The sun rose over the horizon in that perfect way it always did on summer mornings on this side of the lake. Forrest’s bed had an idyllic view. He’d configured the second-floor master bedroom with the express purpose of being able to take this in. Across all those splendid sunrises, he had never known a perfection like this. Sierra clung to his side, snuggled up, snoring lightly in his arms. Everest lay sleeping at her feet near the foot of the bed.
The night before had held all the potential to be fraught with awkward, with Sierra being there for the first time and being there to convalesce, still in some pain and too weak to do a few things on her own; with Sierra and Forrest at odds as they had been just two days before; with Jake Stapleton there, still mixed up, somehow, in a crime that needed solving; with Jake’s own counterpart in Green Valley on the mend.
Hot on the heels of Everest’s eager assault of Sierra the second they’d walked in the door, Jake’s questions about Eddie had come in. He had been nearly frantic asking after Eddie’s condition. Forrest had kept him posted via text from the hospital, but Jake was hungry for details. When were the doctors saying he could get out? How were his spirits and his general condition? And—most importantly—was he going to be implicated in any way around the fires?
That line of questioning took the conversation in an unexpected direction. Jake was ready to fall on his sword. As Forrest had stood at the stove making dinner, Jake had handed him a written confession. Jake’s instructions were clear: were Eddie to be accused of having committed the crime, Jake wanted Forrest to turn it in and exonerate his man. It killed any lingering doubt to his innocence. Apart from that, it had earned Jake even more of Forrest’s respect. The kid had pulled a boss move.
“You’re thinking too hard,” came the voice Forrest would never get tired of hearing. He didn’t mind that Sierra’s voice broke into his thoughts. At the same time as she spoke, her hand slid up his chest and her finger smoothed over his bottom lip. He pulled her closer and lowered both of his lips to hers.
“So give me something else to think about,” he teased after brushing his lips over hers in a way that was entirely too tame. He wanted more—much more—but he didn’t want to pounce on her while she was still recovering.
Instead of answering, she lowered her nose to nuzzle his bare chest, taking a deep inhale. “Why do you smell so good?”
She pulled herself tighter to him and he did the same.
“My pheromones are how I woo all the women I want to impress.”
“All the women?”
“Well, really, there’s just one. And I like her more than any other woman I’ve ever met.”
He held his breath to hear her answer.
“Is that so? What are your plans with this woman?”
“Well, once I’m one hundred percent sure I’m back in her good graces, I’m gonna ask whether I can start something even bigger with her.”
“Bigger? Like, how?”
“Like, go on an adventure together. You know, use the low season to take some time off … really get to know each other, away from all of this.”
“She must be pretty special for you to want all of that with her.”
He didn’t say how much he wanted more.
“You’re right about that. She is.”
Forrest was telling the truth. “I love you” were words he hadn’t ever said to any other woman. They were words he might say to her that very day if he could spend a languid morning with her in bed. When he said it to her, he wanted to show it to her, too—to consummate it again, and again and again.
But Monday was coming soon. And Forrest still needed to make a ruling on the case. He’d gotten cover from Buck and a few other guys on the team. But he was the fire marshal and he had yet to assess the damage himself. Given the amount of acreage destroyed, the superintendent had already called him twice. Chances were, Forrest would be out all day, photographing and documenting and writing his report and treading lightly around Grissom.
“Let me make you breakfast. Help you get back your strength.”
She pushed back off of him enough to look up at his face. “I thought you only made sandwiches.”
“That’s what I was gonna make you—a bacon, egg, and cheese. I could make biscuits if you don’t want it on a roll.”
As if the very notion had caused her stomach to take notice, it growled on cue.
Forrest laughed and she blushed in that cute way she did and he wished he could stay with her all day. But she was hungry. So he gave her a final squeeze before starting out of bed.
“Come on.”
“Sorry ’bout that …”
Teddy Blount closed the door behind himself and followed Forrest onto the porch, affording them some privacy from Thuy, his wife. When Forrest had knocked ten minutes earlier, not only had she answered—she’d insisted that he come in, give a status update on Sierra and tell her about the fires.
The fire was common knowledge in Green Valley by then. It had made the papers and the evening news. And there wasn’t a soul in town who hadn’t heard that Sierra had gone in or that it was she who had pulled Eddie out.
“No need to apologize. Thuy’s sweet. And it sure was nice of her to give us this.” Forrest held up the three fingers that hooked the heavy bag Thuy had pressed into his hand. “She cook for you like this every day?” Teddy kept them walking to the edge of the porch, then down the steps and toward Forrest’s truck.
“Imperial rolls and pho are kind of her thing.”
Thuy and Teddy shared the Blount family farm with Teddy's sister, Maddie. They lived in a little cabin and Maddie’s young family lived in the main house. The property was expansive, complete with a greenhouse, livestock pastures, crop-growing fields and several sheds.
Technically, Teddy wasn’t a Wraith anymore. But he’d once been known as “Drill.” He’d gotten out of the business, which was exactly what made him such a good person to know. Forrest was discreet about it, but he wasn’t the only member of law enforcement who had gone to Teddy since he’d gotten out. It had been long enough that there was no real expectation that he had information about current crimes. More often, he was able to provide context.
“You know why I’m here,” Forrest began.
“I figured.” It was one thing Forrest admired about Teddy—he took it in stride. Having been a Wraith, he and the local law enforcement hadn’t been too friendly. But Forrest had known him since before he was a Wraith. Current business notwithstanding, reverting back to normal conversation felt good.
“Someone told me—and don’t ask who—that the Wraiths are up to something in the park. Something that’s causing the fires. This last one was just the worst. Before that, there were three. I have a hunch, but my theory’s far-fetched.”
“You have my attention,” Teddy said, sounding half-intrigued, but only half. What Forrest had in mind was probably nothing to Teddy, considering all that he’d seen.
Forrest stopped at his truck, set the casserole Thuy had given him on his hood and turned back around to face Teddy.
“I need to know whether the Wraiths have anything to do with an illegal mushroom ring.”
“Since when are mushrooms illegal?” Teddy asked with an I’m-just-fucking-with-you kind of vibe. Forrest had anticipated that Teddy’s sense of humor would make an appearance.
“You know what kind of mushrooms I’m talking about. The ones that make you see things that aren’t there. The kind that old Hash Brown used to sell.”
Everyone who had gone to high school in Green Valley around the time they did knew Hash Brown Jones, the old hippie who sold drugs out of his RV. The harder Forrest reflected upon it, the more he wondered whether Hash Brown had foraged his supply from the park.
Teddy let out a hearty chuckle. “Wasn’t nothing brown about that guy. He was lobster-red and platinum blond, even in the winter. What do you think ever happened to ol’ Hash Brown?”
“Probably got beamed up to space with the aliens or some shit. You remember how he was always talking about his abduction?”
The two men joined in laughter for a bit.
“Look, man …” Forrest finally said. “I’m at a dead end here. But I need to know who’s behind some drug activity. And I thought you might have an idea.”
Whatever amusement had lingered on Teddy’s face after they’d laughed subsided when he saw that Forrest was serious.
“You think Catfish and Gears would ever get mixed up in that?”
“That’s why I’m asking you. You ever hear anything about ’em farming those magic mushrooms inside the park?”
“And risk getting in trouble on federal land?” Teddy actually laughed at the notion, as if it were the richest thing he’d ever heard. “No one wants to go to federal prison. State penitentiaries are one thing, but the federal ones can leave you in a world of hurt. Just what is it you think they’re doing?”
Forrest floated one of his theories. “I’m thinking they’re doing the growing, maybe packing the raw materials and selling them to a middleman. If not that, they’re doing the processing and selling themselves. Done right, it’s a good investment. The street value of a single magic mushroom is pretty high.”
“The street value of a lot of things is high,” Teddy pointed out. “But that’s not how they decide where to go into business. Believe it or not, Catfish knows a lot about risk. He’s been away twice, which means he’s fighting hard to stay out of jail. Half the guys in the Wraiths are on parole and a lot of them went away after last year. Whoever is doing this ain’t as scared as they ought to be about what happens if they’re caught.”
Forrest thought a minute about how much he should say. But time was running out and he had to jump.
“Let’s say someone already told me there were Wraiths involved, and someone gave me names …”
“Then it sounds like you have your answer.”
“Only, if Catfish and Gears would never go for it …” Forrest prodded. This was the part that made no sense.
“Could be someone’s got a little hustle on the side. Going against Catfish would be very stupid. But it’s been done before. No one ever accused everyone in the club of having good judgment.”
Forrest looked out in the distance—out at the pastures on Teddy and Thuy’s farm—and hoped the puzzle pieces in his mind would soon fit together. Jake’s story was plausible. Only, Forrest still didn’t understand how Buck and Chuck were connected to Jesse and Sean.
“You ever heard of Two-Buck Chuck?”
Forrest hadn’t wanted to give identities away, but things had gotten too serious—the stakes too high if they didn’t solve the case. And Forrest hadn’t gone all the way out there to leave empty-handed.
“They both started right around the time I left. Both young—and eager to live the life, and hungry for more.”
“More what?” Forrest wanted to know.
“More action,” Teddy said, as if that part of things were obvious. “Being in when you’re young with no clout is all grunt and no glory. You get the shittiest jobs, the shittiest pay, and plenty of people above you all too happy to push you around. It’s temporary, but it sucks.
“Some people take it in stride but others don’t take paying their dues well. I don’t know much about Buck, but Chuck always struck me as the latter.”
“All right …” A picture was beginning to form in Forrest’s mind. “If they wanted to move product, but didn’t want Catfish to know what they were mixed up in, do you think they might try to sell at colleges?”
By the time Forrest glanced back at Teddy, the man had crossed his arms and appeared to be thinking as hard as Forrest had been.
“Well, the problem with that’d be the Wraiths are already supplying to local schools. If the guys you’re talking about really are underlings, chances are, one of Catfish’s lieutenants would have caught on. The guys behind it might be the mules—the ones who deliver the goods and play mobster when the houses don’t pay. But a guy at that level is under too much supervision for anything to get past Catfish. It takes a while before you pass the loyalty test.
“Now, if that were the case,” Teddy continued, “and Catfish and Gears were to find out, they might kill the ones who did it. Them boys will do anything to keep themselves out of jail. Especially for something they’re not even involved in. They don’t want it to come back to them.”
Possible scenarios still trotted through Forrest’s mind. “Suppose I’m wrong and the guys I heard about aren’t behind it. Do you think they would know who was?”
“Not if whoever was doing it was new, but, yeah—they like to know their competition.
“What do mushrooms have to do with the wildfires anyway?” Teddy had the presence of mind to ask. “Last time I checked, forest fires didn’t go with psychotropic mushrooms.”
“They do if you harvest illegally in the park, then set fires to cover your tracks.”
Forrest had just given more away to Teddy Blount than he’d given to his own superiors, a fact that had to be rectified in the light of the next day.
“Honestly? These people sound like amateurs,” Teddy confirmed. “Committing a federal crime by taking the mushrooms out of the park is enough. No one wants to get put away for federal arson. No one in their right mind would touch that with a ten-foot pole.”