Page 49 of Peak Suspicion
“You might as well try it,” Ryan said. “He’s already decided not to donate. If you can’t change his mind, we’re no worse off. And you might succeed.”
Carter nodded. He wasn’t a climbing expert. He didn’t have medical training. He wasn’t particularly strong or technically proficient or possessing any of the other skills that stood out to him as valuable to the organization. But he could talk. “I’ll try,” he said. Sometimes his words made a difference. Maybe this would be one of those times.
Chapter Fifteen
Local Man Confesses to Writing Harassing Letters
By Tammy Patterson, Examiner Staff
Edward Anders, 61, has confessed to being the author of a rash of anonymous letters sent to various residents of Eagle Mountain over the past few weeks. The letters accused people of various petty crimes and code violations, many of which proved to be unfounded.
Anders was apprehended after a doorbell camera captured him tacking a letter to the front door of the home of Martin and Tina Robinson. Anders’s letter accused the Robinsons of putting trash in their recycling bins.
Anders, the father of high school coach Mitch Anders, defended his actions, telling sheriff’s deputies that he wanted to show people that everyone breaks the law, but most of them go unpunished. Anders has been released on his own recognizance, pending a sentencing hearing.
The following Friday morning Ed Anders’s arrest made front-page news in the weekly edition of theEagle Mountain Examiner.Mira, who was largely recovered from her concussion, sought out Shayla at school. She was collating worksheets in her classroom. “How is Mitch?” Mira asked. “Is he very upset about his dad?”
“He’s concerned, of course.” Shayla arranged the second sheets of the handout on top of the first sheets, face down. “Andfeeling guilty that he didn’t realize what his dad was up to. He’s made an appointment for Ed to see a specialist. We think there must be some dementia going on. Why else would he do such a thing?”
“I’m sorry he’s having to go through this,” Mira said. “I’m sure he’s glad to have you to lean on.”
“I hope I’m helping.”
“Have you met his dad?” Mira asked.
“A couple of times. He wasn’t very friendly, but Mitch said that’s just his dad’s personality. He’s very gruff, and I guess he’s in a lot of pain. He has terrible arthritis and can hardly walk. I worry about him driving his old Jeep around town, but Mitch says he never goes far.”
“I suppose the judge will take all of that into consideration when he sentences him,” Mira said.
“I hope so. Mitch did say his dad had some trouble with the law when he was younger. He didn’t elaborate and I didn’t want to pry.”
“The paper didn’t mention that.”
Shayla began stapling the stacks of worksheets together. “I get the impression it was a long time ago. Anyway, as horrible as this is, it’s brought Mitch and me closer together. We’re seeing a lot of each other.”
Mira handed her the next set of papers. “What do your parents think?”
“They’re not happy. But they’re trying to be subtle. My mom is trying to fix me up with the nephew of a friend. She keeps sending me pictures of him and talking about how successful and handsome he is and how interested he is in meeting me.” She wrinkled her nose. “So what if he’s all those things? Mitch is the man I’m attracted to. You can’t fight fate.”
Mira didn’t know if she believed in fate. She was attracted to Carter, but she blamed hormones more than destiny. Nothingwrong with hormones. It was a relief, after all this time, to know that that part of her was still alive. But she wasn’t going to pretend there was some supernatural force bringing the two of them together. It was enough for her that he was a good man who treated her—and everyone around him—well. He made her laugh and sigh and the fact that he had a gorgeous body didn’t hurt, either.
The ordeal with George had vanquished all the stars from her eyes. She hoped she saw more clearly now.
Joel Chessman agreedto meet with Carter and Danny at his home in a picturesque canyon above Eagle Mountain on Saturday afternoon. As they wound up a paved drive to park near the front door, Carter stared at the house constructed of massive blocks of stone that seemed to emerge from the mountainside. Joel—he said to call him Joel—greeted them at the front door. A thin, graceful man with blond hair shot through with silver and a Vandyke goatee, he answered the door dressed in jeans and a loose linen shirt, barefoot, and led them into a home office with a wall of glass that offered a view of the snowcapped San Juan Mountains and colorful canyon walls.
“We wanted to thank you for your support of Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue for the past several years,” Danny began.
Joel settled onto a leather sofa across from the club chairs he had directed them to. “A good friend of mine was saved by search and rescue when he fell while climbing in California,” he said. “I realized how important the work was. I read an article in the paper about how the local organization was struggling to raise money for equipment and I wanted to help.”
“You’ve been a big help,” Danny said. “We received your letter that you had decided to contribute to other causes and wanted to find out if we had done something to offend you.”
“Not at all. I think you’re a fine organization. I’ve just decided to shift my focus to other causes. To spread the wealth, so to speak.”
“What kind of work do you do?” Carter asked.
“I’m a project management consultant. I mainly handle big infrastructure projects.”
Carter nodded, trying to look as if he had any idea what this man was talking about. “Maybe you can help us in another way,” he said. “With advice instead of money.”
