As the two talked about Bob, Brogan prayed again for Melender’s safety.Please keep her safe. Help us to find her. And let the truth about Jesse finally come to light.She’d become so much more than a source, than a story. He had to find her, to tell her how he felt. For the first time in a very long time, he had found someone to share his life with, the good and the bad.
He only hoped he’d have an opportunity to tell her.
ChapterThirty-Eight
“Remember, one peep and I’ll gag you.” The man roughly shoved Melender onto a stack of bagged fertilizer. They had driven for what seemed like hours before the vehicle stopped. When he’d hustled her from the SUV to the shed tucked behind a stand of tall evergreen shrubs, Melender had caught a glimpse of a large house a hundred yards away.
A single bulb dangled on a cord, but the man didn’t turn on the light. Late afternoon sunlight streamed through a window set on the wall opposite the door. The lawn equipment and gardening tools had been neatly stacked on shelves and the floor, which had been recently swept. She fervently hoped no eight-legged or four-legged creatures hid in the recesses.
“I’ve got her.” The man spoke into his phone, his back to Melender. “Be here within the hour.” He ended the call, slipping the phone into a pocket and turning to face Melender. He’d ditched the baseball cap upon arriving at their destination.
“Who are you?” The question burst out of her before she’d had time to think.
“John Smith.”
Melender snorted at the absurdity.
The man’s smile broadened. “You don’t believe me.”
“No.”
“They never do.” Smith looked around him, then grabbed a folded camping chair from a shelf. After shaking it out, he sat across from Melender. “I told Quentin you would be trouble, and here you are, stirring up all kinds of trouble.”
Melender straightened, the man’s words sparking anger. “I don’t call trying to clear my name of a crime I didn’t commit stirring up trouble.”
“I suppose if I were in your shoes, I’d feel the same way.” Smith shrugged. “But since I’m not, it’s irrelevant what you think.”
Smith’s words, spoken so causally, warned she was dealing with a man without a conscience. She had encountered her fair share of sociopaths during her imprisonment but never ceased to be amazed at the how they justified their actions. “Are you always this indifferent to truth?”
“Ah, a jailhouse philosopher.” His eyes brightened as he leaned forward. “Whose truth? Yours? My truth is that I want to live my life on my terms. Your truth doesn’t interest me in the slightest.”
“Unless my truth helps you gain yours.”
Smith spread his hands out, palms up, in a as-you-see gesture. In that instant, a long-ago image of Smith popped into her head. If her hands had been free, she’d have snapped her fingers together. “You worked for Senator Johnston. I remember seeing you at one of the Thompsons’ parties.”
Another image clicked into place, and Melender’s heart dropped. Oh, no. Snippets of an overheard conversation during a party at the Thompson house the day before Jesse went missing involving the senator, her uncle, and Smith echoed in her mind.
Something in her face must have alerted Smith to her memories. “You’ve remembered.”
“The map.” More memories clicked into place.
Her captor leaned back. “I knew you would eventually recall that piece of information.”
Melender closed her eyes briefly as the long-ago conversation flooded her mind. “My uncle wanted to get the rights to an old gold mine that straddled the boundaries of Shenandoah National Park. The senator told him a congressional okay to extract anything from the mine on the park’s portion would be a no-go, so you were discussing options.”
“You overheard more than we thought.”
It had been the mention of the Blue Ridge Mountains that had captured her attention. She’d tucked herself into a window seat in the study, the only room closed off to guests during the party, with Catherine Marshall’sChristyas her companion. The long, heavy curtain had hidden her from view when the trio had entered the room. At first, she hadn’t paid much attention to what they were discussing, but when she realized she knew the area in question, she listened more closely.
Now she stared at Smith. “You altered an old map to show the boundaries of the park different so you could tap into a mine purported to still have gold deposits.” Rumors of gold had circulated among the residents of Sudie’s holler for years, but most of the mountain people hadn’t believed the old Shade Mine had anything left. Apparently, Quentin had believed enough to want to steal the rights. “What happened? Did he get access, then discover the gold was a myth?”
“Something like that, but at the time, it seemed very promising.” Smith scowled. “That’s why I was against trusting the system to incarcerate you.”
“What?” A rush of emotion flooded her body. “I never said anything about the map.”
“Not then, but you would have, once you heard about the mining permits.” He crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. “You wouldn’t have allowed anything to harm your beloved mountains.”
He was right. Lord have mercy, he was right. She would not have kept quiet once she’d learned about the mining on park land. She knew the park’s boundaries as well as the lines in her grandmother’s face. She would have known in an instant someone had altered the map. Then the further implication of Smith’s words sank in.