Overkill(40)

This spot beneath the falls represented to him healing springs. At his lowest, he would venture down here seeking validation and rejuvenation, and somehow had always garnered the will to make the more difficult hike back up.

The falls were roaring. The boulders beneath the cascade created furious white water. Zach took a minute to admire the raw and unbridled energy of the churning waters. He then turned to look downstream, where the current’s ferocity abated. Yet for miles it continued its inexorable tumble over rocks worn smooth by millennia of aquatic polishing.

He’d stood in this spot hundreds of times before, admiring the beauty of it all, marveling over nature’s endurance, its permanence in defiance of cataclysmic upheavals. It never failed to awe him. Today, it also cemented his resolve.

He began his arduous uphill trek and cut one full minute off his time.





GreenRidge Incorporated had carved out a half moon of forested acreage on which to situate its regional headquarters. The sales office was the only completed structure. Home models were in various stages of construction; workers were on site. Temporary buildings and portable restrooms were lined up along the arced perimeter of the clearing.

Zach parked in front of the office. As he entered, he had to admit it was classy. On his left was an elaborate coffee bar. On his right, a counter stocked with soft drinks, bottled water, and bowls of fresh fruit. In dead center was a reception desk, which no one was attending. The mountain face was on display through a wall of windows, but he noticed that the unsightly grouping of portable toilets wasn’t in view.

A young woman appeared through an open doorway on the coffee bar side. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone had come in.”

“Just now.”

She walked over to him and formed a perfect southern-girl-with-grandma’s-pearls-and-manners smile. “I’m Penelope.”

“Zach Bridger.”

Her scarlet lips formed a perfect O, and she became flustered. “Oh. Uh, Mr. Bridger. Welcome. How can I help you?”

“Penelope, I’ll take it from here.” Zach turned toward the voice. A man stood in the doorway through which Penelope had emerged.

Looking like she’d just been thrown a life preserver, she said, “Mr. Parks is our GM. He’ll help you.”

“Thank you.” Zach approached the man, who held out his right hand to him.

“Mackey Parks,” he said as they shook hands. “No introduction to you is necessary. Come on back.”

He was fiftyish, with ruddy cheeks and thinning hair, paunchy in the way of men who toil for long hours at a desk but never break a sweat. He led Zach into an office furnished much like Zach’s home: mountain chic, perfectly suited to the mountain setting without taking on corniness.

Zach sat in the tartan plaid chair he was motioned into. It was one that formed a circular grouping in front of the window. Parks sat and gave Zach a lengthy and unabashed appraisal. Zach was about to ask if he’d passed inspection when Parks said, “I’ve hoped that someday I’d have the pleasure of meeting you. I confess to having been a huge fan.”

“‘Having been.’ Not so much a fan now.”

Parks chuckled. “You’ve been a pain in the ass.”

“I wouldn’t be if you’d leave me alone and stop sending people to my house.”

“We covet your side of the mountain and want to buy it.”

“It’s not for sale.”

“Money is no object.”

“Money is irrelevant. I won’t sell for any amount. Period. End of that discussion.” Zach leaned forward in his chair to mark a shift in topic.

“As much as I object to what you’re doing over here, I would never destroy or damage your property. I haven’t sneaked over here in the middle of the night with a can of spray paint. I haven’t broken any windows or torn down signs, none of that.”

Parks tilted his head and looked at him curiously. “I don’t understand.”

“Stop siccing Dave Morris on me.”

“The deputy sheriff?”

“Yeah, him. The one with the hat. We’ve had two encounters, both antagonistic. I told him the first time he came snooping that I had nothing to do with the vandalism going on over here.”

Parks seemed both stunned and defensive. “Well, I’m glad to know that, but your denial is unnecessary, Mr. Bridger. Nobody in this organization has suspected you of such.”





Kate was used to the sound of other lodgers’ cars coming and going past her cottage, so she thought nothing of hearing one arrive until there was a knock on her door. She went to the window and pulled aside the curtain. Zach saw her and chinned a greeting.

Trying to ignore the spike in her heart rate, she let the curtain drop back into place then unlocked the door and opened it.

He said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Too early to come calling?”

“No. I’ve been up.”

“Am I disturbing?”

“I’m packing.”

“Heading back to Atlanta?”

“Last night you told me you didn’t want to be rushed while making a decision about Rebecca. I can’t stay here indefinitely, so I’m going home to await further word from you.”