Ghost River by Jon Coon (romantic books to read .TXT) 📗

“I’d love to play poker with him,” Gabe said. “He was lying through his teeth about the inspections and Wilson Corbitt. I’ll bet breakfast Rogers never made the first inspection dive. And I’ll bet lunch Overstreet knew it.

“He flinched when I mentioned Corbitt’s name. He knows. Now all we have to do is prove it.” Gabe turned to the window and watched the sky turning black. “If we hadn’t lost Charlie we could have had a disaster worse than the one you read about in New York. We’re going to need inspections on every bridge McFarland touched. And I pray to God none of them are in as bad shape as ours.”

Dinner that night was burgers, a venison blend, which Carol failed to mention in the hope of avoiding the conversation with Emily and Mickey about eating Bambi. The men cooked, Zack taking charge of an old Weber grill and Paul and Gabe fixing fried potatoes, onions, and peppers in a large electric skillet. The wind continued to build. Paper towels had to be chased across the yard. They ate inside with root beer floats for dessert. During dinner Gabe gave the daily update. It was discouraging at best, disheartening at worst.

Once the girls cleared and washed the dishes, out came iPads and laptops. “Okay,” Gabe asked, “what do we know about McFarland Construction?”

Mickey began, “Two enterprising brothers founded the company, oddly enough named McFarland. Riding the tide of a surging post-war economy, the company flourished until the early nineties when both brothers, then in their late seventies, were killed when their private plane crashed on a Canadian fishing trip. Ownership passed to one of the brothers’ widows, Mary McFarland, who later married Mitchell Conners.”

“Wait, wait,” Zack said. “Read that again.”

“Ownership passed to . . . uh . . . Mary and Mitchell Conners,” Mickey read.

“I have a great aunt named Mary Conners. My granddad’s sister.”

“How convenient,” Gabe noted. “Would they, by any chance, be related to Congressman Conners?”

“Yes, they are. He’s my great uncle. But they don’t talk to my side of the family. Not since my dad died.”

“Still, you have an impressive family tree, Zack,” Gabe said. “Having a congressman run interference could make stealing the government’s cookies a whole lot easier. And it explains why your mom didn’t want your dad making trouble for McFarland or your granddad. Now how can we use any of this to solve our murders? McFarland builds crappy bridges, crappy bridges collapse. What have you got on the accidents?”

“Five accidents in the last ten years. Jacksonville, Escambia Bay, and Georgia. Georgia was six months ago. I’m still looking for details of the one in West Virginia.” Mickey said.

“Fatalities?” Gabe asked.

“Escambia Bay, an eighteen-wheeler lost when a span collapsed during a hurricane. Let’s see, Jacksonville, yes. A truck and two cars lost when two spans collapsed. Again during a big storm.”

As though to add to the drama their silence was broken by a resounding thunderclap and a nearby flash of lightning. Rain began hammering the tin roof like kettledrums. The dogs added to the racket, crying at the back door to be let in. Gabe nodded to Emily, who grabbed a towel and went to their rescue.

Gabe checked the weather app on his phone. Radar showed the front moving in quickly. The temperature dropped. Rain found its way through untended holes in the roof. Pots were deployed, a fire built, and the dogs, out of the doghouse and with a nearly natural scent, were toweled dry.

“Will you have to go?” Carol asked. She put the wet towels in a trash bag to contain the lingering odor of skunk.

“Most likely,” he answered.

“I remember how excited Charlie was about being able to help with disaster relief. He loved the paramedic training and swift-water recovery work you all did. But it terrified me every time he was called out. Are we safe here?” she asked.

“The floor is twelve feet above river level. It’s not going to get this high.”

“You sure?” She looked anxiously over the top of her coffee mug.

“Yeah, best option is to sit tight. This place has been here a hundred years. There’s room in the loft and a roof hatch.” He nodded toward the drop-down stair in the hall.

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m going to call and check in.” Gabe pulled the phone from his pocket and moved to the couch.

“Right. Don’t worry about us,” she called after him. “Go play with your nice little boat. We’ll be fine. I hope.”

Gabe took note and returned to the table with a reassuring hug. “One other thing. I’m worried about Alethea. All right with you if I bring her here?”

“Alethea?”

“Dr. Guidry.”

“Of course. I’ve been hoping to meet her.”

“I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Gabe put on his rain gear and headed to the cruiser, wishing he had his truck. The wind and rain were picking up, and it was hard to follow the dark roads along the river. When he got to Alethea’s, he was glad to see the oil lamp glowing through the window. He parked and ran up to the porch. Cher greeted him at the door, and Alethea welcomed him in.

“I came to check on the roof.”

“I was about to call my attorney,” she laughed. “That roof contractor needs to lose his license.” She hugged him and kissed his neck. Water was pouring in over her bed into buckets already overflowing.

“This is going to be a bad one,” he said. “I’d feel better if you were with Carol and the kids at the camp. If nothing else, you’ll have a dry place to sleep.”

“I’m ready, thank you.”

“What about Cher and Souriciere?” Gabe asked while she handed him her bags.

“Cher is so old I’d be afraid to leave her. Souriciere has seen a hundred storms. She’s a good climber and is probably twenty feet high already. Besides, she doesn’t do well with strangers.

“If you say so.”

“Oh, she doesn’t mind them, it’s the other way around.