A Life for a Life - Lynda McDaniel (whitelam books TXT) 📗

Jake grabbed a spot at the foot of the bed. We were finally alone. I’d told my story for the last time (at least for that day), but that didn’t stop me from replaying it over and over. I kept hearing Brower barking orders at the clearing.

He’d swaggered around the scene, looking at me with suspicion and telling Gregg O’Donnell to stay out of his way. His head shaved in classic jarhead fashion, Brower was one of those former Marines who never got over it. He treated everyone in the county as though we were inexperienced recruits in need of a dose of Semper Fi.

“Back off, Brower,” Gregg said for no specific reason, other than because someone needed to rein him in. Gregg was usually cool-headed, but Brower could’ve made a coma patient angry. “Cleva Hall called me because she didn’t know what else to do. None of us knew what had happened—or where. We all thought this happened on Forest Service land.”

Gregg was being kind, not mentioning that I’d written Laurel Falls Wilderness on the note Jake delivered. That’s how he got involved. How was I to know I’d wandered into land owned by the state? That made it Brower’s responsibility. He hadn’t dealt with a real crime since Adam’s Rib was robbed, and he was enjoying himself. Never mind a young woman was dead.

Actually, I was glad I hadn’t known. I was grateful it was Gregg who arrived first. He got out of his truck and threw his arms around me, holding me tight while I tried, unsuccessfully, not to cry. He told me Jake had stopped at Cleva’s—her land lay on his path home—and barked for her to come to the door. I looked back at Jake, closed up in Gregg’s truck so he wouldn’t disturb the scene, and blew him a kiss.

While we waited on the sheriff, Gregg tucked me inside his truck, next to Jake. He handed me an army-green blanket and cranked the heater to high. I started to thaw. I put my arm around Jake and rubbed my face against his, his dog breath like life-affirming perfume.

It took Brower only twenty minutes to show. He grilled me as though I were a suspect, asking me what I was doing that deep in the woods by myself, as though he’d been hanging out with Mildred and her buddies. We went through all the particulars, and he abruptly concluded my interview. “I’m done with you for now. Oh, one more thing. You didn’t touch anything, did you?”

“Just her carotid,” I lied. “I needed to see if she were alive.”

“And just what would you have done if she were?” Brower asked, his lip curling.

“CP frigging R.”

Brower glared. He never liked me, mostly because I’d bought Coburn’s. I’m sure he and his father (who owned the SuperMart out on the highway) had been rubbing their hands together as Coburn’s faltered. By the time it went on the market, the store was a dusty relic of its glory days, not unlike the old tractor slowly returning to the earth outside of Vester’s barn. Brower’s father put in a bid on the store, but Vester chose mine. And since I’d begun to draw customers back, Brower must have figured I was a threat to his inheritance. I wished.

“One of my men will drive you home,” Brower said. “I’ll be there in about an hour, so don’t go anywhere.”

“I’ll take her,” Gregg said, climbing into the truck and slamming the door. When I joined him, he took a few deep breaths to check his anger and began driving slowly over the bumpy old logging road. We were both quiet as we made our way out of the forest. Gregg was first to break the silence. “Sorry you had to experience that, Della.”

“Me too,” I said, my voice shaking, his kindness harder to take than Brower’s bravado. I started to cry again. 

Gregg pulled the truck into a turnout and stopped. Jake whimpered and tried to lick my face, but I pushed him away. God, his breath smelled horrible; so much for its life-affirming qualities. Then I remembered he was a hero and hugged him. He tried again, and I let him lick away.

“Well, that helped,” I said, wiping my face and smearing dirt through the tears. I stroked Jake and added, “He’s some dog, isn’t he?”

“That he is. You’re lucky he’s so damn smart. By the way, when I got to Cleva’s, she had him resting on the sofa by the fire, feeding him homemade biscuits.” Gregg looked at his watch. “Speaking of which, would you like to get something to eat? It’s getting on to suppertime.”

“I’m not very hungry. Besides, I’ve got to be back for Brower.”

“To hell with Brower. You need something to eat. You got a bad chill out there.” He looked over, his mouth twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “And I have to admit, I’m starving.” He drove us to Geri Cantwell’s—one of the best diners in North Carolina, just outside the park perimeter. It made all the guidebooks and rarely disappointed. I was starting to look forward to some of her homemade chicken soup when I saw all the cars in her parking lot.

I couldn’t face all the questions. “Do you think people know about this by now?”

“Does a wild bear shit in the woods? They knew a couple of hours ago, I’m sure,” Gregg said. “Jake’s antics are legendary. Word of that alone spread fast. Add in a dead body, and it reached the speed of light. How about we get it to go? You can lie on the seat so no one sees you.”

“What will you tell everyone?”

“Oh, that I took you home, that Brower froze me out, and they’ll have to pester him with their questions. That’ll shut ‘em up.” He did smile that time.

Somehow I got Jake to hunker down in the floor of the cab, while I stretched across the wide vinyl seat of Gregg’s government-issue Ford Ranger. Next thing I knew, Jake’s bark startled me awake. I peeked over the dash as Gregg approached with a large brown bag. Jake must have been spooked because Gregg was one of his favorites. No one in the diner seemed to notice, though, and we eased out the driveway and headed toward home.

As Gregg pulled in the store’s driveway, he cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I come up and wait with you?” he said. “I know Brower doesn’t want me around, but I’d like to make sure this goes the way it should. I don’t trust him.”

“I’d love it. Oh, and let me pay you for the soup.”

He scowled so hard I felt the tug of a smile myself. “That’s a good sign,” Gregg said. As he opened my door, he added, “Oh, and just FYI, Brower may be better than the alternative. If the girl had died on Forest Service land—and it was deemed a crime—the FBI would be called in. Hard as it may be to believe, you might have an easier time with our sheriff.”

I nodded, though I couldn’t imagine that. The three of us headed up the stairs, Jake happy to be out of the truck and back home. Me, too, even if a long evening lay ahead. 

“Well, Jake, that’s one for the record books,” I said, as I turned out the light on my bedside table. But he was already asleep after his heroic day. I was hoping to join him, but I stared at the ceiling for hours.