She nodded. “Yes. Spoke to Agent Portnoy. Damn, I hate that man, but he’ll be here this afternoon to take a look. What did I get myself into?” she asked, pressing the heel of her hand into one eye. “What the fuck was your dad doing?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, tucking my chin and roughing a hand over the back of my neck. “We’ll deal with this. We’ve got the FBI now, and while that will make operating difficult, giving them access protects us and the business.”
She nodded. “When does it end, though? Do we really have any hope of getting criminals out of these woods?”
No. Unfortunately. This was the largest undeveloped forest in the eastern US. Over ten million acres in the northern part of Maine, and no one, least of all a small, family-owned logging company, could control everything that happened there.
But I couldn’t tell her that. And I couldn’t let her down. I had to believe that we could get through this and rebuild the company.
With a long breath in, I racked my brain for a way to soothe her, but before I could speak, a shout rang out, echoing off the buildings.
Officer Fielder stood down the hill near one of the storage buildings, waving.
With a look at one another, Chloe and I headed down there.
“Didn’t see this until the sun came up,” he said, holding up a small item. “There are easily a hundred of them.”
As I got closer, the item came into focus. A camera. I took it from his hand and studied it. It was the same make and model as the one Chloe and I had removed from the woods a couple of weeks ago. The same type of cameras the FBI had found when Chloe gave them permission to access that sector. Shit.
We followed him around the shed, and sure enough, there was a large pile of the game cameras. And taped to the one on top was a folded piece of paper.
Chloe picked it up and unfolded it.
One word.
Large black letters.
Stop.
We locked eyes, and as my stomach dropped, her face went ashen. This was a message. Someone knew what we’d found. And they were not happy about it.
Chapter 25Chloe
Heart pounding and mind racing, I paced around my house. Why was it so big? It was strange and empty and eerie. Outside, rain had begun to fall. The storm was going to be a big one. They were predicting supercells, and a good part of the state was under a tornado warning. Thunderstorms were no big deal, but I was alone in my house on the side of a lake. JJ and Karl had flown down to New York for the weekend to meet up with friends, so I was on my own. For the last few days, I’d been dealing with the fallout from the fire and had barely slept.
At this rate, we’d never get our forecasts and plans set for the winter harvesting season. The more time I spent here, the clearer it became that I wasn’t leaving anytime soon. The issues this company was facing were more complex than I had anticipated, and my usual hands-off approach to investments didn’t work when I was the one in charge.
I should have been working today, but instead, I ordered furniture and housewares online. When I moved in, I’d had the bare minimum delivered. I usually didn’t need much, but suddenly, I was feeling the need to nest.
A big desk for my home office, a few rugs, a hammock for Celine’s kids, and throw pillows. Nothing major. I was growing attached to this house. Like Hebert Timber, it was a good investment. That’s why I’d purchased it. But now, I couldn’t stop thinking of paint colors and building a bunk room for Celine’s kids and all kinds of other improvements.
The rain was hitting the lake hard, and thunder shook the house.
My stomach churned as I scanned the shoreline. I was alone here.
It’s fine, Chloe. Pull yourself together. It was just weather, and I needed to buckle down and get some more work done. I’d have to fight the nesting instincts. Otherwise, they would only cause more trouble.
Work. I should be singularly focused on my job. Once I’d gotten through today’s to-do list, I could deal with everything else. I needed to whip it into shape so I could get back to Seattle and then have this baby.
But every time I thought about my place in Seattle, I was swamped with sadness. It didn’t feel like home. It didn’t have the big yard or the dining room for holiday meals or the claw-foot tub that I had fallen in love with.
Logic. It was how I lived my life. I strategized, carefully analyzing every possible outcome, and then I made a plan. For the last two decades, I’d been successful at not letting feelings get in the way.
So why was I so lost right now?
In need of a snack, I headed to the kitchen. Cheese would help. I’d had a moment of panic when I thought I couldn’t eat cheese during pregnancy. Turned out it was only the fancy unpasteurized stuff, and there wasn’t much of that up here anyway.
The local supermarket had plenty of options, so I pulled down a box of Triscuits and shuffled to the fridge for the cheddar.
I was bent over, cheese in hand, when the lights flickered.
Holding my breath, I scanned the room and peered out the windows across the living area. Shit. That was scary.
A large crack of thunder sounded in the distance, the boom so loud I jumped a foot in the air.
With a hand to my chest, I shook my head. What was wrong with me? I was getting all worked up over some rain.
But then the lights went out.
I closed the refrigerator, reached for my phone, and flipped on the flashlight. Panic swirled in my belly. I should be tough. I had flashlights and candles, and this was just a storm. I’d be okay. But with every second that ticked by, my fear grew until it was a dark cloud hovering over me.
Before I even knew what I was doing, I was dialing Gus.
“Dragonfly. You okay?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Shit. I hated how weak I was being. I wasn’t a damsel in distress. I didn’t need to be rescued. “My power went out,” I said, working hard to keep from sounding too hysterical.
