Chapter 54

Funny how it felt so different, driving out to an isolated cabin deep in the woods, depending on who you were meeting there.

He’d have to play his cards carefully, find out who else was involved in this hare-brained scheme. It wouldn’t do to expose Uncle, then have someone else come at him, or the town, from a different direction.

But the bottom line was he wasn’t going to let Mortimer Hero do any of what he’d proposed to the good people of Jack’s Bay.

And if the information coming out tarnished him, it tarnished him. All the friends, the good will he’d built up could be on its final slope.

But that was something he was willing to live with.

And Uncle? His luck had run out. He’d know that before the night was out.

He saw the last turn coming, just ahead. His heart beat hard in his chest. An unpleasant business, but necessary too.

He took the turn, pivoted down the long road to the family cabin.

* * *

Uncle was just coming around from the back. Unusually garbed, he was in a work shirt, sleeves rolled up. Sweat prickled on his brow and he held a shovel in his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Hired a couple of guys to do some yard work. Let’s go in.”

Nathan glanced around, and even in the descending dusk, saw everything pretty much the way he’d left it in the morning, except for a big hole dug in the front yard. “What’s that for?”

“Burn some trash soon. Bury what I can’t burn.” The old man didn’t even look at him, just walked into the cabin without removing his shoes, traipsing in the clay dirt that was so common in the area.

“Mom would’ve had your hide for that.”

“She’s not around to have anyone’s hide, is she.” Not a question, but a statement. And the finality with which he spoke about his dead mother sent a chill up his spine.

“Have a drink.” Uncle slumped into his chair, shoved a shot glass over to him.

“No, I’m good. I’ve got to drive back tonight.”

His uncle fixed him with hard eyes. “And one drink is going to render you unable to drive?”

He eyed the setup on the table. The old man had obviously prepared to entertain him, such as it was. A bottle of whiskey, some salted nuts. A hunk of polish sausage on a wooden cutting board. Along with his requisite cigarettes, and a couple of lighters. One, the ever-present naked woman, the other, grey. “Okay. Thanks, uncle.”

The shot glass really was tiny. He downed it quickly, cut thick slices of sausage, chased the whisky with it. Cut a few extra, pushed them with the butcher knife toward Uncle.

“Nah. I’m good. I ate while the men were here.”

“I read the papers you left.”

Uncle’s lined face eased into a mask of pleasure. “Excellent.”

“You’re proposing…”

“An acquisition.”

“You planning on pulling a ski mask over your head?”

“Smart ass. Obviously not.”

“Then who?”

“You want to know more?”

He couldn’t take a chance of him withholding information. He needed to learn as much as he could. “If we’re going to work together, I need to.”

Uncle hunched forward, donned a cagey look. “There are interested parties, outside of Jack’s Bay proper. Now that I’m in with the genealogy committee, it’s just a matter of time. One thing I’ve learned, boy, is that all of the rich people who are retiring up here? They have time to kill. They all want to keep their family histories intact. And I’ll be just the man to help them.”

He stared at the man.

“They’re implementing a new database of area and town information, and I’m going to push for another one. It’s cheaper, and more robust. And the best part? It’s written by some of the interested parties. They’ve done this before, it’s a proven plan, which is why I wanted to work with them. You worked in cyber security, right?”

Nathan nodded.

“Perfect. So you can help where help’s needed. And once it’s in—which it will be—I’ll not only get access to the homes of the rich to help them with it, but much of their personal information. These people have money, boy. And once we have bits of their personal information, there’s so much we can do.”

Dear god, he was making sense. He needed to know more. “Like what?”

“Siphoning cash. Some check their accounts religiously, most don’t. Not anymore, and not while they’re out here playing in Canada’s playground.” He snorted. “That’s long-term. Might do a bit of blackmail on medical records, STDs, whatever’s juicy. And worst case, if it’s just a basic haul, we’ll sell the information.”

It repulsed him. “Who are these interested parties?”

“You’ll know after the acquisition happens. I’ll tell you when it’s right to tell you.” He stared at nothing in particular, the way old men do. Then turned his attention to him.

“We Heroes are just about to make a sweet amount of cash. This has been years in the making. And…there’s no risk. Won’t be us doing the dirty work. Just passing along info we’ve accidentally found. This could keep the cash flowing in a big way, over the next decade. The interested parties were just about ready to move on, forget our agreement. And if it hadn’t been for you, it would never have gotten off the ground.”

It sickened him to hear that. But Uncle now faced him, fixed him with a beady eye.

“You ready to be part of our next phase, boy?”

The next phase. He made it sound like a grandiose scheme, catapulting them to…he didn’t know what.

“I’m not having anything to do with this. And neither are you.”

Something in the old man’s eyes flashed, hot. He bent his head, tucked his chin in. His hand fisted, and Nathan saw how close his hand was to the old butcher knife.

He’d be a fool.

“Come again?”

“You heard me.”

Uncle said the next words very slowly. “So you’re set in your ways? Like your foolish mother and father were?”

Something flickered through him. Why had he spoken of his parents as if they’d been on the same side? He hadn’t done that once since he’d been back. Always presented them as antagonists to each other.

“Boy?”

“Absolutely.”

Uncle snorted and his eyes gleamed. “Excellent.”

“Wha…” But the room seemed to dip around him. Suddenly, he felt a bit unsteady. Hot. Was it hot?

He reached to unbutton his shirt, give himself a bit of air. But somehow he couldn’t find the button. His fingers slid off fabric, his hand fell into his lap.

And he knew, as his body slacked and he blacked out, the truth of that one, hospitable drink.

* * *

When he came to, he found himself tied to the kitchen chair.

He pushed to get the word out. “How?”

Uncle smiled at him. “Pressed the men into service. They also gave you a bit more to drink, you’ll notice.”

He struggled to feel, focused in on his throat. Hurt. And he smelled the scent of the whiskey, the wet of its trail down his shirt as they’d most likely missed, or some of it had run out of his mouth.

The words and thoughts were starting to form, but he was still at a low level functionally. “Why?”

“You honestly think I’d let his son get in the way of things? When I didn’t let him? Or that bitch he married?”

“But… he killed…”

And realization dawned.

“Good for you. Still got the old Hero brain, despite your do-gooder nonsense tendencies. Even with the drug in you.” He laughed, delighted. “Of course you’ve seen the truth. How I had to dispatch them both. First her, then the same drug on your father, only in a mega dose compared to what you got. Farmed out the removal to a couple of…let’s say interested parties, between here and Toronto. Left the car, dressed it up so everyone would think your father’d snapped. A beautiful thing, boy when things come together.”

His mouth was starting to work, and his tongue was starting to remember the proper place for it to lay. “I’m not going to stay quiet.”

“Didn’t expect you would.”

“So you’re just going to…”

He shook his head, gave an extravagant, theatrical no. “Not at all. Don’t you think the Jack’s Bay idiots would find that a little odd—the same drug being found on a dead body in the same family, many years later?”

Uncle reached for his lighter. Clicked it, held the flame up close to Nathan’s face, and the acridity of the striker wound its way to him. “Wood does burn so beautifully, boy. Especially old, dry wood.”

“You can’t get away with this. They’ll implicate you.”

“When I leak the tape of us discussing the details,” he held up the second lighter, waggled it in his hand— “it’ll all be turned back on you, boy. Ex-SEAL, ha. After the good citizens find their personal information, shall we say…out there, they’ll know it was you. And suddenly, no one will care how the man that shystered them by carrying a stupid mutt to the park three times a day for weeks while he was planning general mayhem on the community and its retirees, happened to die. No one will care, boy.”

Emotion pitched through him. The old fool had it all figured out, and no matter what, Nathan was going to look black. As would his parents.

He swallowed. But something bigger was at stake here, and he wasn’t going to waste time crying about it. His energy was needed on a solution, a way to get out of here, and stay alive.

He shrugged his shoulders, saw the disappointment in Uncle that the last barb hadn’t unsettled him.

Good. Maybe he could draw him in, figure out how to unsettle him, how to…

But the old man got up to leave. “Just one last thing, boy. Did you tell anyone about…the documents? Maybe that fine woman you’ve been screwing? Pillow talk? To make her know what a big man she’d scored?”

Amy. God, Amy. She had to be safe. If he thought…

Uncle must have seen the worry that streaked through his face, because he leaned toward him, intense. “Did you tell anyone about the papers?”

“She knows nothing, and you’ll leave her be. Forever.”

Uncle inspected him, seemed satisfied. But his words gave a different tone. “I’ll suit myself. You should realize by now—I always do.”

He pivoted, stalked toward the half-shut front door as he spoke, and Nathan could see two figures hovering out there. The crew he’d implemented for use tonight. Still present. “Nightfall’s the perfect time. Just one big bonfire. Did always love bonfires, boy.”

Framed by the door, the old overcoat billowing around him from the wind that was kicking up outside in the dark, he spoke to him one final time. “Just remember, you stupid, weak, boy.” And then he enunciated his last message in a tone of ultimate finality.

“No. One. Will. Care.”