The Tanner Trilogy Boxed Set

Chapter 8

8

Shaun was waiting outside the terminal, allowed to leave his vehicle parked by the only skycap booth due to the “sheriff” emblem on the front doors, the lights on the roof. There was the same excitement he always felt when Carli and Sam came home. Relief also flooded him when Carli’s voice came through so clear on his cell phone. She was home, safe, and the three of them would do what needed to be done.

His breath was white fog for a brief moment before the breeze whisked it away. The airport wasn’t too busy this morning, and he took a few minutes to notice the other cars and passengers and architecture of the terminal. His squint in the early morning sun and serious expression gave way to a full smile as his eyes found the tall, dark-blonde beauty, dressed in shorts, boots, and a long-sleeved shirt. Beside her was her work partner, Tim, more appropriately dressed for this climate. Behind them was one of the few porters employed at the Laramie Airport with a flatbed loaded four feet high with cases.

“Shaun!” Carli yelled and flung her arms around her brother.

Shaun had just enough time to remove his hands from his jacket pockets to catch Carli. It was awkward to hold her with her backpack over her shoulders, but it felt good to have her home.

“You must be freezing. Let’s get your gear loaded and head to the lodge,” he said as Carli stepped back.

He shook hands with Tim, who expressed his obligatory condolences, then moved on to load the cases, lest Carli begin to break down. She tipped the porter and tossed her backpack and carryon in the backseat while Tim and Shaun loaded the cases.

“Shouldn’t you have sent this stuff to New York?” Shaun asked.

Tim snorted, as Carli responded, “With the weather in Denver, it’s a miracle it showed up here at all. We sent it straight from Caracas. Must have arrived on a cargo plane. It’s everything we need for a shoot. Some of it is finished, some not. I can’t have all the company equipment sitting in an airport.”

“And the fact that it was taking up space at this airport is…” Tim waited.

“Irrelevant. There’s work that needs to be done before these cases can return to the City. And Laramie Regional is a far cry from La Guardia.”

“You mean you don’t know anyone at La Guardia?” Tim asked, not believing that her home airport was the only place she was friendless.

“Actually, I know several,” she said as they climbed in and closed out the icy wind, “but it’s just easier this way,” she said, and gave Tim a smile that only Shaun saw in the rearview mirror.

Shaking his head at Carli and her stack of cases, he exited the airport towards Highway 130 and Centennial. He had to ask how they had gotten from where they were to where they are. It felt good to laugh, something he hadn’t done since getting the call from Alyssa. Shaun recognized, not for the first time, the by-play between Carli and Tim. They had been together long enough, in confined quarters, to be married. Except that Tim was homosexual. He wondered if that was what allowed them to be so close.

Tim brandished the hundred-dollar bill. “And this is the reward for my original travel plans.”

“Shaun, when did the Denver Airport open?” Carli asked.

He glanced at his watch. “About two hours ago.”

Carli did some calculations, then said, “That means our flight would have left three hours ago, a two and a half hour flight to Denver, then to Laramie—” she stopped as she leaned forward and plucked the bill from Tim’s fingers, “and we wouldn’t have arrived for another—” she glanced at the clock on the dash, “two hours. And, you would have missed meeting Charlie.”

“Charlie?” Shaun glanced at Tim.

“If it works out, I suppose I’ll be offering you a finder’s fee,” Tim said.

“I wouldn’t accept it. Consider this an attempt at matchmaking,” Carli smiled.

“Never needed help before,” Tim grumbled.

“Maybe he has a straight brother, and we can double.”

That brought chuckles from the front seat.

After a mile of silence, Carli asked quietly, “Have you learned anything, Shaun, about what happened?”

He glanced in the rearview mirror, and all humor was gone. Worry and grief replaced the normal sparkle in her hazel eyes so much like his own. Taking his gaze to the highway in front of him, he had to admit how little he had discovered.

“We know the caliber, the trajectory of the bullet. It happened on Wolf’s Ridge. The shot came from across Pine Canyon. There were no planned parties in that section of the Preserve, hikers or hunters. The clients he was with had to call back to base. Luckily, they were high enough to get a signal, and that Alyssa was at the desk to receive it. They didn’t know how to get out. We went in with the horses, called in the remaining groups. None of the clients saw anything or know anything. I’ve interviewed everyone at the lodge, employees and visitors.” He paused, glanced at a blue pickup heading towards Laramie, a tarp over the bed of the truck. “A while back, a Regional Director for the FBI spent a week at the lodge. Dad must have made an impression—”

“He usually does. Did—” Carli interrupted.

“Because we now have federal assistance.”

“The FBI is involved?” she clarified, her brows raised.

Shaun nodded. “The agent’s name is Ethan Brooks. He’s booked for a week at the lodge. cabin 4. No one knows besides us. And Esther.”

“Then the whole town will know, and whoever is responsible will disappear,” she said.

“I made it clear to her to keep this quiet. If we need to flush the shooter out, I promised to set her loose.”

“Is the FBI taking over the investigation?”

“No. He promised full cooperation. Just here to lend a hand. Another pair of eyes. He came in last night, and I gave him the files.” Shaun paused and glanced at the clock on the dash. “Perhaps he’ll have something to share when we reach the lodge.”

The Snowy Mountains loomed large in front of them. The narrow state highway, with curves and dips, had Tim gripping the door.

“You alright?” Shaun asked, noticing the tenseness of his passenger.

“Tim gets carsick. Airsick, trainsick, even donkey sick,” Carli spoke, then fished out a hard candy from her pocket and tapped Tim’s shoulder.

He mumbled his thanks. “A great cosmic joke, I assure you, to have a job such as mine and the stomach of a five-year-old ballerina.”

“Donkey sick?” Shaun asked.

“It was one time, and I really think it was what I ate, not the strides of my trusty steed.”

Shaun slowed further as they drove through town, glanced inside the front window of the sheriff’s office out of habit, then continued when he didn’t see anyone there besides Esther. The remaining drive was made in silence, except for Tim’s comments regarding the snow that clung to the ground on the north side of the trees, where the shadows were.

When they turned down the driveway to Tanner’s Outdoor Adventures, Tim said, “Carli, I know you’ll be busy with, well, family stuff. You know I’ll be glad to help in any way I can. But I don’t want to be in the way, either.”

She patted his shoulder. “Thanks, Tim. Until we have some idea what to do, and a way to keep you busy and earning your keep,” to which they both smiled, “unload the cases and set up a workstation in the room upstairs where you stayed last summer. Send an e-mail to Scott, let him know where we are and for how long.”

“And how long will we be here?”

Shaun pulled up to the steps of the lodge, undid his seatbelt, and turned off the vehicle. He wanted to hear Carli’s answer.

She glanced from Shaun to Tim, and back. “As long as it takes. Tell him I’ll be in touch.”

Tim looked over his shoulder at his friend and colleague. If he had a sister, he didn’t think they would be as close as he was to Carli. He gave her a half-smile, then pried his fingers from the door to place his hand over hers.

Shaun watched and knew that more was transmitted between them than just an agreement to contact the boss in New York City. The moment passed, and they all exited from the vehicle and began hauling cases and luggage upstairs where the employees had rooms, where Bear Tanner had lived, and where his children stayed when they came to visit. Alyssa was in the kitchen, and Zach came out to help haul things and received a hug from Carli. They had just finished dividing up cases between Carli and Tim’s rooms when Shaun’s phone rang.

He held Carli’s gaze, smiled, then said he was on his way. Closing the phone, he announced, “Samantha. I’m going back to Laramie. Should be here for lunch.”

Carli smiled. “See you then.”

Tim closed the door to his private accommodations and sighed. Setting up his laptop on the table by the door, he connected to the lodge’s wireless system and went about checking his e-mail. His personal e-mail account was full of party invitations, requests of “Where in the world is Tim?”, a game his friends played that he suspected earned a few of them some spending money, forwarded jokes and inspirational messages, and the inevitable spam advertisements for correcting his credit score and his erectile dysfunction, neither of which were cause for concern. Deleting most of them, and responding to a few others, he logged on to International Views to contact Scott.

He sent a two-line message, one that informed Scott where they were and another telling his boss his thoughts on the lack of tact in the telegram that was sent to Venezuela. Before he finished reading and deleting office memos, Scott sent a reply message.

Tim-

Thanks for the update on your whereabouts. How is Carli? When do you two plan to return to the office? How was the shoot in South America?

Regarding the telegram, new administrative assistant-didn’t know what was sent. Give Carli my apologies.

S

Tim read the message and shook his head. Scott was demanding of his staff and seemed to change assistants as often as most people change their underwear. If they couldn’t keep up with the demands of the job, or Scott, they weren’t given a second chance. He sent a reply.

S-

Carli is holding up fine—better now that she’s home. I hope to return in a week. Carli, I don’t know. South America was wet. Got some shots.

Tim

He waited a few minutes, and his boss didn’t disappoint.

Keep me posted on the funeral. I need the work from Africa and whatever you have from South America.

He tapped his reply on the keyboard.

I’ll forward the plans as they are made. Africa needs a little work. Have no idea what she got in South America. Give me a couple of days.

Scott’s reply was almost instant.

Two days, and I need Africa. You personally have a week. I need you and Carli if the November issue will be printed on time.

S

Tim sighed at Scott’s final response. The man meant well and generally was sympathetic when it came to his employees and their personal lives, as long as it fit in with his timeline. Brushing his red curls off his forehead with one hand, the other exited his e-mail and brought up the editing program and the files from Africa. He would have to get the film and memory cards from Carli when he saw her at lunch. She would probably want to develop the film herself.

Her father had included a dark room, located at the end of the hall that ran the length of the upstairs portion of the lodge, when he expanded the structure. Bear’s hope was to entice Carli to lengthen her visits by ending the excuse of, “I have to return to the office to develop film.” It worked in the past and would be essential to her now.

He glanced at his watch and knew he could have a solid file started in a couple of hours to send to Scott. Setting his iPod to the latest song selection of jazz greats sent to him by a friend, he placed the buds in his ears and got to work.