Rogue's Revenge (11 page)

The receptionist arose and went to put a placating hand on the doctor’s arm.

“Mom?” Allison was surprised.

“Meet Nell Henderson, my mother, receptionist, and shameless matchmaker.” Jessica Henderson put an arm about the older woman’s shoulders and hugged her. “It’s fortunate I love her and understand she wants only what she thinks is best for me. You have a mother, Miss Armstrong. I saw you with her at Jack’s funeral. You understand.”

“Definitely.” Allison pocketed the pills and forced a smile. “Thanks. I’ll let you know if Heath needs further medical attention.”
Good lord, why did I put emphasis on “medical”?

Out in the street she saw her cab and hailed it again.

“Chance Lodge, please.” She started to put her suitcase into the rear seat, but the driver stopped her.

“Sorry, lady, but I won’t take this car up there…not even for a double fare. Only four-wheel-drives on that road.”

“Well, then, how am I supposed to get there?”

“You might try renting Jordon Jones’ Tracker.” He pointed to a service station/convenience store across the street. “He lets it out sometimes.”

“Thanks.” Allison shut the cab door, hefted her luggage, adjusted her hold on Jack’s leash, and headed across the street.

“Good afternoon,” she said to the blond teenage clerk behind the counter as she entered the service station’s store section. Over in one corner, four local men whose mackinaws, work pants, and steel-toed boots branded them woods workers were gathered around a coffee machine. They stared at her and Jack. One of them pointed at the poodle and snickered.

“What’s that? A cotton ball on legs?”

“I’d like to rent a four-wheel-drive.” She ignored them and spoke when the girl behind the cash register looked up from the magazine she’d been scanning. “The cabbie said I might be able to get one here.”

“We only have one.” The teenager snapped her gum and looked Allison critically up and down. “And it’s out right now. Where’d you want to go?”

“Chance Lodge. How long before it gets back?”

“Tomorrow, probably.” She shrugged and returned to her reading. “Ben Jenkins never is real exact about when he’s coming down out of the woods. Likes to keep his wife guessing.”

“I’ll drive you up to the Chance.”

One of the men moved out of the coffee group and ambled over to her, Styrofoam cup in hand. He was huge and bearded with black whiskers. Equally dark, untidy hair stuck out from beneath a stained baseball cap. Over six feet tall and weighing, Allison estimated, well in excess of two hundred pounds, he was a formidable brute.

“How much?” She looked up into his small, bear-like eyes.

“Forty bucks, take it or leave it. Ten more if you’re taking that white thing along. Marty Mason don’t dicker.”

“Fine. Let’s go, Mr. Mason.”
What a rip-off, but I have to get there.

“Hold your horses. I have to gas up first. Darrell, you wanta give me a hand? Wait here, lady. I’ll give you the high sign when I’m ready. No need for you to wait out in the cold and damp.”

****

“Come on, come on!” He waved impatiently at her through the service station window five minutes later. “I want to get back to town before dark.”

Grabbing her suitcase and Jack’s leash, she went to join him beside a dented, mud-splattered Jeep.

“That thing…” He jerked a finger at Jack. “And your suitcase in the back.”

What happened to the guy who didn’t want me waiting in the cold and damp?
Allison lowered the tailgate, hefted her suitcase into the rear, and urged Jack into the grungy space beside it. The poodle circled twice before finding a place he deemed decent to plant his bottom. He turned reproachful eyes on Allison.

“I know, I know,” she hissed below the hearing of the driver, who was revving the engine. “It’s filthy, but it’s the best I…we can do.” She slammed the dented tailgate back into place and went to the passenger side, glad she’d chosen to dress in jeans, turtleneck, barn coat, and running shoes.

The interior was no better than the exterior. Dirty and reeking of stale smoke, the vehicle had torn upholstery and a dash so smeared and streaked Allison wondered how the man could read the gauges. Dead bugs coating the windshield lowered road visibility.
Don’t get picky. It’s only a little over a half-hour drive to the Chance. I can tolerate this backwoods creep and his filthy excuse of a vehicle for that long.

“You’re Jack’s grandkid, right?” With a grinding of gears, they headed out of the parking area.

“Yes,” she replied, trying to keep the stench from unhinging the stomach muscles responsible for keeping her last meal in place.

“Old Jack. Now, there was a character.” He chuckled and flashed a grin over nicotine-yellowed teeth. “Real birds-and-bees lover. Wouldn’t kill a black fly if it was on the end of his nose. Crazy as a loon, I always said.”

“He was a conservationist.” Allison forced back a sharp retort. She couldn’t quarrel with this man. At least not until he got her to the Chance.

“Yeah, well, that’s as may be. But he should have had at least one rifle up at his place, what with all those stories of sasquatch sightings the last year or so.”

“Sasquatch sightings! Up at the Chance? You’ve got to be joking. There are no such creatures. And even if there were, they’re supposed to be native to the Pacific Northwest.”

“Maybe.” Her driver shrugged. “But Jack’s business is suffering because of it. Men who used to bring their wives and kids up to the Lodge started coming alone.”

“That’s crazy!” Allison snapped. “It’s just a stupid ghost story.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” He turned on his headlights as fog began to creep over the road and the mist thickened. “I’ve seen it myself, and it’s something I won’t soon forget. I won’t go into the woods up there without a rifle while that half-man, half-ape thing is around. No, sir, not me. I tried to tell Heath to be careful, but he wouldn’t listen. How is the stubborn bugger, anyway? I heard he had an accident.”

“He fell from the boathouse roof,” she replied. “According to Dr. Henderson, his injuries are painful but not life threatening.”

“Well, good. Him and me, we’ve had our differences from time to time, but I wouldn’t want to see him hurt bad or anything— Sweet merciful heaven, look!”

He braked to a violent stop that sent Allison pitching forward and brought a yike from Jack. Following the direction of the man’s stunned stare, Allison caught a glimpse of something large and hairy shambling across the fog-shrouded trail about twenty yards ahead of them. As quickly as it had appeared, it vanished into the trees.

“There! I told you,” Marty Mason barked. “Sasquatch. Second time I’ve seen the hairy bugger. Now maybe you’ll believe me.” He let off the brake and roared ahead up the trail at such a speed Allison, in spite of her seatbelt, bounced nearly to the roof.

“Hey, slow down.” Sasquatch or no sasquatch, she didn’t want to be killed when this dirty vehicle left the road and crashed into a tree.

“Not on your life, lady. It’s gettin’ on to dark, and I want to be back in town before moonrise. I don’t relish bein’ caught out on this road alone with that critter.”

Someone in a Halloween costume. Or a really big black bear, its coat grayed with mist. Both perfectly reasonable explanations. Or were they? With her heart still bumping at her ribs, she knew she’d be glad to get out of this shadowy forest and into the safety of Chance Lodge.

****

Chance Lodge and its grounds appeared deserted when Marty Mason stopped his vehicle in the dooryard. Only the canvas-topped Jeep and the Cherokee parked near Heath’s cottage denied the fact.

“I’ll be takin’ that pay now, miss.” He looked over at her, eyes narrowing as he held out a grubby hand.

“Of course.” Allison dug into her pocket, pulled out a wallet, and handed him the fare. “Thank you.”

A slight sound made her turn toward the storage barn, and she saw him. Watching her from its doorway, one hand above his head gripping the top of the frame, he was a tall, lean outline in the mist.

“Brought you a little something to make you feel better, Heath,” Marty Mason hollered out his window as Allison climbed out and headed for the rear of the Jeep. “I’d advise small doses, though. I do believe she’s potent stuff.”

Allison barely had time to retrieve her suitcase and get Jack to jump out before, with a raucous laugh and grinding of gears, the man swung his vehicle around and headed back down the trail.

“What are you doing here?” Heath asked when the noise had died in the distance. “Managed to break the will or something?” He remained where he was, his tone sardonic.

“No.” She held her ground, too, and stayed, suitcase in one hand, Jack’s leash in the other, where she was. “Dr. Henderson informed my mother of your accident and she—my mother, that is—decided someone from our family had to come to see if the Lodge needed a temporary caretaker. Dad has a full caseload, and Mom is winding up a major fundraiser. I was the only one
she
saw as being available.”

“Myra. I should have guessed.”

He dropped his hand and advanced toward her, limping. When he got close enough for her to see his features in the fading light, she gasped.

“My God!”

His left eye was black and swollen, his lower lip split, and his right cheek purpled with bruising. “I had no idea…”

“I’ve survived worse.” He looked down at Jack, his features relaxing into a crooked grin. “Who’s this handsome lad?”

“This is Jack.”
No snide remark, no cotton ball joke. Surprising.

“Hello, Jack.” The dog gave a sharp little bark, sat, and held up his paw.

“Nice to meet you, too.” He accepted the offer. “Guess you’re named after someone pretty special. Come on.” He straightened, extended his hand for her suitcase, and grimaced.
Hurting more than he wants anyone to know.

“Never mind.” She pulled it back from him.

“Fine.” He turned toward the Lodge, limping. “You don’t have to keep that poor guy on a leash up here. Let him stretch his legs. What did you have to do to get Marty Mason to drive the two of you up here?”

“Money convinces.”

“Doesn’t it always. Come on, Jack,” he continued as she released the dog. “I think I have a nice, juicy bone in the refrigerator.”

With a joyful bark, the poodle bounded along beside him, apparently delighted with his new friend.

Right. Alienate my dog, why don’t you. What great protection he’ll be once he’s been plied with his favorite food.
Hefting her suitcase, Allison followed.

“That man, Marty Mason, didn’t seem to be overly fond of Gramps or anything to do with this place. Why?”

They were at the Lodge steps. As he mounted the first one, Heath turned back on her. “Because I fired him a month ago.”

“Again, why?” Allison looked up at him.

“He was belligerent and not adhering to our environmental code and goals. Satisfied?” He continued on up the steps and pulled open the door.

“Satisfied.” She followed him. “He told me there’s a sasquatch living on the Chance. Actually, we did glimpse something on the road…”

“Yeah, right.” Heath’s response was a sneer as he stepped aside to let her proceed him inside. “One foolish woman sees something furry in the bush and right away we have a sasquatch. It would have passed like the farce it is if she hadn’t spread the story like jam on a hot muffin.”

“And that hurt business?”

“What do you think?” He snapped on a light to relieve the twilight gray spreading into the room.

“Do you have guests now?” She set her suitcase to one side and removed her jacket.

“No, not for another ten days. Don’t worry. My mother will be back by then, and I’ll be able to handle my work.”

“Go into the living room and put a match to the fireplace.” She wasn’t about to let him start hitting her with sentimental junk. “It was always kept ready, and I’m sure you’ve continued the practice. I’ll get food. There must be homemade soup either in the freezer or refrigerator. It used to be a staple here.”

“Refrigerator,” he said, gingerly removing his plaid mackinaw. “Beef barley. So you do remember some of the traditions.”

“Some of them.” She pulled the bottle of pills Dr. Henderson had given her from her pocket and handed them to him. “From Dr. Henderson.”

He snapped off the cover, shook a few into his hand, and gulped them down.

“Hey, how about reading the directions?”

“He-men don’t read instructions.” He choked.

“Right. Besides your face…?” Allison headed for the sink and poured him a glass of water. She tried to keep compassion out of her voice as she got a good look at him in the kitchen light. He’d needed those pills.

“A few bruised ribs, a twisted hip, nothing life threatening.” He took the water and swallowed.

“Sit.” Allison shoved a kitchen stool over to him.

“What?”

“Sit. I’m going to take your boots off.”

“No way. I’m perfectly capable of…”

“Sure you are.” Her tone softened. “But it hurts, and there’s no need to punish yourself. So let go of that macho pride and sit.”

“Okay, okay.” He sank back onto the stool. She knelt and began to unlace his left boot.

“This could be a really hot moment, you know.”

She looked up and saw a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Don’t get carried away, He-Man Oakes. I’ve simply got too much of my parents’ compassionate blood flowing through my veins to let anyone or anything suffer needlessly.”

“And maybe a drop of Jack’s?”

“Okay, okay, maybe a drop of Gramps’ blood, too.” She yanked the boot from his foot and he flinched.

“Ugh.”

“Sorry. Stop your guilt tripping and I’ll try to be more gentle. Do you have any idea who might have caused your fall?”

“No, but whoever did it never meant to do more than shake me up. Otherwise he could have finished the job while I was out cold.”

“He might have killed you with the fall.”

“I don’t think murder was his intention. Dead, I couldn’t sign away my share of the Chance. James Wilcox is willing to play rough to get what he wants, but I think he’d draw the line at premeditated murder. And so, I think, would you.”