Читать книгу One Smooth Stone - Marcia Lee Laycock - Страница 5

Chapter Two

Gil slipped into the warmth of the house and listened. Nothing. He dropped the key into his pocket, leaned his rifle in a corner, and walked to the kitchen. He poured himself a large glass of orange juice from the fridge and downed it almost in one gulp. Closing his eyes he savored the taste. Real orange juice. He started to thank God, stopped and grunted, then gave a nod of his head.

“Okay, I do thank you,” he mumbled, “though I suppose that won’t help much since I’m stealing it.”

He lifted the lid on the long deep freezer and smiled. The company always did feed us well. But how long will it be before the caretaker arrives? He lifted out a steak, thawed it in the microwave, and fried it just the way he liked it. He was about to have another glass of orange juice when he heard the dog.

Pulling on his coat Gil stepped outside. The intensity of the dog’s bark increased. Gil jogged around the house in time to see the grizzly ambling away, then went over and scratched the dog’s head. He turned back to the house and froze. Straining his ears he turned toward the south and listened. The wind was gusting, but every now and then he was sure he heard the sound of a helicopter. He jogged back to the house, stacked the dishes in the sink and left, making sure he locked the door behind him.

Once within the safety of the trees he stopped and listened again. The whap-whap-whap seemed to get louder, then faded away entirely. He thought of that second glass of juice, but decided not to risk it. Settling the rifle in the crook of his arm he headed into the dense bush, the silence growing deep as he walked.

* * *

George sat on the bed in the hotel room, tugged off his suit coat, and dialed the long distance number. Kenni picked up on the second ring.

“I found him.”

Kenni’s voice was excited. “In Whitehorse?”

“No. Dawson City. Actually, he lives twenty miles downriver from Dawson in a small cabin. The whole woodsman trip.”

“What’s he like?”

“Pretty much the way you thought he’d be. Not very friendly. You’ll see for yourself. He might be coming down with me tomorrow. The flight gets in about 7:30. Can you book a slot the next morning, just in case?”

“Let me check.”

George heard the clicking of a keyboard.

“There’s an opening at 9:00. What was his reaction when you told him?”

“He didn’t believe it. Thinks we have the wrong guy.”

“No doubt. It’d be a shock, considering what his life’s been like.”

“Well, pray for me. I may be traveling with him for the next thirty-six hours. Oh—I guess we’ll need to book a hotel room for him.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Kenni said. “I’ll book one for you too.”

“You think he needs supervising?”

“It’s taken us forever to find him, George. We don’t want to risk him bolting when he gets here.”

“You think he might?”

“I think it would be good for somebody to be there.”

“Okay, I’ll babysit for the first night, but that’s it.”

“Good enough. See you on Friday.”

* * *