Текст книги "Last Resort"

Автор книги: Jeff Shelby

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ELEVEN

Most of the time, Jake was as even-keeled as they come. It was hard to get a rise out of him. He could laugh off nearly anything. But he did have a temper and it was hair-trigger. When the wrong button got pushed, it was more likely to be a nuclear explosion than a small spark.

I'd once witnessed him back a smug retail clerk into a wall because the kid refused to wait on Will, who was trying to buy a computer cable. The clerk was talking on his cell phone and didn't even acknowledge Will, who was standing patiently at the counter. Jake watched the whole thing and, after waiting a reasonable amount of time, marched over to the counter, took the phone out of the kid's hand and started to let him have it for ignoring Will. The clerk made the mistake of sneering at him and telling him to chill out. Jake verbally took him apart—not abusively but calmly, which was a heck of a lot scarier—until the kid was shaking, apologizing to Will and offering a discount on the cable.

We took the discount.

So to see him wrestling on the concrete floor of the pavilion with Wayne Hackerman made me think the beer-guzzling bozo had probably pushed the wrong button.

I jumped up from the table and rushed toward the DJ table. Jake was on top of Hackerman, pinning his arms to the ground, his face red like a tomato. Pat Benatar's “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” pounded from the speakers.

Irony. Or something.

A camper with red hair with lipstick to match stood poised and ready to sing, a frown on her face as she watched the two men roll around on the floor.

“Get off me!” Hackerman yelled, his face just as red as my husband's.

Jake leaned his weight down on Hackerman. “You gonna keep your hands to yourself?”

“Get off!”

“That doesn't sound like a yes.”

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked. “Get off of him!”

Jake whipped his head in my direction. “He grabbed me first.”

“What are you? Six? Get off him!”

“He grabbed me and told me Springsteen sucks,” Jake said. “He said he'd outlawed all Springsteen here.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Jake had a thing for Springsteen. Man-crush. Bro-mance. Whatever you wanted to call it, Jake had it for The Boss. But I didn't think he was so passionate about his Jersey Boy that he'd take a grown man to the floor for saying his favorite musician sucked. Then again, it was Wayne Hackerman. I thought about the reaction he'd evoked in me earlier that day.

“Springsteen does suck!” Hackerman said loudly, still wiggling beneath Jake. “Anyone who thinks that guy is a musician needs their ears checked.”

“See?” Jake said, his eyes pleading with me. “He won't stop.”

I planted my hands on my hips. “Get off him. Now.”

I must've used my presidential voice, because after only a second of hesitation, Jake let go of Hackerman's arms and stood up. The larger man scrambled to his feet and pulled his shirt down over his gut, huffing and puffing.

He pointed a finger at Jake. “You assaulted me.”

“You think that was assault?” Jake asked. He puffed out his own chest a little. “I'll show you assault.”

“You will not,” I said, grabbing his elbow.

“Assault,” Hackerman growled. “Plain and simple.”

“You grabbed me first,” Jake said. He looked at the guy running the DJ table. “You saw him.”

The man wearing the bucket hat wrinkled his nose, looked at Hackerman, then leaned forward so we could hear him over the music. “You did put your hands on the man first, Wayne. Probably don't wanna do that unless you know you can take care of yourself and, by the look of things, pretty sure this guy here had the upper hand on you—”

“Oh, shut up, Stan,” Hackerman muttered. “No one asked you.”

“I did,” Jake said. “I actually asked him.”

Hackerman shot daggers at Jake with his eyes.

Rhonda Hackerman shimmed up to us, her boobs shaking in a red and blue Twins tube top and her legs poured into ill-fitting denim capris. Her black hair was down from her elaborate hairdo from earlier and she was holding two beer cans. Both of them were open and I wondered if she was drinking for two. “Wayne! What is—” But then she saw Jake and stopped short. “Oh. Hello there. Again.”

Jake ignored her, which was the smart move because otherwise he might've ended up wrestling with me.

“What is going on?” Rhonda asked, looking at her husband and completely ignoring me.

Hackerman jabbed his finger at Jake. “This jackass assaulted me.”

She looked at Jake again and I swore I saw the hint of a smile. “Oh no. That's...terrible.”

“It was,” Hackerman spat. “I came up here to look at Stan's song list and this jackass is standing here, hogging the list.”

“It was on the table,” Jake said, shaking his head. “I didn't even pick it up.”

“And then he started asking Stan if he had any Bruce Springsteen,” Hackerman continued. “And all I said was that I wasn't a fan of that kind of music.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “What you said was 'Ain't no way Stan's playing any of that Springsteen crap  because that music sucks.' That's a direct quote.”

I looked at Stan, who waited a moment, then nodded. Rhonda's eyes were bouncing between the  men like she was watching a tennis match.

“Well, whatever I said, then this fool assaulted me,” Hackerman said. “And I was afraid he was gonna kill me like he did Harvey.”

Button officially pushed again.

Jake took a step toward him. “How about if I take you down to the ground again and hold you there?”

“So hot,” Rhonda whispered to herself. She took a long swig of beer from one of the cans, her eyes never leaving my husband.

I glared at her, then put my hand on Jake's chest. “Look at me.”

After a second, he looked down at me.

“Enough,” I said. “Enough. Let's go.”

“I swear I'll make him swallow his teeth,” Jake said.

“No, you won't,” I said, pressing on his chest. “Because we are leaving.”

“Damn right, you better be leaving!” Hackerman said. “I'm gonna have you kicked out of this place, anyhow. All you've done is cause trouble.” He started looking around. “Delilah? Where are you? I want these people gone.”

“I don't think she can help you right now, Wayne,” Rhonda said, raising an eyebrow.

I turned and followed her gaze. Delilah was passed out on the picnic table, her head resting on the table top, her mouth wide open. She was snoring loudly.

Hackerman didn't seem particularly surprised to see her that way. He pointed at Jake again. “When she wakes up, you are outta here!”

“I'm gonna snap that finger off if you point it at me again,” Jake growled. “Snap. It. Off.”

Hackerman wisely dropped the finger.

“We are leaving,” I said to Jake, enunciating each word. He didn't make a move, just stood there with his arms tight at his sides, his fists clenched. “Right now, if you ever want me to speak to you again.”

Jake stared at me for a long moment, then finally grunted, turned and walked out of the pavilion toward the road.

“So hot,” Rhonda murmured again.

I turned to her. Part of me wanted to snap her fingers off—or her boobs—but I chose a different tactic, instead. “He really is, isn't he?”

She blushed. Maybe she'd thought I couldn't hear her. Or maybe she just didn't think I would acknowledge her comment.

I plastered a bright smile on my face. “You wouldn't believe the kind of sex we have when he's angry,” I told her. Her eyes widened and I added with a giggle, “Can't wait to get back to the cabin!”

I turned away before she could respond, hoping her jealous little mind would fixate on that image for the rest of the night.

TWELVE

The sun streaming in the window warmed my face and I squinted as I tried to open my eyes. Jake and I were both cocooned underneath the sheets. He was flat on his back, his eyes shut tight, his arm tucked behind me. I snuggled in closer to him.

We'd walked back to the cabin after the karaoke night, Jake stone-faced and pissed off. I'd grabbed his hand and asked him to tell me everything that had happened. He told me, his voice measured and even, and I flashed back to the clerk at the store. He said Hackerman had grabbed him first and that he'd had no choice but to fight with him. I believed him. He may have had a hair-trigger temper, but he wasn't a fighter. He'd walked away from plenty of confrontations before. But he was about as mad as I'd ever seen him. He'd downed a beer as soon as we'd gotten back to the cabin, draining the bottle in two long swallows. After, it had taken nearly fifteen minutes for my feminine wiles to kick in and for me to lure him into the bedroom for some much-needed distraction.

If Rhonda had gone back to the black monstrosity and listened closely, she might've heard us.

I hoped she had.

Jake stirred next to me and threw his other arm over my chest. He opened one eye. “Hey.”

I smiled at him. “It wakes.”

He grunted.

“I need coffee,” I whispered.

He grunted again.

“I'm assuming you don't want any yet?” I said.

He closed his eye.

If there was one massive difference between Jake and me, it was that I was an early riser and liked to get out of bed and start the day. He did not.

I kissed his shoulder and slid out from under the covers. I pulled on a pair of shorts and the T-shirt Jake had worn the night before. The scent of his deodorant and aftershave clung to it and I breathed it in, the familiar smells enveloping me. I padded the short distance to the kitchen, the smell of brewing coffee scenting the air. I was glad I'd had enough forethought the night before to set the timer on the pot before we'd retired to the bedroom for camper-rattling sex.

Priorities.

I pulled a yellow ceramic mug from the cabinet, yanked the pot from the warmer and filled the mug. I grabbed the creamer from the fridge and added that to the coffee, silently thanking Delilah for stocking the cabin with food and beverages. And creamer.

I set the carton back on the counter and held the cup to my lips.

And froze.

There was a window above the sink that looked out over the deck.

And on the deck were two men.

One wore cut-off denim shorts and a dirty gray tank top. His long stringy hair splayed out from under a gas station hat that sat backwards on his head. He was short and squat, a small roll of fat visible beneath the tank top. The wish of a beard shaded his bony face.

The other guy was taller, lankier. His black hair was cut in what could only be described as a serious mullet—bowl cut bangs in the front, long curly tendrils down to his shoulders in the back. He wore wraparound sunglasses, a black T-shirt and dirty jeans. I could see the outline of a large pocket knife in his front pocket. He was moving slower than the other guy, disinterested in whatever it was they were looking for.

I ducked beneath the window, set my coffee on the counter and hustled back to the bedroom. I jumped on the bed. “Wake up!”

Jake jerked to a sitting position. “Huh?”

“Wake up,” I said, looking over my shouldering and whispering in his ear. “There are two guys out on our deck.”

He rubbed at his eyes. “Two guys?” he mumbled.

“Yes!” I said, pushing on his back to get him moving. “They're going through the cooler and the storage bench! And they are creepy!”

“I thought you didn't want me getting in any more fights.”

“This is different!” I whispered. “Go see what they are doing. Scare them away or something.”

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “You make them sound like raccoons.”

“Just hurry up!”

He pulled on his shorts and sat there for a minute.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

He looked pointedly at the shirt I was wearing. “Looks like someone else was grabbing things that didn't belong to them.”

I pulled it over my head and tossed it at him.

“I didn't mean...” he began.

I reached for my own shirt and tugged it on. “Shh. No time.”

He shook his head, sighing, but he stood up. I tucked in behind him and followed him out to the kitchen.

The guys were still out on the deck, nosing around.

Jake paused at the kitchen sink, frowned, then walked around through the eating area and living area.

“Are you just going to go out there?” I asked.

“You wanted me to do something, didn't you?”

I felt a little twinge of panic. “What if they're armed?”

He rolled his eyes. “You watch too much TV.”

“I don't watch any TV.”

He yanked the curtains open to the slider. “Then you're just crazy.”

“Hey,” I started to protest but he ignored me.

He jerked the slider open and both of the intruders froze and turned toward the door.

Jake stepped outside and, after a second of hesitation, I sidled out next to him.

“Help you?” Jake asked.

The two men looked at one another, clearly confused. I wasn't sure if it was because they'd been caught or because they didn't understand the question. Or both.

The one with the backward hat said, “Uh, no.”

“Then why are you on my deck?” Jake asked.

“It's not yours,” the one with the sunglasses said. “It's Delilah's.”

“I'm staying here,” Jake said. “At Delilah's invitation. So it's mine right now. What are you looking for?”

They exchanged more confused looks.

“We're lost,” Hat said.

“Lost?”

“Yeah. We were out for a walk—”

Jake stared at the guy in jeans, his eyes zeroing in on the belt buckle looped around him. “You and...” he said, squinting. “Jaw? Is that your name?”

Jaw paled, tugging his shirt out of his jeans and pulling it down over his belt buckle.

Hat's cheeks flushed. “That's not his name...that's his...uh, nickname.”

“Thanks a lot, Chuck,” Jaw sneered. “Jesus.”

“Dude!” Hat, aka Chuck, eyes were bulging. “Now you said my name!”

Jaw's face colored.

“Chuck and Jaw,” Jake said. A thin smile appeared. “Or maybe your name was Jesus? I think I heard him call you both...”

Chuck stared blankly at him.

“I'm gonna go with Chuck,” Jake said, winking. “Anyway, now that we've been properly introduced, let's get back to the question. What are you doing here?”

They looked at one another.

Chuck folded his arms across his chest, trying to look tough. “I told you, dude. We're lost. We've, uh, never been here before.”

“But you know Delilah,” I said, now confident that they weren't armed. I stepped out from behind Jake. “You know this is her cabin.”

Chuck's mouth slid into a firm line and his face turned the color of a tomato. He looked at Jaw, who was getting twitchy and nervous.

“Run!” Chuck yelled.

He took a step, slipped, righted himself and jumped down over the steps on the other side of the deck. Jaw glanced at us, then sprinted after his friend, copying his jump down off the steps. He stumbled when he landed, planted his hand on the ground, got upright again and disappeared around the corner of the cabin.

I couldn't help but giggle.

“Well, that was interesting,” Jake said.

“What do you think they were doing?” I asked. If they were thieves, they were the most incompetent ones I'd ever seen.

“No idea,” he said, yawning. “I'm pretty sure they didn't even know what they were doing.”

“So we shouldn't be worried?”

Jake looked at me. “Worried? Uh, no.”

I nodded. It was weird that they'd been rooting around on the deck but their combined intelligence seemed to be that of a four year-old. It was hard to take them seriously, even if they had been trespassing. And they'd clearly been surprised to find us there and not Delilah.

“You sure?” I asked him.

“We just found a dead body in the woods,” he replied. “Finding two idiots on our deck is the least of our concerns.”

THIRTEEN

Jake crawled back into bed after Chuck and Jaw ran off, begging for another hour of sleep. After surveying the deck and finding nothing amiss, I mocked him, but let him go. We were on vacation and his opportunities to sleep in at home were slim to none.

But it was more than me just being amiable. Sure, I wanted him to enjoy the vacation we were on, especially since we'd gotten off to such a rocky start. I wasn't going to kid myself, though. I wanted him to go back to sleep so I could do my own poking around.

I changed my clothes, brushed my hair, found my sandals and headed for the entrance to the resort.  I wanted to talk to Delilah. I kept my eyes open as I walked, but I didn't see Chuck or Jaw or any other shady characters lurking behind the trees. All I saw were people out for their morning walks, some of them leading dogs or herding kids, and others sitting on their decks or around their campfire rings, sipping coffee. Most offered waves and “good morning” comments but a few people eyed me strangely and I wondered if it had to do with being associated with finding dead Harvey or if it was because of Jake's altercation with Hackerman the night before.

It was probably both.

As I crested the hill, I could just make out the shape of a figure through the main office window. I got closer and was certain it was Delilah, seated at a desk of some kind. I wondered if she'd sobered up from the night before or if she was nursing a nasty hangover. Either way, I was hoping she might be able to help explain a few things to me in order to satisfy my curiosity.

I knocked on the screen door. She looked up and waved me in. I stepped in and the first thing I noticed was that the air temperature inside was the same as the outside. A wall unit AC was crammed into a side window but the cord hung loose and unplugged. The walls were lined with dark paneling and a few framed photos served as decoration. The frames were metal with gold finish, the kind you could pick up at a dollar store, and the glass was spotted and dusty, like they'd been on the wall for years. There were photos of the pool and the club house and photos of lots under construction.

“Good morning,” Delilah said. Her eyes were a little red and she looked tired, but other than that, she wasn't showing any ill-effects from the night before. I was impressed.

“Morning,” I said. “How are you today?”

Her smiled flickered. “I assume you mean how am I doing after tying one on for the ages last night?”

“I was trying to be discreet.”

She clipped a slip of paper to her clipboard. “No need. I know what a fool I must've looked like. But I'm fine today. A few aspirin and a lot of water.” She sighed. “Physically, I'm alright. In other ways?” She shrugged. “Who knows?”

I nodded sympathetically. I might not have known the extent of her relationship with Harvey, but, either way, she'd still lost someone close to her.

She waved a hand in the air. “Anyway. How is your husband?”

“Oh, he's fine. Decided to sleep in.”

“I don't recall much of what went on last night, but I got an earful about it from several folks,” she said. “Sounds like he and Wayne really went at it.”

“No blood was shed, so there's that.”

She frowned. “Wayne can be a little prickly. Keep telling him if he wants to act like he owns the place, he should give me some more money so he can have the title for real.”

She'd unwittingly given me the opening I was looking for. “I wanted to ask you about that. And I hope I'm not prying. I mean, I'm sure I am. But you've been very kind to us and it worried me when I heard it.”

She picked up a pencil and tapped it on the clipboard. “What did you hear?”

“That Windy Vista is...struggling. For money.”

She pursed her lips and her eyes zeroed in on the pencil. “That would be true, unfortunately.”

“Badly?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“I'm sorry,” I said. I hated hearing that she had financial woes to deal with on top of losing her business partner. Or lover. Because I still wasn't sure exactly what Harvey was to her.

She took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. “We probably have six months left at best. I'm tapped out and our revenues are down. And now, when word gets out about Harvey's death, I don't think this will be a real popular place for people looking to park their campers.” She forced a smile on her face. “So yes. We are struggling.”

I suddenly felt out of place. I knew I had no help to offer, no words of financial wisdom to give her, and I certainly didn't have a fat bank account I could write her a check from. Not that I would have if we did. But my heart went out to her because, even as her resort was struggling, she'd given us a free stay. And yes, it had been done as a marketing tool and she'd deceived us with what she was offering, but she'd still gone the extra mile to ensure our stay would be pleasant. That took a kind heart and I thought that no matter what Delilah's troubles were, she didn't deserve to be teetering on the edge of financial ruin.

“Harvey was trying to come up with things,” she explained. “Things to get us on the right side of the ledger. But I don't think he was really having any luck.”

“You mean the website and the resort on the lake?”

She shook her head. “No, no. If we're being honest, those were pipe dreams. They would've taken money I don't have. I appreciated Harvey's grand visions for this place, but unless one of us won the lottery, those things weren't going to happen.” She tapped the pencil again. “He was just trying to secure some financing. I'd invested all my savings into improvements: paving the roads, hooking us up to city sewer instead of asking people to maintain their own septic systems. I just had the pool resurfaced and had to replace the whole filtration system. Harvey wouldn't actually tell me what he was doing because he didn't want to get my hopes up. He was vague about it. I'm not sure if he was working on a loan or what he was doing.” She paused. “But I know he was trying. He was always trying.”

A fly buzzed in the air between us and I waved it away. “Could he have gotten a loan? I mean, was he part owner here or something like that?”

She shook her head. “No, nothing like that.”

“So he was just doing it to help you out?”

She set down the pencil and folded her arms across her chest. “You mean was he doing it because he was my boyfriend?”

Blood rushed to my face. “No, no. I just—”

She held up a hand. “It's fine. I understand. The way people talk around here, I understand. Who knows what you've been told in the short time you've been here. But let me assure you.” She leveled her eyes with mine. “Harvey and I were not a couple. Not ever.”

I was embarrassed that I'd compelled her to even explain it. If anyone knew about how gossip could get carried away, it was me. Living in Moose River, I'd been subjected to more than my share of rumors. Most of them were harmless, but after awhile, it became tiresome and there were times that I'd wanted to scream at people to mind their own business.

“I understand why people jumped to that conclusion,” Delilah said, the tension slowly seeping out of her shoulders. “He was always here. We spent a lot of time together. Hell, we went drinking together  more than a few times. But he and I laughed about it, the notion of us being a couple.” She smiled ruefully. “I just wished more people believed us when we told them that we were simply friends.” She paused. “And maybe friends is the wrong word. I think I was more like a second mother to Harvey.”

“You mentioned his mother yesterday,” I said. “That she'd be devastated at the news. Was he close to her?”

She shifted in her chair and an uncomfortable look crossed her face. Her lower lip trembled. “He was at one time. I was, too. Kat was my best friend.”

I wasn't sure whether she wanted me to ask more questions or not, so I stayed quiet.

“We grew up together around here, Kat and me,” she said, turning her gaze toward the window. “When she had Harvey, his father left. He was a no-good loser but she thought he'd turn over a new leaf when the baby was born. She came home from the hospital and he was gone. She never heard from him again. So I helped her raise Harvey. He was like my son.”

I nodded, listening. It dawned on me briefly that it was weird how she was just pouring out her life story to me. But then again, she'd just lost someone important to her and seemed desperate to talk about him. If that was what she needed me to do, I was more than willing to listen.

“Kat was a good mom but she wanted him to get out of here when he graduated, to go see the world. She wouldn't let him work during high school—she didn't want him to get trapped into some dead-end job that would make him feel like he couldn't leave.” Her top lip tucked into her bottom lip and she tilted her head to the side, like she was trying to get a better look at something outside the window. “But then he asked me for a summer job.”

A truck honked outside the office and Delilah punched the remote. The gate arm outside rose and the truck crawled past the building, hauling a shiny blue and white speed boat behind it.

“He wanted to stay here,” she continued, her fingers resting on the remote. “He wasn't interested in going to college. This...this was his home. They argued about it and she basically kicked him out, thinking that would force him to go somewhere else.” She sighed. “But he came to me and asked for a job and a place to stay. I tried to get him to go back to Kat, to try and work it out, but he wouldn't. He said he'd tried a hundred times.” Her fingers traced the remote. “I wasn't going to leave him homeless. So I let him use one of the campsites and I hired him to do some maintenance work.”

I leaned against the wall. “And she wasn't happy about that?”

She smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. “No, she was not. She found out three days later and she marched right in here, asking if it was true. I told her it was. Tried to get her to calm down, told her that it wasn't forever, that if he made some money then maybe he'd reconsider and pack up and head out for wherever she wanted him to go.” She shook her head. “But she wasn't having it. She went and found him. He was working on the laundry room, I think. She screamed at him, told him to leave. He dug in and refused. She stormed back here and demanded that I fire him.” She squirmed in the chair. “I couldn't fire him. He was like my own son.” She pulled her fingers away from the remote. “She hasn't spoken to me since.”

Based on her body language, it seemed like she hadn't gotten over losing her best friend and that she still felt badly about it. But she'd been put in a tough situation. I wasn't sure what I would've done, but I tended to think my reaction would have been the same as Delilah's.

“And he just decided to stay?” I asked. “He never left?”

She shook her head. “No. He got a studio in town to live in during the winter. He loved this place,” she told me. “That's what Kat never understood. Harvey loved this place. It's why he took such an interest in running things around here. He wanted it to grow and get on solid footing so it would be here forever. He'd talked about taking it over from me whenever I decided to retire. I used to blow him off because I couldn't even think of the idea of retirement—couldn't afford it, if I'm being honest—but there was no doubt.” She looked at me. “I wrote it into my will that this place was all Harvey's if anything ever happened to me. He loved it more than I do.”

Her eyes drifted to the window again and my heart hurt for her. She'd lost a friend in Kat, a friend in Harvey and, the way she was talking about it, the future of Windy Vista had gone with Harvey, too. Jake and I had mocked the place when we'd gotten there, but now there was nothing funny about it. It meant a lot to plenty of people and it was in jeopardy of disappearing.

“Anyway,” Delilah said, snapping out of her reverie. She lay her hands on the desk. “I didn't mean to bend your ear like that. I'm sure you came down here for some reason other than to have some old woman cry on your shoulder.”

I smiled at her. “I didn't hear an old woman crying on my shoulder. And even if I did, she'd be welcome to do that anytime.”

Her eyelids fluttered and she took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

I nodded. “I did have a question for you, though. When I woke up this morning, there were...visitors on our deck.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Squirrels?” Her expression clouded. “Or bears? We don't usually see them this time of year...”

I swallowed. I hadn't thought about bears. “No,” I said. “Guys.” I told her about our confrontation with Chuck and Jaw.

She frowned when I was finished. “I know those two boneheads. Annoying, but harmless. Nonetheless, they shouldn't have been there. You see them again, feel free to call me or the police. Wouldn't be the first time they've been called to pick those two up.”

“They hang out here?”

“No, not here,” she said, shaking her head. “Harvey would chase them away. But we'd see them in town, just hanging around, doing nothing. Pretty sure the local police are on a first name basis with them.” Her eyes fluttered again. “No, Harvey wouldn't let them stick around here. He took care of that kind of stuff.”

Her gaze moved back to the window and she let out another sigh. This one sounded more like a sob. “All that kind of stuff.”