Cold Aim

by Janice Cantore

  Considering Chevy and her predicament funneled Tess’s thoughts to Livie Harp. Was Harp so antisocial and secretive because of a toxic relationship? Then there was the TV-inspired reason: she was a witness in the federal witness protection program.

  Tess doubted that theory, just like Steve Logan had, as being not really plausible. The only other options that made sense to Tess were that she was a true prepper or that she was a fugitive from justice. And if she was a fugitive, she’d hidden everything well. Tess had spent a day trying to find out anything she could about Harp. There was nothing. Even the house was not in her name, but in the name of a corporation. Livie Harp had an Oregon driver’s license and three vehicles registered to her, and a one-page bare-bones website touting her skills in combating cybercrime, and that was it.

  Curiosity was strong in Tess, and the enigma of Livie Harp tested all her self-control. She’d searched for information on the woman only through public means. She was not about to violate the law and conduct a law enforcement search when, to her knowledge, Harp had done nothing illegal. Harp wanted to be off the grid and was as successful as anyone Tess had ever been acquainted with. Without probable cause to articulate a need to know, Tess would have to be satisfied with leaving the mystery alone.

  13

  After a day of online searching, Ice had found nothing to confirm beyond any doubt that his target was located in Shady Cove, Oregon. Cyrus had law enforcement on his payroll, Ice knew, but they either didn’t know exactly where the girl was or were not coughing up any more information because of the heat. And there was heat.

  Ice had considerable hacking skills, but wherever the Feds were hiding Chevy, he couldn’t find it on the web. Yet Ice’s gut told him it was a good lead, so in spite of the uncertainty, he packed up his belongings and prepared to head to the Northwest. He stole a nice BMW motorcycle, then some clean license plates and pulled up his destination on GPS.

  Cyrus had been cocky about still being free when Royal had first spoken to him. Yeah, he was free, but the charges were big-time. Once the Feds opened the iPad . . . well, Ice for one wanted to be somewhere else. The arrest and subsequent bail of Cyrus Beck was front-page news, and there was a frenzy in the cable news arena—it was almost wall-to-wall coverage.

  Ice smiled when he saw the rent-a-mobs show up to protest against Cyrus’s prosecution with signs claiming it was a government conspiracy and a setup. Several signs even blamed people who didn’t believe in global warming for setting Cyrus up. He knew that Cyrus had a pipeline to under-the-radar agencies who could produce mobs at the drop of a hat.

  As amusing as Ice thought the protests were, he’d told Cyrus to leave the country and forget the mess here. There were plenty of nice places to live that had no extradition agreements.

  “I won’t let a little nothing high school dropout chase me out of my own country. Find her, Ice. Find her.”

  Ice would, he promised.

  He rolled into Shady Cove, Oregon, in a little over six hours and rented a small hotel room at a place called the Maple Leaf. Ice considered the place Hicksville and knew that when he found the girl, he’d have no trouble overcoming any resistance. He had little respect for cops and even less for small-town Barney Fifes.

  But after watching and listening to local gossip for a couple of days, doubt crept in that he’d found his target. He’d heard no chatter about her at all, and that bugged him. There would be a wisp of a trail if she were hidden somewhere here—and a sign of federal presence, he was sure—but there was nothing but local hicks and tourist traffic.

  Still, his gut instincts told him he was on the right track. And with no other locations popping up on his radar, no other whispers about where the girl was, and Cyrus’s sources completely dried up because of the indictment, he wanted to be thorough. In any event, he knew it would be easy to blend in for a week or so. Especially when he saw the ad for temporary help needed at a town not too far down the road on the other side of the river.

  He found Rogue’s Hollow without any trouble. They were hiring anyone breathing to help with cleanup after a big fire that had destroyed a lot of forest. He showed up in town and applied. And was hired almost immediately. He decided to smile a lot, work hard, and listen.

  14

  Oliver felt as though he’d never get the smell of burnt wood and houses out of his nostrils. All four families who lost their houses wanted to rebuild. The work crews had just begun and were doing a good job so far, clearing debris and filling and placing sandbags. Arthur Goding’s place, first on the list, was now ready for the rain. Whenever he had time, Oliver assisted. Now, with storm clouds forecast to bring a lot of rain, he’d just finished helping on the Coopers’ lot.

  The Coopers were problematic. They had only minimal insurance on their hundred-year-old house and barely enough money to make it day to day. Oliver and his board of elders had agreed to let them stay in a mobile home the church owned in Blackberry Hollow, Rogue’s Hollow’s trailer park, and used for just such emergencies. But it wasn’t a long-term solution. Part of the problem was Garrett and his inability to hold a steady job. While Garrett did watch their three children and that saved on child care, he’d never worked regularly for the entire time Oliver had known the couple. And Janie’s job as a cashier at Walmart wasn’t quite enough to support the family. Oliver had known Janie’s mother well and been at her bedside the day she died. She’d worried then that Garrett would never be a good breadwinner and she feared for Janie.

  Her last words were a request that Oliver look after Janie. Oliver had promised he would do his best. The promise weighed on him. He’d meant it, but now, four years later, he feared he was failing.

  Once cleaned up and headed to his office, he noticed Janie in the church clothes closet, where all the clothing donations were stored. She was going through children’s clothing. Noting the torn and worn jeans and sweatshirt she was wearing, Oliver hoped she’d also look for something for herself. Another reason Janie tugged at his heart was that she’d named her youngest daughter Anna, after Oliver’s deceased wife.

  “Hi, Janie, how are things going?”

  She looked up, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. “Oh, hi, Pastor Mac. We’re okay, I guess. It’s just hard. Helping the kids to understand why everything is gone—” Her voice broke, and he put a hand on her shoulder.

  The hardship of the last few days seemed to make Janie, a small, pale woman to begin with, even smaller, and his heart went out to her.

  “We’re here for you, Janie. You know that.”

  She sniffled, wiped her nose with a crumpled Kleenex she had in her hand. “Thank you. I do know that. And we have a place to live for the winter. I’m very grateful for all your help.” Janie managed a smile, and that touched Oliver.

  He noticed the bags of clothing she’d gathered so far. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Well, yeah. I need to get these things home and then head to work. Do you think you could give me a ride?”

  “Of course. Is Garrett at home watching the kids?”

  A shadow crossed her face. “He dropped me off and then went to the library in Shady Cove to use the Internet. He had business to take care of. Before the fire, he was trying to earn money by selling stuff on eBay, but now . . .” She bit her bottom lip for a second. “Kayla is watching the kids for me.”

  Oliver worked to keep his expression neutral. Business to take care of for a guy who didn’t work? eBay? Now he was further stretching the family budget by forcing the hire of a babysitter. Oliver had tried to get Garrett on the work crew, but he’d disdainfully said no. “I’m not the manual labor type,” he’d sneered.

  Oliver let it go and nodded. “Well, let’s put these things in the car.”

  The Coopers had been in Oliver’s office for counseling right after Janie’s mother died and they found themselves in possession of her home and belongings. He recalled that Garrett wanted to sell the place and buy something bigger and newer. At the time, he’d been working
, driving a logging truck. Janie was adamantly against moving; after all, the house had been in her family for a hundred years, and it was paid off.

  Eventually she’d won, but Oliver wondered if she’d paid a steep price. Shortly after that conversation, Garrett had crashed his logging truck, and though he wasn’t hurt, he was fired when the crash was deemed his fault. Since then he’d been a stay-at-home dad, but something in Oliver told him that the young man was immature and paying his wife back for not giving in to his demands. And Oliver feared the claim of “selling things on eBay” was cover for wasting time playing computer games.

  Bottom line, Janie had done the right thing. If they’d taken on a large mortgage like Garrett had wanted, they’d be in worse shape, and that was saying a lot considering they’d just lost everything to a fire.

  Janie and Garrett’s situation brought Tess and one of her rules to mind: “Always trust your gut.” Oliver’s gut told him that the Coopers’ marriage was tenuous. He’d doubted it would survive before the fire, and now . . . He hated the doom he saw foreshadowed. But unless Garrett grew up and behaved like a husband and father, Oliver feared Janie would soon be a member of the single mothers’ ministry.

  Not if I can help it. The Coopers were at the top of his prayer list, and Oliver would strive in prayer for them, certain only the Lord could save the shaky marriage.

  “Have you had any problems with your insurance company, Janie?” Oliver asked after they’d loaded her stuff into the trunk of his car and started out of the church parking lot for the short drive to the trailer park.

  “No, not really. I have a living expense check to deposit today on my way to work. It will help us replace the computer, my phone, and a few other electronic devices. The house . . . I think we were underinsured.”

  “Happens to a lot of people.”

  “Hopefully we’ll be able to afford a mobile. I’d like to clear the lot, then find a used one to put there. It won’t be the same as that old house, but it will be a roof over our heads.”

  “That sounds like a good plan. I might have a lead on a used mobile, a double-wide.”

  She turned toward him, eyes full of hope. “Oh, Pastor Mac, that would be a godsend.”

  “It may take a week or two for me to get a solid answer, but I’ll get on it. In the meantime, when you’re ready, I’ll start organizing something to help you clear the lot and prepare everything for a new home.”

  “Thank you so much.” She beamed.

  He pulled into the carport, noting that Garrett was not back. After he helped her get everything into the house and spent a few minutes with the kids, each under eight years old, he saw Janie’s face tighten with stress as she talked on the phone, presumably to Garrett.

  “Something wrong?” he asked when she hung up.

  “I’m going to be late to work and all I’m getting is Garrett’s voice mail.”

  Oliver glanced to Kayla and then back to Janie. “I can take you to work if Kayla doesn’t mind staying with the kids a bit longer.”

  “Oh, Pastor Mac, I can’t put you out like that.”

  “It’s not putting me out. I have to be in Medford anyway. I have a meeting at the jail. Walmart is on the way. Can you get a ride home at the end of your shift?”

  She looked at the clock and then out the window, no sign of Garrett. “Yeah, a couple of people I work with live in Trail, and they can give me a ride home. I just don’t understand where Garrett is. He knows that I have to get to work.”

  “I don’t mind taking you.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “Let me change. Maybe he’ll be here by the time I’m ready.”

  Oliver nodded and sat with Kayla in the living room as Janie grabbed the bag of clothes she’d picked up from the church and went to a bedroom in the back of the home to change.

  “Okay with you, Kayla, to stay a little longer?”

  “I’ll call my mom; she’ll probably come over too. It’s okay. I like these kids; they’re well behaved and easy to entertain.”

  Oliver had to agree. The two older boys were on the floor surrounded by toys he knew had been donated, playing happily. The youngest, a little over a year, and the only girl, fifteen-year-old Kayla held on her hip like a pro.

  A few minutes later, Janie emerged dressed for work. “I’ll try Garrett one more time,” she said when her attention was directed outside as they all heard Garrett’s truck pull up.

  “He’s home.” Janie opened the front door as Garrett hopped out, leaving the truck running.

  “You ready?” he snarled and then stopped short when he saw Oliver. “What are you doing here?”

  “He brought me home from the church. Remember you were supposed to pick me up there? I got stuff for the kids and some clothes for you as well.”

  Garrett’s brow furrowed, and Oliver wondered why he was so angry.

  “I had things to do,” he snapped. “I didn’t forget. Now let’s get going. Do we need to take the kids?”

  “I can stay till you get back,” Kayla offered.

  Garrett grunted and stomped back to the truck.

  Janie offered an apologetic glance. “Thanks, Pastor Mac, for everything.”

  “Sure. Will you be okay?”

  “Oh yeah. He’s just mad at himself for forgetting.”

  Outside, the car horn blasted, and Janie hurried to get into the truck.

  As they pulled out of the lot, Kayla stood next to Oliver. “That guy is always mad.”

  “He ever give you any trouble?”

  “No, but he’s never happy. I texted my mom. She’s coming to stay with me until he gets back.”

  “Good,” Oliver said as he frowned after the truck. What was up with Garrett Cooper?

  15

  Oliver’s next meeting with Don Cherry was tempered by the fact that it was likely going to be his last. Federal authorities were ready to move him, and it could happen any day.

  “How do you feel about the move?” Oliver asked as they settled into their routine of conversation before Bible study.

  He held his hands out, palms up. “What’s to feel? It’s gonna happen. I have to remember that the Lord goes with me wherever I go, no matter what.”

  “Glad to hear you say that.” Oliver was happy with the transformation he’d seen in Don Cherry. It was genuine—the man read his Bible, prayed, but most of all his demeanor was convincing. The hard, menacing man Oliver had met months ago was different. He was polite and respectful to all law enforcement personnel. More than one had mentioned to Oliver that they didn’t mind Cherry at all; they liked having him around because he was easy to deal with and never gave them trouble. That was what true faith was supposed to do: transform people.

  “Thank you, padre, for all that you’ve done for me.”

  “I can’t take all the credit—you know that—but you can thank me by keeping up with your studies and letting me know what’s next on your journey.”

  “I will. I have something I’ve never had before. Peace. I know I’ll be okay, no matter what.”

  “Amen.”

  Oliver opened his Bible for their last Bible study, thankful that he’d been privileged to walk this journey with Don Cherry.

  –––

  Tess checked the clock as she walked into her house. A quarter to six. She’d wanted to make it home earlier, but like always, something popped up at the station that delayed her.

  One week into the cleanup, and one of the guys on the crew had been fired when he was discovered looting. One of the burned-out houses had a shed that survived, and the man pried open the lock and removed some small tools. Bender caught him while doing an impromptu drive-by. The man was fired and cited because there was no room in the jail to keep him, but the incident made Tess regret she hadn’t forced the issue of background checks for the temp crew. But the manual labor was necessary because of the topography of the Hollow, bordered as it was by steep mountains on one side and the Rogue River on the other. She’d been guardedly happy tha
t Mayor Horning stepped up and designated funds for it.

  “We’ve money to cover the cleanup; hopefully two weeks will do it,” Pete had said. “It’s just grunt work. We can’t afford extensive background checks for grunt work.”

  On one hand, she knew he was right, and they had run want/warrant checks on everyone. Other than a couple of suspended licenses, everyone was clean. But some shady-looking guys had been hired for the work crew, and the one just fired was obviously an opportunist.

  The incident made her take a hard look at the rest of the crew. Only one gave her pause, and she wondered if it was just because of his name, James Smith. When she worked patrol, that was a throwaway name if someone didn’t want to be identified. It was the most common man’s name in the country and it always sent up red flags, so she wasn’t sure if it was the name or his demeanor. He didn’t strike her as a down-and-out in-need-of-any-kind-of-work guy. There was an edge about him. Yet when she spoke to the supervisor, he got high marks. “One of my hardest workers,” he’d said.

  Tess let it go, recognizing that there were thousands of men legitimately named Jim Smith. His California driver’s license was valid after all, and she was a little too on edge because of the arrest.

  Maybe the problem has been solved, she thought as she turned on the oven and set a loaf of French bread inside to warm up. Then she quickly shed her clothes and jumped into the shower.

  Oliver would be here in fifteen minutes. Luckily, dinner was ready, simmering in the Crock-Pot since she’d put it together this morning, and the house was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of beef stew. She forced her mind to shift gears and consider the pleasant evening ahead she had planned with Oliver. Weekly dinners together, either at her house or his, followed by a Bible study, had become standard. No one was more surprised than Tess that a pastor could so completely fill her mind and heart.