Blue Ridge Hideaway

“You want to tell me why you wanted me to look up this woman? She do something to you?”

“No. Actually it’s the other way around. What I mean is, I’m trying to clear up a problem she had with my father.”

“So I don’t need to suggest a warrant for one Dorinda Howe?”

“Not necessary. I can handle everything from here.” And besides, he thought, thinking of the spare bedroom downstairs, I know right where she is. Or where she’s supposed to be.

“Okay. I’ve got some facts about your Miss Howe. In the past year she’s gotten a speeding ticket and some parking fines. She’s also had some credit problems dating back a few years. Been late on payments and once was turned over to collection. As far as criminal activity, though, she’s not even a blip on our system.”

“That’s good. But it sounds like she’s got a problem handling money, like maybe she could be in some kind of trouble.”

“I suppose. Still, I don’t show anything specific here. But I don’t want to think of you tangling with her younger brother. That kid has a rap sheet that’s been building for a while.”

“She has a brother? So he could be a problem.”

“Not right now,” Rob said. “He’s locked up tight as a tick in Broad Creek, so you can put him out of your mind.”

“What did the kid do?”

“Let’s see here. Jack Howe—let me scroll down. Joyriding in someone else’s car, vandalism in a public park, some petty robbery, stuff like that.”

“And for these crimes he’s in Broad Creek?” Bret asked, knowing the maximum security prison was for serious offenders.

“Hang on. I’m not at the bottom of his stats yet,” Rob said. “The most recent stuff is at the end. By the way, how’s the leg?”

Bret automatically placed his hand on his thigh, an involuntary reaction. He tried not to favor his right leg first thing in the morning. Pain after a night of immobility was common, and he just had to walk it off. “Getting better,” he said. “Giving the injury a good workout by climbing ladders and replacing shingles.”

“Someday I’m going to come up there and visit your slice of paradise, Bret. Sounds like just the R and R I need.”

“Hope you do that, Rob. I had cops in mind when I bought the property. Cops and overtaxed corporate execs. No better place to release tension than this old lumber trail.”

“Sounds good. Tell your boy I said hi. How’s he doing?”

Bret knew his friend was truly interested, but he didn’t want to delve into the honest answer to that question. Luke was due back in a couple of hours, and Bret was anxious about how his son would react to being on the mountain again, especially after a week with his cousins, cable TV, nonstop video games and Happy Meals.

Luke didn’t openly complain about the life he now shared with his dad on the mountain, but he often hinted that he wished things were different. Bret knew the kid had issues, both with the death of his mom and the recent move.

“He’s doing fine,” Bret said, wishing, hoping, it was so.

“Whoa!” Rob said. “Here’s something of interest.”

“About Jack Howe?”

“Yeah. He’s in Broad Creek on suspicion of robbing a convenience store. Says here somebody got plugged.”

“What?”

“I gotta go, Bret. The precinct captain is calling me. I’ll make a copy of everything the brother is in jail for and call you back.”

Bret wanted more details but he knew he couldn’t keep his friend from his duties. He simply said, “I owe you, Rob. Thanks again.”

He disconnected, slid his cell phone into his pocket and headed for the stairs. His heart pounded when he hit the last step, and he speculated about the exertion of the past few seconds. Why was his pulse racing? Was he concerned about the level of crime Jack had committed? He had to face Dorie this morning. And he wouldn’t jump to any conclusions until he had all the facts.

* * *

SHE STOOD AT the counter, her back to him. She apparently didn’t hear him come in. Dressed in a yellow sweater, faded blue jeans and yellow sneakers, she brightened up his drab old kitchen like a sunflower that had just taken root in his pine flooring.

“Good morning,” he said.

She turned. Loose hair brushed her shoulders. Strands caught the dawning sun coming in the window and reminded him of dew on petals. Bret couldn’t take his eyes off her. Jeez, where was all this poetic nonsense coming from this morning? Sunflowers, dewy petals. Mountain life was turning him into Longfellow.

She dropped coffee grounds into a mug. “I found some instant. Hope it’s okay if I make a cup.”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask. I’ll brew a real pot if you want me to.”

“Not for me. I use instant at home. Can I get one for you?”

“Thanks.” He pulled out a chair and sat. “How’d you sleep?”

She turned back to her task, and he watched the subtle movement of her shoulders as she poured water from the kettle. “Fine. Better than I thought I would.” Carrying his mug to the table she said, “I had everything I needed and more. Forty-eight rolls of toilet paper, thirty-six paper towels, Kleenex, a case of bug spray...” She stopped and smiled.

“I told you that room was used for storage.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Did the sounds of our mountain creatures bother you?”

“I found them rather soothing in a way.” Then, as if worried she appeared too complimentary about the accommodations, she backtracked. “Of course, I’m anxious to get back on the road. I’m not much of a country girl.”

“Sure. I understand.” He added sugar from the bowl on the table and stirred. He noticed she left her coffee black.

She took a sip. “So...where are we this morning on this plan of yours? You think it through?”

Right to the point. “I did. Can I ask you something?”

“I guess. As long as I don’t have to answer. You’re not asking as a cop, are you?”

“No. As a friend.”

She gave him an odd look he couldn’t interpret for sure, but he figured it meant she didn’t think of him that way.

“Are you in some kind of trouble, Dorie? Maybe financial trouble?”

She eyed him over the rim of her mug. “Now that sounds like a cop question to me.”

He chuckled. “Old habits. But I am curious. I have the money to pay you. Despite being in debt over this place, I have kept an emergency cash reserve. The money’s in the bank in town. But this being a Saturday, the bank will be closed. In Mountain Springs, our banks keep true bankers’ hours. I won’t be able to get the money until Monday.”

“Is your check good?”