Page 50 of Peak Suspicion
Joel looked interested. “What kind of advice do you need?”
Carter leaned forward, carefully choosing his words. “We offer our services to people for free,” he said. “And everyone involved with Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue is a volunteer. But like any other business, our expenses increase every year—from the cost of electricity for our headquarters and gas for our vehicles to the price of medical supplies, climbing equipment and training. We receive a small amount from the county and a little from the state. We sell T-shirts and bumper stickers and hold various fundraisers but we don’t really have a way to generate money beyond asking for donations.”
“You need an endowment that will generate funds every year,” Joel said.
“That would be ideal,” Danny said. “But where would we get the endowment?”
“You’re asking the wrong question,” Joel said. “The better question is what would you do with the endowment if you get it?”
“That’s why we need someone like you,” Carter said.
“You need more than one someone. You need investment advisers. Preferably a firm that specializes in nonprofits.”
“Do you know someone?” Danny asked.
“I might. And I probably know some people who would be interested in investing in your organization. I’d be willing tomake another contribution, too. Get enough big donors and you could set a challenge and ask for matching funds. You raise half the money you need through smaller donors and the larger donors contribute the rest.”
“That sounds ideal,” Danny said. “But can we really get together the funds to make that happen?”
“It won’t happen overnight,” Joel said. “But eventually, you wouldn’t have to depend so heavily on donations. If you go about this in the right way, you can build a fund whose earning could support everyday operations for years to come.”
“That sounds like a great plan,” Carter said. “We’d appreciate your help—both your expertise and any funds you could contribute.”
“What changed your mind about contributing?” Danny asked.
“I was sure you were coming to see me today with your hand out, asking for more money,” he said. “I wasn’t offended by that. I’m used to it. But you surprised me. You didn’t ask for money, you asked for advice. You valued my expertise as much as my cash. That got my interest. If you’re willing to meet with me again, I think I can help you set up a plan to put you on a better financial footing and ensure a more stable future.”
“Yes,” Danny said. “We’re really eager to learn what you and any advisers you can recommend have to say.”
Joel stood. “I’m excited about this, too. Thanks for coming today.”
“Thanks for seeing us.”
“You did great,” Danny said when he and Carter were back in his car.
“All I did was ask a question.”
Danny grinned. “You seem to have a knack for asking the right questions.”
Trisha Isbell kepta close eye on her children. She made sure they wore bike helmets and never let them go to the park unless they were with her or another parent. Since the local kidnapping attempts she had scarcely let them out of her sight. No more riding their bicycles around their quiet cul-de-sac. They played inside or in the backyard.
But a break in the septic line had rendered the backyard off-limits while repairs were being made. And the lure of a sunny Monday afternoon had seven-year-old Noah and his five-year-old sister, Riley, begging to go outside and play in the front yard. Anna finally relented. She took her lawn chair out with her, parked it in the shade of a pine tree and watched as the children chased each other in a game of tag. She smiled as Noah deliberately slowed his steps to allow Riley to catch up with him. “Tag, you’re it!” she shouted gleefully.
From somewhere in the house she heard her phone ringing. She must have left it on the counter again. She should let it ring out, but she was expecting a call from their insurance company about a bill she had protested. She glanced at the children. Noah was pursuing Riley now, making roaring noises and pretending to be some kind of animal. A lion? Or maybe a bear?
She had to get the phone. With a last glance at the children, she hurried inside. There was the phone, on the kitchen counter. “Hello?” she answered, hoping she didn’t sound too out of breath.
“Mrs. Isbell, I’m calling about the bill you questioned.”
“Yes, thank you for returning my call.” She hurried to her desk, and pulled the bill from a pile of papers there.
She was making notes in the margins of the bill and listening to a convoluted explanation from the woman on the other end of the line when the screech of tires on the road outside distractedher. Then a child screamed. Not just any child.Herchild.
She dropped the phone and raced outside, banging her knee painfully on the porch railing as she hurtled down the steps toward the curb, where Noah struggled with a black-clad figure at the open driver’s door of a white SUV. Riley stood beside them, wailing. Never slowing down, Anna grabbed the nearest weapon she could find—a scooter one of the children had left in the driveway. Raising it over her head she brought it down on the man’s head.
He swore, and shoved the scooter back toward her, toppling her over. But she managed to wrap one arm around Noah and drag him with her. “Riley!” she shouted. “Run to the house!”
For once, Riley didn’t hesitate, but raced across the lawn and through the front door Trisha had left open. The man jumped back into the car and sped away.
