Blue Ridge Hideaway

Bret shrugged. “Then you owe her, Pop. And you owe me three grand. That was the deal we made when I lent you the money.” He waited for his father’s reaction, and when the old guy didn’t so much as blink, he said, “And funny thing, Pop, when you arrived here, I asked you about the Crab Trap and you told me there had been a kitchen fire and you lost everything.”

“I might have said that,” Clancy mumbled. “But I was just stalling for time before I paid you back.”

Bret looked down as if he was used to this kind of scenario from his father. “You’ve got the money, right? I mean you obviously didn’t have it in your pocket a few minutes ago when Dorie asked for it, but you’ve got it somewhere, don’t you?”

Clancy stared blankly.

Dorie bit her bottom lip and tried not to squirm. What would she do if Clancy didn’t have the money? There was no doubt he was a weasel, but even a weasel couldn’t lose fifteen thousand dollars in a little over a week. Could he?

“Pop?”

Bret’s gaze zeroed in on his father’s eyes under the ledge of Clancy’s bushy white brows. Clancy shifted away from his son’s stare.

“The money’s in your room, isn’t it?” Bret said. “Or safely in a bank somewhere?”

Tense seconds ticked by until Clancy fisted his hands and made a sound between a moan and a snarl. “Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“I had it for a while.”

Skepticism etched itself in creases around Bret’s eyes. “How long is a while? And what happened to it?”

“I didn’t come straight here after leaving Winston Beach,” he said.

“Where did you go?” Bret’s voice reflected uncertainty, as if he expected the ceiling to suddenly cave in on them. As if he’d experienced other symbolic ceilings caving in during his lifetime. “Pop?”

“I was trying to turn that money into a whole lot more,” Clancy said. “I was hoping to give you that three grand with interest.”

“Where did you go?” Bret asked again. This time the words seemed ground out of some dark place inside his memory.

“I drove up to Mountain City, West Virginia, for a few days.”

“Mountain City?” Bret closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Why did you go there?”

Dorie leaned forward, trying to read both men’s faces. “I know exactly why he went there, Bret, and so do you.”

Bret hammered his fist on the table. “Good grief, Pop. You lost that money gambling!”

“I figured I could turn that fifteen grand into five times that much. I’ve always been lucky....”

“You’ve never been lucky with dice!”

“That’s not true. Why, lots of times I’ve...”

“How much?” Bret asked. “How much have you got left?”

Clancy turned his palms up on the table as if he somehow expected riches to fall into them. “I have...well, I had fifty-two bucks.”

Dorie stood, marched around the table and loomed over him. But at only five feet three inches, her looming capabilities were limited. Still, she was gratified when he cringed.

“Fifty-two dollars?” she said, pulling the bills he’d given her earlier from her pocket. “This fifty-two dollars? This is all that’s left of fifteen thousand?”

He stared at the table. “’Fraid so. I had living expenses for that week, too. Hotels and meals...”

Her entire body tensed before a trembling began in her legs and worked its way through her. She closed her eyes, fighting the desire to strike out physically at the man whose face swam before her, but what good would that do? She’d only end up in the same sort of place she’d visited two days ago when she met with her brother in a dank, gray-walled prison room.

She pictured Jack’s face now and drew strength from the past. Since their father, a shiftless man with no ambition, had left them after Jack was born, Dorie had always been the rational child, the dependable one. Their mother stuck around until Dorie was legally an adult, and then she saw her chance and left. After that, Jack had counted on Dorie. And he needed her now more than ever.

In the visitor’s room at the Broad Creek Correctional Facility, Jack had sat across from her, his hands folded, his gaze imploring her. “What do you mean he’s gone?” he’d asked when she’d given him the bad news about their funds being missing.

“He just up and left after he signed the papers on the Crab Trap.”

“But that’s your money. You earned it!”

“I know, Jack, and I’ve spent the last five days trying to find out where he might have gone.”

His fingers tightened until his knuckles turned white. “And did you? Find out, I mean.”

“I think so. I hope so.” She’d explained about locating one of the regulars from the Crab Trap who’d spent long hours talking to Clancy about whatever old guys reminisced over. He’d been reluctant to tell her what she wanted to know, but finally relented when she made him see that Clancy had treated her unfairly.

He’d told her that Clancy had talked about going to the mountains to find someone he knew. He remembered Clancy mentioning a place called The Crooked Spruce in the Blue Ridge chain. So Dorie had searched for The Crooked Spruce on Google, and come up with one reference only. Somebody had applied for a vendor’s license for a new business in western North Carolina.

After visiting with Jack and reassuring him that she would do whatever she could to get his defense rolling again, she’d packed a bag and headed for the mountains hoping to surprise Clancy at his hideout.

Now, even though she’d found him, she’d hit an even more impenetrable stone wall. She opened her eyes to erase the image of Jack’s face—desperate, sad, knowing she was his only hope. It wasn’t fair. Just because Jack had gotten into a few scrapes, the police seemed to believe he was guilty of shooting and killing a convenience store clerk in Winston Beach. But he’d been almost as much of a victim as the clerk had. Dorie knew that. She believed his story. He was only sixteen years old, her baby brother. She’d taken care of him all his life. She wouldn’t stop now.

She let out the breath she’d been holding and fixed Clancy with her iciest stare. “You’re going to get the money,” she said. “You’re going to pay me what you owe me. I need that money.”

The only sound that registered in her brain was her own heartbeat, pumping blood furiously through her veins. She’d never known she could feel such animosity toward another human being.

Clancy didn’t blink, but she knew he was aware just how fragile her emotions were at this moment, just how close to the edge of rational behavior she felt and how precarious his situation was. He swallowed and ran a finger inside the ribbed neckline of his T-shirt. “It may take a while...” he said.

“I don’t have a while. And I’m not kidding. I’m not leaving here without five grand.”

Clancy darted a look at his son who’d remained silent. And then the old guy sort of smiled, attempting some of that charm he’d used to sucker her into revitalizing his restaurant. “Bret?” Despite his silly grin, his voice quivered on the brink of panic. “Don’t let her near the fireplace poker.”

Bret stretched out his leg, rubbed a hand over his thigh and winced. “I don’t know as I could stop her, Pop.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” she said. “How would I get my money that way? I’m just going to haunt you and threaten you and make your life miserable until I get every last cent.”

Clancy turned his hands up on the table. “I don’t know how...”

Bret rose slowly, as if even that simple movement pained him. He took a few steps toward a doorway that led from the room. “Pop, can I see you in the kitchen?”

“Sure thing.” Clancy stood and strode after his son, moving so fast that Dorie could only conclude that he was grateful to be anywhere but in the same room as her.

“Don’t even think about going out a back door,” she called after him. “You won’t get very far in the dark on this mountain. And I can run faster than you.”