Broken Bonds

  “I’m hoping they go home for the entire Thanksgiving weekend to give us time to have Clint retest. I’m tempted to tell them to go picket the Hear Ye folk since Bright Star’s the one who sold EEC that huge fracking site. Let B.S., as you call him, quote them a few lines about biblical bitter waters.”

  “Matt, I’m sorry you got pulled into all the Lockwood tragedies.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” he said as they left Lacey and her protestors behind. “I’m the one who sounds bitter, but ever since I almost went off that peak up on Pinecrest, panic’s been building inside me. I’m trying to control it, I guess by controlling things around me too much. I—we—should just leave things to Gabe, but I can’t. I swear, someone pushed Woody off a cliff and almost me, too, not that it was the same person. Char, if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll find out who and why.”

  24

  During dinner at Kate and Grant’s that evening, Brad managed to be the life of the party. They’d only had a glass of wine with the meal but the way Grant was frowning and Kate was rolling her eyes, it was pretty obvious Brad had arrived with something already in his system. Char wondered if Royce knew Brad drank as much as he did. Still, he was a clever, funny drinker, not a sloppy or goofy one.

  “We’re hoping,” Kate said as she cut carrot cake and kept plying Brad with coffee, “Brad settles down soon.”

  “Double entendre,” Brad said, and winked at Char. “Grant and Kate would like me to lose my evening cocktails and find a good woman. So, are you taken, Char?”

  “Taken with Matt Rowan, if not by him. We’ve only known each other a little over a week.”

  “Well, that’s about how long our grandparents knew each other before he proposed, right, Grant? But then, he was going off to war, so that sped everything up. She waited for him while he almost got killed more than once. But times are different now. Got to admit there are pros and cons about playing the field.”

  “Speaking of which,” Grant said, “are you still dating Ginger Green at Lake Azure?”

  Char almost dropped her fork. Ginger had had a fling with Brad, too, as well as Orlando and Royce and who knew who else? But not Matt? Could she trust that? She still had the feeling, now backed up by DNA, that Ginger had shot those arrows because she was jealous. Or maybe she was angry because Matt refused her obviously skillful seduction powers. But would Ginger hire someone to try to push him off a cliff over that? Some piece of the puzzle was missing, but she saw her chance to learn something more from Brad, even if it wasn’t about fracking pollution.

  “Did Ginger teach you archery?” she asked, stirring cream into her coffee.

  “Ha! Sure. It gave her an excuse to get her arms around me. And she said my aim at her target was good, just what she liked, and—”

  “Brad—” Grant cut him off. “Listen, bro, you’re right on the edge so—”

  “We’re all right on the edge, aren’t we? Much closer than we think.”

  He stared down Grant, then Kate, then Char. Did he intend a hint about Woody going over the edge? Matt almost had. No, she was reading too much into things again to think Brad had anything to do with all that. She was exhausted and needed a good night’s sleep.

  Kate shook her head at Brad’s philosophizing. Char couldn’t wait until he left so she could excuse herself and go call Matt about Ginger’s links to another possible partner in her crimes.

  * * *

  Shortly after Brad left—Kate had made him drink two more cups of coffee and walk a straight line, especially since it was starting to snow again—Matt arrived.

  “A business call, but pleasure, too,” Matt said as Kate brought him in. He smiled at Char, then sobered. “Okay, everyone, announcement time. Gabe just called to say that Grace Lockwood gave a deposition claiming that she believes Brice ‘Bright Star’ Monson had motive and means in her husband’s death. Meanwhile, though, I think we’d better sit down for this next piece of news, especially since you ladies look so happy,” he said. Char took his coat as Kate handed him coffee and cake and they moved into the living room before the fire.

  “What?” Char asked. “What’s B.S. done now?”

  “According to Gabe, he’s threatening to press charges against you for coercion and abduction.”

  Char bounced up from the couch. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! He’s the one who does that again and again with poor gullible people!”

  “Which is more or less what Gabe told him. Gabe thinks that’s a smoke screen. Bright Star’s looking for something to bargain with since he’d do anything to avoid having to take a lie detector test, make a sworn statement or ever get into court, so calm down, sweetheart.”

  She sank back beside him on the couch. “Easy for you to say, since you’re not on his possible hit list. But, at least, now that he’s shown how he thinks threats like that will hold us off, I feel better. After telling Gabe that, he doesn’t dare send his robots to harm me.”

  “You know,” Kate said, “if he and some of his acolytes were dead and buried and someone dug them up ages hence, they’d never know how screwed up and evil he really was.” She looked out the large, back window toward the mound tomb.

  “Char, you okay?” Matt asked, putting a hand on her arm.

  “All three of us Lockwood girls had run-ins with that horrible phony messiah,” Kate said. “I hope this at least shuts him up—and at best, closes him and the Hear Ye cult down. Matt, did Gabe tell Bright Star that Grace is standing up to him and might bring down his house of cards?”

  “He informed him of the accusations and Bright Star claimed she had to be coerced. He said he’d get a lawyer and heads would roll.”

  “Sounds like the old days where Marie Antoinette supposedly said, ‘Let them eat cake,’ and they cut off her head,” Kate said.

  Grant threw his arm around her. “Let’s not go there. Besides, Matt’s eating cake.”

  Matt just grinned and went on. “And, oh, yeah, Ginger still claims she didn’t shoot an arrow at me or Char. I’m not looking forward to seeing her at work tomorrow. What? Why are you all looking like that?”

  “Brad let slip tonight that he and Ginger were recently more than friends,” Char said.

  “Well, join the club, and I don’t mean me. But we don’t accuse people of shooting arrows because they go from man to man. I just can’t believe Ginger’s to blame for that.”

  “They were skillfully shot, and she’s good at it,” Char said.

  “Hey, almost forgot one piece of really good news, partly why I came over. I know I could have called, but I wanted to see Char. It’s all set for the six of us to have a private room for Thanksgiving dinner at the lodge. I hope Brad has other plans, so we’re not leaving him out.”

  “He does,” Grant said. “He’s going with Royce and Orlando to Columbus. Change of scenery, I guess.”

  “Speaking of which,” Kate said, “let’s turn out the lights in here, cherish the moment and watch the snow fall outside. It’s beautiful.”

  They did that, the four of them, seeing the snow swirl past the window until Matt said he had to go. Char walked him out, even donned a coat so they could stand out in the magical darkness together.

  “I don’t want you to go,” she said, though the wind tried to whisk her words away.

  “I’d like to take you with me. You’ve been a vagabond, sleeping here and there when I only want you to sleep with me.”

  “Yes—I... Me, too. But everything is happening so fast.”

  “Darn bulky coats,” he whispered in her ear, but held her tight, anyway. “And let’s stay away from the front doors and windows,” he said, moving them a few steps away into deeper darkness. “At least there’s nowhere someone can hide close by to send an arrow our way into the door or wall.”

  He warmed her lips. He warmed her. The soft, thick snow was a blanket protec
ting them, wrapping them in white, hiding them from other eyes. For once, she didn’t feel they were being watched. She clung to him, kissed him back hard. The blowing, twisting snow—no, it was Matt’s hands and kisses—made her dizzy. She was giddy with glee that they had found each other. She wanted to run, make snow angels, a snowman, throw snowballs, play Grace’s game of fox and geese....

  “Gotta go,” he told her. “What snow? What cold? I think we’re in the tropics, and that’s just where we should go when this is all over.”

  “That’s where Kate and Grant are going on their honeymoon—St. Croix,” she blurted, then remembered that was supposed to be a secret. “Oh, don’t tell them I told you.”

  “I won’t. I need to catch Royce tonight before he heads back to Columbus tomorrow, maybe have a quick word with Orlando, too, start to mend fences, since he may know more about the fracking than I realized. He’s always thought I was an idiot not to get into it.” He kissed her again, hard. “See you tomorrow,” he said, but still kept his arms around her. “I can pick you up here, but you’re not going up Pinecrest with Henry again, are you?”

  “Not with all this new snow. I’ll have to make my other calls on ‘should-be’ students on Friday, if I can still walk after that turkey dinner you promised. Yes, see you tomorrow. And you did call the gas station like you said to get them to hurry those new tires, right?”

  “I’ll call in the morning. I still don’t want you going anywhere alone.”

  “Have you found out if the picketers really left for the holiday?” she called after him as he walked to his car, and its lights flickered as he unlocked it. The interior dome light popped on. Out here, his car lights seemed so awfully bright.

  “Evidently they’re real people with families, too. Any more questions? If we’re out here much longer, Kate and Grant will send the sled dogs for us. But I wouldn’t even mind an igloo with you.”

  “Why, Matthew Rowan, I believe that’s the most romantic thing you ever told me—and it rhymes, too.”

  “Then how about ‘I have things to do but I’ve come to love you.’”

  “And the next line—Me, too!”

  He trudged back through the thickening snow and kissed her again. “Damn sister chaperones,” he muttered, glancing toward the house before he headed back to his car. “I’m going for a ride, get the hell back inside,” he called to her with a shouted laugh.

  Despite her worries and fears, she hugged herself for pure joy as he drove away and she went back inside.

  * * *

  When Matt called Royce on his cell to see if he could drop by his suite at the lodge, Royce told him he was playing pool in the lodge rec room, so Matt went there. He saw that Royce had failed to mention he was playing with Orlando, but he steeled himself to be upbeat with both of them. No one else was using the other table in the room this late and in this weather, so Matt figured it was a good time for some serious talk.

  He gave a quick squeeze to Royce’s shoulders and offered his hand to Orlando, who barely managed to cover his surprise, before they shook hands. “So who’s winning?” Matt asked.

  “Orlando knows to let me win—a lesson that’s been lost on you,” Royce said with a grin, and leaned over the green felt table with his cue stick to neatly hit a ball into the side pocket.

  At least Royce was smiling, Matt thought, though his words hit home. Did it mean more? Matt was having the same problems lately that Char had—overanalyzing every little thing.

  “So what’s new?” Royce asked. “We’ll be done with this game pretty fast, then you can get in with us.”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m happy to report the Green Tree army must have decamped for the holiday.”

  “As we all must,” Royce said, nodding. “Veronica is missing me. I want you to meet her, Matt. Not sure if I’ll bring her here or take you there. When I’m here, I work and worry too much.”

  “About the fracking?”

  “This trip started out because you almost got shoved off a cliff, remember?”

  Orlando’s shot bounced off two edges of the table and went in, too. He looked up. “Any leads on that from your end, Matt?” he asked.

  “I’m working on it. I thought I should tell you both that Ginger has been questioned about the arrows, one that just missed Char and me and the other that just happened to get stuck in the back of my house. Ginger’s DNA is on the arrows, but I don’t think it was her, just that someone took her arrows. There’s no motive and it doesn’t sound like her to draw a skull and crossbones and write crudely printed, misspelled threatening notes—or note,” he corrected himself, because surely she had nothing to do with putting one in his burned truck. “I think it’s someone who wants to shut me up or keep me in line, but for what?”

  Royce sighed and rechalked the tip of his cue stick. “I’m just hoping someone’s not trying to get to me by hurting you. That’s why I put Orlando on your tail, and, yeah, I should have told you—asked you. So how’s Charlene? Bright Star’s furious to lose a couple of cult members, but I told him not to blame her.”

  “He called you?”

  Royce frowned and nodded. “He has this weird idea—like most of his thoughts—that we’re still partners when we’re not. He sold me the land for an excellent price, it helped him out—that’s all.”

  “He’s threatening to hit Char with charges of trespassing and abduction for helping her relatives leave.”

  “No way,” Orlando said, almost with a sneer. “He’d never want to step into a court of earthly law. That guru has his own laws.”

  Matt turned to face Orlando. “You’ve tangled with him?”

  “Mere observation,” he said, turning away.

  Matt was tempted to call it spying, but then, didn’t that mean Royce ordered him to watch or confront Bright Star?

  The three of them played one game of eight ball, then Royce called it quits and said he was going upstairs to his suite. “Can’t be out of gas with Veronica when I get back tomorrow,” he told them with a little laugh. “Orlando, we’ll head for the big city about 9:00 a.m. See you for breakfast at the lodge before then, Matt. And speaking of lady loves, how’s Charlene? You didn’t answer me before.”

  “She’s fine. I know it’s fast, Royce, but she’s the one. I can’t help worrying about her all the time. It puts everything else in a new perspective.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Royce said, coming back to put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Let’s the three of us—you, me, her—have dinner when I get back next week. I wouldn’t mind a wedding here at the lodge, then some little kids to play with when I come visit over the years. Well, don’t mean to be pushy or jump the gun on all that.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been reading my mind,” Matt said. Ordinarily, he would have left when Royce did, but he wanted to patch things up with Orlando—and find out how much he was really involved in overseeing the fracking here.

  “Just remember,” Royce said as he headed for the door, “I’ve known you since you were born, my boy.”

  When Royce was gone, Orlando said, “Brad mentioned you stopped by the big fracking site today. Any questions I can answer for you? Brad’s more or less in charge of local site purchase, and that’s all.”

  “He mentioned I could talk to you. You know everything Royce does about it?”

  “Not really, but enough. Royce is my business, so fracking is, too. Is there a problem—other than the fact you don’t give Royce his proper due or respect? At least tonight you leveled with him about how much Charlene Lockwood means to you.”

  “I’m trying to build bridges, Orlando, not burn them—and not get another lecture from you. I know how valuable you are to him, so I regret telling you off after you followed Char and me up on Pinecrest.”

  Orlando’s cue ball broke the new triangle of balls with a click and a series of mu
ted thuds. “Believe me, I had better things to do. But how valuable am I to him? Let’s just say I’m working on that. It’s you who is sitting on a fortune and don’t seem to know it. You could actually use someone like me to help you out.”

  “You mean, running Lake Azure?”

  “I mean,” he said, slamming the big end of his cue stick on the floor, “that you’re the chosen one, the golden boy. You’re his heir to everything, and I think you should start acting like it, go along with what he does, who he likes. And yeah, that means you and me have to get along good, so thanks for the handshake and the apology.”

  “I do value all he’s done for me, our relationship.”

  “If so, you’d back everything he does and that means the fracking. It’s not enough to chat with the Green Tree bunch to get them out of here. He has enemies, so maybe they went after you.”

  “Listen, Orlando, I don’t have to—”

  “I’m out of here,” he insisted, punching his cue stick back into the rack on the wall. “See you when we get back. I’m having turkey dinner with my widowed sister, but maybe you and I can talk turkey when we get back.”

  Without another look or word, the man strode out.

  Matt leaned stiff-armed on the edge of the pool table, staring at the scattered balls. You’re his heir to everything? Did Orlando mean in Royce’s will, or that he was executor of his estate or what? Why did Orlando know stuff like that if he didn’t? Because Royce wanted Matt to care for him for other reasons?

  He jumped when his cell rang. He dug it out of his shirt pocket. He saw it was Gabe calling.

  “Gabe, it’s late. Everything okay?”

  “If you call eighty-seven members of a religious cult going nuts okay. Bright Star’s missing. Several of the Hear Ye brethren who called me insist he’s ascended into heaven and won’t be back.”

  25

  “Bright Star’s missing?” Matt asked Gabe. “No clues where he’s gone?”

  “I’m going out there now. I called Char. This may be a ploy to flush her out, so I told her to stay put until I get a handle on this. But I think his flock is genuinely upset. Some of them aren’t even making sense, but what’s new about that? One guy, Brother Stephen, said like he must have gone out to meet with Moses and Elijah and flew away, ascended from the mountain.”