Rogue's Revenge - By Gail MacMillan Page 0,32
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.”