury is still out on that one.
“Washington Consulting. How may I help you?” Estelle Stevens said. It was Rosey’s receptionist. We had met a few months prior to this.
“Estelle, this is Clancy,” Rogers said.
“Hey, girl. How you doing? Haven’t heard anything from you for a long while now. Life good?”
“Life is good. I was calling to check in with Rosey. He around?”
“You kidding me, girl? That man is still out in the woods of Virginia somewhere. The last time I spoke with him was when he was leaving that hometown of yours and heading towards his cabin in the mountains.”
I walked over to Roger’s keyboard and punched a key taking control of the phone call.
“That’s been a little more than two weeks. I thought he checked in with you on a regular basis,” I said, taking over for Rogers.
“True enough, but he said he would call me whenever he was rested and heading back this way.”
Estelle Stevens was sitting in her plush office suite in downtown Washington, D.C. doing whatever it was that Rosey had hired her to do. Washington Consulting was housed on one floor of a building where the law firm of Fielder, Young, Lawson, & Associates occupied the remainder of the building. All of the other floors. Rosey’s consulting business, he said, was an arm of the firm. I asked some questions. He gave me some evasive answers. I was left with more questions and some doubts. Trust doesn’t always come easy.
“Have you tried calling him?”
“Not my job description. He gave me plenty of work to do, so I’ve been busy. Besides, he’s a big boy and can take care of himself. I worry about lots of people, but he’s not on that list. You need him for something?”
; “No. Just wanted to invite him down for a meal and say thanks for helping me out.”
“Oh, aren’t you sweet. That does sound nice.”
“Has he ever been gone this long before?”
“Only on some work related projects, or helping you.”
“So a two-week and counting R&R retreat is a bit unusual?”
“Very. You think something is up?”
“Don’t know. I’ll do some checking.”
“I can help, if you need me. Oh, in case you’re gonna try him on the cell, don’t bother. Cell phone service around the cabin is non-existent.”
“I’ll call on the land line. I think I have his retreat number here somewhere.”
Rogers flashed the number on her screen in front of me.
“If you don’t have it, I can get if for you,” Estelle said.
“I have it,” I said.
“You’re not worried about him, are you?”
“No, not really. I’ll let you know what I discover.”
I exchanged goodbyes with Estelle and immediately dialed the number Rogers had given me for Rosey’s cabin. The unpleasant busy signal sounded in my ear a few seconds before I hung up. I waited a minute or so and tried again. Same result.
I tried several more times waiting five to ten minutes between each attempt. The busy signal was irritating me, so I gave up.
“No need to worry yet. He’s probably just out hunting somewhere in the mountains. You’ll find him,” Rogers said.
“If he’s out hunting, why is the phone giving me a busy signal?” I said.
“Good point. Maybe he’s not alone. Probably just took the phone off of the receiver to have more privacy.”
The idea of Rosey being with someone had never crossed my mind. I had just assumed that R&R meant sleep and doing nothing physical. It struck me then that rest and relaxation could be achieved in any number of ways.
“You’re right. I’ll try again later. In the meantime, call Estelle back and get the physical address and directions for this retreat cabin. I’m going to pack.”
Thirty minutes later I placed a small, green suitcase by the front door of my apartment.
“You heading to the mountains of Virginia?” Rogers said.
“I am if you have the address and directions for me.”
“It’s located near a town named Lowesville. Estelle said that Rosey’s property joins some church property there. She also said that it is remote but easy to get to. Sounds like a paradox to me.”
“Is that all you got from Estelle?”
“How about I just print out the exact route she gave me?”
“Let’s do that.”
I retrieved the detailed driving directions from the printer, folded the sheet of paper, and stuck it in the pocket of my jacket. I tried calling Rosey’s cabin once again. I became excited when it finally began ringing. After the sixth ring finished, the answering machine took over and I listened to Rosey give me the usual instructions for leaving messages. I complied with its dictates but decided against mentioning my surprise visit. Ever the sleuth.
“You taking the dog with you?” Rogers said.
“Absolutely. I might need backup on this. And, if not, then Sam will enjoy frolicking in the woods of Western Virginia.”
“Frolicking?”
“Whatever.”
“I notice that you don’t carry a purse like most women,” Rogers said as I opened the front door.
“If you have noticed that, then you have also noticed that I am not like most women.”
“Honey, I’ve known that from day one of this relationship. Still, I would like to know why you do not carry a purse,” Rogers said.
“I carry a gun. I don’t need a purse.”
“So the gun is to replace the purse?”
“No, the gun has its own purpose. A purse is a non-essential for who I am,” I said. “And, if one carries a gun, it seems to me that there is little need for a purse.”
“And yet the purse seems to be so essential for the vast majority of women of this culture.”
“Are you going somewhere with this line of questioning?”
“Just noting your uniqueness, I suppose. Nothing more.”
“Well, if we have that settled, then I’m off to the mountains of Virginia. I will stay in touch with you as often I need...or can,” I said.
“Please do. Oh, will you also be calling Estelle to keep her in the loop?”
“I will,” I said and picked up my suitcase.
“One more thing,” Rogers said as I was about to close the door behind me. “If you didn’t carry a gun, would you carry a purse?”
“No,” I said and shut the door.
Chapter 2
Once I was on Highway 58 going west, I called Estelle to let her know I was en route.
“You want me to call the police?” she said.
“No. I do want you to call Captain Reginald Service in Sterling and have him check Rosey’s home there. Give Service my cell number and have him call me with whatever he finds. In the mean time, give me a day or so to check on the cabin. I’ll call you after I know whatever it is I know.”
“If you can.”
“If I can.”
“Promise to keep me in the loop.”
“My word. I might need your help.”
I gave her the number for Captain Service’s direct line and my cell number.
“If he shows up, you call me immediately,” I said.
“Ditto, girl. Please stay in touch.”
Sam was looking out the window from the passenger’s side of my Jeep. It was a long trip across Virginia and I knew that he would sleep most of the way. Now and then he would sit on his back haunches and watch the world go by. I often wondered what went through his mind as we sped along the highways.
I left 58 and turned north onto Highway 29 when my cell phone rang. It was Captain Service. Sam woke up, sat on his back haunches, and scanned the terrain to get his bearings.
“Clancy Evans. How long has it been?” Service said.
“Too long, Captain. How are you?”
“Aging and slowing down too fast. How ‘bout you?”
“Still trying to stay alive and keep the bad guys from taking over.”
“Never ends, does it? Well, I found everything in order at your friend’s home. I wish my place looked that neat. He use some kind of cleaning service?”
“I don’t think so. The military trained him,” I said.
“Indeed it did. Not a thing out of place. But, he wasn’t there, so where does that leave you?”
“Not sure, Captain. Presently, I am on my way to another possible location in western Virginia. I have a lead on his whereabouts, so all is not lost just yet.”
“No APB on him?”
“Not yet. Thanks for checking his home.”
“Let me know if you need something else. I can send out reinforcements if need be.”
“I hope there won’t be a need for that.”
“Me, too.”
I followed Highway 29 to the turnoff for Highway 60. A few miles on the other side of Amherst, I turned onto Lowesville Road. I had about another hour or so of daylight. I was hoping to find the cabin before sundown since I had no idea what I might come across once there.
Estelle’s type A personality came shining through with the directions she sent me. They were excruciatingly accurate up to the point of the turn onto Woodson Road. Rogers called me as I was searching for that turn.
“You close?”
“Probably less than thirty minutes out.”
“Call me when you arrive.”
“If I can, I will.”
“Make it happen,” she said emphatically.
Lowesville was smaller than I had imagined, so it was easy for me to miss my turn. I was expecting more than two buildings. After I crossed the bridge and traveled a mile or so in the wrong direction, I realized my mistake. I backtracked and found Woodson.
Just after the turn o
nto Woodson, I noticed a sign that advertised a church camp to the left. I slowed down to read it more carefully and noticed that the road sign was nearly hidden behind some leaves. I stopped, got out of the Jeep, and walked over to the tree limb in front of the road side. I moved the limb aside. The sign read Little Piney Road, my next turn. Our highway dollars at work.
I was now heading up a steeper grade. The shadows of the late November evening created some dark sections along the road. Night was close. The intermittent flashing of sunset light and dark shadows among the tall pines made for a picturesque journey on this back road. It was a shame that I was not making this trip for my own rest. Despite the circumstances, it was quite lovely.
A mile or two further in my climb brought me to Wiggins Spring Road, my last major road turn. Somewhere along this back road terrain was Rosey’s mountain cabin. Estelle’s directions were becoming less and less definite. Her directions told me to look for a large patch of rhododendron on my right. The first road on the right past the rhododendron would be my turn, and should be Rosey’s three-quarter-of-a-mile driveway. The difficulty for me, a city girl the last twenty years of my life, was determining which patch of rhododendron was to be considered a large one. Wiggins Spring Road seemed to me to be the breeding ground for the mountain rhododendron. There were also lots of boulders and trees which would now and again divide the rhododendron, creating multiple sections of it.
I finally arrived at what one might humorously refer to as a driveway. Considering my surroundings, it fit the terrain and offered access to whatever was ahead. The singular difference between this road and the one I had just left was that my new surface had larger rocks to drive over. The Jeep was definitely the right call on this caper. Redheaded sleuths are wise beyond their years. Pizzazz and intelligence. Wow.
Darkness was arriving faster than I had expected. The evergreens and thick rhododendrons were now joined by naked maples, oaks, and poplars. Despite the lack of foliage on the deciduous trees around me, the sunset was now hidden behind layers and layers of thick forests and some high distant peaks. Still there was a generous supply of evergreens scattered among the leafless varieties in the area. This place would have been well hidden in the heat of the summer. If one desired to hide from the world, this might be the optimum place to do so.
Revenge: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 4) Page 1