Broken Bonds - Karen Harper MIRA

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the light, a thought hit him. If the man in the truck who tried to shove him off the cliff meant for him to die, why did he cover his face? If he just meant to scare him, warn him—set him up somehow, maybe for Charlene Lockwood to come along—he would have covered his face.

      No, Royce, wily as he was, had to be wrong about Char. So what if she probably had ties to hill folk, maybe some who owed her favors? Royce just went wild with things his front man and informant, Brad Mason, found out about locals here, so he knew what contracts to offer for what amount where he wanted to drill, including working with that weird cult leader, Bright Star Monson. Talk about a guy with hidden ulterior motives. Royce had said the cult leader was a mind-control guru even he could learn from—which reminded Matt again that, even working for and with a dynamo like Royce, he still needed to be his own man.

      He had another unsettling thought. He closed his vertical blinds. If someone was watching or stalking him, they could see right in, and this house was full of large windows.

      “Hey,” Royce said as Matt hurried down the freestanding staircase and went to the front hall closet to get a jacket. “I’m telling you again, you need a good woman in your life, my man. Now Veronica, this new lady I’m seeing, has a younger sister who’s a knockout, and we’d like to fix you up with her.”

      “The fixing up I need right now is to figure out who almost killed me and why. And to make sure no one tries it again.”

      * * *

      “So one thing I haven’t mentioned,” Gabe told Tess and Char after questioning Char about what she’d seen up on the mountain, followed by a late dinner. “In Matt’s burned-out truck, we found a pristine piece of paper that had a crude skull and crossbones on it and read, ‘Your fired.’” He spelled it out for them. “I’m sending it to my friend Vic Reingold at the Bureau of Criminal Identification and Investigation to see if we can get prints or DNA off it, but that may take a while.”

      “Bad spelling, so maybe an uneducated writer,” Char observed. “Sad to say, there are plenty of those around here. What do you think it means?”

      “Don’t know,” Gabe said. “Nothing about this whole thing makes sense. Despite the fact he usually has a driver, I’m tempted to theorize the attacker thought it was Royce Flemming in that truck. He’s got as many enemies as friends around here, making some folks rich while their neighbor lives in worse poverty, compared to the bonanza next door. It’s splitting not only shale rock layers but friends and families when some cash in on the fracking and some don’t. Fracking breaks a lot of family bonds. Some have their quiet roads ruined by big semis and their views wrecked by rigs and concrete. Outsiders, blasting, worries about the purity of well water most depend on here.”

      “Listen, you two,” Char said. “Let’s try to just forget all that for a while. I’ll get the table cleaned up, get things in the dishwasher, then go up to finish my meager packing. You two need time alone without the cares of the world. Go on now. The day care kids will be here all too soon in the morning, and Gabe will be off trying to find the guy or the truck that hit Matt.”

      Gabe gave her a tight grin. “Thanks, Char. We’ll take you up on the clean the kitchen offer, and I’ll worry about all that tomorrow. Mrs. McCabe, please come with me. You are under arrest and in my personal care,” he said, and took Tess’s hand to pull her to her feet.

      Char sighed as they left the kitchen. It suddenly seemed very empty. She was glad she wouldn’t be intruding on their hospitality and kindness much longer, though they’d never made her feel that way. But as soon as she got the keys to the cabin, she’d be on her own in a beautiful spot. Really, really on her own.

       5

      “Ah, the keys to the kingdom!” Char exulted to Tess the next morning as her new landlady drove away from Tess’s house after giving her the key to the rental cabin.

      “But you promised you’d get the locks changed,” Tess reminded her as she continued arranging the small beanbag chairs in a circle for the children that were due to be dropped off soon. Gabe had already headed for the office. Char had overheard him tell Tess he was going to interview Royce Flemming as soon as he showed up in town again.

      “I said I’d get the locks changed, and I will,” Char promised. “I’ll get moved in and do my visits with kids closer to town just for today instead of climbing every mountain again, fording every stream, following every rainbow...”

      “The Sound of Music, my favorite musical. I teach the kids the ‘Do-Re-Mi,’ song, you know. Oh, here’s the first drop-off. No,” she said, looking out the window. “I don’t know that car. Char, it’s Matt Rowan! Here, you go to the door, and I’ll keep straightening up. Don’t mind me.”

      Char almost scolded Tess for her excitement, but her own heartbeat accelerated. She felt herself blushing. Waiting inside the door for him to ring the bell or knock, she fanned her face.

      He rang the bell. She counted to five, and before Tess could run in to see what was wrong, opened the door. He was taller than she recalled and looked so good—that is, no dirt, no messed-up hair, no apparent bruises.

      “Matt. Come in. How are you doing after—after everything?”

      He brought in a blast of crisp, fresh air with him. The first car with day care kids pulled up right behind him, but Char got him inside before the storm of little squealers hit. “Hi, Miss Tess. Where’s Miss Char?” she heard as she led Matt down the hall.

      “Bad timing, I guess,” he said. “Do you help out here?”

      “I have but, actually, just if I have free time from my new job. And I’m moving out today.”

      She indicated they should go into the living room while Tess herded the children into the large play area. “Do you have kids?” Char asked, then felt maybe she’d overstepped by asking about that right away. Might as well ask if he was married. “Tess loves to teach kids, but I prefer standing up for their rights,” she rushed on as they sat side by side on the sofa. “I’m not quite as much hands-on as she is.” She bent one leg up on the seat and turned toward him. He tilted inward, too, throwing one arm across the back of the sofa, almost touching her shoulder.

      “To answer your question, no kids. No wife, either.”

      “Oh. Well, I’m so glad you are looking good—okay, I mean.” She felt like a babbling idiot. Usually, she was in control with women or men.

      “I’d be happy to take a load up to your new place. Or I could get a Lake Azure truck—one that’s not totaled—to deliver some of your things. Actually, I came to ask something. First of all, I’d like to take you to dinner, and second, I heard from Gabe and Jace that you need to visit the McKitricks up on Pinecrest. I do, too. Yesterday I was taking clothes and food up to the family of Woody McKitrick, our head groundskeeper, who died tragically in a fall.” As he shook his head, she realized he was thinking he could have, too.

      “I heard. I’m sorry. I knew that would make my visit there harder. Jemmie McKitrick, the six-year-old I’m concerned about, is Woody’s grandson. I knew he’d be missing his grandpa and, evidently, the family’s major breadwinner. The boy’s father was wounded in Iraq and doesn’t work, gets minimal checks to support the grandmother, mother and Jemmie.”

      “Yes, Sam, Woody’s son, has post-traumatic stress disorder. Woody said that Sam wants to go out hunting the enemy all the time, and he’s disappeared in the middle of the night once in a while. They’ve had him treated at a VA hospital, but he’s still not—not right. So I thought it might work out that, as soon as I replace the things I’d bought for them, which I plan to do today, we could call on them together. At least the money I had to help get them through the winter was in my jacket pocket so that wasn’t lost in the fire.”

      “Sure, we could go together. I’d be trying to help them in a different way, getting Sam and his wife Mandy Lee, to agree that

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