Читать книгу The Forest Ranger's Rescue - Leigh Bale - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“No, I don’t have an appointment with the forest ranger, but I still need to see him. Right now.” Jill stood inside the reception room of the redbrick Forest Service office, gripping the strap of her blue leather purse with whitened knuckles.

Martha Hartnett, the receptionist, stared at her with wide eyes. Jill met the older woman’s gaze without flinching. Feeling determined and forceful. Unwilling to leave this office until she got the answers she needed.

“I’ll ask if he can see you,” Martha murmured as she walked around the high counter, and headed down the long hallway toward the back offices.

Jill watched her go, feeling shameful for her pushy behavior. Martha’s husband worked at the sawmill and Jill hated upsetting the woman. This situation wasn’t Martha’s fault. But Jill was exhausted. She’d spent a sleepless night, sitting up with her anguished mother, trying to sort through everything her brother had told her. Accusations against Alan that didn’t make sense.

At least, not to her.

Jill didn’t know what to believe right now. Alan had always been a good kid. Hardworking and generous. And he’d proven it when Dad had died eight months earlier. While Jill lived in Boise with a career she loved and the aftershocks of a broken heart, Alan had stepped in to take on full management of Russell Sawmill without a single complaint. Timber harvest had been here in Bartlett since the early 1900s, when Teddy Roosevelt and his army of forest rangers had demanded the preservation of large tracts of land for future generations. Jill’s great-great-grandfather had built Russell Sawmill and never left town. But Jill had—as fast as she could go. The moment she’d graduated from high school. After all, what kind of future would she have had here? None. Unless she’d wanted to work at the sawmill the rest of her life. Which she hadn’t—and still didn’t.

It was a two-and-a-half hour drive from Bartlett to the nearest doctor, dentist and decent shopping in the city of Boise. She pacified her guilt for not coming home often by telling herself it was too far to drive frequently. And since leaving Bartlett, she’d returned only for Christmas holidays, short summer vacations, her father’s funeral and to help occasionally at the mill.

Until now.

Alan was only twenty-six. Though she was proud that he’d taken it on, he was too young for so much responsibility. The whole family knew he wasn’t much of a businessman when it came to balancing the books, but Alan knew logging and how to run the timber yard. If not for her brother taking over the mill operations, they might have had to sell it off. Or worse yet, shut their doors. With dozens of employees depending upon the sawmill for their livelihood, they just couldn’t close up shop. But now, Alan had been accused of something dreadful.

Timber theft.

A charge that could destroy their family’s reputation and put their entire sawmill out of operation. Jill couldn’t let that happen. Alan claimed he was innocent. And to find out the truth, Jill had to speak with the forest ranger. She had to know why he believed Alan had stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of ponderosa pine.

“Jill?”

Jerking around, she came face-to-face with Brent Knowles. He stood inside the doorway, his sun-bronzed features creased with confusion. In a quick glance, her gaze swept over his handsome face, then down past his drab olive-colored shirt and spruce-green pants. Her gaze focused on the bronze shield pinned to the left front pocket of his shirt. In a rush, her stomach cramped with uncertainty and a tight breath whispered past her lips.

Forest ranger.

Inwardly, Jill groaned. Recognition flashed through her brain like lightning across the mountains. Brent was the ranger. Evie’s daddy. The man that had made Jill think about dating and giving love a second chance. The same man that had accused Jill’s brother of stealing timber from the national forest.

Jill blinked, trying to absorb the truth with her dazed brain. Surely Brent couldn’t be the same person who had soothed Evie so tenderly the day before.

Or could he?

For several moments, she couldn’t contain her surprise. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes narrowed. “Y-you’re the forest ranger?”

Her voice sounded small and uncertain. She’d been gone from home long enough that they must have changed forest rangers on her. The last ranger she’d worked with at her family’s sawmill had been short and portly, with a large belly that jiggled over his belt buckle when he walked. Overbellie, they’d called him. Not this tall, gorgeous man with a friendly smile that turned her brain to mush. Right now, she felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room.

“Yes, I’m the ranger.” Brent nodded, tilting his head to one side as he looked at her quizzically. No doubt, he was wondering what she was doing here. And why she’d so rudely demanded to see him.

“Oh.” Her voice sounded like a deflating balloon.

“You look upset. Why don’t you come back to my office so we can talk?” He stepped back, waiting for her to precede him down the hall.

For the count of three, Jill hesitated. Every harsh word she’d planned to say to this man who’d thrown suspicion on her brother froze on the tip of her tongue. As she took a step, she remembered Evie and that the little girl had lost her mother in a violent tragedy.

That Brent had also lost his wife.

Jill didn’t speak as she headed down the hall like a stealth bomber on a collision course. She knew the way. Over the years, she’d been here often enough. First, with her father, when he’d taught her and Alan how to run the sawmill. But she’d never liked this place, because the forest ranger had the authority to tell her family when and where they could harvest timber for their mill. He was the enemy. At least, that’s what had been ingrained in Jill since birth. Rangers and loggers were not friends. Not ever. It was that simple.

Then, after Dad had died, she’d helped with the transition at the mill, until Alan took it over. But she’d never had plans to return. She should be with her husband right now. Happy and in love. Planning a family of her own. Instead, she felt disillusioned and cynical. At first, she’d blamed her failed marriage on herself. She’d been so busy with her education and then work. When she’d learned David had been cheating on her for years, she couldn’t help wondering why her husband hadn’t wanted her. If David had loved her, she would have tried to make it work. But he didn’t, and they’d divorced three months before her father died.

The sound of a phone ringing and the click of someone typing in one of the back offices filled the void. Jill took that moment to gather her thoughts, but found herself wishing again that she hadn’t come here. Maybe it would have been better to disregard the rumors of theft that were flaming around town and let it all die down. But Jill feared ignoring them might only allow the situation to escalate. She must deal with it now, before it became worse. If nothing else, she needed to ease her mother’s frantic mind.

“Have a seat.” Brent touched her arm as he indicated one of the cushioned chairs sitting in front of a wide mahogany desk in his modest office.

Jill sat and rubbed the spot where he’d grazed her, the warmth of his fingers still lingering. She glanced at a row of metal filing cabinets, a scenic picture of a mule deer, and piles of manila folders. Her gaze screeched to a halt on a picture of a younger Evie sitting on the desk. The girl was laughing, cuddled against a smiling woman with the same chin and golden hair. No doubt it was Evie’s mother, Brent’s deceased wife.

Jill couldn’t believe the difference in Evie. She looked so happy and carefree in the picture. Like a normal, exuberant little girl. Not at all the frightened, haunted child Jill had met at the gas station yesterday afternoon.

“So, what can I do for you?” Brent slid the picture around as he perched on one corner of the desk. Jill sensed it was a protective gesture. A subtle way of keeping his life private. A barrier to keep Jill out.

Okay, she could take the hint. In fact, she preferred it that way, too.

He braced one long leg against the floor, his other leg bent at the knee and swinging free. Completely masculine and attractive. And she was trying very hard not to stare.

Jill cleared her throat. “I’ve come to ask about your accusations against my brother.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Your brother?”

“Yes, Alan Russell.”

Dawning flooded his face. “So you’re Al’s sister?”

“Yes.” Something hardened inside of her. Yesterday, she’d wanted to help Brent Knowles and his little girl. But right now, she was interested in protecting her own family. She squelched her sentimental feelings, determined to keep her loyalties straight. Family came first.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said.

“You’ve made accusations against him.”

He stared at her in stony silence. Then, he stood and walked around to his chair, placing the obstacle of his desk between them. He sat down and crossed his infinitely long legs, seeming to choose his words carefully. “That isn’t true, Jill. No accusations have been made against your brother, or anyone else for that matter. At least, not by the Forest Service.”

“But there’s been gossip around town that you believe Alan is stealing timber. A lot of gossip.”

A serene smile of tolerance played at the corners of his full mouth. She sensed that he was trying to be polite but still had to do his job.

“I’m afraid we don’t build cases of theft off of town gossip,” he said. “And even if we did, I wouldn’t be able to discuss the case with you.”

His words placed another blockade between them. It felt odd after yesterday, when he’d been so forthcoming about Evie’s problem. She wanted to like this man but realized that might be impossible now.

“Since I own a half interest in the sawmill, I have a right to know what’s going on,” she said.

He took a deep inhale, the expanse of his chest widening even further, if that were possible. “I can understand your frustration. But at this point, all we know is that a lot of timber has been harvested illegally from Cove Mountain. We don’t know for sure who the guilty party might be. No charges have been made against anyone. Yet.”

Yet. That single word echoed through the room like a shout and the silence thickened.

She quirked one brow. “Then, you haven’t told any of your employees that you believe Alan is the thief? And that you plan to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law?”

That’s what Mom had claimed last night as Jill had tried to soothe her tears. But then again, Mom frequently blew situations like this out of proportion. Hence, Jill had decided to learn the truth.

He hesitated. “The discussions that take place between me and my employees are confidential. I don’t know where you’ve gotten your information, but it’s not correct. Right now, I don’t know who the guilty party is.”

Jill’s shoulders stiffened. She’d seen this scenario before during her childhood. The assumption would be that the owner of the sawmill was in on the theft. And in such a small town as Bartlett, gossip spread like wildfire. Hearing that her brother was a thief didn’t sit well with Jill. No, not at all.

“What do you intend to do about the situation?” she asked.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you right now. But I can tell you that I’ve called in the LEI to perform an investigation.”

Oh no! The LEI was the Forest Service’s Law Enforcement and Investigation unit. Jill bit the inside of her cheek to hide her panic. She knew the drill. A special agent would come to Bartlett and investigate the theft. No doubt her family’s sawmill would bear the brunt of the inquiry. And if they didn’t cooperate, Alan would look even more guilty.

“Then, you don’t currently have plans to charge my brother with a crime?” she asked.

He sat back, his chair squeaking. “No, not at this time.”

“I can understand why you’ve called for an investigation, but do you have any reason to believe Alan is responsible?”

“Not yet. Large tracts of ponderosa pine have been harvested in the mountains bordering the cutblock where your mill was contracted to cut trees. The thieves decimated the area, leaving nothing for the future. That’s all I can tell you at this time.”

Her heart plummeted. All it took was for Martha, or one of Brent’s other employees, to talk about the theft at the dinner table with their family, and news soon spread. It wouldn’t even do Jill any good to ask who the gossip might have come from. It could be anyone. It didn’t matter, now. Chances were she’d known the culprit all her life and they were friends. And threatening Brent with a slander lawsuit wasn’t Jill’s style. She didn’t like contention. Besides, she couldn’t prove it and doubted it would go anywhere. But she still needed to do some damage control.

She held his gaze for several pounding moments. He lifted his chin in challenge.

“So, because my family’s sawmill was contracted to cut timber near the area where the trees were stolen, you think my brother is guilty of the theft. You don’t know for certain?”

He released a soft sigh. “Again, I don’t think anything right now. No accusations have...”

“I know, I know. No accusations have been made against anyone yet.” She cut him off with a wave of her hand.

His expression softened with empathy. “I’m sorry, Jill. I can’t say anything more. But rest assured I’ll contact you about it as soon as I can.”

His eyes darkened to a steely blue and she heard the soft edge of professionalism in his voice. He didn’t like this situation any more than she did. But that wouldn’t stop him from pursuing an investigation. Which might incriminate Alan and destroy the mill. Since Brent hadn’t made any formal accusations against Alan, she couldn’t really ask what evidence he might already have on her brother. Not if she expected a genuine answer.

For the first time, Jill felt an edge of uncertainty. Late last night, Alan had told her and Mom that he was innocent. But what if he’d lied to them? He’d always been so honest. So kind and generous. But everyone had their limits. In this rotten economy, the construction industry had been hit hard. Meeting their payroll and other bills had become difficult. Could Alan have become desperate enough to start pilfering timber? Jill knew he’d do almost anything to keep Mom safe. But did that include theft and lying to cover it up?

She hauled in a deep breath, her mind a jumble of unease. No, Alan wouldn’t do such a thing. Would he?

She didn’t like the pang of suspicion that nibbled at her mind. Maybe it was time she went down to the sawmill office and took a look at the books herself. It’d been months since she’d worked there, and she had to know what was going on. If for no other reason than to help reassure her agitated mother that her only son wasn’t going to lose their family business and end up in prison.

* * *

Brent gazed at Jill with regret. A blaze of compassion sliced through his heart, but he ignored the urge to blurt out the truth. He couldn’t compromise this case. There was too much to lose. Including his livelihood. He liked Jill Russell. A lot. But he also had a job to do. And that must come first. “I’m sorry about this situation, Jill. I truly am. But the gossip didn’t come from me.”

“So, what are we supposed to do now?” she asked.

He caught the twinge of hurt in her voice and hated it. For some reason, he felt protective of this woman and longed to shield her from this problem. “Anything you like.”

“You really can’t tell me something more?”

“Not right now. As soon as I can, I promise to give you a call.” Brent met her gaze, trying to concentrate. The naked fear in her eyes haunted him, along with the sweet fragrance of her hair. He took a deep inhale, drawn to this woman in spite of the warning sirens going off inside his head. After her kindness to him and Evie yesterday afternoon, he wasn’t being much help. Of course Jill was worried about her brother and the sawmill. It was only natural. And Brent blamed himself.

“How long will the investigation take?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

It would be unprofessional for him to tell her that timber theft was difficult to prove and the conviction rate was low. That was good for the thieves and bad for the victims of the crime, which in this case were the taxpayers.

She stood, bracing one hand against the armrest of her chair. She looked shaky and he reached out to clasp her arm and steady her. She flinched and he let go, wishing he could offer her more reassurance. That he could say something to put her at ease. But he couldn’t. Not yet, anyway.

He accompanied her to the door. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Thanks for seeing me,” she said.

“Anytime. My door is always open to you.” And he meant it. He owed her that much.

She stepped out. He planned to follow her to the outer reception area, but she held up a hand. “I know the way. I’ll see myself out.”

As she walked down the hallway, he stared after her, thinking she had the longest legs he’d ever seen on a woman. Wishing he could call her back. Yearning to tell her all the facts. But his job prohibited it. Too much was riding on this case and he couldn’t jeopardize it by confiding in her.

Instead, Brent returned to his desk. Reaching for his keyboard, he rapped out a quick email to his staff members. First thing in the morning, he’d hold a quick meeting with all his employees to discuss the importance of confidentiality. No doubt one of his people had seen the investigation request he’d filed with the LEI, or overheard a conversation he’d had with his timber assistant about the stolen trees. Not once had Brent mentioned the Russell Sawmill in connection with the theft, but conjecture was bound to occur. Someone had assumed Alan Russell was to blame for the theft, and word had soon spread.

That wasn’t what was troubling Brent right now. He’d done his best to alleviate Jill’s concerns. But the truth was, Alan had already come forward to seek Brent’s help. Eight weeks earlier, the man had walked into Brent’s office and claimed he was being blackmailed by Frank Casewell, his mill manager. According to Alan, Frank was stealing the timber late at night and processing it at the sawmill to sell on the black market. If Alan turned Frank in, Frank had threatened to burn the sawmill to the ground. Which was something Frank had supposedly admitted to doing to another sawmill three years earlier in Missoula, Montana. No doubt Frank had threatened Alan in order to frighten him into keeping his mouth shut. But it hadn’t worked. Alan had fretted over the problem for two months, but he’d finally come forward, anxious to help convict Frank and protect his family’s business.

Now they needed proof. Evidence that would allow them to arrest Frank. If they could catch him and his accomplices in the act of stealing timber, they’d get a conviction. Otherwise, it was Alan’s word against Frank’s word.

Since he’d been working for the Forest Service in Montana at the time, Brent knew about the sawmill that had been burned three years earlier. A good friend of his had died in that fire and he was eager to obtain any evidence that would convict the culprit of murder. The fact that Alan had brought the matter to the authorities spoke highly of his integrity. But he’d still waited two months. Brent didn’t trust Alan either. Not completely. Until he had more evidence one way or the other, Brent planned to proceed with caution. He didn’t want the situation to get out of hand, but neither would he let down his guard until he had evidence to convict Frank.

Brent had already contacted the US Attorney’s office on Alan’s behalf. They were now working together to set up a sting operation to catch the guilty party. Unfortunately, Brent couldn’t tell Jill all of that. And neither could Alan. If he talked with anyone about the case, including his family, the deal with the US Attorney’s office was void. They couldn’t take the risk of letting others in on the plan as it might jeopardize them snagging Frank and his band of thieves. It was that simple and that serious. So they must wait on the LEI’s investigation.

And it was unfortunate for him that he’d lost Jill’s trust by denying her any more information. He’d wanted to put her at ease and keep her as a friend. Brent had been thinking of tracking her down and asking if she might help him with Evie. All he knew was that Jill was trained in special education and Evie had responded to her like no one else.

Under the circumstances, that plan seemed futile now. No doubt Jill wouldn’t take kindly to him asking her to work with his little girl. After all, he was the evil forest ranger. For most loggers, being the ranger was a similitude for being the Big Bad Wolf.

The enemy. Someone they could never trust.

Heaving a disgruntled sigh, Brent stood and walked down the dingy hallway to the watercooler. The modest offices of this forest district weren’t fancy, but it was Brent’s first ranger assignment. There were fewer than four hundred rangers nationwide, so it was an honor to get this job. Previously, he’d been a fire specialist at another national forest in Montana. He loved it here in Idaho and wanted so much to succeed. And he didn’t want to alienate the pretty sawmill owner in the process.

The spout gurgled as he filled a plastic cup with clear liquid and downed it in three quick gulps. The cup made a low popping sound as he crumpled it in his hand and tossed it into the garbage can. Two points.

He didn’t dare ask for Jill’s assistance, but he had to help Evie somehow. He couldn’t lose her to the silent world she’d built around herself. She had a right to lead a normal, happy life like other kids her age. To grow up feeling secure. He’d tried everything he could think of and it hadn’t been enough. But he’d never quit on his child. Never give up hope.

Sauntering back to his office, he closed his door, wanting no interruptions while he considered what he should do. Sitting in his high-backed faux-leather chair, he ignored the creaking hinges as he leaned back and crossed his legs. He picked up a file of pictures his timber assistant had taken of the area where hundreds of ponderosa pine had been cut illegally.

The thieves had to be removing the timber at night, when no one would see their crime. Big trucks like that would be noticed coming down off the mountain during the daytime. But at night, the darkness would help conceal the theft. The work would require accomplices. Several people working together to cut, load and drive the stolen logs down to the mill for processing. Alan claimed he didn’t know who Frank’s conspirators were. That he hadn’t participated in the actual theft and he was never at the sawmill when Frank was processing the stolen timber.

For Jill and her mother’s sake, Brent hoped that was true.

Closing the file, he thought about the LEI investigator coming into town next week. Jill wouldn’t like it, but Brent had to consider the possibility that Alan Russell had been in on the crime from the beginning, but had gotten cold feet and reported the theft. Brent had seen this happen before. It was the most logical explanation. Frank Casewell would have too much trouble processing raw timber without working with someone on the inside. He needed the use of a mill. And who was more likely to have access and motive than one of the owners of Russell Sawmill?

Brent’s gaze swerved to the picture of Evie and her mom. He’d considered asking Jill out. On a real date. The first since before he’d married his wife. But that was no longer a possibility. Not after his jarring conversation with her this morning. Not as long as he posed any kind of threat to her brother.

Earlier that day, Brent had felt an inkling of hope for Evie. The first in over a year. Like God had finally answered his prayers and sent him someone to help his child. But now, that hope was dashed and all Brent felt was frustrated despair.