Page 47 of Bait and Switch
“Oh.” She waved a hand dismissively before swiping at her nose again. Gabe really wanted to hand her another, less damp, paper towel. “He needed them to do something up at that development of his, Snowcap Estates. They didn’t tell me what it was, they never wanted me to worry. Such good boys.” She sniffled again.
“Snowcap is going to be a beautiful place when it’s all said and done,” Elton said with false enthusiasm. “Eli’s lucky to be a part of the investment team.”
“Our sheriff’s a dark horse, isn’t he? Eli’s been part owner of that land for ages. I think he bought into it back in the nineties. He’s just been waiting for the right time to develop it. Honestly, I thought they’d have built on it by now.”
“Snowcap Estates was owned by an LLC. Trillium, I think?” Elton said casually.
He was good. Very good. Gabe had to give the old man credit where it was deserved.
He’s a keeper, Chance. Smooth like a Chuck Mangione song.
“Oh, it is,” Kelly confirmed. “That’s the main company, although there are others involved. I don’t know all the details, but like I said, Eli owns more than just some lots at Snowcap Estates. He’s got some property along Icicle Creek and further south too. One of the things Calvin and Dwayne do is keep an eye on everything for him. If somebody trespasses, they run them off or whatever.” Her odd eyebrows drew together. “I don’t know who all is involved, but I’d bet Emmett Spurring is because if Eli jumps, so does Emmett. Thinks Eli hung the moon. Calvin got himself arrested a while back, but Emmett smoothed it over before Eli even showed up. Whatever happened, it was just a misunderstanding.”
Neither one of them corrected Kelly to the past tense when it came to her younger son. Thank fuck, because Gabe wasn’t sure he could handle her breaking down in tears again if she didn’t have a fresh tissue. He eyed the disaster she clutched in her fist, willing her to throw it away.
“It sounds like both boys have been a great help to you and Eli,” Elton said. “Now, can we be a help to you and take the boxes to the post office for you?” He looked at his watch. “We should get over there. They close soon, I think.”
SEVENTEEN
Casey
Late afternoon, Wednesday
“At least theyaren’t injured, or worse,” said Greta.
Her voice was tinny. The signal was weak, which meant the connection could drop at any time. But Casey had his partner on speaker so they could bitch about most of a whole fucking day wasted, searching for people who hadn’t wanted to be found until they were ready. But since their families hadn’t been in on the plan, they’d reported them missing. Worse, when they were found, they were in a somewhat compromising position. Why couldn’t it have been Tor or one of the other searchers who happened upon them? Casey had the worst luck.
“If I’d known what we were walking into, I would never have kept going. I’m not a prude?—”
“You kind of are,” Greta interrupted.
“—but I don’t need to see somebody’s ass and definitely not two somebodies’ bare asses. It would serve them right if they sat in nettles or worse. Sadly, it’s too cloudy and dark for sunburns.”
Greta snorted, agreeing with him.
What a waste of resources, that was what enraged him the most. They’d lied about where they were going to be, lied about their return plan, and consequently had wasted time and resources that could’ve been spent on a real emergency. He wished he could see their expressions when the fine landed in their mailboxes. It was going to be a significant sum.
The not-missing hikers were “social media influencers,” a term Casey hated with a passion just on general principle. What did that even mean? The two had deviated from their original course and hiked out to a bridge that had been built back in the 1930s by a now defunct timber company. It was one of just a few of its kind in the country, as well as the fourth highest bridge on the West Coast, almost four hundred feet above Icicle Creek. So, yeah, it was dramatic, beautiful, awe-inspiring. Casey loved it up there, just standing on the bridge deck and taking in the natural beauty that surrounded it.
The bridge was popular for many reasons: the view, the drama of the creek running below it, its remote location. At night, it was one of the darkest places on the peninsula, so it was also great for astral photography. During last year’s auroras, the Forest Service had been forced to station a ranger up there just to keep too many people from crowding onto the bridge. Which he entirely blamed on the aforementioned influencer types that he hated. Those people were why it often felt like there was nowhere sacred, nowhere peaceful and truly quiet anymore.
The area around the bridge was not, as far as Casey understood, a place to strip naked and fuck the bejeezus out of each other in a snow-covered field. Or to pose stark naked, backlit only by moonlight, pressed up against the railings. All on video for private subscribers. At least, that’s what one of them had admitted once Casey and Greta caught up with them. After they’d gotten dressed.
“It’s winter and with the snowfall, we figured no one would come up here.”
Some things Casey would never understand.
“Oh, but the stories we have to tell our grandchildren,” Greta said, her evil snicker carrying across their cell connection.
“Not having kids so can’t have grandkids.” He steered around a crater-sized pothole while managing to avoid a tree trunk that leaned perilously over the road.
“Come on, you’d be a great dad, Casey. Speaking of which, when do I get to meet Gabriel?”
The change of subject was uniquely abrupt, but Casey shouldn’t have been shocked by it. Greta had been building up to this. For some reason, she was dying to meet Charming Fucker and had convinced herself that Casey had finally found someone who would hold his attention for longer than a day or two. She wasn’t wrong, but not for the right reasons.
“Er, Gabriel?” He still tripped over his new neighbor’s name. “We haven’t done anything, we aren’t… anything. He irritates me, full stop. Why are you talking children when what I really want to do is drop him in the bay?”
Unbidden, the fire from the night before drifted into his thoughts. Gabriel’s panicked pounding on the side of the sailboat waking Casey up from an R-rated dream. Then finding the subject of his dream with the stupid cat wrapped up in a blanket and clutched to his chest, two boats in flames behind him. Recalling the scene made Casey’s heart shudder and skip several beats. But that would’ve happened to anyone. Right? Fire was scary and when you lived on a boat, it was terrifying.
