Page 47 of The Last Grift
“Honestly”—assholewas implied—“being here is against my better judgment, but Gordon’s Elton’s friend and is nowhere to be found, and now Dwayne is very much dead. Elton thinks the sheriff will be looking at Gordon for it. From what I know, I think the same.”
Lundin scowled. “Well, shit. No way did Gordon MacDonald kill Dwayne Perkins.” He snagged another sock off the floor and started to pull it on. “But, damn, this changes things.”
“Why?”
“I discovered Gordon’s truck last night. It was late so I didn’t call Elton. Damn, I should have.” He rose to his feet—taking up more space—and paced from the table to the gallery area andback again, running his hand through his mussed hair as he did so.
Focus, Chance. You don’t like him anyway. He’s boorish.
He was. But Gabe suspected that’s why he found himself drawn to him.
“Where was it?”
“Down an embankment off one of the back roads. But he wasn’t inside.”
“That’s good, right?”
Gabe did not want to be the one to tell Elton that Gordon was dead.
“Maybe. He could have been disoriented and walked off the cliff. The airbag deployed, and I think there was blood on the driver’s side door. The marine rescue guys were going out at first light to see if there’s evidence he went into the water. I haven’t heard anything one way or the other yet.”
Gabriel shivered. He didn’t like to think that Gordon—or anyone— might have drowned in those cold waters.
“What do you think happened?” he asked. “Is it possible that Gordon killed Dwayne and then ran off the road?”
Lundin shook his head. “Like I said, he’s not a killer. Maybe he cuts some corners, speeds in school zones, and doesn’t say anything when a checker charges him for two donuts but he really has three—but he is not a murderer. Until I hear otherwise, I am going to assume he’s alive. The way the truck went off the road—well, if it had been going full speed, it would’ve ended up in the water, so it’s very possible he survived.”
“Okay, so he’s alive. And maybe he deliberately made it seem as if there’d been an accident. So he’s hiding out? Or what? When I met him, he told me he’d been to jail.” Gabriel knew how Elton viewed the situation but wanted to hear what Lundin had to say about it.
“That.” Lundin scoffed. “Trumped-up bullshit that he’d been attempting to grow marijuana without the right license. It’s a tragedy that he was sent away or arrested in the first place. Fucking Rizzi runs the county like he owns it. He likes to throw his weight around and for some reason, Gordon is in his sights.”
“That seems to be Elton’s opinion too. We need to find Gordon first.”
Lundin returned to the cushioned bench seat and sat down to pull a well-worn pair of lace-up leather hiking boots out from under the built-in table. He pinned Gabriel with a long, piercing look, then said, “What’s your part in all of this? You aren’t from around here. You don’t know Gordon MacDonald. What are you getting out of this?”
For fuck’s sake, the guy made it absolutely fucking impossible for Gabriel not to fantasize pushing him overboard. Splish, splash. Although then Gabe might have to endure watching him change into dry clothes, which was not the direction his thoughts needed to be headed.
“I’m worried about Gordon too,” he ground out. Probably, he needed to practice deep-breathing skills when he was around Lundin. Or avoid him entirely. The little voice that he was doing his best to ignore resisted that second idea. “We need to find him before the sheriff does.”
Gabe figured he wasn’t the right person for a full-on man hunt, but if he didn’t do something, Elton would take matters into his own hands, and Gabe didn’t like the idea of that.
The old man has some wiles, you’d better act quickly, Chance.
“What are you doing here on Heartstone Island, or in Twana County?”
Lundin had finished tying his boot and abruptly rose to his feet again, this time purposefully moving into Gabe’s space.
Intimidation was not going to work on him, no fucking way. Gabriel held his ground.
“That’s for another time. Trust me on that.”
Lundin cocked his head at Gabe. “Why do I think you’ve said that a lot in your life and not meant it?”
Gabriel shrugged with a casualness he didn’t feel. “Fine. Talk to Elton. If he wants to tell you what he knows about me, I can’t stop him. Back to the matter at hand, you say the sheriff has it in for Gordon. Any specific reasons?”
Lundin shot him one last laser glare before glancing around. He plucked a set of keys off a hook set into the paneling and held them lightly. The keys rattled against each other as he shook his hand, which made the dog jump up from its bed and run to the door.
“This conversation is going to take longer than I have right now. It’s just me in the office today and I have to at least check in.” He looked thoughtful. “If it were anyone else—and I do mean anyone—other than Elton who’d sent you my way, I’d tell you to get out of here. And, sooner rather than later too, I need to let Elton know about finding Gordon’s truck last night.”
