Secret Refuge. Dana Mentink

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      “Got the brush cleared?”

      Mick nodded.

      “Must be tired after your trip.” Perry raised an inquiring eyebrow as he sat down at the sturdy kitchen table.

      “Drove into Silver Creek to take care of some old business.”

      “Old business? Like Tucker Rivendale?”

      Mick couldn’t imagine how his father knew, but the man had been a competent private eye in his day. Old habits died hard, and sometimes not at all. “Yeah. He’s still at large.”

      “Did you find him?”

      “Got away, but LeeAnn’s sister is safe.” It hurt to say her name. “Cops are all over it. They want me out of the way.”

      Perry sipped some water he’d poured for himself. “Think he’ll come back?”

      “He’d be a fool to do that. Cops don’t think he will.”

      “What does your gut tell you?”

      Mick sighed. “Can’t trust my gut anymore, Dad.”

      “You made a mistake.”

      Mick got up and stalked to the window, bracing his palms on the kitchen sink. Justice and judgment, two of the most critical leadership traits drilled in as he was molded into a marine. He’d failed at both.

      And at being a husband, to complete the list.

      “It was more than a small error in judgment. I believed that Tucker was on the straight and narrow, that his days of jacking cars and conning people were over. I knew deep down he wasn’t prone to violence. My gut told me I could trust him, and I convinced the parole board to release him from house arrest. I was wrong. Dead wrong.”

      “Too much blame for one man.” His father walked over and put his glass in the sink. He gripped his son’s shoulder. “Things are quiet around here for the next month. If you need to get away, do it.”

      “I’m okay.” He sighed. “What’s the smart thing to do, Dad?”

      “Stay out of it, just like the cops said.”

      They locked gazes. But it won’t bring you peace, his father’s eyes added.

      Perry gave Mick a final pat. When had his father’s hands gotten so old and gnarled? Perhaps twenty years of repressed fear about what had happened to the child abducted from their property had accelerated the aging process. Mick would swallow glass before he added any more grief to his father’s plate.

      “And if you need my help in any way, ask.”

      “I will.”

      When he’d gone, Mick stared out at the forest that pressed in all around the old house. He wanted to run outside, deep into the woods, and lose himself in the pungent scent of pine and the comforting presence of birds overhead, but he forced himself to remain.

      It took him an hour of pacing to make the decision. He scrawled a note on a torn piece of paper and put it under the coffeepot.

       Be away for a few days. I’ll call you tonight. Kiss Ruby for me.

      He tossed a bag in the bed of the pickup and started the long drive back to Silver Creek. When he stopped for gas, he listened to a message on his phone.

      “You’re not answering, which means you’re driving back to Silver Creek. I decided to take a couple of days off and do a little fishing. I’m staying at a buddy’s cabin about six miles out of town on Wexler Road. Got a couch for you if you want it. Stay out of trouble.”

      Mick chuckled as he drove to the cabin. A little fishing? Reggie Donaldson was a near-professional bowler and an excellent marksman, but an outdoorsy type he wasn’t. Mick knew that Reggie was also a guy who didn’t let things go, and Tucker Rivendale had made a mistake attacking Reggie when he’d tried to arrest him. Mick was grateful. With Reggie’s connections, they might be able to help the police lay their hands on the kid before he did any more harm.

      Mick still wondered why Tucker had come back and what he’d said to Keeley that she refused to tell the police. Thoughts tumbled around in his mind until he arrived at the small wood-sided cabin. Reggie opened the door, soda and pepperoni-pizza slice in hand.

      “’Bout time. What’d you do, crawl?”

      Mick stepped inside. He almost let a surprised grunt escape his mouth when he saw his friend.

      From under the ragged fringe of black bangs, where Reggie’s left eye had been there was now a sunken spot, the eyelid shriveled around the gap. He saw Mick’s expression and pulled the patch down over his eye. “Gets hot under there. Got to let it air sometimes.”

      Mick recovered his composure. “I knew Tucker injured you when you tried to collar him. I didn’t realize...”

      “Me, neither,” Reggie said, retrieving another slice of pizza from the box and handing it to Mick. “When we scuffled, he gouged me in the eye with his pocketknife. Wound didn’t heal. Infection got down in deep until there was no way to fix it.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “Not half as sorry as Tucker’s going to be when I catch up to him.” Reggie’s good eye glittered. “You know what they say,” he said, voice soft and dangerous, “about an eye for an eye.”

      Mick had never realized how powerful his need for vengeance was until he saw his anger reflected in Reggie’s good eye. Mick had not lost his vision, but Tucker had taken a part of him just the same. Forgiveness was not, nor would ever be an option, in spite of what his sister’s well-meaning church pastor had told him.

       Sorry, God. This one isn’t worth forgiving.

      Mick tried to pull his emotions in check. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s Nadine?”

      Reggie sighed. “She left me.”

      “Again?”

      “It’s going on six months this time,” he said, wiping his mouth. “She’s playing hardball, threatened a divorce and everything, but I’m making progress. After this adventure, I’m going to book us a cruise.”

      Mick chuckled. “Might want to check with Nadine before you put your money down.”

      “She’ll come around. She always does. I just have to apply some grease to the skids.”

      “Seems as though you greased the skids last time she left you. You bought her diamonds, didn’t you?”

      He lifted a shoulder. “Turns out they really aren’t a girl’s best friend, because she insisted I return them before she let me back in the house. The cruise will be better. Quality time and all that.”

      Mick figured he certainly had no better ideas where women were concerned, so he stayed quiet.

      Reggie extracted a bunch of papers СКАЧАТЬ