Broken Bonds (10 page)

11

T
he dinner with Matt at the lodge was far different from their date at the French restaurant. Although they had a quiet table in an alcove of the dining room facing the large fireplace, people knew him and many came by to say hello.

Char soon discovered Matt was an everyman—problem solver, font of information, enforcer, friend. She loved people, but she was introduced to so many her head spun. And, despite herself, she secretly resented having to share Matt’s attention.

“There you are, Matt,” a cute redhead said as she walked by, evidently looking for someone she didn’t see. She was dressed as if she were ready to go skiing with tight pants and a sweater with deer and pine trees on it. “I got your note. What do you want to know about the arrows I make?”

“Ginger, this is my friend, Charlene Lockwood. Char, Ginger is our archery instructor and sports director, except for the golf course.”

“You all are right about that,” she said in an exaggerated drawl that Char quickly realized was not a put-on. “But soon as I get
your
job,” she added, smiling and punching his shoulder, “I’ll manage the golf course, too.” She winked at Char. “Just teasing now.”

“Char’s house-sitting for the Mannings for a while,” Matt explained.

“Lovely people. Well, Matt, anyway, bring me the arrow, and I’ll try to answer your questions. Is it one I made?”

“I don’t have the arrow, but I’ll bring you a drawing of it. You aren’t meeting Royce for dinner, are you? He said he was coming here tonight.”

“Water over the dam, that man. Sad to say, I was just a fill-in-the-blank after his last divorce. His Majesty’s in here somewhere, though. He gave Orlando the evening off, so I’m stuck with him for a drink uptown. Doesn’t talk much and I do, so that may work out. See you later, then. Nice to meet you, Charlene.”

When she sauntered off, Matt apologized. “Sorry about all the intrusions. If you want, tomorrow I can just bring food from here to your place or mine.”

“That would be fine. By the way, my sister Kate invited both of us to dinner sometime soon, if you’d like to go. You should see the archaeological dig she’s supervising—dirty but fascinating.

“So Ginger makes her own arrows?”

“Shoots her own pheasants and wild turkeys, uses those tail feathers, and, I think, buys some.”

“Matt, sorry for sounding paranoid, but she wouldn’t shoot at us, would she? You don’t have to answer this, but could she have a personal interest in you, then she sees us together...”

“No! You heard who’s had a relationship with her here. She aimed pretty high, though, like she said, it didn’t last.”

“Aiming high—a good way to talk about an expert archer. So she and Royce—”

“Did I hear my name?” a familiar voice behind Char asked. Royce walked up to their table, on his way out of the dining room. His shadow, Orlando, walked on by with a nod instead of stopping, too. Maybe that’s who Ginger had been looking for. Then Char saw Brad Mason. He stopped a moment at their table. She remembered that he’d moved into Lake Azure now, so he could be around anytime.

“We have to stop meeting at restaurants,” Brad said with a smile. It seemed to Char he’d had a bit too much to drink. “Good to see you both again—together.” He winked and headed away.

“Good evening, Matt, Charlene,” Royce said.

“You two have met?” Matt asked.

“Today, at her cabin. We’re also partners of a sort,” Royce said, putting his hand on Matt’s shoulder. When Matt looked confused and frowned at her, Royce continued. “I made Charlene an offer to help with her work for the mountain kids, and she suggested the donation of a van to deliver them to school each day—and a local driver.”

“And when were you going to mention that?” Matt asked her.

“Royce said he’d tell you, so I assumed he had. I hope to have a suggestion for the driver soon.”

“Orlando will drive the new van in from Columbus,” Royce said. “We’re in business. Matt, I just hadn’t had time to tell you yet, and I did promise her I’d fill you in. I’m glad to see you busy tonight with so many residents stopping by, but don’t let that—or me—keep you from your lovely dinner partner.”

He smiled at Char, squeezed Matt’s shoulder and moved away.

“I would have told you right away, but we’ve been interrupted a lot, and he did say he’d tell you.”

He leaned forward over the empty dessert plates and coffee. “Char, the man has been great to me over the years, before and after my dad died, but once you are in bed with him so to speak—”

“You don’t have to put it that way! And if you care for him, trust him...”

“My gratitude to and affection for him doesn’t mean I completely trust him. And be warned he’s a ladies’ man.”

“I got that idea from Ginger.”

“Let’s just say her, three wives and countless others.”

“Get real. He would never be interested in me that way, and he’s old enough to be my father.” She almost accused Matt of sounding jealous. And as much as that annoyed her, she liked it, too. As for Royce Flemming, her deal with him was going to make a big difference in some young lives—and that didn’t include hers.

* * *

The next morning, Saturday, Char decided to go to the holiday market on the town square, despite the fact that Tess had called to say she was too queasy to go with her. Ah, Char wondered, was there always a price to pay for something good?

Matt had been in a silent huff last night when he took her home. He had not come in or kissed her. She’d been surprised how much she wanted to be kissed again. Ever since that arrow had hit her cabin, he was being too possessive and overly protective. And he was riled she hadn’t immediately blurted out to him that she’d made a deal with Royce. He should just be happy the new bus would help Jemmie McKitrick. Matt had said they could still go up on Pinecrest together when he took Woody’s cap to the boy, but that might be just because he didn’t trust her out on her own again. After all, he was the one who’d been in danger on the mountain. So despite the magnetism between them, there was friction, too.

She drove to the gas station, for once not the old, familiar one uptown, but the new one near Lake Azure. She was here for two reasons. She needed gas, but Tess had mentioned that Gabe had ordered Matt’s burned-out vehicle to be hauled here. Though it was a total wreck, Gabe was going to go over it again, looking for signs of scraped paint from the other truck or fingerprints from someone who could have tossed that weird note into the front seat. She was curious to take a look at the wreck up close.

She noticed the gas was more expensive here than uptown, but why not? People at Lake Azure probably didn’t blink an eye over prices. But wasn’t all the local fracking supposed to keep oil and gas prices down?

After she filled the tank and moved her truck, she walked around back. Matt’s truck sat forlorn, so broken with its black, charred, crumpled metal. She could still smell gasoline and smoke. A web of neon-bright police tape surrounded it so she could only look through the driver’s-side door which had once read Lake Azure, Inc. She shuddered. At least something good had come out of this. She’d met Matt; now if they could just get along and stay safe.

She turned to walk away and saw a man watching her, someone she didn’t know. She went on the alert.

“Miz Lockwood?” he said. He was thin, with beard stubble, dressed in worn jeans and a plaid flannel shirt that surely couldn’t keep him warm in this weather. “Henry Hanson, ma’am. Come here to ask for a job, but they don’t need no help. The Mrs.—Elinor—said you wanted to have words ’bout Penny, ’bout her missing school. I seen you were here.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, but, not wanting to be back here alone with him—had he been following her?—she walked to the front of the station near her truck. He walked that way, too. “But how did you track me down here, know it was me, Mr. Hanson?”

“Penny said you got you a state sticker on the back of your black ’06 Dodge Ram truck, license with letters and number 400. Penny, she’s smart, I’ll say that, but we need her to home. Can’t get her down to school no more. I mean, I got a truck, but gas costs, and without my job at the other gas station, it just don’t work out.”

Yes, thank you Lord, for a clear sign about this,
Char offered up a quick prayer. He’d said he come here to the gas station to get a job, and she could provide that. But should she? Was this too much of a coincidence? On the other hand, didn’t this prove something good could come out of a wreck?

“Mr. Hanson, if you had a steady job and a way to get Penny down to school and back safely, what would you say then?”

“Well, when pigs fly— But sure, if’n Elinor can manage the young’uns alone.”

“I take it you have a valid driver’s license and experience driving up on the mountain, even in the winter.”

“Well, yes, ma’am,” he said, cocking his head and squinting at her.

She hesitated for one more moment. Elinor had said this man knew how to hunt with a bow and arrow. It still seemed strange that he’d found her here, especially behind the station near Matt’s wreck. And he could hold it against her that she wanted Penny in school rather than ‘to home.’ So, just to be sure, she decided to quiz this guy so she could report to Matt and maybe even Gabe.

“I know this sounds like a crazy question, Mr. Hanson, but when you use the bow and arrow, like Elinor said you’re skilled at, where do you get your arrows?”

“I done taught a few friends to shoot. The job—you need arch-ry lessons?”

“No. I’m just interested in arrows. My sister has excavated a few prehistoric ones from the Mason Mound—arrows made by the Adena.” Darn, she knew she was making a mess of this, way in over her head now. This man might be uneducated but he had street sense—well, mountain sense.

“Promise not to tell what I done, ’cause it’s not quite on the up-and-up?”

He was going to confess to something. Her heart pounded.

“Who should I not tell?”

“You’re sister-in-law to the sheriff, ain’t you?”

Of course, that could be another reason this man didn’t like her. She was related to and working for the law, the government.

“Oh, all right,” he said when she hesitated. “If somethin’s thrown out, it’s not stealing. Not proud of Dumpster diving, heading out at night to get things others don’t want, food back of the grocery, stuff out behind the Walmart on the highway. For the arrows—I get them out of the trash can by the arch’ry range at Lake Azure, fix ’em up a bit, good to go.”

Char didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This man raided trash cans to feed his family—and took Ginger’s arrows to hunt for meat—and she was afraid he was a would-be murderer? At least this time she’d tell Matt right away what she’d decided to do.

“If you can drive a van, I might have a job for you driving it as a school bus. Of course, you’d need to have a driver’s license and have a background check, be tested on some driving laws by the sheriff or his deputy, but I think we could make that happen pretty fast.”

The smile of relief he gave her made her feel she could trust him with the van, with the kids—with her life.

* * *

Matt took his crude sketch of the arrow and went to find Ginger. He wished he’d asked the sheriff for a photo, but then he’d have to admit to Gabe and Ginger he was doing some serious detective work on his own. Ginger Green—Royce once kidded her she was named for her red hair and green eyes—was hardly a suspect, despite the fact she was a skilled archer. It’s just he was hell-bent to find out if she could have made the arrow that had just missed him and Char.

He’d racked his brain over who would want to kill him on the mountain and if it could be linked to the arrow attack. He kept coming back to the fact it had to be tied to negative feelings about Royce’s fracking company. Maybe one of the locals thought he was partners in that, too. Surely, people were past pent-up passions over the “rich folk” invading the little town of Cold Creek. With the local PR he’d done, he supposed he was the poster boy for that, however much charity work he’d done in the area.

And no way did he believe the arrow was to hit or scare Char. He was the common denominator—that is, if the two totally different incidents were related. He was really annoyed at Royce for suggesting Char had “just happened” to come along to help save him, and that she’d try to ask for something in return. Yet the sly fox had offered her carte blanche and, typical Char, she’d asked for something to help the mountain folk. He shouldn’t have been angry with her over that. He had to admit he’d acted like a jerk last night, but the woman got to him in all kinds of ways.

Ginger’s car was parked behind the lodge. It was midmorning and chilly, so he didn’t expect her to be giving a lesson on the archery range. He figured she must be in her office, a small wood-shingled building between the range and the tennis, volleyball and shuffleboard courts. He was ready to knock on the door when he heard sounds from inside. Panting. Moaning. Was someone in distress?

Just before he pounded on the door, he realized what the sound was. Man, had it been that long since he’d heard the sounds of sex? “You idiot,” he muttered, meaning himself, not Ginger or whoever was with her. But she was on duty this morning, so he could nail her for that. Besides, this was midmorning, and anyone could walk in on them.

Yeah, he’d talk to her all right, but he didn’t want her to get so upset she wouldn’t answer his questions about the arrow.

He walked to the range and waited behind one of the large, straw-stuffed bull’s-eye targets. Since residents could come here to use the range or courts, Ginger was really over the line with this. He rolled his eyes as he saw Orlando leave the office, straightening his shirt collar and jacket. The guy always looked neatly attired. He emulated the way Royce dressed, only for less money. Royce paid Orlando well, but Matt always sensed Orlando felt he was worth more, though the guy kept a tight rein on his opinions and emotions.

But Royce had said Orlando had an Italian temper. The only time Matt had ever seen that was years ago when he’d made the mistake of using his first name, Gordon. “Don’t call me that!” he’d shouted. “No one’s supposed to even know that, so the boss shouldn’t have told you! I hated my mother and sisters calling me that, and the kids at school in Orlando mocked me with it, like ‘He’s off his gourd.’ Then they always called me Gordo.”