Overkill(16)
Just as he did, a familiar vehicle pulled up behind the deputy’s.
Inwardly Zach groaned. This day would go down in the record books as being majorly shitty.
Chapter 7
Kate couldn’t fathom what a sheriff’s unit was doing here. Friendly call or official business? She got out of her car and passed between the rock columns into the yard.
No, not friendly. At all. The tension between the two men was palpable. Forcing herself to smile, she said, “Hello, gentlemen. You two know each other? Am I interrupting?”
Zach stood on the porch in the deepening shadows, a mute and antagonistic presence. But the deputy was smiling as he ambled toward her. “Hi, Kate.”
“Hello, Dave.”
“What brings you up here?”
“I have business with Mr. Bridger.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s so.”
Since it became apparent that she wasn’t going to elaborate on the nature of their business, he said, “How was the trout?”
“Great! Grilled to perfection, just as you promised.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Thank you for the recommendation.”
“Anytime.”
Zach still hadn’t spoken a word, which was unnerving and provoking, but unsurprising considering their previous encounters. She continued smiling at the deputy. They’d been introduced shortly after her arrival in town. Since then they’d seen each other often enough in and around the DA’s office to put them on a first-name basis.
He said, “Have you tried the zip line yet?”
“I haven’t worked up enough courage.”
“Nothing to it. I could show you the ropes. So to speak.”
She gave the expected laugh.
“But we need to do it soon,” he said. “They shut down at Halloween and don’t reopen till Easter or so. Check your schedule. Let me know what day is good for you.”
Her eyes flicked toward the porch. “I will, thanks.”
He put on his hat and brushed the brim. “See you soon then. Be careful on these roads. They can be tricky for anyone not familiar with them. Don’t get caught up here in fog.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “See ya, Bridger.”
“You bet.” He made the two words sound like Not if I can help it.
Kate called up to him, “I’ll be right with you. I need to get some paperwork out of my car.”
She and the deputy walked together toward their parked vehicles. He said, “Isn’t it after your office hours?”
“I had a full schedule today. Business spilled over.”
“What business have you got with Bridger?”
She kept her smile in place, but stated firmly, “Confidential.”
He took her answer with grace, but said, “Watch yourself with him. He’s not a pleasant person.”
“He’s suffered some very unpleasant experiences.”
The deputy gave a snort of disdain. “Hard to work up a bleeding heart for the MVP of the Super Bowl.” He looked down at her as though expecting a response. When he didn’t get one, he said, “Well, anyway. Bye now, Kate.”
“Bye.”
He walked to his truck and climbed in, giving her a little wave as he drove away. Kate opened the passenger door of her car, but it wasn’t paperwork she retrieved.
Flat rocks imbedded in the grass formed a pathway to the porch. She made use of it and, reaching the bottom step, hefted a bottle of wine by the neck. “I brought this.”
“What for?”
“To drink?”
“Haven’t you heard? I’m a drunk.”
“Okay then, I’ll drink the wine and you can be broody and bellicose. But whatever, we’ve got to talk.”
“We finished talking.”
“We just got started.”
“Whatever it is can keep till—”
“No, it can’t. In fact, time is running out.”
“On what?”
“Eban Clarke is a flight risk.” Which was the truth, just not the whole truth.
“He’s out. No provisions. He can fly wherever the hell he takes a mind to go.”
“That’s right.”
“Then what—”
“The sun’s gone down and it’s getting cold out here.” She lifted the bottle again. “Are you going to invite me inside?”
He kept her waiting for about ten seconds, then mumbled something that had the word bellicose in it, and turned to face the front door. He punched a code into the keypad on the jamb, the lock clicked, and he pushed open the massive door and motioned her inside.
There were no lights on, but when he depressed a wall switch, lamps from various points around the vast room came on. “Oh my,” she exclaimed. “This is gorgeous.”
“Thanks.”
She walked forward several steps, then stopped and made a slow three-sixty. The walls of the room were comprised of split logs held together with cream-colored mortar. It had a massive fireplace on the wall to her right, and a wide, open staircase attached to the wall on her left.
In between, area rugs created islands of color and pattern against the hardwood floor. Directly in front of her was a two-story wall of windows that provided a view of the gorge and the waterfall in all their glory. A second-story gallery encompassed the room on three sides.